Oct 6th – London to Dubai and Dubai to Dar

Dubai from above tantalizes a visitor with its varied, gravity defying modern concrete structures—banks, hotels, residences, and offices. Its airport, as the hub for Emirates Airlines, is equally impressive. Inside the waiting lounge an avenue of Palm Trees and water fountains offer respite for on going travelers’ painfully long flights to distant lands around the globe.

Migrant workers with precious goods for their families at home cluster in the awaiting lounges; some squat and peer at you with curious yellowish eyes, deprived of sleep. They come from everywhere to the oasis to claim their slice of fortune. Without their labor, and that of all expatriates that have made this piece of desert into an oasis of glittering concrete and contrived beauty, Dubai would collapse.

Over the years, like Hong Kong, it has become the major trading port and financial center in the region. Apart from its oil reaches reserved for the sheiks’ kingdom, whose opulence reflects in its boasting architecture and luxurious hotels and shopping malls, it offers those with skills a slice of it.

The Economist in its recent survey of financial capitals rated Dubai as the future financial center of the region, much like London is of Europe, and New York of the new world.

A young woman next to me on her way to Sidney admitted, “It has now become a playground for the rich. The social life for the expats rocks at night. It is has no culture, but the money is good—and if you are young why not. My sister works for the airline, and she loves it. And of course, I get to fly round the world.”

Others I spoke to echo similar sentiments.

The five hour flight to Dubai from London elapsed rapidly. The Emirates Airlines is worth flying—the food is excellent, and so is the service, not to mention the international appeal of the cabin crew, whose hospitality is polite to a fault.

I spent most of the time at the rear of the plane chatting them, until one of them said, “Sir, we are about to land in Dubai. Please take your seat.”

After a two hour layover and a new crew, we departed for my final destination: home to Dar!

My request for an aisle seat by the emergency exit door was granted. They were only two seats. The other seat was occupied by a middle-aged African woman, Ana, a business woman and a self-made millionaire. Despite her self-confidence she seemed humble, yet spoke about her trade with certitude. Everything about her echoed the new Tanzania: clothes, confidence, assertiveness, class, enterprise and vision.

“I was a high ranking post at the Bank of Tanzania,” she said, “Then one day a personal tragedy forced me to leave my job. At the time, we had just liberalized our economy, and the hunger for basic goods finally could be realized.

“I started trading small items, with a help of a local Asian Tanzanian, who encouraged me, taught me the tricks, and I never returned to work. I grew with it, and now sky is the limit for me,” she smiled confidently.

“You are in for a shock, kabisa” she admonished me and laughed.

I extended my hand and she slapped it with hers; the gesture on my part was instinctive. I felt I had returned, and Ana was my introduction to new Tanzanians.

Hours later we entered Africa through its horn. Below, the distinctive tip of the horn jutted out, surrounded by shades of turquoise water at the shoreline and deeper blue farther. Vast swathe of parched red earth stretched forever. And over time we flew over Mogadishu, Kismayu, Malindi, Mombasa, and Tanga and finally descended and touched down at the Julius Nyerere International airport in Dar.

“Karibu Nyumbani!” said the smiling officer who stamped my passport.