Over breakfast with expats and Emiratis, Jenny Southan is encouraged to ask any question she likes about traditions and customs in the UAE
It’s only 10am but the heat is already unbearable. Mercifully, inside the Sheikh Mohammed Centre for Cultural Understanding, located in Dubai’s historic district of Al Bastakiya, it is comfortably cool. I am one of the first to arrive, and the central colonnaded room (known as a majlis) has a large red and gold rug in the centre, and cushions stacked around the sides to sit on. I am invited to take my shoes off and, once everyone is in attendance, small cups of Arabic coffee, perfumed with cardamom and saffron, are handed around.
The centre was opened in the mid 1990s as a way of helping foreigners gain first-hand insights into Emirati traditions, etiquette and religion by laying on group meals and visits to the local Jumeirah mosque (the only one in the city to allow non-Muslims). I am here for one of its “cultural breakfasts” – anyone can book a place, and the idea is to expand upon its “Open doors, open minds” philosophy by providing visitors and expats the opportunity to ask any question they want to local volunteers.
Arabs are known for their hospitality, so the food is plentiful, spread out in the middle of the carpet in silver pans. There’s boiled chickpeas with chilli pepper, balaleet (sweet vermicelli noodles cooked with egg), chebab (thick pancakes), khameer bread (like pitta), date syrup, tangy cream cheese and chewy, sticky little luqaimat doughnuts. ”You don’t have to wait in line, you have to fight for the food, it’s the only way you will survive in the desert,” says full-time presenter Manal bin Ismail.
As we eat, Manal, who is dressed in an elegant black abaya, says: “We don’t have this kind of breakfast every single day because it usually takes a long time just to prepare. Most of the time we have something fast like cereal, though we might have something similar to this at weekends, especially on a Friday, or when we have a big family gathering.” It’s worth noting that because of a lack of water to keep washing your hands, the Bedouin custom of using just your right (clean) hand to eat still stands, though nowadays it is not expected to be upheld. “If you are left-handed you can eat with your left hand, we are not going to cut it off,” Manal says with a wry smile.
She then invites the group of 20 or so expats and tourists to ask questions. Up goes the first arm: “Is it true that men can have four wives?” a young British woman enquires. One of the other volunteer presenters, Yasmine Kayed, replies: “Before Islam, men could have up to ten wives, but when the verse came it actually reduced the number.”
Manal says: “If a man is able to support more than one family then he is allowed up to four wives but he has to be 100 per cent fair. You cannot show more love to one woman than the other. Do we need this concept in the UAE? No. Do we need it in Syria today? Yes. Do we need it in Iraq today? Yes. In Iraq there are more than one million war widows without support. That’s why women there are asking for polygamy. So God says, in your own tribe, in your own village, in your own country, to balance your society you can employ this concept, but this decision is taken between you and your wife.”
She goes on to say: “Do we have people who misuse this concept? Unfortunately, yes. This is an old religion from an old society and lots of people have twisted it to their own benefits. However, less than 10 per cent of men in the UAE have more than two wives. If you asked me as an Emirati if I approved of letting my husband have more than one wife, I’d say no way. Over my dead body.”
After spending some time discussing divorce (along with the right to her own money, inheritance, education and dowry, divorce is one of a woman’s five rights), I ask about Ramadan. “The fasting takes place between sunrise and sunset – about 4am until about 7.30pm,” says Manal. “You can’t have water, even in private. You have to believe that God is watching you. It teaches you how to be honest with yourself.
“We don’t only stop eating and drinking but having a [sexual] relationship with our partners. You have to watch your behaviour – you don’t say anything bad, curse or gossip about anyone. You don’t look at bad things, bad websites. Let’s say you are a person who has a bad relationship with your family or friends, this is the time to make up with them. You have to watch your whole life to become a better human being,” she explains.
