Qatar World Cup Reflections: Day 10

Another "quiet" day of no WC action in eager anticipation of the semis started with me sipping my Arabic coffee with the aroma of cardamom downstairs at a Cafe, while Karim was still dozing off. Recalling the previous night's Lebanese dinner at a place called Abajor, eerily reminded me of a scene I had written in my latest book, Fina, with waiters wearing traditional Lebanese shirwel and tarboush, scurrying around to serve patrons ...

Suddenly, I was approached by an older Arab man dressed in an off-white dishdashe but without a kaffiyeh head scarf--at that early hour it's not usually needed. He asked, "Do you remember me from the stadium bus yesterday?" I did; he had also been heading to a game accompanied by a sizeable Kuwaiti contingent. Inviting him to join me, I noticed he had keen dark eyes with thick eyebrows and somewhat harsh facial features. It was the type of face that had memories carved all over it. This older generation in the Gulf had lived through difficult times and it showed. Most were born into poverty. They had barren lands with nothing to grow or reap. Their cities were small towns, based on pearl diving. They didn't have much else of an economy going. The intense heat that blanketed their region for most of the year made things hard, and could easily kill even the most prepared of athletes to this day. In fact, an American swimmer sadly died a few years ago in Dubai of heat exhaustion, WHILE IN a temperature adjusted pool. The people of this region learned to survive by acclimatizing their lives, their rhythm, their culture, their economies, their architecture, and their unique dress--all to suit harsh conditions.

My father had moved to Dubai, Sharjah to be exact, in 1976- a couple of years after the UAE independence; and my brother was born the year that we temporarily lived there, escaping the Lebanese civil war. I was merely a six-year-old boy, but I still remember fondly three things. The first was the intense heat and dust, which darkened our Mediterranean skin, but burned the skin of early European expats we came across. The second was English League football Match of the Day shows hosted by Jimmy Hill's famous chin playing on TV, and the third Indian biryani which my dad would order to the villa and invite our whole extended family to. Other than that, there was pretty much nothing to do. Most roads were still gravel. Roundabout were aplenty but all sandy. Most buildings were short, the only one built was the Dubai Trade Center building, which is still there, but is now dwarfed by all the skyscrapers ... And this was Dubai! Doha was a way smaller town. It had one small hotel and one restaurant, called Beirut. And look at it now!

Whatever anyone may say, the development of this region has been nothing short of remarkable and akin to what occurred in Southeast Asia. The only difference being the Asians did it through trading manufactured goods, whereas the Gulf did it through the sale of energy resources, which it was endowed with. Interestingly, there are many regions around the world that had industrialization potential but didn't manage to produce a miracle like Southeast Asia did. Similarly, there are many energy-laden nations (Venezuela, Nigeria ...) that had the potential to build like the Gulf, but they didn't either. Why should development credit be taken away from either of these successful regions? And who gives anyone the right to judge them, especially given what was accomplished and under such impossible conditions?

My Kuwaiti guest across the table looked quite humble, and yet it turns out he is a well-travelled real estate developer with six children. He was staying at the Bentley hotel down the street, one of the finest in Doha. We soon struck a conversation about the development of the Gulf and the internal differences between the Trucial states along the Arabian Gulf coast. He was all admiring of what Qatar had accomplished in the past twenty years. "They have had good leadership, and their system works," he said. "Ours in Kuwait started off well; and we were more advanced than the whole region at one time, but unfortunately have lost our way a little since," he continued, lamenting that there was corruption, which he described as the "cancer of nations". He shared with me what Kuwait had been going through in comparison to the UAE, Oman, and Qatar. He saw the cooperative-competitive nature between all the GCC nations as being positive in the long term, and he wished that tournaments such as the World Cup, the first global event to be held in the region, would be a win for everyone.

"The West may criticize us for being undemocratic. Firstly, we aren't fully, and rather run things in social circles that takes stock of needs and opinions of our people." Could this more or less resemble the way Scandinavian (Viking) nations used to govern in ancient times? I wondered. 'But even if for arguments sake, we accepted that we are undemocratic, who in the West, except for the US started as a democracy?" he asked. He was right. France was built by pure autocrats and dictators (who are still idolized to this day). England pretty much the same. Germany, Austria, Japan, Italy, Spain Russia were all autocratic empires for hundreds of years before adopting democracy.

He continued, "Why is it that they can have autocratic models for millennia, but when they finally switch to democracy, they want everyone to do the same instantly? Similarly, why is it that the West industrialized using the world's energy and then when their development goals were finally reached, are now asking everyone else to cut energy and slowdown development to help the planet? Why is it that they want to castigate countries like us for offering jobs to migrant workers, the very same workers they turn away at their sea and land borders, even building ridiculous walls and the like? And why is it they ask us about gay rights now that they finally passed them after hundreds of years of not having them? Is our timetable set by them or by our own people? Would it be democratic if we accepted their imposition against the will of our people?"

