Sheikhs, Lies and Real Estate: The Untold Story of Dubai (29 page)

‘Oi, you little prick! Can’t you see there is a
fucking queue here? People have been waiting for a taxi for half an hour and
you think you can just get in as you please, you bastard!’

The man didn’t know what had hit him. ‘Okay, okay,’
he pleaded.

I grabbed him by the neck and manhandled him
out of the taxi. ‘Get the fuck out of the car, you piece of shit!’ He clasped
his hands together in a begging gesture, terrified for his life. ‘Get the fuck
out!’ I threw him onto the concrete street.

‘I am sorry, I didn’t know!’

‘Don’t lie to me!’ I took his place in the back
seat and tossed his rucksack onto the road next to him. ‘Don’t you ever try
anything like that again, motherfucker!’ I screamed, pointing at his trembling
face before I slammed the door.

It was a rage I had never experienced before. A
shudder went down my spine and I found it hard to breathe. I was becoming
somebody I didn’t recognise, and it terrified the hell out of me.

Perhaps all the setbacks and stresses over the
past few months had caught up with me all at once and I was venting my
frustration. Perhaps this was a symptom that I was losing my soul in Dubai. Perhaps
it was a sign to get out of this godforsaken city once and for all.

By late 2007, the UAE boasted one of the highest
concentrations of millionaires in the world. It was no wonder that the Emirates
were suddenly engulfed by a new wave of bankers from Europe and the US trying
to get their hands on a piece of the ever expanding cash pile. Although much of
the wealth was the old money of affluent local families, the country was also
awash with a wave of new money, much of which had been created in the previous five
years in Dubai’s property sector. And so life in the Emirates became one big
party as the good times rolled.

Every day, Dubai’s super-malls were overflowing with brand-obsessed
shopaholics. The city’s residents dined in the finest five-star restaurants, drove
the latest luxury cars and drenched themselves in designer couture. Self-obsessed
Jumeirah Janes treated themselves to so-called diamond facials, in which actual
diamonds were blended into their skin for a sparkling finish. New mothers
purchased gold-plated pacifiers studded with jewels for their spoilt toddlers. And
Dubai’s locals quenched their thirst with Bling water, served in handmade
bottles studded with real Swarovski crystals. Materialism was rampant and
indulgence became a way of life, as Dubai’s prosperous residents flashed their
fortune in new and creative ways in a grand display of
la dolce vita
.  

In addition to quick profits in the property
casino, this insane spending spree was also fuelled by a typhoon of cheap debt
from the banks, opening the floodgates to anybody willing to sign on the dotted
line. Credit cards became a must-have accessory and many residents boasted a
collection of plastic of all colours and limits. There was no need for the
inconvenience of credit checks or proof of income. Instead, professionals
across the city were hunted down by loan officers who stalked them daily at
their offices, in the malls and even at their homes to coax them into taking a
line of credit. One line led to another and another, until the addict was
hooked and there was no turning back.

In a city consumed by vanity, nobody was exempt
from a share of the good life. As Gucci, Chanel and Dior goods flew off the
shelves in the malls, in a dark hidden room at the back of an inconspicuous
clothing store in Karama, uncanny replica Rolex watches, Prada handbags and Ray-Ban
sunglasses were snapped up by Filipina maids, Indian labourers and Pakistani
taxi drivers desperate to look the part. It was usually close enough to the
real thing; or ‘same same’, as the shopkeeper insisted, despite the odd missing
G in ‘Ucci’ or misplaced D in ‘Dom Ford’.

Now on a six-year run, Dubai’s real estate
market was showing no signs of letting up. Construction had become an addiction,
with developers scrambling to launch new projects every week to keep up with
the growing demand. Increases in property values of 10 per cent in a matter of
days were not unheard of, and sales targets were frequently obliterated. New
investors were arriving daily and Dubai was getting global coverage as the hottest
and most foolproof investment destination in the world. It was only a matter of
time before the titans of global real estate sat up and paid attention.

2008 was a landmark year for Dubai property,
marking the exciting arrival of the biggest property brand on the planet. The
announcement by Donald Trump that he would be building a six-hundred-million-dollar,
forty-eight-storey tower as the new centrepiece of the Palm Jumeirah sent
shockwaves through the newswires and propelled the name of Dubai onto the
international stage. Trump’s announcement that the site was the best location
in the Middle East gave Dubai valuable bragging rights over its neighbours and
cemented its position as a world-class destination. As glamorous star-studded
parties commemorated the announcement of the Trump project in Los Angeles, Dubai
became the buzz of Tinseltown. It was a great coup for Brand Dubai, ushering
the city into an uncharted new era of global praise and recognition.

