#saudi thobe for men

[basimarabize]

These brothers, once called Nick, Ben, and Andy, were what the English call "scallies". They fell into bad habits like drinking and drug use. They couldn't hold a job. They were men without purpose. That was until the day they met Malik. Malik was an immigrant from Saudi Arabia. He and several of his countrymen moved into the neighborhood where these young men lived.

Nick, Ben, and Andy at first hated these new immigrants. They feared and loathed anything foreign. They jeered at Malik and his family and friends. But in the face of this discrimination, Malik and his community welcomed all to their masjid. The brothers came, intending to cause trouble, but were instead welcomed with open arms. As they were embraced by their Muslim Arab neighbors, their hearts and minds were opened. They stayed and listened to the imam speak on the glory of Allah.

They brothers came back the next week and the week after. Soon they each took the shahada and began dressing as their new Muslim brothers in thobes. They adopted new names: Amir, Hakeem, and Tarek.

As they celebrate their first Eid, they break their fast with Malik, the brother who reached out and rescued them from Western decadence. All men can change and become brothers.

[captainlondonman]

Arab Masters

A different story

Ken was frequently on business trips to Saudi Arabia sometimes for 2 weeks at a time. After a day of meetings when there was nothing for him to do he used the hotel gym to work out. At least it took up some time and kept him in good shape. He was 6” with a honed body and wide shoulders. Blond and hairless but he knew he looked good. The hotel gym after a while he felt was too boring. The other guys there were also businessmen and most just used the bike and those that did weights were so half hearted. He rarely spoke to any of them. There was no need to keep using the same hotel so he looked on line to see what hotel had the best gym. He found a good hotel which had no gym but next door was a well set up gym with all the right weight lifting equipment which was open to the public. This to Ken seemed a much better place for his next visit.

He entered the new gym not sure what it would be like and was amazed to see how many people were used every bit of equipment. He was the only white guy in the room. All the others were local and into building a really good body. You could almost see them vying with one another. Most of the guys were over 6” and packed with muscle with their brown tanned bodies and beards. Ken immediately noticed that they all had well developed black hairy legs. He had never really thought about Arab men before and had never been into them. All the guys he picked up were usually blond. But these guys were something else, they were so masculine, in fact they oozed masculinity. No doubt they did all this work out to impress their young wives sitting at home waiting for them to return. This was a man’s world. The room was heavy with the smell of sweat and most guys were working out so hard that their tops seeped with sweat and he could see the glistening sweat running down their arms from their hairy armpits.

‘Christ I will have to step up a bit here if I am to use this gym’.

Once he had done his hour’s training he went to the shower area and his eyes were out on stalks. Almost all the guys without exception were as hairy on their back as their front. It was like a carpet of thick black curly hair all the way down their backs from their necks, the hair thickening up as it vanished into their arse crack. Their hair was a perfect line down their chest and around heavy dark brown nipples and spread out to form what almost looked like a forest around their cock and balls. All the guys had cut cocks and all thick and heavy with glistening heads.  Ken noticed that as they heavily soaped themselves their hands moved more slowly around their balls, tweaking them and pulling them then placing their big hands over their shafts, stroking lightly so their cocks grew slightly . They were almost ready to become erect but they stopped themselves at that point and then let the water wash away the soap to show off their cocks to perfection. They were obviously getting off on the adrenalin and see each others bodies. Ken had always thought he was fairly well endowed but all these guys had thicker dicks. He found himself having to face the shower controls as his own cock lengthened, without any hand help. Shit there was no way he could have a full boner in front of these guys not in Saudi Arabia.

Keeping his towel well wrapped around him and his hands over his cock he went into the changing room. Most guys had brought joggers and a lycra top, the top taught across their erect nipples and so tight on their muscled arms. A few put on jockstraps so when they pulled up their joggers there was a definite bulge on the front. Other guys put on their thobes and he noted that as a couple of them walked even with their underwear he could see a cock swinging with the edge of the head and shaft showing.

Ken almost ran up to his bedroom his cock starting to leak some precum from being in amongst so much testerone.  All that black hair, bears and muscle had made him feel so horny.. He stripped off and went ito the bathroom standing in front of the mirror his boner so rigid and so vertical. He had never felt like this. He looked at his own cock his hairless blond body  and as he put a firm hand around his cock he said.

‘Shit man, all that male sex, all those black hairy muscle guys with their thick cocks, I wish I could look like that. Christ why am is saying this I love blonds but the place is just so full of men sex. They are all real men and I wish that I could be one of them.’

As he looked at himself in the mirror he imagined himself transformed into a hairy arab with full black hair and thick beard. His cock felt almost sore he was so worked up and with one hand tweaking his nipples imagining them full and pert like the other . He let his hand rub and and down his shaft faster and faster, his breathing quickening as he let himself imagine more.

‘Fuck man I wanna be a hairy arab’ and with that he shot his load not just over the basin but onto the mirror, great white creamy globules dripping down. ‘That was the best wank I’ve ever had’, he thought as he wiped the mirror clean.

The next day he could hardly concentrate on his meetings. All he could think of was getting back to the gym. He spent an hour that evening doing few of the weights but quietly staring at all the muscled arab men. Why had he never thought about them before but now it was all he could think of . Before going into the shower he thought he would try out the sauna and as he walked into the space, 3 hairy arabs were sitting in a row on the upper seat with a towel over their private parts. They nodded at Ken and he sat on the lower seat but looking directly at the men.

‘So white boy, you like our gym?’

‘Yes it’s great’, he replied

‘Full of muscle arab men and only you as white.’

‘Yes I see that’

‘But you obviously like to be here with us hairy guys as I saw you yesterday looking at us all.’

‘I was doing training,’ Ken replied

‘Nothing in comparison to the weights we all lift.’

‘Perhaps but you are bigger than me,’ he tried to defend himself

‘You are right. We are real men not pussy white boys’

Ken did not know how to reply so he seemed polite so he said nothing and was about to get up and leave when the middle guy said

‘See even now you are lower than us in the sauna. That means you are lower than us in every way. You want to obey us arabs, you want masters. So do not think of leaving now. You are scum and scum boys lick the feet of their masters. Start licking our feet. They are all nice and sweaty form working out so you need to lick a lot. Get down on your knees and start white faggot.’

Ken knew he could not leave he had to obey, they were too powerful for him to think of leaving.

Letting his towel fall he got down on his knees and started to let his tongue roll over the first pair of feet. They were cheesy and unwashed from training.

‘Lick them clean you faggot cover your spit over both my feet, feel the curly black hair on my feet in your mouth, get your tongue between my toes and clean . that’s right get hold of my feet and caress them as you lick. He put his hand on Ken’s head and pushed it down pressing Ken’s lips tight against his feet

‘Good boy.’

‘Now it my turn,’ the middle one said

‘Lick hard you white faggot. You are our slave and you will  do what we say. Lick boy, let me feel your lips and tongue against me. The middle guy had very large feet the instep covered in black hair and almost between the toes.

‘You are a good boy so look up at us.’

The three men had removed their towels and all were sitting with erect cocks. All at least 9” and thick, their cocks sprouting from very hairy pubes, their heavy balls resting on the bench. Their hands were gently stroking their own cocks

‘You see you do your work well. You make us hard and horny, faggot. Now clean my friend’s feet’

As Ken started to lick the third feet having seen three massive cocks in front of him and all guys with a mat of chest hair his own cock started to respond to the pleasure and he could feel his erection quickly reaching its full length. The third guy kicked Ken away from his feet and he was now sitting staring up at all three boners.

‘So now faggot you have your next job. You have three cocks to suck and three cocks to give you all their arab juices.’

The middle man pulled Ken up to ensure his head was level with his cock.

‘Look at this big arab cock, you are to suck me dry that is an order. Open your mouth boy and take me all the way down your throat, get some of that white spit over my nice shiny head, that’s it, now open wide and don’t choke you are a slave and you take all we give.’

Ken opened his mouth as wide as he could terrified that the shaft was so big he would gag but he knew he would probably be beaten and he had to carefully breathe but suddenly the man guided his head into the shaft and Ken could feel the cock sliding further and further down his throat the length seemed to go on forever. But the man’s hands were now clenched around his head and shoving his cock the full way in.