These were all valid points and hard to refute.

"Do you dislike the West?" I asked.

"On the contrary, I travel there every summer. One of my favorite places in the world is Bavaria in the summer, especially the Garmisch area," he said. "The point is when I go there, I don't tell Germans or Austrians that they should or shouldn't drink. I don't criticize their laws, or tell them how to run their country, or how to adjust their culture to fit my norms. I actually change my thawb to assimilate. Why should they or anyone else feel entitled to tell us how to run our lands when they visit?"

The man was so happy with the conversation and me listening without judgement, that when I was about to leave, he hugged me goodbye and gave me his contact information for when I visited Kuwait. The conversation left an impression. These were no longer gullible, dogmatic, or simplistic arguments. Rather, they were based on careful thinking of what works in the region and how its past could be made to reconcile with its future. The afternoon visit that Karim and I would make to Msheireb in downtown Doha would only confirm it.

One of Karim's Colombian friends with whose family Karim was planning on visiting the desert to dune surf and watch the sunset in an area called the Inner Sea had called him to suggest we head down to Msherib quickly as there was a horse and camel riding show. When we got there it was over, so instead we talked to some of the Bedouin cavalry still hanging around. We learned about their riding habits as well as the care they took of the animals. After they had finished riding their camels, they led them back to the stables where they covered them with quilts for the cold night and gave them cane shoots for food. Next door to the stables, we found a falcon hospital and market. In the market, we noted that most falcons had their eyes and head covered with nicely designed leather pieces, being made in house. We asked why they were needed. The caretaker was quick.to answer, "In captivity, the only way to disallow a falcon from destroying itself through intense wing fluttering (seeking to free itself) is to put a cover over its eyes."

The falcon market and stables were on the outer edge of old Msheireb (name derives from the place of drink water), which bordered the Qatari Assembly, the National Archives, and some ministries. It used to be the Doha city center in days past. Some of Its surviving traditional old houses have been turned to museums, which we were curios to see. The first one we entered was called the Anabi village and was dedicated to the Qatari national team and the cups they had recently won, including the Asia Cup- quite the accomplishment considering they had to compete against much more populated nations in Asia. Next, we visited four heritage museums including the Mohamed bin Jassem Al Thani House, who is considered the leading founder of Qatar. Recorded videos playing inside of older Qataris retelling their stories confirmed the harsh life this region witnessed as recently as the middle of the last century. We then entered the adjacent Ben Jelmood House, a museum dedicated to slavery, and which talked of the types witnessed in this region as well as globally. Migrant worker issues were among the topics covered in the exhibits with an explicit recognition that the region could indeed do better. Next door, we entered Company House, which explained how Qatar at one point in the 1930's had been on the verge of economic collapse due to the Japanese invention of cultured pearls, destroying almost overnight the nation's only source of income. But then oil was discovered by the British... The museum went to great lengths to explain that the oil workers, chauffeurs, porters, cleaners, everyone who worked in the most difficult of conditions in the oil industry was Qatari and they all began by earning meager wages. It would take the country decades to nationalize the industry, modernize gas extraction, to get to where it is today. "But don't think it was ever easy," a short video explained to "future Qatari generations." The museum made sure to thank the previous generation for their sacrifices and correct decisions, without which "modern Qatar would not exist". The final house was that of a typical merchant Qatari family and how it lived back in the day in Msheireb. It was fascinating to see the basic elements of life and how different it was back then from what it is today, almost moving step by step from the Bedouin nomadic to the modern.

This traditional part of Msheireb by design only told half the story of the area. The other half is a couple of blocks' walk away or via an open-air tram; and it is the modern Msheireb downtown of Doha. Fully pedestrian, it was jam packed with visitors walking streets lined with fancy stores like Harrod's and upscale restaurants like Fiko. The buildings here were all modern, but built low to provide a sense of neighborhood coziness. The area reminded Karim of some neighborhoods in Washington DC. The contrast between Old and New Msheireb could not be starker. And yet the intentional mix of traditional with modern works quite nicely.

What a difference 50 years could make. Nations like Qatar, UAE, Singapore and others like them show the amazing potential when leaders put the well-being of the people first, stamping out the cancer of corruption that my Kuwaiti acquaintance correctly stated breaks down institutions.

At night, we were invited to dinner to Katara Heights, a man-made hill in the middle of Doha on top of which sits a famous restaurant by the name of Bayt El Talleh, which overlooks the different parts of Doha with the Doha Bay as a backdrop. "Reminds me of Broummana in Lebanon," I said to my Qatari host. He smiled ...

Back in the hotel, the inflow of fans is on full throttle now, all eagerly awaiting the two upcoming massive WC semi-finals ... By pure chance, I bumped into Carlos, an Argentinian buddy I scrimmage with every Sunday back in DC. To say he was praying for the semi win would be a gross understatement. Let the Argentinian football Gods' rituals begin ...