On Saturday, I was standing on the beach below my home on Dubai’s Palm Crescent when I noticed thick plumes of black smoke rising from the Fairmont Hotel across the water on the trunk of the Palm Jumeirah.
I watched the dark fumes with dread as they rapidly grew thicker at sunset. I had seen similar explosions in Beirut and Gaza during reporting trips I’ve taken in the region.
I live in a beachfront apartment on the East Crescent, the outer arc that curves around Palm Jumeirah and shields it from the open sea.
I had just gotten back from visiting a friend from graduate school and her family at a beach club at the base of The Palm Jumeirah. An afternoon meant to be spent enjoying the beach and the cool waters during one of the Gulf’s best times of year, quickly turned into one of spotting numerous missiles in the sky as they were being intercepted by the United Arab Emirates’ defense system.
The US strikes on Iran, which we had anticipated for weeks, had begun, and as many in the Gulf had feared, they have led to hundreds of missile and drone attacks on Gulf soil.
After an intense few hours filled with worry, I had gone down to the beach at my home to watch the sunset and try to find a moment of calm. Others had done the same. A fisherman stood with his line in the water. Couples walked by the water’s edge as the evening light shimmered on the waves. Others lounged by the pool.
For a moment, it looked like any other Saturday.
But the smoke still spiraled into the sky, an eerie reminder that it wasn’t. People stood quietly, watching.
Then, without warning, a fast-moving ball of fire flew over our heads and our building. Instinct took over. We ran for the basement, breathless, confused, scared, and frustrated. A woman rushed in after us, crying. She said she’d just driven past The Fairmont and seen it in flames.
I’ve lived in the United Arab Emirates since 2009. I never would have imagined that the sights of bombings I have reported on in other Arab nations would be seen and experienced here, a Gulf nation considered to be one of the safest in the world.
This is a place where my friends from Lebanon, Palestine, Syria, and even Iran and parts of Africa have come to for a safer life and better work opportunities.
They did not escape war to come to experience another war.
We knew it was coming
Since mid-January, there had been growing talk of a possible military strike on Iran. For weeks, people across the Gulf — residents and visitors alike — had been bracing for it. At conferences, art fairs, dinners with friends, and even casual work meetings, the subject would come up.
People would whisper about it, sometimes even joke.
“Let’s see if it happens next week or next weekend,” someone would say.
“Let’s have lunch while we still can,” a friend in Downtown Dubai told me recently. “We may all be living in the basement soon,” they added with a laugh.
But the moment never came.
We’re now in the second week of Ramadan — a time meant for reflection, charity, community, and peace. Dubai had been full of festive iftars and suhoors, the celebratory meals where Muslims break their fast after sunset.
Until this week, the city felt joyful, as it always does during this month.
Life is carrying on
The last few days have brought real fear and confusion. At times I’ve felt completely on edge. But I also feel safe. I feel grateful.
As I write this on the evening of March 3, flights across the Gulf are still suspended. The UAE says it has intercepted 186 ballistic missiles and more than 800 drones. I can hear the fighter jets roaring overhead. And yet, outside, children are playing again. Birds are chirping.
Businesses are open, even if many people are working from home. Life is going on, and I do feel safe. I’ve gone through several nights of fitful sleep, waking up to emergency texts from the government on my phone warning us to stay away from windows and falling debris.
The noise and uncertainty have been scary. But seeing how the UAE has been handling the situation — confidently and with resilience — has given me strength.
Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t easy. I have also seen commentary and reports online that have used this moment to criticize the nation, dismissing it as “glitzy,” as if it isn’t a real place where real people live. But for those of us who call it home, it’s very real.
Over the 17 years I’ve been here, I have lived through two recessions, the COVID pandemic, and several floods. During each catastrophe, the UAE has surprised its skeptics and bounced back.
I don’t know how or when this will end. I am still undecided as to when or if I will leave. I’m still nervous going to sleep at night. It’s only been a few days, and I’m still jumping at loud noises. But each hour and day that passes, I do feel calmer. We will get through this. The UAE will get through this.
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