Just Deserts

 We have just returned from two and a half lovely weeks in Dubai. It was far too hot to be outdoors very often, but that did not matter, since our goal was to spend time with our beautiful first grandchild, who grew from four weeks to six weeks old during our visit.

 

So the title of this blog could have referred to the land that Dubai is built on – just deserts. At a pinch, it could also be referring to some of the all-you-can-eat brunch meals favoured by privileged Dubai expats, even if those rarely consist of just desserts. But instead it is about what we deserve, and how the idea is so dangerous to us.

 

This thought came about before the trip, but the lifestyle in Dubai only strengthened my idea. It is possible to look down on how people live there, owing to its lack of history and rather thin culture, but overall the top strata of society do very well. Unless you are local, you have to accept that you can be deported at a moment’s notice and your access to justice can be rather limited, but the other side of that equation is a modern place where everything works well, leisure is abundant and ambitious people can easily find a satisfying social life. Part of me still finds it sad that, offered the chance to build a project from scratch to represent an ideal human existence, the result seems to comprise endless shopping malls. But hey, those malls are impressive as malls go.

 

I know from my own expatriate experiences that one risk with such a lifestyle is that we can come to think we deserve it. In a limited sense, perhaps some of them do. It is always a brave move to leave the comforts of home, even if the salary and tax structure are appealing and those malls entice. Many people have the opportunity but lack the bravery, so those that do have earned some of their rewards.

 

But even looking around Dubai it should be clear that those deserts are rather questionable and can be transient too. Society there functions by dividing its residents into strata. The locals and wealthy Arabs sit atop the structure: anybody born in Dubai is given substantial land and money on their eighteenth birthday. Then come the white corporate expats, followed by the Arab and Chinese merchants. Pakistanis, Bangladeshis, Africans and Filipinos, who build the new structures, drive the taxis and work in retail and as domestic helpers, underpin society. For each of these groups, the life they can enjoy in Dubai is better than that available at home, but still far from the comfort of the privileged strata. Then there are the billions of people who have no chance at all of making it to Dubai or anywhere like it, simply because of the circumstances of their birth.

 

Enjoying dessert at the end of brunch, overlooking the marina yachts and anticipating a return to a cleaned apartment and fed children, it is easy to forget humility. I am delighted to note that the people I met this trip, including my own family members, have not generally fallen into the trap.

 

Feeling deserts is simply setting ourselves up to fail and be miserable. It is especially true in a place like Dubai, where privileges can be fleeting and a return to normality in a home country can be tough, after opulent habits have become entrenched. But it is true in any situation. I love the expression that an expectation is a preordained disappointment. A feeling of deserving something is much the same thing. It is far better to be grateful for what we have and for life to be a series of happy surprises.

 

On the two long flights, I deliberately chose entertainment to help me remember that none of us deserve very much. Avoiding traditional Hollywood fare, I found Illegals and also Minari, both excellent films about immigrants to the USA. And I read The Language of Kindness – a Nurse’s Story. Our granddaughter might be lucky in life and might not, and that book reminded me that most such things depend on chance and that Kiara has already been lucky, born with fully functioning organs.

 

Like other female professions, nurses do wonderful work for poor rewards. Getting to know such people can help to ground us and avoid thoughts of what we might deserve. In a similar way, so can volunteering. One thing I learned very quickly where we volunteer was not to expect any gratitude. That may not always feel fair, but it is healthy to recognise it.

 

Many individualistic societies slip into unhealthy territory when it comes to deserts and expectations. Hollywood does not help, and nor does most advertising. Every time some voiceover tells me I deserve a fancy car or vanity health treatment I feel like shouting at the TV. Admittedly addictive, Love Island has the same effect on me. How can those young people be so unaware of their greed and the context of their existence?

 

Many of us are lucky to have lived in an era without wars or hardships and where many luxuries have become normal. Covid gave us a jolt, and also showed how pampered we have become. When complaining about having to wear a mask and being deprived of some restaurants, it would pay us to remember disabled people or those without running water or electricity.

 

As so often, religion is a double-edged sword when it comes to our attitudes. Religion can steer us towards kindness, gratitude and charity. But sometimes we can misinterpret or be misled so we expect rewards, even in this life. Even worse, religion can make us believe that our own tribe is somehow more deserving than the rest of humanity. That way of thinking never leads anywhere positive.

 

Politics can go the same way. Phrases such as “Hard working Americans” are code towards unrealistic expectations and protecting unjust privilege, while perpetually disadvantaged groups can too easily fall into victimhood. The Trump clan are led into all the rabbit holes at once. Often already in a tribal mindset from their religious interpretations, they can easily fall prey to feeling superior, unjustly treated and under threat all at the same time. If the belief becomes strong enough, then leaders can discard all logic and still retain support. In this way of thinking, even if the methods might be questionable, the cause feels right and the ends justify the means.

 

The last weeks have helped to remind me that I deserve very little and owe huge gratitude for what I have, mostly by lucky chance. I guess I was a little brave when I was younger. I suppose I can have a small expectation that having put money into a pension scheme I might get some back in old age. I suppose that, having invested some effort and a modicum of kindness into parenthood, my children might offer some kindness in return. I suppose I can even rely a little bit on some justice and human rights.

 

But there are no guarantees. I can hope with all my heart that my granddaughter has a fruitful life. I will try to help where I can to make such an outcome more likely. But I can’t expect it. And perhaps, innocent though she is, I can’t even say she deserves it. May God save me from my expectations.