The Sheikhs' Folly
There is a stretch of water which has exercised the imagination of human beings far more greatly than any other. Lives have been lost because of it. Politicians’ careers have been made or destroyed by it. The livelihood of millions is dependent upon what happens within it. It is called the Persian Gulf. The reason is quite simple and yet incredibly complicated: oil. The countries with shores daily kissed by the waters of the Gulf are blessed (or cursed - depending on how you choose to look at it) with barrel-loads of the stuff. There is more oil there than anywhere else on the planet. Jolly good, you might say. Let's fill our boots with Gulf oil then!
There is a slight problem, unfortunately. The chaps who live in these Gulf countries are culturally a long way removed from the Europeans with an unquenchable thirst for the black, sticky stuff. They see life a little differently. Where an Englishman might sport a snazzy bowler, the Arab prefers to drape his head in a large handkerchief. The best cut trousers of the French boulevardier mean nothing to a chap who prefers to hang loose in a flowing robe (there could be something in this, you know - European fertility rates have been dropping for a considerable while!). A friendly Spaniard might offer you a Fortuna from his pack of twenty but an Arab would rather invite you to sit and puff away with him at a sheesha hubbly-bubbly pipe. Notwithstanding these things, the European has been forced to deal with the Arab on the Arab's terms for ages. Pragmatism and guile has always been the way of the European. Want something you need? Why, cosy up to the chap who has it, why don't you? If all else fails you can always threaten the swarthy chap with that useful European device: war.
I digress. In selling this precious substance the Arabs have grown wealthy beyond the dreams of avarice. So, in come the Europeans again. Take the Arab's oil and give him some loot for it, then come back and get him to part with said loot; all the while laying on the charm for all you are worth. Show the Arab the joys of the world: champagne, caviar, cabaret girls and cars. Yes, cars - very fast ones!
We, thus, return to the most ridiculously located Formula One circuit in the world, the Sakhir circuit in Bahrain. I have consistently made no secret of my loathing of this ghastly, stylised circuit, but I watch the Bahrain Grand Prix each year nonetheless. When circuits like the lovely A1 Ring in Austria are knocked off the calendar and worthy countries like South Africa are denied a Grand Prix opportunity because of the lure of some sheikh playboy's dough, I kick walls in despair. And this is not the end of the ridiculous charade - they are building a new circuit in another part of the Arab desert for an Abu Dhabi Grand Prix! Heaven help us! But, again, I digress…
2007 is proving to be the most exciting season in recent memory. The world champion, Fernando Alonso, has lost nothing in the switch to McLaren. If anything he has gained in confidence and stature. His almost effortless command of the last race in Malaysia and his skilful damage limitation in Melbourne has put him at the top of the points table in the crucial world championship stakes. Two points behind him, demonstrating equal flawlessness in new surroundings, is the ice man, Kimi Raikkonen. This paragraph should end there shouldn't it? I should be saying "the 2007 championship battle is now clear; it will be fought between these two titans of speed" but I can't. For two points behind Raikkonen, causing serious problems for both men at the top and charmingly having us on the edge of our seats each time he dons his yellow helmet, is the unbelievable rookie, Lewis Hamilton.
The last British world champion, Damon Hill, speaking before the season began, said that he expected Hamilton to win a race before the end of the season. Everyone - and I include myself in this damnable lot - thought Hill was speaking through his arse. Well, I expect soon to be helping myself to healthy portions of humble pie. Third in his first ever Grand Prix, second in his second…could it be first in his third? A bit of calmness is called for here. As Chipo often reminds me, there is a risk of jinxing the lad. What he has done, though, is bought himself loads of goodwill. Even if he makes a howler of a mistake later in the season - which, mark my words, he will - we will happily let him get away with it. The boy is a wonder!
The hypocrisy of the Bahraini sheikhs who run the Bahrain Grand Prix means that this is the only race where no champagne is sprayed on the podium (never mind that these self-same sheikhs will be quaffing gallons of the stuff in their hotel suites!). So get yourselves some fizzy water for a change. Even if you may have to grin and bear it,
Make the most of Bahrain!
Gitau
13 April 2007
There is a slight problem, unfortunately. The chaps who live in these Gulf countries are culturally a long way removed from the Europeans with an unquenchable thirst for the black, sticky stuff. They see life a little differently. Where an Englishman might sport a snazzy bowler, the Arab prefers to drape his head in a large handkerchief. The best cut trousers of the French boulevardier mean nothing to a chap who prefers to hang loose in a flowing robe (there could be something in this, you know - European fertility rates have been dropping for a considerable while!). A friendly Spaniard might offer you a Fortuna from his pack of twenty but an Arab would rather invite you to sit and puff away with him at a sheesha hubbly-bubbly pipe. Notwithstanding these things, the European has been forced to deal with the Arab on the Arab's terms for ages. Pragmatism and guile has always been the way of the European. Want something you need? Why, cosy up to the chap who has it, why don't you? If all else fails you can always threaten the swarthy chap with that useful European device: war.
I digress. In selling this precious substance the Arabs have grown wealthy beyond the dreams of avarice. So, in come the Europeans again. Take the Arab's oil and give him some loot for it, then come back and get him to part with said loot; all the while laying on the charm for all you are worth. Show the Arab the joys of the world: champagne, caviar, cabaret girls and cars. Yes, cars - very fast ones!
We, thus, return to the most ridiculously located Formula One circuit in the world, the Sakhir circuit in Bahrain. I have consistently made no secret of my loathing of this ghastly, stylised circuit, but I watch the Bahrain Grand Prix each year nonetheless. When circuits like the lovely A1 Ring in Austria are knocked off the calendar and worthy countries like South Africa are denied a Grand Prix opportunity because of the lure of some sheikh playboy's dough, I kick walls in despair. And this is not the end of the ridiculous charade - they are building a new circuit in another part of the Arab desert for an Abu Dhabi Grand Prix! Heaven help us! But, again, I digress…
2007 is proving to be the most exciting season in recent memory. The world champion, Fernando Alonso, has lost nothing in the switch to McLaren. If anything he has gained in confidence and stature. His almost effortless command of the last race in Malaysia and his skilful damage limitation in Melbourne has put him at the top of the points table in the crucial world championship stakes. Two points behind him, demonstrating equal flawlessness in new surroundings, is the ice man, Kimi Raikkonen. This paragraph should end there shouldn't it? I should be saying "the 2007 championship battle is now clear; it will be fought between these two titans of speed" but I can't. For two points behind Raikkonen, causing serious problems for both men at the top and charmingly having us on the edge of our seats each time he dons his yellow helmet, is the unbelievable rookie, Lewis Hamilton.
The last British world champion, Damon Hill, speaking before the season began, said that he expected Hamilton to win a race before the end of the season. Everyone - and I include myself in this damnable lot - thought Hill was speaking through his arse. Well, I expect soon to be helping myself to healthy portions of humble pie. Third in his first ever Grand Prix, second in his second…could it be first in his third? A bit of calmness is called for here. As Chipo often reminds me, there is a risk of jinxing the lad. What he has done, though, is bought himself loads of goodwill. Even if he makes a howler of a mistake later in the season - which, mark my words, he will - we will happily let him get away with it. The boy is a wonder!
The hypocrisy of the Bahraini sheikhs who run the Bahrain Grand Prix means that this is the only race where no champagne is sprayed on the podium (never mind that these self-same sheikhs will be quaffing gallons of the stuff in their hotel suites!). So get yourselves some fizzy water for a change. Even if you may have to grin and bear it,
Make the most of Bahrain!
Gitau
13 April 2007
posted by Gitau at 10:39 am
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