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THE LIMITS OF WHAT WE CAN KNOW
Dearest Saif,
The United Arab Emirates was a country formed from the tribes around the tip of the Arabian
Peninsula. The tribes were divided between those that were desert dwelling and those that were
seafaring. They had historically fallen under the control of the British, who wanted to ensure safe
passage from Britain to India, and so Britain set up something called a protectorate. This effectively
meant that we were under British rule, with few if any direct material benefits.
As a historical entity, the UAE was not burdened by the Arab-Israeli conflict or the history of the
region in any way similar to other Arab nations. The Emirates had a clear sense of identity; we were
marginal but determined survivors, and our culture, although young, was very strong. It is, as it
always has been, a country that has genuine concern about the well-being of its citizens and residents.
Though the formula for wealth distribution has changed from land grants in the 1970s to economic
opportunities and jobs for all, the focus has always been on the Emirati individual—an Emirati
individual with a character, a personality, and an identity. But looking back, the truth is that few
people expected the Emirates to survive, let alone succeed in the manner that it has.
Terrorism struck the Emirates for the first time on October 25, 1977. I attended an Englishlanguage
school just down the road from our home. As the country was still undergoing tremendous
investment and building, there were many foreign contractors, and this is why there were a number of
English-language schools. My siblings and I were sent to one, as the quality of education was much
higher than in the Arabic-language schools. I remember the day when I was abruptly pulled from
class. My siblings and I were told there would be a three-day holiday and we celebrated. Back at the
house, however, we returned to find my mother crying. Men stood in small circles outside in the
garden. The women remained inside to watch a funeral broadcast on the family television. It was an
old television with knobs and wooden shutters. The house was crowded, hot, and I have a vague
recollection of everything feeling saturated by tears. An Emirati flag covered the coffin. I asked
whose funeral it was but received no answer.
Many years later I realized it was my father’s funeral. Over the years I have spent many hours
trying to piece together his life story. It has proved more difficult than might have been expected. The
journey has been revealing and instructive, even though the facts of his life still remain hazy and in