Peter Geyer
Type Coaching and Training

Princes come, princes go
An hour of pomp and show
They know
And over the sands and over the sands of time They go
Wise men come
Ever promising
The riddle of life to know
Wise men come
Ah, but over the sands, the silent sands of time They go

–from Kismet

As a very young boy in the mid–1950s, I went with my parents and sister to the musical Kismet, then being staged in Melbourne.

It was a tale centred on medieval Baghdad, with the regulation interpretive licence. I can now remember only one scene, but I remember being enchanted by the show: the words in particular, and curiosity about the spectacle.

Some time later, the Broadway soundtrack appeared on our new, small record player. It competed well with the likes of Camelot, The Sound of Music, Carousel, South Pacific and Oklahoma! – and even with The Beatles, The Animals, and suchlike, at a later time.

But for me, nothing could compete with the words of Kismet: dry, witty, complex (an NT appeal perhaps); and soon after I started work, I bought my own copy. It's on CD these days, and I'm listening to that now.

It took time and knowledge, of course, to understand that the show was a fair distance from reality, although I've understood that about shows in particular from an early age. To me, 'based on a true story' is usually an indication of something largely, or completely, fabricated, for artistic or entertainment purposes. From an historian's point of view, it's a label often better discarded.

On to Dubai

Being invited to conduct an MBTI Accreditation in Dubai in January this year was not only a pleasant surprise, but also an opportunity to experience something of a different culture.

Not that I thought Dubai was a Western 1950s stage version of medieval Baghdad. In fact, although I had studied something of Islam and read some relevant history texts, I knew little about Dubai, other than approximately where it is on a map, and that it is part of the United Arab Emirates, a former British Protectorate: part of the Biggles world, in a way.

The course was for a group at Zayed University, a new institution staffed largely by people from other parts of the world. It was founded by Emirates President Sheikh Zayed bin Sultan al Nayhan, a man respected by everybody I spoke with. His aim is to educate his people – particularly women – in the Western way.

I appeared at Melbourne Airport much closer to departure than I thought, having misread the time. Emirates lived up to their excellent reputation, and it was a relaxed flight.

Singapore was the half–way point, and the transit lounge was my first experience of this trading hub. It was less pristine than expected, and a little cramped, although orderly and clean. I admit to being bewildered at the sight of Days Of Our Lives, that notorious afternoon serial, on the airport TV at 2AM. The local ads for Singapore products added to the incongruity.

Dubai Airport's modern architecture gives you few hints as to where you might be – although female customs and immigration officers in traditional black dress (no veil) give some idea, as do the men wearing the traditional dishdash, immaculately white and pressed. It was interesting to note the variety of dress and the many cultures (predominantly south Asian) that are part of Dubai.

I continued my misreading of information by not connecting with the University people. As I waited to be picked up, I aroused the interest of the security guards. When dealing with such people, it's important to realise that Dubai is not a democracy. But they were helpful when I explained the situation (although I caused polite confusion at an airport coffee shop by asking for a long black: 'espresso' brought the desired result).

TMy destination was outside the city centre: a resort-style hotel near the university campus, on the shores of the Arabian Gulf. The guests were predominantly European (Dubai is only 7 hours by air from Frankfurt, and is popular for holidays). The staff were mostly Europeans and south Asians. In fact, the only locals in the hotel seemed to be the dignified men in traditional dress who were there for meetings.

Outside, the scene resembled a building site, with roads and structures in various stages of completion, and all on sand – there were no rocks or earth to be seen. The University had offices there, where I was to teach. A Hard Rock Cafe could be seen alone at a distance.

The course

The course was for academics and administrators in the University: Australians, Irish, Americans and one Kuwaiti. It was arranged around the local weekend, with a break on the religious day, Friday. The time frame was also shorter, and so sessions were longer and more intense.

As one might expect with academics, the course was vigorous and challenging, particularly with respect to cultural issues and other frameworks, but it was also friendly. We had a lot of discussion about different societies' values regarding individuality and time issues.

Arab society is quite different from ours in those respects, and so interpretation and use of type has to take those facts into account. I was pleased that I had some knowledge of the culture and could recommend texts and ideas on organisational and teaching issues.

The group were all intuitives, not surprising given the fledgling nature of the University. It is only a couple of years old, and things are naturally still being developed. They were also predominantly thinking types: the feeling types being one male and one female in a group of nine (five men and four women).

