An April 27 article referred incorrectly to Dubai as the capital of the United Arab Emirates. Earlier, the same article referred correctly to Abu Dhabi as the capital.
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In U.A.E., Tradition Yields to Times
Fatima Zaabi, wearing a traditional veil used by some women in Fujairah, one of the seven monarchies of the United Arab Emirates, enjoys comforts that have become commonplace, from a cellphone and dishwasher to servants.
(By Anthony Shadid -- The Washington Post)
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Zaabi grasped a hanging bag, woven of palm fronds, where fruit and salted meat once hung, cooled by a breeze. Then she hurried to a sheepskin pouch that, when shaken, turned milk to cheese.
"Beautiful!" she cried out, and she moved on to a saddle, stitched of worn leather.
"You'd put it on the donkey's back and then you would ride," she said -- two days to Abu Dhabi, the capital, or two months across the desert to Mecca, the destination of the Muslim pilgrimage. "Thank God, it's not like that now."
"Sheik Zayed," she said simply. "God rest his soul."
Sheik Zayed bin Sultan Al Nahyan was the founder of the United Arab Emirates, in 1971, and he presided over the country's modernization until his death in 2004. A simple man, albeit with tremendous wealth, he is remembered fondly here, credited by many with maintaining tradition amid change. Those forces are still at work today -- with the breakneck growth of booming Dubai, where English has become a lingua franca, and with the vestiges of the past in a place like Fujairah, population 130,000, where conversations celebrate the success of Dubai, the U.A.E. capital, and recoil at its materialism, competition and, in the eyes of some, greed.
"This is the bull," Zaabi said, pointing to an animal sleeping in the shade.
Zaabi used to raise the bulls for farming, but no longer. The reasons vary: She said the land has become tired and the water too salty. Her brother-in-law said that when Muslims stopped paying their religious taxes, the rain stopped falling.
Today, the bulls fight. They were once matched against each other once or twice a year, but now they enter an arena every Friday, drawing hundreds of spectators. The fights, no more than a few minutes, are simple: The first bull to turn away loses.
"The battle begins!" shouted the announcer, Mohammed Khamis, plying the middle of the arena with a bullhorn.
Two lumbering bulls entered, held back by four men tugging at ropes that bound the animals. They loosened the ropes, and the bulls locked horns. Clouds of dirt billowed, and the bulls flew around the ring. At one point, they lurched toward the audience, sending spectators fleeing in another cloud of dust.
One of the bulls retreated, the other won, and the next match began.
The bulls have names, often arbitrary. One is called Rose, others Bumper, Spring and Missile. Zaabi never named the animals she bred, and as she has aged, she has ventured to the matches less often.
