I know I have been recently referring to fallen political icons of bygone eras such as Ozymandias in light of the accommodation crisis which my family continues to endure almost a year after packing up our beautiful home in South Africa on the contractual promise of you will be in your villa after one week of temporary accommodation... it appears that Middle Eastern time is clearly much slower than African time and that the rules of the game change according to the whim of the powers that be. But having returned from my very fleeting visit to SA, I saw something at the Madinat which struck a chord deep inside... more fallen icons. Icons in the true religious sense that is. 

I was brought up and confirmed in the Catholic faith - which by the way means 'universal' - and have always practised tolerance and total respect for differing religious faiths. But from a young age my mother always instilled me that it was wrong to sell religious artifacts ... not new items of course... but things like prayer books, rosary beads etc that belonged to someone or a place of worship on the second-hand market. This was firmly brought home to me a week after I married at Mariannhill Monastery in South Africa when the statue of St Joseph was stolen from the alcove outside the church entrance and was never found. These statues have great antique value and are sought after collectors' items and it really is appalling that someone would steal such an artefact despite it being very large and heavy from a place of worship. 

I went to the Madinat on Tuesday to teach a one-on -one photo lesson to Jane - someone I have much in common with and whose company is great fun - and whilst we were exploring the intricacies of her camera I came across four such religious iconic statues standing on the floor amongst a whole pile of other antique second hand goods. Battered, and broken they looked very forlorn - and very out of place ... fallen icons! And my lesson as a child surged back and I felt very sad that they were there in that state of disrespect. 
Broken fingers of the Holy Child, and the mute appeal on the battered faces of Mary and Joseph worn by the ravages of time really struck a deep chord - and the marble statue of Mary sorely needed her rosary.



 
So I continued around the corner and found the most beautiful antique wooden wall plaque late 18thc complete with antique brass fittings which should have been hanging in a church of the Holy Mother and Child surrounded by a host of angelic cherub faces , lying discarded against a wooden upright on the floor. The patina of age was clearly etched on this piece and despite the obvious wear and tear and the Child having lost his hand , the beauty of the piece still radiated from it. I was too afraid to ask the price as I knew I would have to take it home ... so I photographed it. 



I went home somewhat saddened by the fallen icons... far more beautiful and poignant in their state of disrepair that reflected the battering that the Catholic Christian faith has taken over the years and I was instantly reminded of that poem " Dover Beach " written by Matthew Arnold in 1867. Here is the relevant extract...

The Sea of Faith 
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore 
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled. 
But now I only hear 
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar, 
Retreating, to the breath 
Of the night wind, down the vast edges drear 
And naked shingles of the world.

Ah, love, let us be true 
To one another! for the world, which seems 
To lie before us like a land of dreams, 
So various, so beautiful, so new, 
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light, 
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain; 
And we are here as on a darkling plain 
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight, 
Where ignorant armies clash by night.

And suddenly it strikes me how relevant this piece of poetry is not only to the fallen icons of the Catholic faith found in the Madinat - but also to my family's current housing problem and the past year's experiences we have had in Dubai.... which is indeed a land of dreams, so various, so beautiful, so new that hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light, nor certitude, nor peace , nor help for pain. And the only thing that remains is for my family to be true to one another ...whilst ignorant armies clash by night!

Click!