Kandora and shemagh his own, combed organic cotton jersey and Y2K compass one print T-shirt STONE ISLAND Posted in Art & Photography,  Dazed MENA issue 01

High Octane: Dune bashing and Khaleeji core

What looks like thrill-seeking is something more profound: an unbroken bond between young Emiratis and a land that has always been theirs, no matter how fast their cities rise
by FADY NAGEEB | photography CHNDY

Text FADY NAGEEB | photography CHNDY

“Found it,” he yells with a certain nonchalance, making me wonder if I’d lost the phone in the Ajman desert or misplaced it somewhere in his backyard.

Kandora and shemagh his own, scan camo on stretch ripstop-ovd hooded jacket STONE ISLAND
Kandora and shemagh his own
Sunglasses, kandora, shemagh his own, tela resinata block colour vest STONE ISLAND
Kandora his own, garment dyed crinkle reps ny hooded jacket STONE ISLAND

From left
Abdullah: kandora, shemagh, and sunglasses his own, membrana 3l tc bomber jacket STONE ISLAND, shoes SALOMON
Bu Manassar: kandora, shemagh, and sunglasses his own, jacket STONE ISLAND
Mohamed: shemagh his own, white pigment on tela paracadute stretch-tc hooded jacket and cargo pants STONE ISLAND
Mansour: kandora and shemagh his own, membrana 3l tc anorak STONE ISLAND
Abdullah: kandora and shemagh his own, combed organic cotton jersey and Y2K compass one print T-shirt STONE ISLAND
Awadh: kandora and shemagh his own, tela resinata block colour vest STONE ISLAND
Sunglasses, kandora, shemagh his own, tela resinata block colour vest STONE ISLAND
Kandora and shemagh his own, combed organic cotton jersey and Y2K compass one print T-shirt STONE ISLAND
Shemagh his own, white pigment on tela paracadute stretch-tc hooded jacket and cargo pants STONE ISLAND
Shemagh and glove his own, scan camo on stretch ripstop ovd hooded jacket STONE ISLAND
Garment dyed crinkle reps ny hooded jacket and tela paracadute cargo trousers STONE ISLAND, socks his own

Originally published in Dazed MENA Issue 01 | Order Here

“This is the exact dune we were at,” gestures Nader, hopping out of his massive GMC Sierra 1500. I’d lost my phone there four hours earlier, watching his friend Islam launch his Jeep Wrangler, airborne like an Emirati Evel Knievel. Nader had lost his baby-blue leather sandal—a curious contrast to his charcoal kandura. “It’s a lot easier to find your things at night,” he explains with Bear Grylls-like confidence. “Your flashlight makes them shine.”

I am, admittedly, having a hard time responding to these lessons. I don’t fully grasp if he actually knows what he’s talking about or just flexing a couple of online tutorials, but on some level, I have faith in him. After all, we’ve just driven 15 minutes down a straight dirt road, turned left into a sea of indistinguishable dunes, and driven a bit more—purely from memory. Nader takes five steps from his truck, picks up my phone, and waves it around. “Found it,” he yells with a certain nonchalance, making me wonder if I’d lost the phone in the Ajman desert or misplaced it somewhere in his backyard. He hands it to me with a pat on my back, continuing, “Now help me look for my sandal… it should be down there.”

From left Abdullah: kandora, shemagh, and sunglasses his own, membrana 3l tc bomber jacket STONE ISLAND, shoes SALOMON Bu Manassar: kandora, shemagh, and sunglasses his own, jacket STONE ISLAND Mohamed: shemagh his own, white pigment on tela paracadute stretch-tc hooded jacket and cargo pants STONE ISLAND Mansour: kandora and shemagh his own, membrana 3l tc anorak STONE ISLAND Abdullah: kandora and shemagh his own, combed organic cotton jersey and Y2K compass one print T-shirt STONE ISLAND Awadh: kandora and shemagh his own, tela resinata block colour vest STONE ISLAND

As I ask him how he managed to do that on the drive back, he starts talking about how he remembers the shapes of dunes and follows tracks, knowing the difference between the ones made by his car and others. Until now, I thought that these deep-rooted navigation skills and connectedness to the desert were surely lost. That everyone who engages with the dunes has a fancy Garmin GPS, a satellite phone, and walkie-talkies, but to my surprise, they don’t. Mind you, Nader is only in his early 30s, which means even his parents grew up in a very urbanised UAE. I can’t help but wonder if these instincts are genetically hard coded somehow.

Throughout this trip, the desert feels like a natural extension of home for Nader and the dune bashers, not a hostile place accessible to only outdoorsmen like them. In fact, they were quite the opposite; some of his friends were full-on city boys showing up in jorts, sneakers and beanies. As much as ‘developing’ away from life in the desert is a reality in so many countries, those across the GCC have held onto the notion that the desert is not something against you, but rather a part of you. City life is nice and comfortable, but why are these guys here every weekend? What are they chasing?

Garment dyed crinkle reps ny hooded jacket and tela paracadute cargo trousers STONE ISLAND, socks his own

Perhaps, with the UAE and its peers in the peninsula developing so quickly in the last five decades, dune bashing is the way that young people are reclaiming the desert—it’s what their everyday life looked like before the invention of the four-wheel drive. These rituals aren’t reserved purely for tourists unlike places such as Egypt and Morocco, where tour guides take fleets of overpaying foreigners on quad bikes and chartered land cruisers from the 90s for short drives that are almost always shorter than advertised.

On the way back from our miraculous recovery mission, at least from my perspective, Nader points in his rearview mirror and says, “All the guys in the back have slipped discs,” referring to all his friends brought in the back of his truck to keep us company. “We like to play rough,” he shrugs. “Sometimes I speed into a bump, send them flying, and watch them slam back down.” He then proceeds to recreate the scene with much agony and swearing in the back. Mind you, they’re still the best of friends.

Shemagh his own, white pigment on tela paracadute stretch-tc hooded jacket and cargo pants STONE ISLAND

We stop to play more boyish games. Someone stuffs fireworks into a cooler in the back of the truck and slams it shut. Chaos erupts as they scramble away, laughing. I stand there, still trying to process it all. Earlier in the day, I’d attempted to ask at least four of them about what the desert meant to them, and they politely brushed me off every time—almost as if pleading with me not to overthink it. “It’s how it has always been,” I imagined them answering. “We just have big f*ck-off petrol engines now.”

Dune bashing is a reminder to… I’m not sure, really. Live in the moment, maybe. Catch that sunset. Savour that tea. After all, it’s where your head is clearest. How else could you memorise the shifting shape of a dune unless you were fully present?

Originally published in Dazed MENA Issue 01 | Order Here

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