‘You white boys love arab cock. I want to feel your mouth smothered by my hairy pubes so force yourself in and feel the heat of my body. Out the side of his eyes he could see the guys on each side were stroking their own sizable cocks as they watched their friend being gobbled. That’s it boy take it all and let me feel your spit sliding up and down me. Suck quicker faggot and get it fully up and down into my pubes. Fuck man you are good. My friends are getting ready for you next and seeing them masturbate and have you sucking me is making me ready to shoot everything in my balls . You must swallow it all got it.’

Taking his hands the arab made sure Ken’s head was fully into his pubes as he exploded his cum, his body jerking with pleasure.

‘Fuck man that is good.’

Suddenly Ken felt another hand grab his hair and pull him off the first arab.

‘Suck mine now boy, I’ve wanked myself to be ready to cum and having seen the way you swallow cum you will take mine.’

Ken was dragged over to one of the other men who quickly opened Ken’s mouth and shoved his cock in all the way down,

‘Suck fast, let me feel your lips tight against my shaft. Make sure you swallow my cum and mix it is with my Friend.. Fuck I’m coming as I wanked so much.’

 Ken almost choked with the amount of spunk going down his throat sucking as quickly as he could to take it all in. The guy pushed Ken back and said.

‘Now finish my other friend. As Ken moved across to take the other cock in his mouth the guy said.

‘Fuck it is too late, I’ve waited too long and have had to wank myself while watching you suck off the others so put your face in front of my dick.’

As Ken moved his face towards the cock the guy erupted his spunk in great blobs all over his face, into his eyes, over his nose and at his mouth, big globules of spunk running down his face and onto his chest.

‘You know how to deal with 3 horny arabs my friend.’

‘Now take your towel and wipe it off your face. We are not finished with you. Be back in the sauna at the same time tomorrow.’

And with that Ken was pushed aside as they put their towels around them and went to go out. One of the guys caught Ken’s head and said.

‘Remember you are ours.’

And with that he spat a great blob of spit onto Ken’s face.

‘Take that you faggot.’

Left alone in the sauna, Ken’s cock was straining with pleasure. He may have acted like a white faggot, as their slave but he had loved it and his cock needed release, he leant back on the sauna bench and let his hand rub his shaft faster and faster remembering the pleasure of sucking off three arab men Seeing the three hairy muscular arab men was too much and he shot his load up and over his chest. His face and chest were covered in spunk so he quickly toweled it off and took it into the shower to wash it off before going up to his bedroom exhausted but happy.

The next day he had another round of meetings but he was thinking how he was going to serve his three masters in the sauna this time. Part of him wanted to stay away, after all what would they do but he was almost hypnotized by their strength. He wanted to serve them but in fact what he really wanted was to look like them to be a hairy masculine arab man. He opened the sauna door at the agreed time and all there were in the same position waiting with no towels across their cocks

‘We knew you would come faggot. You love arab men, you would really like to be an arab man.’

‘Yes’

‘Yes what?’

‘Yes sir.’

‘Yes Master you say Ok?’

‘Yes master I would love to look like you but I am only a white faggot to serve you.’

‘And tonight you will serve us again. Keep standing and remove that towel of yours. The middle one was already wanking and his cock was stiff as a poker.

I wanted to prepare myself for you. He slid down to sit on the lower bench his legs wide apart so Ken could see the thick thighs with a massive cock and hairy pubes. He could smell the sweat from the guy who was now sitting directly in front of him. The guy took hold of his cock and let a large  blob of spit fall onto the cock head keeping his hand of his cock which was vertical he barked at Ken

‘Now turn round. I want you to sit on my cock and open up that hole of yours.’ The guy took a firm hold of Ken’s waist and starting lowering him onto his cock. ‘Take it easy to begin with as this is big, you faggot, but I know it will slide up your arse once my head gets past your opening. Ken winced as the cock entered but sitting above the man he wanted to feel the whole shaft sliding up so that when it was up to the hilt he was sitting in amongst a forest of curly black pubes. The guy pulled Ken’s body back against him.

‘Now feel my hairy chest rubbing against your back. This is what we arabs are like.  Feel my beard in your neck as I fuck you. So I want you to slowly take yourself up until you reach my head and the. Lower yourself.’

One of his mates came and stood in front of Ken his erect cock in front of Ken’s mouth.

‘You can have his pubes against your arse and my pubes against your face so open wide and take my prick. Suck while you are fucked.’

Ken opened his mouth as the guy moved forwards to grab Ken’s chin and force his mouth open.

‘Take my cock you bitch. As you suck up and down my shaft rise and fall on my friend’s cock I want you to have our cum meet in your body. As you swallow my spunk so you will feel spunk rising all the way up your arse.

Feeling the pubes of the two guys and knowing he was serving them and that he could feel both moaning meant he was doing a good job and he raised and lowed his body faster and faster while sucking in and out more quickly. He knew they were both about to cum, the third guy was looking on stroking his dick and salivating at the scene.

‘I am next to fuck boy. Get on you guys as its my turn.’

‘Shit we are coming so take our cum you little bitch man.’

First Ken felt the rush up his arse and seconds later he could feel the spunk erupting into his mouth and running down his chin.

As both men took out their cocks the third guy got hold of Ken and said

‘Turn round and sit down you scum. Raise your legs in the air so I can see that hole of yours.’

It’s covered in cum so I can fuck you nice and easy.’

He grabbed Ken’s legs and raised them up pushing Kens body back bringing his cock level with the hole.

‘This may not take long boy as I’m so fucking aroused by watching the other two but I’m unloading into you.’

And with that he rammed his thick cock into Ken’s hole and pushed the whole way up. Still keeping his hands on Kens legs he pumped Ken’s arse quicker and quicker. Ken could feel the cock sliding in and out of the other guys cum.

‘Take your arab master’s cum, bitch.’

 And with that he shot his load up into Kens arse.

The three men wiped their cocks as Ken slumped on the bench.

‘Bet you wish you were arab, bitch eh?’

‘Yes I want that.’

‘Well tidy up and get upstairs. You have made three masculine men very happy.’

And with that they walked out.

Drained from all the sex with the hunky Arabs, Ken got upstairs to shower himself clean and relax in his hotel room. Hardly had he come out the shower with the towel around him when there was a knock on the door. Not sure who was there he shouted out

‘Who’s that?’

‘You left something down in the gym’ came the reply.

Ken was sure he had taken everything up with him but opened the door thinking it might be the bellboy.

Standing in the doorway was one of the men from the sauna. He seemed to take up the whole doorway and was grinning at Ken. He was dressed in a white thobe with sandals and a thick gold watch. He had showered and dressed in traditional gear and look so handsome with his thick beard and gelled black hair.

‘Can I come in? I brought you some Turkish coffee which I know you will like.’

 He had a glass cup of coffee on one hand and a small bag on the other.

‘You smell good’ he said. ‘A good strong shower gets rid of all the cum and you certainly had your fair share from all ends. My friends and I like an obedient white boy to do what we want. White boy for arab cock eh? You are one of the best we have had. But I think it’s not just arab cock you like. I’ve seen you in the gym looking at us all and its clear you wish you looked like us. Am I right?’

‘Well em’ Ken mumbled

‘Admit it boy. You’d like to be a hairy muscle arab. Hair on the body and a good beard now really turn you on. You don’t even need to answer that as I can see that cock of yours rising under your towel.’

‘You are right I’ve never thought about arab men before until I went to your gym. The place was heaving with sweat, scent and musk and all the guys are so fit but apart from the muscles it is the hair and brown bodies that I have come to really love. I look at myself now all white and hairless and think it not what I want but its too late.’

‘It’s never too late, my brother. Why not take my coffee. With this coffee you down in one gulp.’

Ken took the glass from the large hairy hand and did as he was told. The coffee was only luke warm but as it started to slide down his throat it was almost a burning sensation and he felt the heat permeate his entire body to his fingertips and feet. The blood rushed to his head and he started to feel dizzy putting his hand over his eyes.

