The Best Intentions in the World

Chapter 2 – Safineh-2

Mobility on the Strait of Hormuz was highly regulated. There were too many tankers, too many tensions and issues at stake for the three states regulating its access. Although he was well acquainted, Khalid had had to go through tough negotiations to be allowed to follow the path he had charted. He was forced to make concessions in order to seal the deal. No alcohol, no music, and only one licensed photographer on board.

The Arab Cruise had one goal: the promotion of Arab Malls and of the Al Firas family in general. In Dubai, everyone knew the name behind the brand.

Khalid wanted to select the Safineh’s first passengers among the winners of a contest designed to attract even more people inside his malls.

In Dubai, big plastic spheres filled with crumpled papers were often displayed near the entrance to the malls, with garish banners prompting passersby to write down their name and email. The most dedicated ones spent tens if not hundreds of dirhams for a chance to win fabulous prices: a trip to New York, a California Ferrari, a diamond necklace.

Khalid wanted every fringe of the population to be able to participate. Fifteen dirhams was enough to start dreaming big.

The random draw would follow strict rules. Only two representatives of each nationality would be allowed on board.

Participants were asked to write down their country of origin next to their name before casting a ballot.

Now I knew why the boat was named “Ark”. I was also reminded that Muslims have great respect for Noah, as well as other biblical figures.

Khalid did not flat out deny the link when I mentioned it to him, but he was careful not to give a religious meaning to his initiative.

“Noah’s ark is a beautiful tale. People appreciate beautiful stories, there’s nothing more to it. If they happen to reference it, all the better,” he said.

“Agreed Khalid, but allow me to remind you the initial purpose of Noah’s unlikely journey.”

“Conservation of the species, isn’t it?” answered Khalid.

“Or the destruction of a corrupt and perverse generation. I’ll let you ponder the sort of interpretations this could lead people to.”

“Yes, I know. They’ll say I don’t endorse the development policies in Dubai. They’ll hint at my contradictions and call me opportunistic.”

“That doesn’t scare you?”

“I doubt my critics are educated enough to draw that parallel. The myth of the Ark has always permeated through history. I’ll tell them all about Atra-Hasis’ epic tale in Mesopotamia, about Manu saving Vishnu and even about the great flood caused by Gong Gong, the Chinese water god. There are many such stories,” explained Khalid factually.

“It’s the flood I’m worried about. The waters covering the Earth, an omen of what is to become of the plethora of artificial islands surfacing throughout the littoral despite climate change…

“You allow your imagination to run wild.”

“Maybe. It rains three times a year. That wouldn’t make for much of a deluge. What about Islam?” I enquired.

“Noah is regarded as a major prophet. Muslims refer to him as an example of bad things to come when we turn a deaf ear to the word of God.

“If I may say so, Khalid, most stories in the Quran are here to scare believers into submission.”

“You should not curse. Neither should you worry. We’ll find the correct answers to the wrong questions. Some say the Ark came through Mecca, that it went around the Kaaba before reaching its final destination. There are always beautiful stories to tell. Do you feel better now?” he inquired.

“Something else bothers me.”

“What is it?”

“The passengers could be perceived as privileged, or chosen by God. What will countries without representatives have to say about that?”

“We have to communicate the right message. You know the media. They’ll do as they’re told. The government is on my side. The Arab cruise is yet another publicity stunt for Dubai” he said firmly.

“Hopefully a good one…”

“Do you still want the damn job?” asked Khalid Al Firas with a taunting voice.

“Of course I do.”

It was an instant hit and the media caught on.

Who would travel on board the Safineh? From whereabouts in the world?

Would there be as many women as men?

We were flooded with questions. Khalid teased everyone with the help of a dedicated communication team willing to turn this random draw into the biggest event of the year.

But in the land of free trade, transparency has its limits. The Al Firas kept the random draw confidential. Too much publicity would have been bad publicity for the family business.

Picture a good willing Chinese hand picking three Indians in a row.

It was a likely scenario. Indians account for half of Dubai’s total population.

It took place on a Saturday afternoon, in the Al Firas’ private chambers. The youngest from the clan picked the names out of a pearly white box filled with preselected ballots. I was never told whether or not some had been tampered with.

The winners’ nationalities were disclosed on the following day in a big conference room filled with foreign correspondents.

Khalid introduced himself to the cameras and proceeded to list the various activities of his conglomerate before reminding the audience of the purpose of this particular cruise. Then, he gave the passengers’ nationalities.

“Ladies and gentlemen, time has come for me to reveal the oh-so lucky winners of our random draw to climb aboard the Arab Cruise. Out of respect for their privacy, we will keep their names secret up to the last minute. But you will know where they’re from. The Al Firas Group will have the pleasure to welcome aboard the Safineh men and women from France, Pakistan, the United States, Libya and Saudi Arabia. The boat will depart from the creek this February the 9th. Thank you, and may God be with you.”

Khalid agreed to answer a few questions. As he had predicted, no journalist mentioned the symbolism behind the name of the ship and its travel away to a distant land. All the media cared about were the passengers.

“What were your criteria when picking winners?” asked a first journalist.

“As I said, it was a random draw.”

“What would have happened if some came from the same country?”

“The issue did not present itself.”

It made little doubt Khalid was lying, but his natural composure gave some consistency to his answer.

