Agnes calmed me with tea and her happy gracious smile. She is a dear. The Dubai port put me through hell and as I sat and drank Agnes’s tea I fought the Devil’s emotion not to return and shoot each and every one of the despicable port men with their small moustaches dead! An attitude I despise when they believe, like policemen and dictators, we, the people, are here to served, rather than understanding they are here to serve the people! And this way I have finally met the Arabs of the UAE. The one in ten who hold positions of power. They run this country in a strange sort of way. It is no longer a city an Arab can call his own.

Then, with my frustration getting the better of me, I missed my train station and was forced to walk back an hour to the riad. Oh what a day! Each angry step asking why has the Landy become a noose around my neck!

It is done now. The Landy goes to Cochin and other than dreading a phone call calling me back to the port, she is on her way – gone to a watery grave (it would not be so bad) or if God is of cruel mind to another land. And God help those port officers in India where the service is self-serving and Dubai looks slick. The gun of an angry man is already being loaded.

A visa pinged up in my inbox; just one month. Oh it is a cruel day.

There are few foreigners in my part of town, that is if you don’t include Agnes and the Pakistan immigrants. Once outside the ‘old’ town and in the ‘new’ town it is bright and rowdy and safe and the cleanest of all Pakistan cities. I walked admiring what the immigrants were making of life away from their family and friends and managed by their Arab masters. It will one day be their city. I am sure of that. What happens today only a fool believes is sustainable. Remember, once the Americans believed slaves had been given to them by right.