‘Good grief’, Ken said ‘this coffee is so strong I can feel the liquid surging through my body. My skin is so tight but I can feel it expanding, every part of my body expanding.’ As he looked own he shouted

‘My skin is changing colour, its becoming much darker just like yours. As he looked at the colour so he saw tufts of black hair growing out. Like swans down to begin with and then it got thicker and thicker. His arms bulked out to reveal big muscles covered in hair. He now had more than a 6 pack with huge pecs and such erect dark brown big nipples. His thighs now looked huge and were covered in black curly hair even over his feet up to and around his pubes which now looked like a forest. Growing down from his pubes was a thick dark brown cut cock, so thick with a glistening pinkish head. The hair continued to grow up all over his chest and across his shoulders. What was happening. His hands now looked like plates they were so big and he put his hands up to his forehead and realised something was odd with his hairline. Moving his hands over his head he realised that he had no hair, he had a totally shaved head. But he now had a long  thick beard that came down to the base of his neck as he had seen on many muslims.

‘That coffee has done you some good my friend. I decided that you wanted to be an arab and that can become a brother. Before you look in the mirror to admire yourself I brought you some new clothes that will now fit you and make look the full arab, so try these on.’

He opened the bag and took out the Arabic thobe and underwear and sandals.

‘Put these on my friend.’

Ken pulled up the undergarment and then the thobe which was so tight on his muscular arms that he to pull down tight over as the thobe was moulded to his arms. It was the perfect length.

‘Now you can look at the mirror.’

Ken stood staring in disbelief he was now as much an arab as the guy who was with him but even more so with the shaved hear and long beard. It only took a few seconds for him to look at himself before he could feel his new thick cock start to rise inside his thobe.

‘So my brother when you go to sleep tonight you will wake up tomorrow as Khalid no longer Ken  and you will have forgotten your past and embrace being an arab. You will live with me and serve me,  living as an arab, loving other arab men.

‘You like what you see in the mirror? I can see that your cock is now fully erect in your thobe. Like a tent pole but of course I have given you a meaty thick and long cock. You must have a lot of cum in these big balls of yours and need to get it out. As your Master you must know that I fuck you but seeing your cock straining in the thobe has made me feel very horny and I wish that time you fuck me. I want to feel that cock of yours entering my hairy big arse. But you will fuck me still wearing your thobe and I will also wear mine. We go in to the bathroom and you fuck me in front of the mirror. I want you to see and feel what it is like arab fucking arab in thobes. Then you know what it is like to be a real arab man who loves other hairy arab men. Come.’

He went into the bathroom and lifted his thobe up to his waist and dropped his underwear looking into the mirror.

‘This way I can cum watching you. Now let me see that big cock of yours.’

Khalid now did as he was told by his Master and lifted his thobe over his erect prick and with some difficulty pulled his underwear over the throbbing cock to let it spring up to attention.

His 10” tool was pulsating seeing his Master’s hairy arse and big wide cheeks covered in curly hair going all the way into his crack and to the opening.

‘Now my servant take your hands and push open my cheeks as you direct your cock to my hole. My hole is already moist waiting to take your dick. We arabs only have cut cocks and that way you see the helmet fully ready to take you. So start to push Slave let me take you, put your hands around my hairy waist and start to enter. Feel what it is like to fuck a proper man, your Master. Look at yourself in the mirror and see how you now are and be thankful to your Master for changing you. You white boys are fine occasionally but we like real masculine men. You are one now. Push your way in and go right up to the hilt. I want to feel every inch of you and feel your cock pushing hard inside me.. Come towards me and let me feel your long beard against my neck.’

‘Now look at you, an arab in a thobe fucking your arab master. You will not forget this evening. If you fuck well I will let it happen again but I always want you to see your reflection and know how lucky you are.

Khalid could feel the moisture inside the arse as he pressed his hairy arms around the waist of his Master. He was now fully in and was looking at himself in the mirror. This is what Ken wanted. He wanted to be Khalid. He wanted to be muscular, masculine and hairy.

‘Now start pushing in and out’ he was ordered.

He slowly brought his cock back almost to the opening and then rammed it in. he knew how to really fuck men. Seeing himself hairy in a thobe made him ram his tool in faster and faster, his breathing increasing as he stared at himself. His master said

‘You fuck well my brother, now let me get my hand around my own cock so I can cum with you. I want you to empty everything in your balls into my arse. So fuck hard.’

Khalid now forced himself in and out faster and faster while his Master let his hand rub quicker and quicker down his own thick shaft.

‘I might have to let you fuck me more often Slave, you are good.’

‘I’m almost ready to cum Master’

‘I too but look at your face as you cum. See an arab bursting his balls inside me in your thobe.’

Khalid knew he could hold off no longer and with a shout he exploded stream after stream into his Master arse as his Master shot his load all over the mirror. ‘See what good creamy arab cum looks like my friend.’

The two men cleaned themselves and let their thobes drop back down .

‘I come for you tomorrow morning Khalid. Be ready to come with me. This is a new beginning for you a new life, an arab life, that I know you want.’

‘Good night Master thank you for making me like you.’

[helloyoucreatives]

Heinz creates first ever stain-proof thobe for Middle East campaign  “Unstainable Thobe” by Wunderman Thompson Dubai solves the dilemma of how to keep your thobe impeccably white and 

enjoy Heinz ketchup fearlessly  Heinz and Wunderman Thompson Dubai have turned one of the most iconic pieces of clothing in the Arabian Gulf, the white thobe, into an unstainable outfit that gives men the flexibility to enjoy their favourite dishes, with all the Heinz ketchup they want, without worries.  The thobe is a traditional white garment, and every country in the region has its own version. Most Saudi men wear it for everyday life, not just special occasions. It has a unique way of being made; everything must follow specific guidelines, from the fabric's natural fibres to the sewing process. Keeping it perfectly white is a matter of great pride - so much so that men keep spare thobes at work, gym, and in the car, in case their clothes get dirty during the day. So, it was evident that sauces like Heinz ketchup couldn’t be fully enjoyed—to the point that many avoid certain types of food when they wear the thobe.  

[islamiclothing]

The Ultimate Guide to Choosing a Custom Thobe for Men

The thobe, a traditional garment worn primarily in the Middle East, has become a symbol of elegance and cultural identity. While it remains deeply rooted in tradition, the thobe has evolved over time, with modern variations offering a blend of classic and contemporary styles. Choosing the right Custom Thobe For Men can be a rewarding experience, but with so many options available, it can also be overwhelming. This guide will help you navigate the process, ensuring that you end up with a thobe that perfectly suits your needs, style, and preferences.

1. Understanding the Thobe: A Brief Overview

Before diving into the details of selecting a custom thobe, it’s important to understand what a thobe is. The thobe, also known as a “dishdasha” or “kandura” in different regions, is a long, robe-like garment traditionally worn by men in the Middle East and North Africa. It is typically ankle-length and features long sleeves, with variations in design depending on the country or region. The thobe is often worn during religious ceremonies, cultural events, and daily activities, symbolizing modesty and cultural heritage.

While the traditional thobe is usually white and made of cotton or linen to suit the hot climate, modern thobes come in various colors, fabrics, and designs, making them suitable for different occasions and personal styles.

2. Why Choose a Custom Thobe?

Opting for a custom thobe over a ready-made one offers several benefits:

Perfect Fit: A custom thobe is tailored to your exact measurements, ensuring a perfect fit that enhances your appearance and comfort.

Personalized Design: You have the freedom to choose the fabric, color, style, and embellishments that reflect your personal taste.

Quality Craftsmanship: Custom thobes are often made with greater attention to detail and higher-quality materials, resulting in a garment that lasts longer.

Cultural Expression: A custom thobe allows you to honor tradition while expressing your individuality through unique design elements.

3. Choosing the Right Fabric

The fabric of your thobe is one of the most important factors to consider, as it directly impacts the garment’s comfort, durability, and appearance. Here are some common fabric options:

Cotton: Cotton is a popular choice for thobes due to its breathability, softness, and ability to keep you cool in warm weather. It’s also easy to care for and durable, making it ideal for everyday wear.

