Fun is a universal language. And fun in Dubai is of course spelt DSF.
So it was with much anticipation that I bundled eight adults and five children into two cars and set off for the Global Village.
When I say eight adults, that included an Indian with a Singaporean wife, an elderly Pakistani couple, an Emirati who has been my dad's friend from the day he first landed in Dubai, a Brit professional who is new here and my four-year-old son Kenneth with his best friend Amy who is Lebanese Australian, Khalid, who is Palestinian, Francis who is a Filipino and Eva, whose ancestral roots are so tousled but was mercifully just six months old and asleep. A cold day, the adults were crabby and the kids had chosen to pick a fight over the number of cars parked at the entrance. 10,000 said the kids and the adults said more...
Throughout the drive, I was thinking (not all the time though; when at least five are talking simultaneously, one cannot think) - about past DSF days. Ten years ago, I did not drive - my best friend and I sang all the way and drove our parents crazy. DSF 2000 was special because I got baby kaftans for her first daughter; in 2005, I was a heavily pregnant woman walking around with my mum's help while she narrated the story of how a woman once gave birth in the Global Village and I was fairly sure I would follow suit. In 2007, I took my baby son along, bundled in 10 layers of clothing; he was toddling around the next year, followed by worshipping cousins and elders. And this year, he had his own friends.
Each passing year at the DSF holds so many memories for us Gulf babies - no doubt Andy, our Brit friend thought that was pretty drab, but when you are an ABCD - an Abu Dhabi Bred Confused Desi, DSF has always been something to look forward to. The long drive with cousins, the games, the knickknack shopping, the stories you hear - when dads get sentimental staring at a wooden figurine in the Indian Pavilion (throw in a couple of multicultural friends and you get a free history lesson from each of those adults, much better than school if you ask me) and the candies and the chips - all junk food because the adults are too tired to argue.
Time flew there. The boys tried to strike a record at the Guinness Pavilion sorting socks - yeah right, my mum had a better chance; children took a gondola ride, we strolled around making more memories, shopped, bargained, mum got my hands hennaed so I had to balance my press camera in one hand and ask my brother to click.
Getting food was interesting - KFC and salad - as it's not easy to find something for a multicultural group that has one allergic to peanut oil, one vegetarian, two diabetic, one dieting and two kids who like only ketchup.
Dad and uncle discussed the credit crunch, I cannot honestly say that I worried - all said, life was still good. Kailashi, who put henna for me, said things were tough in her village. Droughts, famines - we had food on our table still. Life had its stresses, but people cared - Khalid's mum Sana and I asked the kids to say a prayer for the children in Gaza and pick things to send through Dubai Cares. We have had a middle class life during which dad taught us to share - we shared Christmas cakes in school and ate from one plate during Iftar - that was what a Dubai upbringing was all about.
In four hours, we had spoken to a Kenyan woman in a mask, played bubbles with two adorable Korean children, tasted Arabic coffee again, learned to say hello in Spanish from Joseph - who is a Chinese man selling Indian bangles in the East Asian pavilion. Joseph learned Spanish from an American visitor, he said. Life could not get more interesting than that!
A trip to the DSF and we realised that laughter was a necessity; fun has no barriers. And a bunch of cranky kids and an odd bag mixture of adults had bought some pep back into my own life.
Oh! And I realised with a bang - all of us had forgotten to count how many cars were parked there. DSF had worked its spell...
