The Sand Fish (28 page)

I
n my mind, I could see this book long before I began writing. There was the big, open sky, the salty gulf waters, the scorching sun, and a boat—it was a pearling dhow, and my imaginings led me to put characters on it. I thought of a young male hero onboard this dhow, the hardship he would endure, the feats he would accomplish, and the hope that would reside in his heart.

Historically, pearl divers lived harsh lives. On diving voyages, under an unforgiving sun, they lived for months on the overcrowded dhow. They were fed very little, and, due their constant diving and a lack of vitamins, the health of their eyes, ears, and lungs suffered. Most would take advances from the owner of the boat in order to provide for their families during the months they were at sea. If their seasonal catch was not enough to cover their advances, they were in debt to the owner at the start of the next season, when they
would have to get another advance. The more I discovered, the more I was convinced that pearling must be the backdrop to my story.

I began a period of intense research, logging all the minute details that I felt must be included in the novel. When I interviewed surviving divers, I was surprised to find them less than keen to share their feelings about those trying times. One old man, with eyes full of the milk of disease, said to me, “Those days were so full of misery, I prefer to forget them.”

No matter. I still felt I had enough material to create a wonderful book and began writing with so much passion that it took me six months to notice that my story was not moving forward. There were no plot twists and my characters had no attributes that would make them memorable. My project was turning into a detailed textbook—very handy, I might add—for people interested in pearling. Those first twenty chapters, written with so much gusto, went straight into the bin as it dawned on me that what was missing was the essential ingredient: detailed knowledge of a personal kind.

After some thought, I felt that it would be more interesting to tell the story through the eyes of a young woman. And not just any woman. Noora, my protagonist, grows up in isolation, uncultivated and wild. Having established this background, I posed the question: What would happen if this carefree and self-reliant young woman were forced into a life of restrictions? And the answer came in a number of possibilities, which became the basis for this novel.

The United Arab Emirates has gone through a fast and impressive transformation. In fact, change came to this young nation so quickly that we Emiratis have had little time to reflect on it. That is why I decided to set my novel in the past,
choosing the 1950s because that is when it became clear that the old lifestyle would soon disappear.

It was in the 1930s, with the worldwide economic depression and the Japanese discovery of cultured pearls, that the pearling industry, which the communities of the Arabian Gulf depended on, dwindled. By the 1950s, save for a few foolhardy merchants who insisted on carrying out “one more voyage,” it was clear that the pearling industry would not recover—and the people of the region watched and waited to see where the black oil they had heard about would lead them. What change would it bring?

The oil brought opportunity, prosperity, education, and health care, in what can only be described as a grand transformation—a plunge into modernity whereby people quickly put the past behind them and looked to the future. Today, the United Arab Emirates is one of the most desirable countries to live in. It is a tax haven and boasts an impressive infrastructure. The lifestyle is comfortable and the population cosmopolitan. It holds an enviable safety record, and its policies are tolerant toward all races and religions. As a result, people of more than 190 nationalities call the United Arab Emirates home.

With all these advances, the lifestyle has shifted gears, especially in my city, Dubai. The new generation of young men and women is following a different pace in their daily lives, which are now filled with opportunity, promise, and progress. There is no time, it seems, to mull over the past—that other life their grandparents had lived. But to ignore it would be a big loss. No one has expressed this sentiment better than our late president, the visionary Sheikh Zayed Bin-Sultan Al-Nahyan: “A people that does not understand its past and does not draw
the correct lessons from it will not be able to deal with the challenges of the present and the future.”

Historically, the Emirati culture is an oral one. Our traditions, feelings, and morals were passed on from one generation to the next through storytelling and poetry. Therefore, there is a very real danger of losing the fine details of former lifestyles with the passing away of those who lived it. Today, not enough is recorded about our past, and what is displayed and documented in museums across the country gives facts but no personal accounts.

Luckily, my work as a film director specializing in documentaries gave me access to the societies portrayed in the book. To capture the feel of those years of deprivation before the wealth that came with oil, I conducted rigorous interviews with numerous elders, whose memories make up much of what is described in the book. It was the women who had the most poignant tales. Because I am an Emirati woman myself, they opened their hearts to me and revealed not only the intricate details of their day-to-day lives but also their hopes and desires, their fears and aspirations. Some of the interviewees were my family members, including my parents and aunt. During the process of collecting information, I realized that it was not enough to be able to imagine their lives. I had to be able to see, smell, hear, taste, and touch that world.

To write this book, I spent much time researching architecture and town structure, pearl diving, Arabian dhows, Arabian trading routes, women’s costume, fabrics, jewelry, makeup, and sewing techniques. To describe the settings, I explored the topography of the land and traveled to abandoned homes set high in the mountains as well as the skeletons of homesteads by the sea. I wanted to give the reader a true sense of the surround
ings. Through phrasing that was simple and spare, I attempted to reflect the barrenness of the external landscape, where heat was endured, scarcity tolerated, and rain celebrated.

I feel
The Sand Fish
makes an appealing read in that it is a depiction of a very specific time and lifestyle mixed with universal feelings and understandings of love, jealousy, friendship, and survival. I was interested not in the grand scheme of things in the greater world but rather in a tiny slice of life and how big it looms in my protagonist’s mind. My aim was to provide an emotional setting for the novel by showing what is going on through Noora’s emotional filter. She is a third wife stuck in a household of schemes. I wanted the reader to get caught up in this ride, to get inside Noora’s head and see the world the way she sees it.