Seeing Dubai (1)

Initially, all I saw of Dubai was the beach and the short drive to the venue. The landscaping was fairly much completed, with elegant stone pathways and walls, a nice artificial lake (they desalinate sea water), imported palms, and at least one Grevillea. Just down the road I could see the 7–star hotel, an extravaganza which lit up in colours at night.

On the Friday break, I went into the town centre in the late afternoon via the hotel bus, which dropped me at a shopping centre in an area of many western office buildings.

I went for a walk in the steamy heat to see what I could of the town. The town is centred on Dubai Creek, which seems at least as wide as the Brisbane River, with many boats moored: largish wooden trading vessels with all sorts of cargo on their decks, including whitegoods and even a car. These brightly coloured ships were both home and transport, it seems.

I spent 10 years as a customs officer: and so, intrigued by all this, I walked, fairly quickly, as close as I could to the boats and cargo, even though I felt edgy about being in an unfamiliar place with little knowledge of the local language. I could see that there were Iranians, Indians, Pakistanis, Africans and so forth in this area, all deeply suntanned and weather beaten.

Language can be misleading, though. I said the greeting salaam to a few people on the way, as some looked at me suspiciously, or just looked at me, but one man looked at me, grinned widely and said 'Hello, how are you?' I was a bit startled, but then again, English would be a familiar language here. The Emirates were a British protectorate for a few decades, and, of course, India and Pakistan are not all that far away by sea.

As the sun was setting, I arrived at a place where you could take an open boat across to the other side of the river, which seemed crowded with buildings, including a mosque. There were many of these boats, and they were filled to capacity with perhaps 30 or more people.

That was as far as I went. In the gathering dusk I retreated to the shopping centre, on the way passing a crane operated for the Bin Ladin (sic) construction company, and the intriguing sight of an African couple, with the woman completely covered in black, engaged in a vigorous discussion. From his expression and her tone, she was clearly not happy with him.

It was dark when I got back. I wandered into the shopping centre, much the same as anywhere except for the magnificent rugs and artefacts from surrounding places. The place was packed with people in Western garb, and also many males and females in traditional clothes, which was fascinating to me.

Seeing Dubai (2)

At the end of the course I had some time to myself. There were many tours available, including one into the desert to be entertained by a bellydancer at a campfire. It's not part of local culture at all, as I understand it, but perhaps this is estimating what tourists want, rather than being authentic.

I chose two trips, one to the sand dunes as far as possible, and the other to the other side of the Emirates and the Arabian Sea.

I wanted to experience the sand dunes, to get as close to the Rub' al Khali or Empty Quarter as possible. It was a magical name to me, and had been for many years through just looking at maps. This was essentially in Saudi Arabia, so I knew there were limits to what I could see.

The tour was conducted by four wheel drive by a man from India. The first part proceeded down made roads of excellent quality, past small, newly constructed villages, each with its own mosque, rather like what you would expect in Europe (but with churches instead).

After pausing at a stopping point for tourists, where I felt uncomfortable because I didn't intend to buy anything but didn't want to offend, the tour went into the sand dunes via graded tracks, past a secret oil refinery. (We were advised not to take photos there, and to hide our cameras.)

This was a genuinely exciting experience. It was what I wanted to see. The dunes have a red tinge (hematite), and their shapes were intriguing and evocative.

In between all the dunes we stopped at Liwa Oasis, which resembled a market garden more than the fantasised oasis with pool, etc. It appeared that what we were experiencing was actually the more typical oasis.

Plastic pipes like you'd see in gardens back home connected the underground water with the trees and gardens. Apparently this is part of a plan by the rulers to get their people to stay on their traditional lands by greening the desert. At the southernmost part of the trip, not far from Liwa, the greenery of gardens spread out along the road, with the Rub' al Khali and the Saudi border in the distance.

In this place were the first rocks I had seen on the trip: fossils, actually, in a culvert near the road. A couple found their way home. More spectacular dunes followed the return journey.

Seeing Dubai (3)

My other trip was through Sharjah, something like a suburb of Dubai, across some undistinguished mountains to the coast. The guide was a young German woman, and the other person was an Australian who knew something of type.

This part of the Emirates is quite different, less Westernised and with fewer people. In the mountains are wide, deep, dry wadis, where the water rushes through after the occasional rains. A brief stop found us at a market, with the neatest, most colourful displays of fruit I'd ever seen.

The most interesting parts of the journey were seeing on the horizon the ships blockading the Persian Gulf; an ancient fort; and a partially restored earthen mosque. There is little history here, mostly for cultural reasons it seems.

