Dubai 17-May-2011: Perpetual Motion
The bright fluorescent lights framing brighter display cases, emblazoned with the wares of the West, sparkling marble floors and enormous canopied windows; none of this has changed since my last visit to this Mecca of Consumption, this Medina of Capitalism, a brush stroke of Western corporate imperialism painted across the bleak desert sands of the Persian Gulf. The mini-constellation that is Dubai, this strange place that I seem to be passing through more and more as the years progress. And, entwined into the perpetual motion that has been my crazed life, this strange place has become a strange bedrock, a strange bedfellow on routes to and from the developing world; a final outpost of home, its familiarity bred through the slogans of our Starbucks and Costa Coffee bars, our Burger Kings and Givenchy and Christian Dior and Rolex; a weigh-station, transiting through this very terminal on my last birthday from Africa to Asia, a chance to binge for a few hours on the comforts of home without having to actually be home. Maybe this is why so many come here to live, work, and settle. For me, this harsh land with its cursory smattering of modernity, this brash bastion of the West, this temple of money would never faintly considered as a final resting point; however, right now, the warm cup of Starbucks sitting in front of me holds my hand as I journey back to Africa, back to the unknown, back to the unfamiliar, once again.
I have promised myself that I would keep better track of this trip I am embarking on; this efforts have trailed off in my travels to date, but I will be making a more honest effort this time, as a personal record, as a reflection that I realized has been missing after so many long journeys home. Gate number 121, Emirates Dubai to Cape Town will open in a few hours, just enough time to catch up on some correspondence and to wander the gilded hallways a few more times, to soak in this strange atmosphere that is most certainly ephemeral in these circumstances of my life. Now, the calling of gate numbers in Arabic, the language that practically nobody here speaks (as all of the workers are Asian in Dubai, almost 90%) continues and I sit and watch life pass by from over my glowing screen...
Next stop: Cape Town, South Africa, and the beginning of a grand new adventure.