Dubai had finally cracked America. Actors,
sports stars and fashion designers were queuing to put their name and brand on
a skyscraper on the city skyline. Chanel creative director Karl Lagerfeld was
appointed to create a Coco-inspired project on the new Fashion Island on the
manmade archipelago The World. Boris Becker and Giorgio Armani unveiled their
own master plans. Even actor Brad Pitt would design his own eighty-room hotel.
It was said that Sheikhs Mohammed’s ambitious father, Sheikh Rashid had always
dreamed that his city would one day be mentioned in the same breath as the
great cities of the West. Now, that dream had become a reality and Dubai found
fame and celebrity beyond its wildest dreams. 

In 2008, Dubai was cruising. But under the
glossy exterior, some early cracks were also emerging. Up to this point, 90 per
cent of buyers in the market had been speculators looking to flip, who didn’t
care much for completion dates. But as delivery dates approached, reports of
continuing delays by property developers were becoming increasingly common, with
some units now over two years late. Issues were being raised over the ability
of developers to deliver, and fears of investors losing their money became more
pronounced. For the first time in the short history of Dubai property, the
question was not
when
a building would be delivered, but
if
. There
were muted calls for improved regulation and legislation as the government was
chastised for not legally protecting the rights of individual investors. As the
market entered unchartered territory, new challenges called for new strategies,
and many people waited to see how the city would respond.     

***

The giant map on the wall behind my desk had changed yet again.
It was more crowded than before, and even the smallest unoccupied spaces had
now been filled. The most conspicuous addition was a lizard-like sea creature that
looked to be attacking the islands of The World. Its giant head had seven
tentacles protruding from it and its tail snaked around the coast of the Palm.
This was the so-called Universe development, a monstrosity of a manmade landmass
planned for the already crowded coastline. The head of the beast represented
the sun and the boils on its tail were the planets of the solar system. There
was even a galaxy, a floating, misplaced swirl that hovered awkwardly next to
Australia on The World.

Back on dry land, a meandering blue waterway
now sliced open a huge section of the desert from Jebel Ali to the Dubai
Waterfront. It was to be the new seventy-five-kilometre Arabian Canal, a sixty-one-billion-dollar
undertaking that would effectively turn the Jebel Ali landmass into an island.
Some of the existing developments had changed a little too; the protruding claw
of the Waterfront development was a little smaller beside the Jebel Ali Palm it
surrounded, and the design for the massive Palm Deira had altered dramatically.
Whether this was the hallmark of the evolution of a city in progress, or an
admission that imagination had found its limits, was up for debate. 

One of the best perks of my position as head of
investments for the city’s biggest broker was being invited to most of the
property launch parties. They were usually grand affairs with little expense
spared on food, drink and entertainment. In a fiercely competitive marketplace,
the services of a good broker were invaluable, so a representative from
Milestone was a useful addition to a developer’s guest list. Yet there were a
few developers who refused to work with agents. Their list of clients was so
exceptional that they could confidently sell out their project with just a few
phone calls, so their launch parties were strictly off limits to Milestone
employees. Most annoyingly, these parties were also usually the best.

One such developer was Paradise City.
Established in 2005, the company was the brainchild of two former nursing-home
entrepreneurs from Bradford in the north of England called Tasneem and Irfan,
or Taz and Iffi. With no background or experience in commercial real estate,
the brothers had come to Dubai in 2004 after hearing about its potential from
an uncle, and had immediately started selling properties to their friends and
family. The business grew rapidly, and now with some sizable capital behind
them they had moved into development, launching their first residential tower
in the Dubai Marina in 2006. The project sold out in six days.

On the back of this early success, Taz and Iffi
were now launching their second project, a mixed-use fifty-storey tower in the
upcoming Waterfront development. The official launch party was expected to be
the biggest in history. It was to be held in the ballroom at the Al Qasr hotel,
and the entertainment line-up alone was enough to get the tongues of the city’s
social elite wagging. The headline act was the world’s biggest pop star
Fernando, which caught the attention of global media and stole headlines across
the region. Fernando had never performed in the Middle East before, a fact that
instantly propelled Paradise City’s party to the coveted status of the hottest
ticket in town. For three weeks before the event, Paradise City counted down to
it on a double-page spread in
Gulf News
. I wasn’t going to miss this
party for anything, but as they weren’t inviting any agents, I needed another
way in.