“Would you call it a fortunate coincidence? Are you satisfied with the results?”

“Yes.”

“And yet no Indian citizen was picked. Is it really a fair sample of Dubai’s population?” dared a journalist from a Bombay newspaper.

It was a tricky question. With no representative, the Indian community could be upset—especially with a Pakistani among the winners.

I saw Khalid frowning, visibly annoyed. But he answered with a smile:

“We left it up to chance to decide. Most of our staff on board is Indian by the way. They are by far the most represented—which is only fair when one looks at Dubai’s demographics. There are one hundred and twenty nationalities in our city. We cannot invite them all. If the boat had been twice as big, we would have welcomed twice as many guests. It is what it is.

The journalist was not convinced, but he remained silent.

“Are the passengers on low incomes?”

“No, not always. Some, I do believe, live rather comfortably.”

“And it doesn’t bother you?” he added.

“No. This is no charity. It’s a game contest everyone was welcome to participate in.”

“Are there as many women as there are men?”

“It is fairly balanced.”

“Have you taken exceptional security measures?” asked a foreign correspondent.

“Indeed, we have. The Strait of Hormuz is under heavy surveillance. Any suspicious activity is immediately spotted and dealt with. We are working hand in hand with our friends from Iran and Oman to ensure the safety of our passengers.

And with those comforting words, the press conference ended.

Although the random draw had been held behind closed doors, it was still stirring up passions. The Indian press was fuming. It was yet another example of Dubai authorities belittling a migrant community it owed a lot to. The Pakistani were celebrating as if their national team had just qualified for the cricket world cup finals, while their rival trailed behind.

Other non-represented nations were outraged. Oman kept reminding its Arab neighbor of the age-old ancestry they shared in common. Kuwait only showed contempt. Iraq said being left out would not help with rebuilding the country’s public image. The Egyptians cursed the event and laughed it off with songs and sketches featured on every TV channel in the Gulf.

It is not certain whether Khalid had anticipated such turmoil. He feared for his company’s interests. What if the whole cruise was a masquerade? What if something happened to one of the passengers? He began doubting. One night, he confided in me:

“Do you think I made a mistake?”

“I do not.”

“Do you truly believe that, or are you simply going easy on me?”

“I’m not afraid to contradict you Khalid, and you know it. That’s why you hired me. No, I don’t feel the Arab Cruise was a mistake.

“Then why did I wake up in cold sweat in the middle of the night?” he asked.

“Because you’re in the spotlight, something you did not expect. There is nothing wrong about the cruise. We have a problem with media hype.”

“What do we do about it, then?”

“Nothing. It’s too late. As it stands, this little operation brought you a lot of publicity. Your name will reach far beyond the borders of your own country, a trick very few businessmen before you have managed to pull off. You’re about to become the world’s most famous Emirati.”

“Indeed, but at what cost?”

“The cost of a small cruise trip! Talk about return on investment…”

“If you say so…” he answered, with a smile.

“It will all go according to plan, Khalid. The whole thing is set. The trip is short. There’s a bit of a media rumble right now, but do remember: covers do not last and the public has short term memory. You have everything to gain. The Arab Cruise is as good a PR stunt as it gets. It will benefit both your company and Dubai at large.

“May God hear you out.”

Only a few days remained before the departure. All for the better. Once the Safineh was en route, things would quiet down and everybody would forget about it.

Except it did not go as planned.

D-Day, January 9th

I left my home in the residential neighborhood of Jumeirah, full of expatriates and wealthy locals, at 8 am. The villa I was renting made me feel like I was born with a golden spoon in my mouth. My friends from Northern Europe appreciated that, and often reminded me of how lucky I was to be basking in the sun all year. I took it all for granted. The blue skies were part of an unmovable decorum. January showers were the only reminder that clouds actually do exist. On the rare occasions I traveled to Europe during the winter, I was reminded that the state of the weather was newsworthy to many journalists as well as pensioners. In Dubai, nobody ever thought about it. There was nothing but clear skies. Nothing but bright blue skies…

So people just leave it at that.

A cab was waiting for me outside my front gate. The Indian driver was flooding me with words in approximate English. I told him to head towards the creek. He asked me if it was business related. I was stupid enough to mention the Arab Cruise. He gave me his opinion, which I had never asked for. There was no stopping him…

“Do you think the random draw was rigged?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Well, I do. No Indians on that ship, that’s statistically impossible.”

“I’m not an expert when it comes to probabilities,” I answered bluntly.

“The government’s behind it all.”

“Why do you say that?”

“It’s such a pretty picture. There are as many Muslims as there are Christians. They even let Pakistanis on board. Even a Saudi won, miraculously, or so it seems. It’s like they didn’t want to upset anyone.”

“It could be pure coincidence,” I concluded.

No matter what part of the world, cabbies wear tinfoil hats building up conspiracy theories. In Paris, I had endured the painstaking, often nauseating accounts of taxi drivers blaming the Chinese Triad or the pseudo Jewish lobby for their misfortune. In Dubai as well, the common man was convinced his whole life was orchestrated and influenced from up top. The driver went on.

“I think Iran is behind it all.”

“Oh really, you do now?”

“Every merchant in Dubai hails from Persia. Right now, there are billions of Iranian dollars sleeping in Dubai’s vaults. Al Firas worked closely with Iran. Why would he bother taking this ship near Iranian coasts?” he said.