Linen: Linen is another excellent choice for hot climates, as it’s lightweight and highly breathable. However, it tends to wrinkle easily, so it’s best suited for casual settings or when a relaxed look is desired.

Silk: Silk thobes are luxurious and elegant, perfect for special occasions. They have a natural sheen and drape beautifully, but they require more delicate care.

Polyester Blends: Polyester blends are durable, wrinkle-resistant, and often more affordable. They’re a good option for those looking for a low-maintenance thobe that still offers a stylish appearance.

Wool: For colder climates, wool or wool-blend fabrics provide warmth and comfort. Wool thobes are typically reserved for winter or cooler weather events.

When selecting the fabric, consider the climate you’ll be wearing the thobe in, the occasion, and your personal comfort preferences.

4. Selecting the Right Color

Traditionally, thobes are white, especially in regions like Saudi Arabia and the Gulf countries, where light colors help reflect the sun’s heat. However, modern custom thobes come in a wide range of colors, allowing you to express your style and suit the occasion.

White: Classic and timeless, a white thobe is versatile and appropriate for nearly any setting, from religious ceremonies to casual outings.

Black: Black thobes exude elegance and are often worn during formal occasions or evening events. They also work well in cooler climates.

Navy Blue: Navy blue is a sophisticated choice that offers a balance between formality and everyday wear.

Gray: Gray thobes are subtle and versatile, suitable for both casual and formal events.

Earth Tones: Colors like beige, brown, and olive are great for a more natural, understated look, perfect for daytime events or casual wear.

Bold Colors: If you want to make a statement, consider bolder colors like deep red, royal blue, or emerald green. These colors are ideal for special occasions or when you want to stand out.

When choosing a color, consider the season, occasion, and your skin tone to ensure that the thobe complements your overall look.

5. Deciding on the Style

The style of your thobe can vary significantly depending on the region, occasion, and your personal preferences. Here are some common style elements to consider:

Neckline: Thobes typically feature a round or V-neck collar, with or without buttons. The neckline style can range from simple and traditional to more elaborate designs with embroidery or embellishments.

Sleeves: Most thobes have long sleeves, but the width and detailing can vary. Some thobes feature cuffed sleeves with button closures, while others have loose, flowing sleeves for a more relaxed look.

Length: While the traditional thobe reaches the ankles, modern variations may be slightly shorter or longer, depending on your preference and the occasion.

Embroidery and Embellishments: Custom thobes offer the option to add embroidery, piping, or other decorative elements to the collar, cuffs, or hem. These details can add a touch of personalization and elegance to your thobe.

Pockets: Some thobes feature pockets, which can be practical for everyday wear. Consider whether you want visible pockets on the chest or hidden side pockets for a sleeker look.

When selecting the style, think about the occasions you’ll be wearing the thobe for, as well as your personal taste and comfort.

6. Taking Accurate Measurements

To ensure your custom thobe fits perfectly, accurate measurements are essential. It’s recommended to have a professional tailor take your measurements, but if you’re doing it yourself, here’s what you’ll need to measure:

Neck: Measure around the base of your neck, where a collar would sit.

Chest: Measure around the fullest part of your chest, keeping the tape measure parallel to the floor.

Waist: Measure around your natural waistline, which is usually just above your belly button.

Hips: Measure around the widest part of your hips.

Shoulder Width: Measure from the edge of one shoulder to the other, across the back.

Sleeve Length: Measure from the edge of your shoulder to your wrist.

Thobe Length: Measure from the base of your neck (where the collar sits) down to your desired length, typically at or just above the ankle.

Providing accurate measurements ensures that your custom thobe will fit perfectly, offering both comfort and style.

7. Choosing a Reputable Tailor

The quality of your custom thobe depends largely on the skill of the tailor. When selecting a tailor, consider the following:

Experience: Look for a tailor with experience in making thobes, as this ensures they understand the nuances of the garment.

Reviews and Testimonials: Check online reviews or ask for recommendations to find a tailor known for delivering high-quality work.

Fabric Selection: A good tailor will offer a wide range of fabrics and will help you choose the best option based on your preferences and needs.

Customization Options: Ensure that the tailor offers a variety of customization options, from fabric and color to style and embellishments.

Taking the time to find a skilled and reputable tailor is crucial to ensuring that your custom thobe meets your expectations.

8. Caring for Your Custom Thobe

Once you’ve invested in a custom thobe, proper care is essential to maintain its appearance and longevity. Here are some tips:

Washing: Follow the care instructions provided by your tailor. Generally, cotton and linen thobes can be machine-washed on a gentle cycle, while silk and wool thobes may require dry cleaning.

Ironing: To keep your thobe looking crisp, iron it on a low to medium setting. Use a pressing cloth to avoid direct heat on delicate fabrics.

Storage: Store your thobe on a hanger to prevent wrinkles and maintain its shape. For long-term storage, consider using a garment bag to protect it from dust and moths.

Conclusion

Choosing a custom thobe is a rewarding process that allows you to create a garment tailored to your exact specifications and personal style. By considering factors such as fabric, color, style, and craftsmanship, you can ensure that your custom thobe is not only a reflection of your cultural heritage but also a versatile and stylish addition to your wardrobe. Whether you’re purchasing your first thobe or adding to your collection, this guide will help you make informed decisions and enjoy the timeless elegance of a well-made custom thobe.

[kurtapyjamaca]

Kurta Pajama Around the World: How Different Cultures Embrace This Classic Garment

Kurta Pajama, a staple in South Asian fashion, has transcended cultural boundaries to become a beloved garment worldwide. This article explores how different cultures embrace the classic kurta pajama for men, celebrating its versatility and timeless appeal.

The Origins of Kurta Pajama

Kurta pajama originated in South Asia, primarily in India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh. Traditionally worn by men, this ensemble consists of a long tunic (kurta) paired with loose-fitting trousers (pajama). The kurta pajama is known for its comfort and elegance, making it suitable for various occasions.

Kurta Pajama in South Asia

In South Asia, kurta pajama for men is a symbol of cultural heritage. It is worn during festivals, weddings, and everyday life. The kurta can be simple for casual wear or heavily embellished for formal events. South Asian men often pair the kurta pajama with a vest or jacket for added sophistication.

The Middle Eastern Influence

Kurta pajama has found a place in Middle Eastern fashion due to cultural exchanges and trade. In countries like Saudi Arabia, UAE, and Qatar, men wear variations of the kurta, often called "thobe" or "dishdasha." These garments share similarities with the kurta pajama, emphasizing modesty and comfort.

Kurta Pajama in the West

Western fashion has embraced the kurta pajama for men as an exotic and stylish choice. Fashion designers incorporate kurta pajama elements into contemporary collections, blending Eastern and Western aesthetics. The kurta pajama is also popular in multicultural cities where South Asian communities thrive, making it a common sight at cultural festivals and celebrations.

The African Connection

In Africa, particularly in countries like Kenya, Tanzania, and Nigeria, the kurta pajama has been adapted into local attire. African men wear kurta-inspired garments in vibrant colors and prints, reflecting their rich cultural heritage. This fusion showcases the adaptability of the kurta pajama across diverse cultures.

The Influence of Bollywood

Bollywood, India's film industry, has played a significant role in popularizing the kurta pajama for men globally. Iconic actors donning stylish kurta pajamas in movies have set fashion trends, inspiring fans worldwide to incorporate this attire into their wardrobes.

Modern Trends in Kurta Pajama Fashion

Today, kurta pajama for men has evolved with modern trends. Designers experiment with fabrics, cuts, and embellishments, creating a range of options from traditional to contemporary. The kurta pajama is now available in various styles, including short kurtas, asymmetrical cuts, and fusion wear.

Why Kurta Pajama Remains Timeless

The enduring appeal of kurta pajama for men lies in its versatility, comfort, and cultural significance. It is a garment that transcends age, occasion, and geography, making it a beloved choice for men worldwide. Whether worn for tradition or fashion, the kurta pajama continues to make a statement.