What should non-Muslims be aware of during Ramadan? Yasmine says: “Some restaurants will be open – you just have to look around. The food courts are often serving food in the malls but we would say don’t eat in public – do it in the comfort of your hotel. Taking a sip of water or drinking a coffee in front of another person is okay – no one is going to be that uncomfortable, it’s not that bad, we just say for some people, be better safe than sorry and don’t eat full meals in front of people.”
How about everyday etiquette? Yasmine says: “Really, nothing is offensive so don’t be scared that you are going to offend someone. Just be aware of signs in the mall asking you to dress appropriately, and not to smoke or drink in public. There are so many different cultures living in this country, we expect different behaviour. Shaking hands is not something we are used to – we are very shy. If a man [or woman] extends his hand, then shake it; if he doesn’t extend his hand then don’t.”
In terms of doing business, Nasif Kayed, managing director of the Sheikh Mohammed Centre for Cultural Understanding, has four pointers: “Don’t try to figure out the right thing to do, just ask. Know the name of the person with whom you are conducting business – saying the name right means a lot. Knowing whom you are doing business with is as important as the business you are about to do. And give socialising a slot on the agenda.”
The most eagerly awaited subject, it would seem, comes at the end and revolves around the Emirati dress code. Clothed in a pristine white kandura with a red and white headdress, Yousef al Ghurair, a third volunteer, explains it from the male point of view. “Why I am wearing this – it is pure fashion choice. But in the past, it was about practicalities. The headscarf was to protect us from the sun in the desert.” Pointing to Nasif, who wears a white headdress with a black rope around it, Yousef explains that the agal, as the rope is known, comes from when Bedouins used it to loop around the legs of their camels to stop them running away, and then placed it on their head for safe keeping.
“I am wearing white but it used to be tan colour to be camouflaged with the sand, for when we were at war with each other and didn’t want to stand out. Also, if you go into the desert in this, it will get dirty and is quite difficult to clean. Sometimes it has a tassel attached [known as a kerkusha, it hangs in the centre of the collar]. It used to be dipped in oil-based perfume so when the guy was far away from home, working with his camels, he could smell it to remind him of his wife,” Yousef says.
What about women’s apparel? Manal explains: “The main concept of the abaya was to be covered, modest and practical – women don’t wear white because you can see through it.” But one female expat asks: “Aren’t you girls boiling in all that black?” No, is the answer. “How many of you believe black attracts heat? Raise your hands. What’s the colour of the tyres in the UAE, the asphalt? Do they melt? This is actually one of the biggest myths around the world. Black attracts the light of the sun, not the heat of the sun. This is where people get confused,” says Manal. (Though a physicist might give a different explanation.)
Yasmine offers a more convincing answer: “It’s all about the way it is made – the abaya is very loose. When you are in cold places you wear tight clothing; in hot places you wear loose clothing, for airflow. If mine is closed I could be wearing very little underneath. And anyway, believe it or not, Emirati people do not walk under the heat of the sun.”
What about covering the hair? “Women do not cover up because of men,” says Yasmine. Manal agrees. “There is too much pressure among women. How will you go to the mosque five times a day when you cannot concentrate any more on your prayer because now you are looking at her dress, now you’re looking at her hair? It became a competition inside the place of worship so God said: ‘When you come [here], you have to follow the dress code.’” (Interestingly, this means women must cover their hair but not their face or hands.)
These days, covering the face is down to personal identity and fashion, with Emirati ladies tending to opt for the niqab, a single piece of fabric that covers both the hair and their nose and mouth. Manal also emphasizes that it is not a religious choice or about subjugating women, as it can be in other Middle Eastern countries – she frequently goes out without an abaya altogether: “We live in a free country. If my husband is forcing me to wear something, it is considered abuse and I can go and ask for a divorce. There are a lot of Emirati people who are not wearing traditional clothes.”
The end of the breakfast is signalled by the wafting of smoke from a mabkhara with burning incense inside. Manal says: “This is how we smoke the guests out of the house. If you visit any Emiratis and they bring this out, it means it is time to leave. It also makes your clothes smell nice.” With that, I put on my shoes, thank my hosts and head back out into the heat, with plenty to think about on the way.
