From the desert sands of Dubai to the pavement in London: I’m awestruck even today, but for a different reason …

When I first set foot at London Heathrow in the early 1970s, I was leaving Dubai and the United Arab Emirates for the first time in my life. It was my first encounter with a foreign country, and what I saw in London left me almost speechless. Even the pavement seemed extraordinary. For most of my life, as was the case for so many of my generation who lived through the early years of the Union, our feet had known little but sand. We stepped out of our tents onto sand and walked on sand. Sand surrounded us wherever we went. Beyond it, there was little to see but the sea. We lived, quite literally, in a sea of sand. So how could a London pavement fail to astonish me? And if the pavement itself seemed miraculous, what was I to make of the city's buildings, streets, hotels, shops, cars and trains? What did I make of electric lights that came on with the flick of a switch? It was like stepping into Alice's Wonderland. Those days now belong to another age. After finishing secondary school, many of us were sent abroad to pursue higher education. At the time, there were no universities in the country and only a limited number of secondary schools across the Emirates. For young people seeking a university education, the road led abroad—to Beirut, Cairo, Baghdad, London or the United States. The new state urgently needed educated men and women who could help build a modern nation. The country that had emerged from British rule was poor and underdeveloped, facing challenges that, by the standards of the time, were even more severe than those confronting many other developing countries. We were a generation being asked to help change that. In those early years, travelling from one place to another was an adventure in itself. People walked, rode camels and donkeys, or travelled by boat. When motor vehicles began to appear, the Land Rover and Bedford became the workhorses of the country, their ability to cross sand, desert and coastal terrain making them indispensable for travel between the emirates and within them. "For my generation, the formation of the United Arab Emirates was far more than a political event or a constitutional milestone. It was a passage from one era to another—from separate emirates, divided by distance and limited resources, into a country with one flag, one name and a shared future." I sometimes wonder whether it was our good fortune or our misfortune to have witnessed some of the hardships endured by our parents and grandparents. Perhaps it was both. We were fortunate enough to see the first signs of change, yet close enough to the old way of life to understand what that change meant. I remember the rough, muddy roads that had to be watered every day by tanker trucks to keep them firm and prevent clouds of dust from rising. I remember the first electricity generator, running for only a few hours a day to provide light for the mosque and a handful of homes. There were gas-powered refrigerators, brought in from abroad, used to cool water and preserve the modest supply of food and drinks available in those days. And then there were the cars. When one appeared on the road, people would stop and watch. A passing car could become an event. The arrival of the first telephone in the neighbourhood was another occasion for wonder. We would gather around the strange device, fascinated by the idea that a person's voice could travel from one place to another without us seeing the person who was speaking. Television and Radio was something else entirely. A small box would draw together families and neighbours. Its screen became a window into a world we knew only through pictures—a world that seemed impossibly distant and yet suddenly within our reach. There were not many new things in those days. But each one carried a significance far beyond its practical purpose. A car was not simply a means of transportation. Electricity was not simply light. A telephone was not simply a means of communication. Each was a sign that the world we had known was beginning to recede—and that a new life was emerging before our eyes. Then came the Union. And everything changed. For my generation, the formation of the United Arab Emirates was far more than a political event or a constitutional milestone. It was a passage from one era to another—from separate emirates, divided by distance and limited resources, into a country with one flag, one name and a shared future. We watched roads being built and extended. Schools multiplied. Hospitals opened their doors. Government departments took shape. Airports expanded. Scholarships sent young Emiratis to universities across the world. And in the middle of it all was our generation—the generation of the beginnings—watching, participating and learning. When I left for London to study, I did not carry only a suitcase filled with clothes and books. I carried a mind full of questions. How did people here live? How had their cities become so organised? How had they built streets, parks, build