Conclusion

The kurta pajama for men is more than just a garment; it is a symbol of cultural unity and diversity. Its journey across continents and cultures highlights its timeless appeal and adaptability. As we celebrate the kurta pajama, we acknowledge the rich tapestry of traditions and influences that make this classic garment a global fashion phenomenon.

[ryana21]

Choosing the Right Dress for Every Event in Saudi Arabia 

In the Saudi Arabian culture, every event is a cherished celebration steeped in tradition, the significance of choosing the right attire becomes an artful expression of one's identity. From family gatherings to formal ceremonies, each occasion demands a careful consideration of cultural sensitivities, merging the contemporary with the traditional. 

As we navigate the diverse landscape of events in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia (KSA), this blog post aims to unravel the threads of cultural awareness and personal style, guiding you through the process of selecting the perfect dresses in KSA for every significant moment. Additionally, we'll subtly explore the dynamic world of ladies' fashion, delving into the timeless charm of polo t-shirts – a versatile option that seamlessly blends sophistication with comfort. Join us on this journey, where elegance meets cultural richness, and where each dress becomes a reflection of the vibrant mosaic that defines Saudi Arabian celebrations. 

Cultural Sensitivities and Modesty 

Saudi Arabia's cultural tapestry is woven with threads of modesty, making it crucial to align your attire with these sensitivities. Both men and women often adhere to modest clothing choices, with women commonly wearing abayas over their dresses. For men, the thobe is a staple, emphasizing the importance of modesty. Understanding and respecting these cultural norms is fundamental when selecting dresses in KSA. 

Traditional Attire Speaks Elegance 

Formal events demand traditional attire that exudes elegance. Women can embrace luxurious abayas with intricate embroidery or opt for the timeless beauty of a jalabiya, complemented by matching accessories. Men, on the other hand, have a plethora of those options, often enhanced by a head covering like a ghutra or shemagh. This fusion of tradition and sophistication creates a lasting impression at any formal gathering. 

Business Gatherings and the Smart Casual Appeal 

When it comes to business events, a smart casual approach is often apt. Ladies can explore elegant dresses or stylish blouses paired with modest skirts or trousers. Polo t-shirts for ladies are an excellent choice for a sophisticated yet relaxed look. These versatile tops can be paired with tailored trousers for a smart, business-casual ensemble, striking the right balance. 

Celebrating in Style 

Joyous occasions call for a display of personal style. Women can embrace vibrant dresses or ornate kaftans adorned with intricate details. Men have the opportunity to experiment with those designs or opt for a well-tailored suit that mirrors the festive atmosphere. Comfort is paramount for truly enjoying these celebratory events. 

Outdoor Events 

Saudi Arabia's climatic conditions pose unique challenges, particularly during outdoor events. Choosing lightweight and breathable fabrics becomes imperative. For women, flowing dresses or maxi skirts are ideal, while men can opt for lighter-colored thobes or linen suits. Consider practical yet stylish footwear to complement your outdoor attire. 

Elevating the Ensemble with Footwear 

Footwear is the finishing touch that can elevate your entire look. For women, consider elegant flats or low heels for formal occasions and comfortable sandals for outdoor events. Men can choose classic leather shoes for formal gatherings and embrace loafers or dressy sandals for more relaxed occasions. Aligning your footwear with the event's nature ensures both style and comfort. 

Conclusion 

Choosing the right dresses in KSA is a harmonious blend of cultural awareness, personal flair, and practical considerations. Be it a formal ceremony, a business meeting, or a family celebration, understanding the dress code and cultural nuances is indispensable. In the realm of ladies' fashion, polo t-shirts provide a contemporary twist, offering a versatile and chic option. 

By incorporating traditional elements and staying attuned to local customs, you can confidently step into any Saudi Arabian event, embodying elegance and grace while staying on-trend with polo t-shirts for ladies. Your attire becomes a reflection not just of fashion but of the rich cultural diversity that makes Saudi Arabian events distinctive and memorable. 

[ziadseo]

Al Aseel Saudi Thobe | White Arabic Men's Thobe

[apuadman]

Malong as Plant Medicine

The first time I see malong that been worn by men was when I am in Saudi Arabia. I noticed that Saudian people always wear their national dress for men which is called thobe. And even muslims here in the Philippines do sometime wear thobe as Islam was a National Religion for Saudi Arabia. But aside from Saudians, I see Indians, Bangladeshi, Indonesians wear Malong as their skirt or lower garments…

[kandorashopnearme]

KANDURA

Kandura, also known as dishdasha or thobe, is a traditional garment worn by men in many Middle Eastern countries, including the United Arab Emirates, Saudi Arabia, Qatar, Oman, and Bahrain. The kandura is a long, loose-fitting robe made from lightweight fabric, usually cotton or polyester. It is designed to be comfortable and cool in the hot and dry climate of the region.

The kandura is an important part of the cultural heritage of the Middle East, and it has a long history dating back many centuries. In the past, the kandura was made of wool or other heavier fabrics and was worn as a protective garment by nomadic tribes. Today, the kandura has evolved into a more modern garment that is worn for both formal and casual occasions.

One of the most distinctive features of the kandura is its length, which usually reaches the ankles or the floor. The garment is designed to be loose-fitting and flowing, with long sleeves and a high collar that can be folded down. The collar is often embroidered or decorated with buttons or a tassel.

The kandura is typically worn with a headscarf, called the ghutra, which is held in place by a black cord called the agal. The ghutra and agal are used to protect the head and face from the sun and dust, and they are an important part of the traditional Arabic attire.

In the United Arab Emirates, the kandura is worn by both locals and expats, and it is considered a symbol of national identity. The kandura is often worn to formal occasions such as weddings and business meetings, but it is also worn for casual events like family gatherings and outings.

The kandura comes in many different colors and styles, from the classic white to more modern designs with patterns and embroidery. The traditional white kandura is still the most popular choice, and it is often worn with a red or white ghutra and black agal.

One of the benefits of the kandura is its versatility. It can be worn with sandals for a casual look, or with dress shoes for a more formal occasion. The loose-fitting design of the kandura also makes it comfortable and easy to move in, which is especially important in the hot and humid climate of the Middle East.

In conclusion, the kandura is an important part of the cultural heritage of the Middle East, and it has evolved into a modern garment that is worn for both formal and casual occasions. Its loose-fitting design and lightweight fabric make it comfortable and easy to wear, while its distinctive style makes it a symbol of national identity. Whether you're a local or a visitor, wearing a kandura is a great way to experience the rich culture and traditions of the Middle East.

[hikmahboutique]

Thobes for Men with Collar Design Buy Online At Hikmah Boutique

Hikmah Boutique is one of the leading suppliers of thobes for men in Australia. They specialize in providing traditional Saudi-style thobes made with high quality premium material and stylish collar designs. Their thobes come in a range of sizes and colors, making them an ideal choice for men of all ages. Visit the attached link for more.

[redaastore]

The Latest Fashion Trend in Men's Clothing Online UAE

Traditionally, women have been the target audience for new fashions and designs, but recently, guys have shown an astonishing willingness to adopt modern and trendy looks. As a result, there is a growing demand for men's clothing online in Saudi Arabia. Saudi Arabia is a hub for luxury fashion, and the country's online market is expanding rapidly. Middle Eastern, European, and American fashion trends, including those from the United States, affect the UAE's fashion industry.

Popular fashion trends in the UAE combine traditional and contemporary elements. Traditional Arabic garments, such as the thobe and kandura for men and the abaya and hijab for women, are still commonly worn, especially in more conservative settings. Nonetheless, there is a growing trend in men's clothing stores to wear more Western styles, such as designer clothing, shoes, and accessories.

Man's Preference for Online Shopping

The number one reason men prefer online shopping is that they are busy earning, so purchasing products online is a convenient option. They can choose from multiple options while sitting in their offices, saving them time from going to physical stores. In addition, the fashion industry is quite competitive, and numerous online merchants and e-commerce platforms offer a vast selection of men's clothing online. These online stores continue to change their collections to incorporate the most recent fashion trends and designs, another reason men prefer to purchase online. It helps them remain fashionable.