I then went to the airport and headed home, on the way staring at the coast of Sumatra and the Malay peninsula, seeing the metropolis of Singapore for the first time. I entered Australia near Port Hedland in the midst of a spectacular sunset, wondering about refugees, religions and other things.

Seeing and Meaning

Well, what did it all mean?

In some respects, going to Dubai seems like going to the Middle East while still being in the West. If Graham Pearce's travel article in the Herald–Sun a few months ago is any guide, the location, culture and history are all but incidental. Indeed, my hotel was in that tourist world and, with the clientele and the marina and its boats, I could have been in Hawai'i.

The local newspapers told me where I was. In fact, partly because of the cricket, there was more about Australia in them than in any comparable American publication I've seen. And there were interesting interpretations on world events, particularly those in Asia and in the Middle East: for example, the byline 'Occupied Jerusalem' (one that's legally and historically correct, by the way).

There was also TV in al–jazeera, but there was, and still is, that confusion in my mind. I think it has to do with culture and history.

The town of Dubai itself is only a couple of decades old. 80% of residents are non–locals and it seems an international city with an Arabic flavour, with buildings and food you'd see anywhere. I didn't go to the local places, other than my walk down the Corniche, and so that compounded my experience.

My tour guides were not locals (apparently none of them are), and so information there was from outsiders, rather than the people themselves. I'm not an adventurous tourist; I like to ease myself into the local area.

I had no streets to walk down outside the hotel, nor any old buildings to admire. In fact, notwithstanding the centuries of occupation, there's little old in the area. The Emirates are essentially groups of tribes who emerged out of the desert early last century. Oil has made settlements more than possible; an exciting development, really.

There's an experiment going on there, a key meeting point of Western and Islamic cultures. The history of such interactions is of successes and failures that are hard to summarise, other than to say that, from my reading, it seems that Islamic culture is not naturally predisposed to history as my culture understands it, and is international rather than national.

From my reading and reflection, some of these cultural attributes may be mutually exclusive of or incompatible with Western culture. I hope the experiment succeeds, because difference and co-operation are hard to acknowledge anywhere these days. Hopefully, type will make a difference, providing that it's not restricted to the business world.

In Perth recently I visited a small but excellent exhibition of artefacts from Kuwait's museum. The items, from Iran, Iraq, Ottoman Empire, Egypt, Mughal India, medieval Spain and so forth, confirmed for me the internationalism of Islamic culture, of which Dubai and the Emirates are only a part. My trip missed out on that sort of thing.

Interestingly, an exhibition tour guide couldn't read Arabic, and showed less understanding of Arabic culture and history than I would have expected. I thought this was embarrassing, particularly in present days of ignorance and suspicion regarding Islamic countries.

So, an interesting experience: and I have my souvenirs of photos, fossils and shells from the Arabian Gulf to mull over. Salaam!

References

Atil, Esun (ed.) 1990, Islamic art and patronage: Treasures from Kuwait, Rizzoli International.
Bridge, Antony 1980, The Crusades, Granada.
Gabrieli, Francesco 1993 (1969), Arab historians of the Crusades, Dorset.
The Gulf News, 8 January and 15 January 2002.
The Gulf Today, 5 January and 15 January 2002.
Lapidus, Ira M 1988, A history of Islamic societies, Cambridge.
Lewis, Bernard 1994 (1982), The Muslim discovery of Europe, Phoenix.
Lewis, Bernard 1998, The multiple identities of the Middle East, Weidenfeld & Nicholson.
Lewis, Bernard 2002, What went wrong: The clash between Islam and modernity in the Middle East, Weidenfeld & Nicholson.
Pearce, Graham 2002, 'Lavish desert playground', Sunday Herald-Sun, 10 March, 3.
Runciman, Steven 1971 (1951), A history of the Crusades (3 vols), Pelican.
West, Leslie, Jack Bruce, and Corky Laing, undated (1973), 'Sifting sand', Chappell / Intersong Music, from West, Bruce and Laing: Whatever turns you on, Polydor CD.
Wright, Robert and George Forrest (1954), 'Sands of time', from Kismet: A musical Arabian night, Columbia CD.
Zayed University 2001, information packet (book, booklets, CD-ROM).

Photograph courtesy of Jamie Johnston, CAPT Library. PETER GEYER (INTP) is a consultant, researcher and writer in the field of C G Jung's theory of psychological types. He conducts MBTI Accreditation programs and presents internationally on a regular basis. Peter is a life member of AusAPT and a professional affiliate of the Australian Psychological Society.