Into an airport full of Afghani, Pakistani, Indian and Bangladeshi villages let loose on the deserts of the Arabian Peninsula. Strung across the floor of the airport, asleep, awake and most in between. The passengers and workers in the airport are the same people. Immigration brings out the Arabs, sitting at their desks chatting with each other, laughing, one occasionally reconstituting the line.

It runs disastrously, the line remains intact for a few minutes before degenerating and the lone Arab screams and puts it back together then goes off and chats with his colleagues. South Asians put in a line by desert Arabs. Out into the blistering heat and a bus driven by an India, Bollywood music blaring in a bus full of South Asians bound for Dubai. Downtown Dubai is downtown India, the streets, shops, customers, all levels, all the jobs, the food, people and Asians. I catch a bus to the “largest shopping mall outside of North America”. Through endless streets of warehouses Asians and Jesse pass. Asian cleaners and workers surround the mall. I enter to find the smiling face of an Arab. There are families of burqa clad women, head to toe in black, men head to toe in white with a face and screaming children in tow. The child is offered the comfort of a faceless shroud of black, hugged by a canopy of cloth, a substitute Asian mother, neither the child or I will ever know. The Arabs play in artificial snow in this artificial place on the edge of the own reality, a desert. I follow the trend and do some shopping, I talk with Asian shop attendants. I return to the airport and spend the night talking with Indians bound for menial jobs in Iraq. Asians have become the worlds working class. Is there any weaker concept that the brotherhood of Islam? Are there a people in the world more backward than the desert Arabs? They turn their fellow Muslims in slaves. In Bangladesh and the poor Muslim countries of the world what do these clowns do except build Mosques? Who pays and does development in these countries? The infidels.