Here's Why Men Loves Online Clothes Shopping:

Not enough pressure: The Internet gives men time to think, read, and weigh the pros and cons of a decision before making it.

Advice and suggestions: Send a friend a link through email or share it on a social platform for fast feedback and suggestions. Getting your spouse's opinion once the product reaches your home is easy.

Availability of size: Whether your size is small or XXL, compared to physical stores, it is much easier to find your size online. The best part about shopping online is that you get free shipping and easy returns. If the size doesn't work, you can return it without difficulty.

More Choices: Physical stores can only offer a limited number of things. Many retailers don't stock every one of their products in every location; instead, they stock products based on customer demographics. Additionally, concerns such as stock and size shortages limit in-store selection. However, with men's clothing online, every product is available.

Online Discounts: Everyone loves a good sale. In addition to a broader selection of products from individual retailers, the convenience of online shopping lies in the ability to quickly and easily compare prices across a vast marketplace. Even better, online stores frequently offer discounts to entice customers to visit their websites.

Redaastore Is the Best Online Shopping Destination for Men People have often said that women shop and men buy. It is quickly changing in the online world, and men's clothing online in UAE is becoming a better choice. Get the best deals by shopping today!

[aboutandinfo]

Mashroo Unicus Black Thobe Jubba for Men

Mashroo Unicus Black Thobe Jubba for Men

Price: (as of – Details) This Black collared Saudi style thobe is not only a perfect fit to the body but is also amongst the most complex of designs in terms of cut. It is made up of no less than 18 pieces of fabrics stitched together. Its stiff band collar and open front placket with black snap buttons on it add to its traditional formal look. Its premium quality of polly-cotton fabric holds…

[xtruss]

The entire world was in Doha, in generally small proportions. Pan-Arab feeling was strong, and a Saudi victory kick-started the tournament.Photographs by Max Pinckers for The New Yorker

At Qatar’s World Cup 2022, Where Politics and Pleasure Collide! The First Ten Days Were Soccer As It Is, Rather Than As You Want It To Be.

— A Reporter at Large | December 12, 2022 Issue | By Sam Knight | The New Yorker | December 3, 2022

A smiling ghost came up through the floor. La’eeb, the mascot of this year’s World Cup, in Qatar, is a bodiless figure in a thobe, the white gown favored by the men of the Arabian Peninsula. He materialized during the tournament’s opening ceremony, sometime after Morgan Freeman asked Ghanim al-Muftah, a Qatari YouTuber, who was born without legs, whether he was welcome in the country—he was—and before Jung Kook, of the Korean boy band BTS, sent the mostly Qatari crowd into a conservative mode of ecstasy. La’eeb wafted across a spotlighted plain populated by previous mascots, going all the way back to World Cup Willie, a Teddy-bear lion used by England fourteen tournaments ago. For soccer fans, each iteration of the World Cup, which was first staged in Uruguay, in 1930, carries immediate associations: Pavarotti singing “Nessun Dorma” in Italy, in 1990; the vuvuzelas of South Africa, in 2010. The Qatari edition was born in corruption, paid for with hydrocarbons, and built on the labor of hundreds of thousands of workers, imported from the Global South and frequently abused in one of the smallest and richest countries on earth. According to fifa, which owns the World Cup, La’eeb was from “a parallel mascot-verse that is indescribable.” Everyone was encouraged to find his or her own meaning, even if that meaning was death.

The first ten days of the World Cup in Qatar were soccer as it is, rather than as you want it to be. It was venal, closed, and transactional. I saw some terrific goals. I drank Coke and paid with my Visa card. I lined up for the Adidas store. Everything was brand new, air-conditioned, and covered in an almost invisible layer of pale desert dust. I was safe and occasionally delighted, most often by the people I met. It was a case of situational ethics, in which the spontaneity and the fellow-feeling of the world’s most popular sport were disrupted and modified by the circumstances in which it was played.

When I arrived for the opening match, at Al Bayt Stadium—which stands alone in the desert, a soaring industrial confection of a Bedouin tent—I knelt down to pick a sprig of the perfect grass, just to check if it was real. It smelled of nothing at all. (The turf at the World Cup is a trademarked seashore paspalum imported from the United States; each field is irrigated with ten thousand litres of desalinated water a day.) There was camel shit, and that was real, too. At night, in the capital, Doha, you were never more than ten yards from a crowd marshal, waving a green or a red light stick, showing you where to go. The scores of ongoing games were projected onto the flanks of skyscrapers, which winked across the city. It was like being inside a QR code.

Qatar is smaller than Connecticut. All but three teams were based in Doha, and, unlike at any previous World Cup, it was possible to attend more than one match in a day. The entire world was there, in generally small proportions. I met a Mexican couple on the sparkling new metro, grousing about the lack of beer. “The beer is the atmosphere,” one of them said. Canadian fans discussed the rumored electronic surveillance. (The German authorities advised visitors to wipe their phones after using Qatar’s Hayya app, which functioned as both a visa and a pass for the tournament.) Welsh supporters were ordered to remove their rainbow-colored bucket hats.

To host, Qatar underwent a construction boom, during which unknown numbers of migrant workers died.

Doha is a city of six-lane highways and unwalked sidewalks. There are compounds in every shade of beige. Away from the stadiums and the malls, there was never anybody around, which gave rise to an occasional feeling of going to the World Cup alone. One morning, I tried to find the Dutch team, which was training at a facility on the Qatar University campus. The campus, a vast maze of roads and checkpoints, was closed. (Qatar’s school and university semesters ended early, to make way for the tournament.) No one knew where the team was. Instead, I stopped by Caravan City, a trailer park for fans, where a windswept gravel plain was decorated here and there with simple stone mosaics of flowers. I bumped into Jaime Higuera, from New Jersey, who was staying in a trailer with his brother. The trailer was sweet enough, decorated with paintings of stags. Outside, there was not a soul to be seen. “I’m, like, ‘Are there other people staying here?’ ” Higuera said. “I don’t know.”

fifa awarded Qatar the rights to host the World Cup on December 2, 2010. On the same day, the organization’s executive committee voted to give Russia the 2018 edition. Of the twenty-two men who voted, fifteen were later indicted by American or Swiss prosecutors, banned from soccer, charged by fifa’s ethics committee, or expelled from the International Olympic Committee. External advisers pointed out that Qatar did not have a single suitable stadium, that it was a potential security risk, and that temperatures in the summer reach a hundred and ten degrees. (The tournament was originally scheduled for June and July.) In the following twelve years, the World Cup catalyzed a breathtaking construction boom in Qatar, which relied overwhelmingly on migrant workers from South Asia. Human-rights organizations reported deaths, poor workplace safety, and misery among unpaid workers, who were trapped in Qatar’s unequal immigration system. Gay and trans people expressed shock that the World Cup would be held in a country where homosexual activity and all forms of extramarital sex are punishable by up to seven years’ imprisonment. “It’s not just sad, it’s sick,” Thomas Hitzlsperger, a gay former member of the German national team, told the Guardian.

On November 8th, twelve days before the tournament began, Sepp Blatter, the former president of fifa, admitted that Qatar had been “a bad choice.” His successor, Gianni Infantino, said that it would be the best World Cup ever. He wrote to the thirty-two teams taking part and asked them to focus on soccer, “without handing out moral lessons to the rest of the world.”

The day before the opening, Infantino addressed some four hundred reporters in an auditorium in Doha. “Today, I have very strong feelings,” he began. “Today I feel Qatari. Today I feel Arab. Today I feel African. Today I feel gay. Today I feel disabled. Today I feel a migrant worker.” Infantino recalled his own struggles, as the child of Italian migrants in Switzerland. He was bullied because of something red on his hands. He asked his director of communications what these were called. “Freckles,” Infantino said. He berated the reporters for not writing more about disabled people. “Nobody cares,” he said. He mourned the deaths of African migrants at sea in the Mediterranean, attempting to reach a better life: “Where are we going? Where are we going with our way of working, guys?”

