What a wonderful ethnographic study of the imagined, romanticized past! It was very insightful for me to see this construction of what Dubai would like to present as its cultural and historical heritage. The first room you enter focuses on the rapid change, or rather "progress" that the city has made. It started with traditional music and pictures of Dubai in the 1930s when Dubai was just a sand bar and a few adobe buildings. Then the music got a little 1950's rock n roll, and we saw the first high rises go up along the dirt roads. Then the music went all disco and we saw the high-rises increase, until the techno music started up and we see the Buhr Khaleefa, tallest building the world, the Atlantis, swankiest hotel in the world, Dubai Mall, biggest mall in the world (does Edmonton know this?), and the oil wells, richest in the world. Finally, the music became techno trance music and picture of "Vision for 2015" flashed by in bright computer graphics showing the modern marvels of a Dubai even swankier and flashier than it is now, if that can even be imagined.
After the CGI of the Dubai of the Future, one walks immediately into comparative darkness to wend through a narrow, dim alley filled with little dioramas of metal workers, break makers, net menders, boat builders, and date sellers. In a previous post, I mentioned the model of the Emirati man sitting on the bench that many visitors enjoyed sitting with, and that was quickly followed upon by the adorable camel with his mujahadeen halter-holder. If you turned left at the camel and resisted his cameley charms, you got to see a diorama of the interior of a house like place with models of women still veiled, but doing homely chores like child care, but oddly enough, no cooking.
From the domestic dioramas one moves on through romantic semi darkness to a tent with a sheikh in formal regalia and his noble falcon. A helpful docent explained how his knife was a sign of honor. From there, one goes into a large room that simulated men diving for pearls. It had a glass ceiling with a boat bottom on it and pair of legs signifying a pearl diver coming to the surface at the boat. In another corner was an upside down man who was reaching into the sand. There were cases of tiny little pearls, and there were many photos celebrating the early 20th century pearl trade. It is emphasized everywhere I have read about this that the pearl trade took a nosedive when the Japanese figured out how to culture pearls. According to the romantic literature, this devastated this "small but proud" community, and they suffered terribly until they found oil and never looked back at pearling.
Actually, none of the pearling areas have oysters anymore. We saw an historical map in a cultural center that had all the pearling areas that were still extant in the 1930s. I asked the tour guide, "Are these areas still active?" He replied, "Yes, these are the pearling areas. This map is from the 1930s. It was reprinted in 1971." I have a lot of conversations like this. Just as a tangent, I also asked in another museum exhibit about textile arts, "In dowry negotiations, who decides how valuable the textiles are?" The docent replied, "Yes, the bride works on these hangings, and they are displayed to show her craftsmanship." And I said this morning to the man who was trying to fit too many suitcases into the van, "It's okay. There is another van coming for the luggage. Abu will be here in five minutes." The harried driver responded, "I don't know what we will do: there is not room. There are too many suitcases." I tried again, "Yes, that is true, but another van is coming." He worriedly shook his head, "No, no they will not all fit," and he looked disconsolately at the pile of luggage. We were speaking the same language, or variants thereof, but our conceptual spheres overlapped in no way.
After the pearl diving came the gift shop. Oh, the gift shop that every so telling museum of fictional ethnographic material culture. Gentle reader, what do you think was in the gift shop that the city of Dubai would want its foreign visitors to take away as mementos of their trip to the Middle East? There were camels, and compasses (to find Mekkah), and genie lamps, and coffee pots. There you have the material culture. But what about the people? There were fat, frowning, ceramic, bearded men in dishtasha, and there were fat, glowering, ceramic, veiled (could have been bearded, who would know?) women in abaya. They may have been salt and pepper shakers, but I was so bent on the surreptitious ethnographic photos that I did not look too closely. But what made me take a full step back were the pens: in the shape of women in hijab and men in gitra where to get the pen to extend, you push on their heads! Good grief, Charlie Brown.
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2 comments:
So once there is oil, you go straight to the museum gift shop. Isn't there any Arabic pop music? Maybe the music is still a source of tradition and heritage. Pearls, dhows, camels all gone. Islam and textiles. Do you hear the calls to prayer 5 times a day? Interesting about the reading: As long as it is in English it can be as improper as you want. The desert must create this polarized, rarefied thinking. The absolute best thing is astronomy in cloudless clear night skies. Arabic numbers. Arabic star names. I am so intrigued.
You might need to investigate body image issues, or perhaps the cultural definition of beauty. Will you have access to local men's and women's magazines--the kind you get at a newsstand or grocery store checkout, or even bookstore section? These high-low cultural images might offer insight into preferences, which could be contrasted/compared to the gift shop items. Do you think there is any possibility of speaking privately with faculty (a home visit?). Are there unsupervised activities?
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