While watching the magnificent Burj Khalifa piercing the sky, this senior expat board director, himself a resident of this city for over three decades, gazed upon the city ensnared in the crossfire of the most recent conflict. Drones had whispered perilously close to icons like the Burj Al Arab and DXB airport, grounding flights and stirring a quiet unease that rippled through boardrooms and bazaars alike.
Yet in this seasoned observer’s eyes, the unrest was not mere chaos but a canvas revealing profound human depths, where thousands of expatriates, long since dubbing themselves “expat Emiratis,” reaffirmed their unbreakable bond to this golden land that had become their second home.
He watched as the unsettling atmosphere cast long shadows over daily life. Families whispered of contingency plans, some slipping away via land routes to Oman or Saudi Arabia after minor damages scarred luxury hotel. Concern etched faces in coffee shops and souks, where the unknown duration of closed skies bred valid worries.
Still, for him, and for many like him, rooted here through decades of shared sunrises, the pull was stronger than fear. These “Expat Emiratis” yearned not to flee but to stand in solidarity with local families who had opened their hearts and horizons, offering opportunities that transformed dreams into legacies. This was their moment to express profound gratitude, not with fanfare, but through steadfast presence amid the storm.
In the quiet hours, as distant sirens hushed, the director’s mind wandered to ancient lore, drawing solace from stories that mirrored Dubai’s trial. From Hindu mythology, the Ramayana unfolded in his thoughts. Lord Rama, exiled unjustly, faced forests fraught with demons, yet his brother Lakshman chose unwavering loyalty, forsaking royal comfort to guard him through fire and flood. This exile forged not fracture but fraternity, teaching that true gratitude blooms in adversity, very much like many expats now volunteering at shelters or amplifying UAE voices online, honoring the shelter this nation provided when their own paths led them here.
Arabic folklore offered the tale of Juha, the wise fool whose donkey escaped during a desert sandstorm. Rather than curse fate, Juha rebuilt his bond with the beast, sharing water from his last skin and whispering thanks for past journeys. The lesson? Storms test but do not sever ties. They deepen reciprocity, echoing how Dubai’s residents now share resources and resolve, repaying decades of hospitality with unyielding trust.
Even Greek mythology whispered relevance. Odysseus, battered by Poseidon’s wrath on storm-tossed seas, clung to Ithaca’s memory amid tempests. His crew’s loyalty, though tried, sustained him, imparting that home is not soil alone but the shared endurance of trials. These parables converged in Dubai’s narrative, illuminating how adversity strips pretense, revealing character and cultivating alliances that outlast tempests.
Beneath the surface tension, the UAE and Dubai orchestrated mastery unseen yet profound. The Department of Tourism and Commerce shouldered the full burden for over 20,000 stranded visitors, covering extended hotel stays, meals, medical care, and rebookings from Dubai’s glittering towers to Abu Dhabi’s serene shores and Sharjah’s vibrant hubs. No soul went wanting. This was not obligation but a seamless extension of the nation’s renowned grace. Emirates Airline, the world’s connective vein, rerouted resources for special repatriation flights, prioritizing families, the elderly, and the vulnerable amid several thousand cancellations, turning global gridlock into pathways home.
The hospitality industry rose like a tide, offering 24/7 sanctuaries without surcharge. Hotels transformed into havens with open kitchens and counseling corners. Embassies and Consulates, led by efforts like the Indian Embassy in Abu Dhabi and the Indian consulate in Dubai, coordinated around the clock, linking communities with transport and essentials. Associations and expat groups disseminated verified calm via hotlines and apps, quelling rumors before they festered.
Locals, moved by this symphony, shared public praises. “Expats truly love us,” one Emirati voice echoed online, as bonds deepened in real-time acts, from shared iftars to convoy aid. DXB airport’s evacuations exemplified this poise. No panic, only precision, as staff guided thousands with water, updates, and dignity, scripting humanity into crisis management lore.
From this crucible, lessons emerged luminous. Like Rama’s dharma, which aligned duty with devotion, expats learned that solidarity is active gratitude, volunteering not from duty but love. Juha’s donkey tale taught quiet reciprocity. Give back without tally, as residents now do through community drives. Odysseus’s odyssey reminded that resilience is collective. No island stands alone. Adversity unveiled the UAE’s quiet genius. Vigilant food security amid Hormuz strains, interceptor shields minimizing harm, psychological support hotlines easing minds. Globally, it yet again set benchmarks. Efficiency without excess, humanity without hysteria. For the board director, these trials reinforced wisdom. Crises do not break the worthy. They burnish them, revealing home as a living tapestry of mutual honor.
As dawn gilded the skyline once more, the senior expat board director felt a swell of emotion too vast for words. Shadows had birthed unexpected light. Loyalties fortified, generosities unveiled, a city proving that even crossfire forges unbreakable unity.
Like millions, he too waited patiently for good sense and saner judgment to prevail, knowing this ordeal had woven expats and Emiratis closer, into a family eternal. In this truth lay profound hope.
Mahmoud Darwish’s poem “Think of Others” urges empathy for the less fortunate amid everyday privileges. Here’s the full English translation, drawing from widely shared versions.
As you prepare your breakfast, think of others……. do not forget the pigeon’s food.
As you conduct your wars, think of others……. do not forget those who seek peace.
As you pay your water bill, think of others……. particularly those who are nursed only by clouds.
As you return home, to your home, think of others……. do not forget the people of the camps.
As you sleep and count the stars, think of others……. those who have nowhere to sleep.
As you liberate yourself in metaphor, think of others……. those who have lost the right to speak.
As you think of others far away, think of yourself……. and say: “If only I were a candle in the dark”.
