As war debris falls on the city, it does not panic

While attacks on a city known globally for its glitz and glamour are undeniably stressful, the public reaction in Dubai reveals an awesome side to our psyche. As I write, life, for most of us, is normal. All we are doing is heeding the advice of staying indoors to avoid the debris of intercepted missiles.

And we are a pretty hardy lot, all 220 nationalities that make this city hum. There’s concern in huge, big dollops, for sure, but no panic. That is Dubai for you and pretty much proud we are of this resilience under fire. We are not just bling and bells and whistles, we own this place and only when the chips are down do we realise there is gravel in the gut. 

Oops oops there were two bangs right now, windows are rattling. But the authorities lead from the front and their mind-blowing efficiency makes us feel we belong, that we are being taken care of – which makes it all the more annoying that this city is being targeted. Yet, the metro is running, the buses are on time, the cabbies are in full force and delivery mobike posses are creating their normal roar. It is this community spirit that has got us through Day One. Even the ATP 500 finals were not cancelled Saturday evening. This said, the unease of not knowing where it’s all going in the future is real and tangible.

But we are assuring friends and family in the home countries as much as they are calling us.  Truly telling friends and neighbours to be concerned but not be stupid. No point rushing off to the desert and getting stuck. The rescue teams have bigger fish to fry. No point congregating in large groups in the open. No one is really panicking, buying or stocking up at the supermarkets. Come Monday it is a work day and Dubai for most purposes will open for business.

Stay home because if you try to check into a hotel in another emirate as a resident they won’t check you in. Priority is for those who are stranded and in transit. That says it all. In a city where many live in towering apartment buildings, neighbours who had only ever exchanged polite nods in the elevator are suddenly checking in on each other, sharing snacks, and forming impromptu support pods.

It is a masterclass in trust between a govt and its people. Both ways. Our city isn’t just big  buildings and glitz.  It’s the people, who, when the sky lights up for the wrong reasons, choose to stand closer together.

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