Whatever Infantino was trying to say, it didn’t make much more sense than the words of “Tukoh Taka,” the insanely catchy anthem of the tournament’s Fan Festival, which took place on a shadeless, concrete expanse, not far from Doha’s waterfront: “Some say ‘football,’ some say ‘soccer’ / Likkle shot go block-a (block-a).” Thank you, Nicki Minaj. Or a TikTok video that circulated showing some England fans, apparently from Liverpool, who were having a good time in Doha—just having a moosh, in their words—on the lookout for some beer, ending up in a rich Qatari’s house and playing with his pet lion.

Abandoned by politicians, who don’t like to offend Qatar, which is the world’s largest exporter of liquid natural gas, players and coaches had to juggle an impossible multiplex of sports, human rights, and authoritarian capitalism. Gregg Berhalter, the head coach of the United States team, addressed a press conference before the team’s first game, against Wales, like a marine colonel trying to explain an air strike on civilians. “We don’t necessarily reflect the view of Infantino,” he said. A group of European team captains, including England’s Harry Kane, who had planned to wear rainbow-colored “One Love” armbands, to show their support for L.G.B.T.Q. rights, changed their minds when they were threatened with yellow cards by fifa. The Iranian players showed their Western counterparts what actual courage looked like, by refusing to sing their national anthem, in solidarity with recent protests against the clerical regime.

The Qataris, to varying degrees, were terrified of the influx. Families installed security cameras and checked their window locks. In the days before the World Cup, social media filled with prayers and stoic messages for the test ahead. “I was, like, ‘This is very strange,’ because it’s the type of stuff you would say or tweet, like, literally, when you’re going to war,” a young Qatari, whom I will call Ali, told me. (Qatar ranks a hundred and nineteenth out of a hundred and eighty on Reporters Without Borders’ Press Freedom Index, below Ethiopia. In this article, single names are pseudonyms.) Two days before the opening ceremony and the first match, between Qatar and Ecuador, the authorities reneged on an agreement to allow beer to be served at the stadiums. On the day of the game, which Ali was preparing to attend with his siblings, his father announced that his youngest sister wasn’t going. “There’s this huge fear,” Ali said. “My parents always talked about: What if people don’t leave—they come here for the World Cup and just, like, start selling drugs or doing whatever?”

After the opening ceremony, I talked with a group of young Qatari men who were hanging out in the stadium concourse. Qatari society is considered the most conservative of the six nations of the Gulf: Saudi Arabia, Bahrain, Kuwait, Oman, and Qatar’s great rival, the United Arab Emirates. The men almost always wear national dress: an ironed white thobe and a white headdress kept in place by a black cord called an agal. Women cover their heads and wear the abaya, a long black gown. At a 2019 soccer match between Saudi Arabia and Qatar, the Saudis teased the Qataris for coming as if dressed for a wedding. Mohammed Hussein, who was twenty-five, seemed preternaturally calm. “This is our culture,” he said. “This is us.” He had never been to a soccer match before.

Left: Lusail, a new city to the north of Doha, is one of the largest developments in the Middle East. Right: A hospitality worker at the opening ceremony.

The teams took to the pitch. “Al Bayt Stadium, the wait is over!” the announcer yelled. Qatar, whose team plays in deep red and is nicknamed the Maroon, has never qualified for a World Cup on merit. (The host country always plays.) The team wasn’t terrible. In 2019, Qatar won the Asian Cup and was ranked fiftieth in the world, only six places below Ecuador. But the Qatari players were nervous. Their passing was scrappy. The ball wouldn’t stick. In the stands, Qatari fans chatted with one another, including with people they didn’t already know—something that rarely happens in public places. “All those rules just kind of disappeared in the stadium,” Ali said.

Ecuador scored two goals in the first thirty-one minutes. The team’s supporters chanted, “Queremos cerveza! ” We want beer. Behind the Qatar goal, a bloc of hard-core fans, dressed in maroon T-shirts, kept up an impressive performance of drumming and chanting for the home team. But they weren’t wearing thobes and seemed to have a lot of tattoos. It turned out that they were Lebanese.

At halftime, the Budweiser fridges stood empty and unlabelled. Fans prayed near a Visa-gift-card stand. I came across Garga Umaru, a broad man dressed in a tall straw hat and a long gown in the colors of Cameroon. He was offering to pose for photos with Qatari children. “Cameroon, no problem!” he called out. Speaking quietly, Umaru was skeptical of the host country’s chances. “Qatar is not at the level of the World Cup,” he said. “Football is in the feet.” Umaru said that he was one of about two hundred fans who had been flown in from Cameroon. He wasn’t sure which soccer federation had paid for the trip. Ahmed, a Syrian Palestinian in his twenties, who had grown up in Qatar, was worried about how the team was playing. “The pass accuracy is just horrible,” he said. No host country had ever lost the opening match of a World Cup; Ahmed feared that Qatar might not score a single goal in the tournament. “All the pressure is getting to them,” he said.

Ecuador remained in complete control in the second half. Seats began to empty. Qatari families, who had clapped politely during the first half, made for their Land Cruisers. “In the West, the idea is to say, ‘I’m here for you till the end. And I cheer for you,’ ” a Qatari who left at halftime told me later. “Here, though, the approach, it’s more ‘Hey! I came all the way here to see you. . . . You should have been playing better than that.’ ” Ali and his siblings stuck it out until the eighty-second minute. Then they left to beat the traffic.

Nobody knows how many people died building the World Cup. Last year, the Guardian reported that sixty-seven hundred and fifty South Asian migrants had died in Qatar since the hosting rights were awarded—a total derived from figures collected by foreign embassies. In response, Qatar’s Supreme Committee for Delivery and Legacy, the state body in charge of preparing the tournament, said that the true number was thirty-seven, of whom only three had died in workplace accidents. (During the tournament, the Supreme Committee revised the estimate of the dead to about five hundred.)

Trying to disentangle World Cup-related deaths and hardship from Qatar’s over-all economic structure is a mostly hopeless task. Doha’s infrastructure projects involve a mille-feuille of international contractors and subcontractors—an ecosystem of plausible deniability. Causes of death are haphazardly reported, and the default categories (“natural causes,” “cardiac arrest”) change from year to year. Autopsies, particularly of poorer migrants, are rarely performed. Barrak Alahmad, a Kuwaiti public-health researcher at Harvard, told me that heat exposure, for example, almost never turns up in official statistics. “Good luck finding people dying from heat, because you’re not going to find a problem,” he said. “No data, no problem. That’s it.”

It’s probably a mistake, in fact, to try to disentangle the World Cup from anything that has happened in Qatar. The Qatari Investment Authority, which manages an estimated four hundred and fifty billion dollars, didn’t build a stage for a soccer tournament; it built a city to encompass the stage. The World Cup cost more than two hundred billion dollars (that’s around sixty times the expense of the 2010 tournament, in South Africa), but the price tag included the metro system, an airport extension, bridges, man-made islands, fighter jets, a collapsible stadium, and a bulk order of five-star hotels. Doha tripled in size during the twenty-tens. The population of Qatar increased by a million people, or sixty per cent. A lot of that growth probably would have happened without the World Cup. “Doha has been ‘under construction’ since I was born,” Ali said. “Road closures or towers or new cities or whatever aren’t really a new sight.” The World Cup, as much as anything, was a deadline.

The work was done by migrants. Qataris make up about twelve per cent of the country’s population—a ruling class of around three hundred thousand people. Of the 805,810 workers in the construction sector in 2017, 0.0016 per cent were Qatari nationals. “You’re going to see two different populations living in the same country,” Alahmad told me, before I travelled to Doha. “And the migrant population is just invisible to public policy.” Throughout the Gulf, health inequality between full citizens and the thirty million migrant workers is structural and endemic. It takes in everything from housing to diet, workplace safety, and mental health. According to the Vital Signs Partnership, a coalition of migrant-advocacy groups, more than half of the estimated ten thousand annual deaths of South Asian workers in the region are “effectively unexplained.” In 2019, researchers concluded that around a third of almost six hundred deaths among young, otherwise healthy Nepali migrants in Qatar could have been prevented. Other studies have reported that CKDnt, a chronic kidney condition linked to dehydration, is disproportionately common among laborers in the region. In 2018, a survey of Nepali workers who had spent more than six months in either the Gulf or Malaysia found that a quarter suffered from mental-health problems. Alahmad explained that, in public health, you expect a society’s working population—younger, fitter, with fewer disabilities—to be in better shape than the rest. But, in the Gulf, the opposite is true. “I look at this, I’m astonished,” he said. “But then you look at all the list of things that can explain this, and it’s kind of clear.”