Having worked with real estate agents for a while
now, I knew exactly what made them tick. They were simple creatures who could
be made to jump through hoops if the right carrot was dangled in front of their
greedy little eyes. I had a plan that was sure to get me what I wanted.

‘Sharon…’

‘Yes, darling?’

‘Do you have any contacts in the sales team at
Paradise City?’

‘As a matter of fact I do. Sean Gibbon. English
guy, lovely lad. Do you want Sean’s number?’

‘Yes please.’

‘Of course, here it is. But if you think he’s
going to give you tickets to the launch party, I would forget about it. I’ve
already asked him. I would give my right arm to see Fernando live! He’s gorgeous.’

 ‘Sharon, I’m offended. Do you think I would
use Milestone’s contacts for personal gain? I’m a serious businessman, you know,’
I said coyly, but she saw right through me.

‘Of course you are,’ she smiled. ‘I’m just
letting you know, that’s all.’

I found a discreet corner away from Sharon’s
desk to make the call. 

‘Hello, this is Sean!’ shouted a young man in a
cockney English accent.

‘Hi, Sean, this is Adam from Milestone
Properties. I got your number from Sharon in the business development team. I’m
the new head of investments at Milestone and I’m calling to introduce myself.’

He interrupted me mid-sentence. ‘You’re calling
about tickets to the launch party, aren’t you?’

‘Well, I was going to ask you if you could
possibly…’

‘Listen, buddy, I don’t mean to sound harsh,
but the event is completely oversubscribed. We have a waiting list that is
twice as long as the guest list. There’s simply no chance.’

‘Oh, I see. Well, that’s a real shame, because
I have this huge investor who is really interested in buying a few floors in
the Waterfront development. I told him about your new project and he’s really
keen, so I thought I would bring him along to the event.’

There was a long pause. ‘Investor? Who is he?’

‘He is a businessman from Lebanon. One of our
bigger clients. He usually doesn’t mess around and can pull the trigger pretty
quickly if he sees something he likes. But I guess if you’re oversubscribed...’

There was another pause. ‘Okay, let me see what
I can do. But please tell him he will have to bring his chequebook and be ready
to buy on the night. We are expecting this project to sell out in hours.’

‘Sean, trust me, I know this guy well. He will
even bring his own collection of pens so he doesn’t have to waste time looking
for one.’

Sean sighed deeply. ‘I’m probably going to get
in trouble for this, but if it translates into a sale then I guess it makes
sense. I will put you down on the list plus one. But please come early, otherwise
I can’t guarantee you will get in.’

‘Of course! See you tomorrow night.’

My plan had worked perfectly, and just like
that I had scored two tickets to the biggest event in Dubai’s history.

A few moments later, Rav came over to my desk.

‘Have you heard about the Paradise City event?’
he asked.

I feared that my plan had been exposed and
hoped I wasn’t in any trouble. ‘Yes, of course. They’re having a big launch
next week,’ I replied nervously.

‘They are. We won’t be able to get tickets
because they have a no-broker policy, but I want you to go and meet them. They
could be a useful contact for the fund.’ He handed me a business card. ‘Here is
their CEO Taz’s number. Give his secretary a call and set up a time to see him.’

‘Sure, Rav.’ I did as I was told and arranged a
meeting with Taz the following afternoon. I decided to keep my conversation
with Sean confidential. This was business now, and any hint that I was trying
to score tickets to the party surely wouldn’t help my reputation.

After announcing my arrival to the pretty
receptionist at Paradise City’s offices, I took a seat on the soft white leather
sofa and waited for my host. In front of me was a large coffee table with
dozens of lifestyle and property magazines. One glossy cover particularly
caught my eye on a property publication called
Dubai Today
, which
featured the headline ‘When Will Dubai Say Enough Is Enough?’ It got me
thinking. Did Dubai have an end goal? Would there be a point where the city
would be ‘finished’? Or would the insane construction go on for ever? Nobody
seemed to know the answers.

‘Mr Tasneem will see you now,’ said the
receptionist eventually. I followed an Indian man in a waistcoat down a long
corridor. We reached a large white door at the end, on which the man knocked
three times.