dinner in the desert

Four white SUVs pulled up to the hotel, driven by 4 men in white dishtash.  The red logo of Al Ain Municipality sparkled from their doors, signaling the official caravan that would take us to a Municipality retreat in the desert beyond the limits of Al Ain.  The 12 of us piled in and the drivers sped away from the hotel, one behind the other, driving for about 20 minutes until buildings gave way to the red sand of the desert.  The white SUVs entered a chain link fence, containing perhaps two acres of flat sand, with a 3-sided palm front hut and maybe two other small huts.  As we stepped from the cars, our host D sauntered out to meet us in bare feet.  The Municipality's reserved area looked barren, as did the rolling dunes beyond the fence.  A hot breeze blew across the flat red sand.

D welcomed us and led us to the palm hut, where the floor was covered by patterns carpets topped with rectangular cushions and, on top of them, large square pillows.  A flat screen TV stood in the corner.  He invited us to look around and make ourselves at home.  We had been told the dress code was smart casual, so most of us were wearing work clothes.  With a shrug, we removed our shoes and placed our belongings on the pillows, then walked from the hut across the sand to the far end of the fenced area.  One knotted tree stood just outside the chain link, tangled and thirsty.  Beyond it, the sun sank toward the horizon, deepening from white to orange.  We glanced at each other, unsure what to do here in the corner of a large expanse of fenced sand.  Two other of our project sponsors sauntered over to D and conversed in Arabic.  Then, our hosts sat down onto the sand, some sitting crosslegged or other on their legs folded under them, looking expectant.  Some of us would glance down at our work clothes, then sink onto the warm sand ourselves.  The conversation was tentative as several of the team dug holes in the sand and the shadows of the fence grew.

A bit later, our host trudged across the sand back to the huts and returned, holding a volleyball and soccer ball below his triumphant smile.  The men got up en masse and began kicking the futbol to each other in a large circle; eventually they would start an impromptu game with the Emirati men on the open plain of sand.  The rest of us, all women, sat down on a large carpet they dragged out from the huts and talked and chatted until the sun sank below the horizon.

Guy stuff temporarily discarded for futbol!

As darkness descended, we wandered back to the 3-sided palm hut.  Here we were mesmerized by a large buffet table filled with traditional Arabic foods.  We numbered about 18 people in total but the feast was enough for 40, perhaps more.  We were told it is traditional to return for more food three times and beckoned to start.  Large stainless steel pans of curry were flanked by china bowls of salad - cabbage with zata'ar, fatoosh, tabbouli - hummus, pita bread.  On the far table were two enormous platters, each filled with a mountain of rice and, perched on top, a whole roasted lamb, crowned by its head.  Two young women of Philippino descent poured thick juice from pitchers into tall glasses as we sat on low pillows and ate to nearly bursting.

After the meal, our hosts huddled in the corner, speaking to Imane.  D turned and asked us all to take our seats.  Then, one by one, he called each of us to the front and presented us with a certificate and an engraved glass statue, gifts of thanks for our work with the Municipality.  He shook our hand and the bright light from a camera lit up the room.  Then all of us would settle back onto our cushions and our hosts would ask us to each tell our favorite thing in Al Ain or the UAE.  The evening complete, we trudged back through the warm night breeze to the waiting SUVs, which would drive us back to the hotel.  #ibmcsc uae