Dubai – What unusual thing could I do in a city so cosmopolitan as Dubai? I googled “Camel racing.” That is how I found the Al Marmoum Heritage Festival Finale 2019. A festival with music, food and… racing. Now it comes that old thing of expectations vs. reality. While in Dubai, I had already asked ten people or so about the festival and the so-called camel racing club. Nobody seemed to have heard about it. “Camel racing is not a national sport,” I thought.
In my first try, it was raining. I couldn’t believe it. I though it never rained here. I called a cab. “Hi, how are you? Is it normal to rain like this?” He smiled. “Not really.” Then he looked up to the sky, still laughing. How could I get angry? OK, I was angry, but life goes on. It was just a drizzle. The driver said there was no camel racing when it rains. He should know, right? A peal of thunder. I put the camels off for later.
In my second try, I took a cab in front of my hotel. “Dubai Camel Racing Club, please.” He asked, “Where is that?” I wonder if this place is even real. “You have to take the road for Al Ain,” I answer. Who would say, huh, Mom? Me, giving directions to a cab driver in Dubai. I’m grateful for inventions such as Google Maps, because my geographical knowledge ends there. I show him the map, and he says: “Ohhhh, OK.” Then he activates Google Maps on his own phone.
A sunny day! Today is the day. Midway, I looked outside. The desert sand was taking over the road and the sky ahead became more and more gray. The cab driver found my eyes in the rearview mirror. “Awesome, right?” I started laughing (nervously). “Unbelievable, right?” It started raining. The cab driver laughed. It started raining heavily. We arrived at the club. And the rain arrived there too. Camels! Dozens of them sitting by the racetrack, waiting. The cab driver asked about the festival to one of the caretakers in Arabic, but since activities would begin in an hour or so, I asked to stay in front of the stands. There was no sign of any cabs around, so I wrote his number and said I would call if I needed. He said goodbye but didn’t seem to understand a word I said. Half a dozen tourists. Rain. Camels. Me. Why would I stay there in the middle of the rain? And why wouldn’t I? So, I stayed.
A security guide brought me a brochure about the day races, how many kilometers, and what time they would take place, and suggested two ways to watch the race: “From the stands you will see just the finish line. It is better to ride the tourist bus, which goes along the entire race.” That’s right, the bus rides behind the race. Suddenly, the camels started running! The winners. The latecomers… The bus with camel drawings in it (it had to be for tourists, of course). And cars. A lot of them!
Boys and men poke their heads out of the car windows, screaming in Arabic. Yes, they were screaming at the camels! I don’t understand Arabic, but I guess the camels did, because they ran without riders towards the finish line.
I got on the bus with the other tourists to watch the next race. The sun was almost out. The car track ran around the main track. The camels started running, the cars drove by, and the bus went ahead. Those in the right got up and went to the opposite windows to get a closer look. And… rain! I could only think of two things: (1) why did I choose the wrong side of the bus? And (2) I can’t believe it’s raining again.
I was watching the 8-kilometer race. The hasty camels in the front line were getting tired, and we could see the underdogs (undercamels?) taking the lead. It seemed like a different sport: underwater camel racing. In the finish line, the bus got off the track and went around behind the stands, without seeing the finish line, and then it came back to the starting point. OK, I don’t think I would remember which camel I was rooting for in the beginning, anyway. The cool thing is that they record the races and put them on their channel on YouTube (see at the end of the text).
People were getting off the bus, but I stayed and started talking to a Muslim girl that worked there. The driver said he would only go around the parking lot and that we could stay in the bus. We did. When we were moving away from the tourists, the rain started again, harder and windier. Too much wind! That wind that blows the rain sideways, you know? I looked to the tourist outside, and they were soaking wet! The bus came back, and they got on to wait for the storm to let up. By the way, the races ended right then, the camel track was more a lagoon than a track.
One of the tourists looked at me, “You are dry. Lucky girl!” Look, I wouldn’t describe as lucky a person that attracts rain to aplace-that-never-rains to the point that they have to cancel the races. But, all in all, considering where I went, what I saw, talked, laughed, lived for days, and listened from those people. Yeah, I think I am lucky!
Oh! When the rain was over, I discovered the rest of Al Marmoum Heritage Festival Finale 2019 was real! The other activities were at a village near the Dubai Camel Racing Club, built to welcome the tourists. Full of stands selling food, clothes, perfumes. It was a little flooded (sorry, guys) but I could see a performance of Arab music. And came back home happy and with my feet soaked and full of sand.
Translated by Guilherme Miranda