The novel is Noora’s journey to self-discovery. Her small world in the house by the sea is dependent on intricacies of conversation: what to say and what not to say, the sweet words that carry ulterior motives, the psychological games that are played even at the most basic level. Her steps toward intimacy with Hamad are all very playful at first, but at the same time very dangerous, with a shadow of impending doom hanging over her every action.

Although beautiful, intelligent, and fiery, Noora is a different kind of heroine. She has little choice and no opportunity, so it would have been unrealistic to give her great ambitions. In her poverty-stricken situation, it is enough that she is able to cope—not a heroic action by Western standards, but by coping she was able to gain the upper hand, winning small battles in the midst of the shifting relationships of the household she becomes part of.

T
here was a time when you could see the sand change in color and texture just by traveling short distances. That has all changed now. Dubai has grown to become an exciting city that attracts visitors from all over the world. They come for the lavish resorts, trendy restaurants, and grand shopping malls. Often, there is so much to do that it’s easy to overlook the culture of Dubai—and beyond.

Dubai

D
UBAI
C
REEK

Dubai Creek, an inlet of water, was the main element that established Dubai’s commercial position. Dubai’s pearling industry and trade with India and Africa were based primarily on expe
ditions in the creek. It divides the city into two parts: Bur Deira and Bur Dubai. People used to use the
abra
, a small rowing boat, to cross from one side to the other, a practice that continues to this day. Although the boats are now motorized, the
abra
remains the best way to appreciate the hum and throb of the city.

B
ASTAKIYA

Bastakiya is one of the most charming historic neighborhoods of Dubai. Linked to each other in rows are some of city’s oldest homes, which go back to the 1890s, built by Dubai’s prosperous residents. The houses are made up of two floors and are designed to combat the hot and humid climate. From every home rise eye-catching wind towers. The wind tower is an ingenious method of fanning. It takes wind from any direction, funnels it through the house, and, according to the tower’s depth and height, accelerates it up to five times over.

S
HEIKH
S
AEED
A
L
-M
AKTOUM
H
OUSE

Dating back to 1896, Sheikh Saeed Al-Maktoum House was not just the residence of the former ruler of Dubai but also the seat of local government and a place of dialogue for political and social issues. Vaulted, high-beamed ceilings, arched doorways, and sculpted window overhangs characterize this historic building. Today, it houses an impressive collection of photographs of old Dubai.

A
L
-A
HMADIYA
S
CHOOL

Built in 1912, this is Dubai’s first semiformal school. Set deep on all four sides, the rooms are arranged under a covered arcade, and in the middle of the building is a sandy courtyard, which was the arena for morning assemblies as well as a play
ground for the students. Al-Ahmadiya is located in Deira and remains close to the hearts of all those who studied there.

G
OLD
S
OUK

Thick necklaces, earrings, and bangles hang in shop after shop, all in rich gold. Located in the heart of Deira, the Gold Souk consists of more than three hundred retailers that deal almost exclusively in jewelry. Trade grew in its tight streets during the 1940s due to Dubai’s free trade policies, which encouraged entrepreneurs from India and Iran to set up their stores. Today, by some estimates, more than twenty-five tons of gold are present at any given time in the souk.

T
HE
N
ATIONAL
B
ANK OF
D
UBAI
P
EARL
M
USEUM

It is a collection not to be missed. The world’s largest collection of natural pearls sits in heaps under glass at the National Bank headquarters building. The pearls belonged to the late Sultan Al-Owais, a businessman, poet, and philanthropist, who donated them to the people of the Emirates under the custodianship of the bank. He had a wish that the pearls should be available to remind people what life was like before the discovery of oil. Some of the most exquisite pearls, of perfect roundness and luster, can be seen at this museum.

Beyond Dubai

A
BU
D
HABI
: S
HEIKH
Z
AYED
M
OSQUE

The Sheikh Zayed Mosque in Abu Dhabi is the third-largest mosque in the world. It is named after the father of the nation, the late president Sheikh Zayed Bin-Sultan Al-Nahyan, who is
buried adjacent to it. The mosque can accommodate 40,000 worshippers and has set some world records. With more than two million knots and weighing forty-five tons, the world’s largest carpet is housed here. It took 1,200 weavers from Iran two years to create it. The mosque is a stunning feat of architecture, with an assembly of soaring minarets and grand domes all in brilliant white marble.

S
HARJAH
: B
AIT
A
L
-N
ABOODAH

The Bait Al-Naboodah in Sharjah is no ordinary home. Its size and luxurious detail indicate that it belonged to a rich family. There are columns with granite bases from India and wood from Zanzibar. The rooms are typical of Gulf-Arab houses. They are long and rectangular, with high ceilings; their width follows the length of the roof beams. Windows are small to let in just the right amount of light and prevent excess heat. It is a handsome house, stylish in its simplicity and always a pleasure to visit.

L
IWA

Located on the edge of the Empty Quarter, Liwa is far but well worth the trip to enjoy the serenity of one of the world’s most beautiful desert landscapes. Here exists a vastness so profound it’s overwhelming. Liwa is called the desert of deserts, where the dunes are as high as mountains. The descents are nearly vertical, and if one slides down in a Jeep, the sight of the hollow below is both nerve-racking and exciting.

S
HEES
V
ILLAGE

The best time to visit the mountains of the Emirates is after a rainfall. That is when the dust is washed away and the earth’s
deep hues of red, brown, and purple are at their most vivid. A particularly scenic route of deep ravines and palm groves cuts through Fujairah’s mountains, ending at an enchanting village called Shees. Here is a small community living in isolation on tight, stonewalled terraces that trap runaround breezes. What makes this place so special is its natural setting and the availability of water from natural springs.