Issue 141 (May - June)

p. 15 OUR SIMPLE HOME MADE OF PALM FRONDS WAS OUR CASTLE, RULED BY LOVE AND MUTUAL RESPECT. HONOUR AND DIGNITY WERE OUR TREASURES.MY BELOVED FATHER ALWAYS TOLD ME TO HOLD MY HEAD UP HIGH. M y father Ahmad, the son of a highly respected religious sheikh, was not only my rock, he was my best friend. He taught me to swim, ride, hunt and shoot. He rarely let me out of his sight and took me on his travels to Bahrain and India. A small trader of pearls and gold, he instilled in me the basics of commerce and an enduring love of poetry. I would sit in awe listening to him recite the works of some of the greatest Arab poets. He wrote beautiful poems himself. How I wish I had written My father, Ahmad bin Mohammed Al Habtoor (left) with my maternal uncles and my maternal grandfather, Ahmad bin Khalaf Al Otaiba (fourth from left) THE FAMILY them down. I remember just a few lines of one dedicated to Sheikh Khalifa bin Saeed Al Maktoum who was going through a rough patch: I have received wonderful words, welcome as numerous as souls as numerous as all sunsets and as numerous as pulling causes stillness; from inner pouring he is infected, and in no sleep he will delight; complaining of love’s abandonment; and from increasing delusions; I say go towards the companion willingly; and give him the softest words.