Qatar was like this before it was Qatar. (The country gained independence in 1971.) Before gas, there were pearls. “We are all, from the highest to the lowest, slaves of one master, the pearl,” Sheikh Mohammed bin Thani, the first emir, said, in 1863. Many of the divers who swam down to the pearl beds off the coast of Doha were African slaves. In 1916, Qatar became a British protectorate. But slavery was abolished only in 1952, when six hundred and sixty slaves were freed, with compensation of fifteen hundred rupees (three hundred and fifteen dollars) per person, paid to their owners.

A cameraman during the match between Uruguay and South Korea.

The modern labor system is largely a product of Arab nationalism and civil unrest, which began in the fifties, when Qatar’s resident population objected to being displaced from jobs on the new, British-administered oil fields by better-paid Indian and Pakistani workers. In 1961, everyone who could prove residence in Qatar before 1930 was offered citizenship. Everybody else needed to have a kafeel, or sponsor, to be able to work in the country. The kafeel could exert onerous control over a worker’s life and movements. “This is a labor system based on temporary labor,” Natasha Iskander, a migration scholar at New York University, told me. She did field work for three years among migrants in Doha’s construction sector, before her research was shut down, in 2014. “Every single aspect of their rights and protections are tied to their economic function,” she said. In 2020, following negative publicity surrounding the building of the World Cup, Qatar abolished its kafala system (the system is still in place elsewhere in the Gulf), but many of its principles remain intact. “The kafala system, under its current reform, is more protective than temporary-guest-worker legislation in the U.S.,” Iskander said. “But it’s not the law that determines conditions at work—it’s the power dynamics.”

Qataris often emphasize the diversity of the national population; the second emir referred to Qatar as the “Kaaba of the dispossessed,” a refuge for exiles and traders across the Middle East. At the same time, the separation of the Qatari people from the foreign migrants who work for them is woven into the fabric of the country. Doha’s zoning laws designate separate neighborhoods for Qatari families and for “bachelors,” as the migrant laborers are known.

“There’s not a single South Asian who comes to Qatar that thinks he’s going to come and spend the rest of his life here,” a prominent Qatari businessman, Khalid, told me. When I asked Khalid about the country’s recent census, he described it as fake—meaning that it didn’t refer to real Qataris. “The population of Qatar is built around how many people are needed to work in the country,” he said. “The day you don’t have these construction projects, most of these people are just going to eventually be served their end of service. ‘Thank you very much. And now it’s time for you to go back home.’ ”

In 2020, E. Tendayi Achiume, the United Nations Special Rapporteur on contemporary forms of racism, described Qatar as a “de facto caste system based on national origin,” in which domestic workers were denied food, and women from sub-Saharan Africa were subjected to sexual abuse. Last year, Qatar introduced a minimum wage—two hundred and seventy-five dollars a month. The starting salary for a Qatari college graduate is around ten thousand dollars a month. “You do have the dichotomy in the approach between your own people, if you will, and the others,” Khalid said. “Those other guys, we don’t know them. We don’t trust them. We’re scared of them.”

Since 2006, a new city has been under construction to the north of Doha. Lusail, which will cost forty-five billion dollars to build, is one of the largest developments in the Middle East. According to its marketing spiel, Lusail will be “a beacon of smart living,” a pleasure dome of international hotels and underground parking. Qatar’s wealth and its quiescent civil society—political parties are banned; there are no independent media—make it a testing ground for extreme urban planning. Iskander described Lusail as a modernist imaginary. “The city is for the élite,” she said. “And it’s not just for the élite—it makes the élites. It creates an élite kind of life style, where, you know, everything is climate-controlled, everything is perfect. You’re highly surveilled. But everything is seamless.”

The World Cup final will take place at Lusail Stadium, an eighty-thousand-seat arena meant to evoke a handcrafted golden bowl. On the third day of the tournament, I visited the Place Vendôme, a fancy mall in downtown Lusail. A mobility scooter modelled on a stretch limousine waited outside a storefront bursting with luxuriant flowers. The brands—Cole Haan, Birkenstock, Nespresso, Skechers—were soothing and familiar. Outside, a sun-bleached futurama showed the rest of the unbuilt Vendôme neighborhood, complete with canals and two women in abayas, emerging from a black Rolls-Royce. Workers in blue overalls and high-visibility vests rested in the shade of an overpass. I stopped by one of the finished apartment blocks, where the rents are about four thousand dollars a month. “I would say it is the next big thing,” the building manager said. “It is a luxury city.” He was Lebanese and had been in Doha for three years. I asked him what he had learned there. He thought for a moment. “It’s a country for work, actually,” he said. “You don’t have to care about basic things.”

It is unclear who will live in Lusail. The city is projected to have around two hundred thousand permanent residents, which is two-thirds of the native Qatari population. But Qataris don’t tend to live in apartments—at least not when they’re in Qatar. “We’re closer to an L.A. standard of living than a New York or a London or a Paris,” Khalid explained. “Most Qataris live in big houses. They have aides at home. They go to these towers and it’s all two-bedroom apartments, three-bedroom apartments. As Qataris, what are we going to do with that?” There are perhaps two hundred thousand white-collar migrants in the country. But, with rare exceptions, it is impossible for foreigners to own property in Doha. The logical way to populate Lusail would be to relax the country’s migration laws and some of its social strictures—to create another Dubai—but that won’t happen anytime soon. Hosting the World Cup has emphasized the contradiction between Qatar’s international posturing and its cultural conservativism, which many Qataris regard as a deeply precious thing, along with their free electricity, free health care, free education, free land, eternal job security, and interest-free loans. “You see a duality—a struggle between wanting to be international and wanting to be left alone. The duality between playing global but staying local,” Khalid told me. “I don’t want to turn into an HSBC ad, but that is the reality.”

The first game at Lusail Stadium was Argentina against Saudi Arabia, or Lionel Messi versus someone or other. Argentina won the World Cup in 1978 and 1986, but since then it has often been the nearly team, full of wonderful players who can’t quite get it together. Nobody is more wonderful than Messi, who played and lost in Argentina’s last World Cup final, in 2014. He is thirty-five now. In the course of five tournaments, he has morphed from an elfin presence with shoulder-length hair, who floated across the turf, to an underslept dad, stepping out to buy some milk. During the warmup against Saudi Arabia, there must have been forty players on the field, going through drills, but the crowd watched only him. Messi stood outside the penalty area, taking casual potshots at the goal. Thousands oohed and gasped each time. When a shot hit the crossbar, he ambled away, apparently satisfied.

Messi walks a disconcerting amount during a match. Other soccer players, when they are not involved in the action, often jog to stay in position. Messi pads about. He has a low-slung dancer’s waddle. The game is elsewhere. Then, by magnetism, or spatial genius, or because it’s a good idea to pass to Lionel Messi, he has the ball, and eighty thousand people shift in their seats. Against Saudi Arabia, which had won one match at the World Cup in twenty-eight years, Messi nearly scored with his first or second touch of the ball, after a minute and forty seconds. Eight minutes later, he scored a penalty, rolling the ball to the right of Mohammed al-Owais, the Saudi goalkeeper. Everyone was pretty happy about it, even the Saudi fans. For the rest of the half, the Argentinean players kept trying to spring open the Saudi offside trap. Lautaro Martinez, a striker for Inter Milan, dinked the ball into the net, but the goal was disallowed by fifa’s new semiautomated Video Assistant Referee. After years of rejecting technological assistance, to preserve the human fallibility of the game, fifa was tracking players across twenty-nine body parts, fifty times per second, at the World Cup. The official match ball carried an inertial measurement unit. Offside decisions came down to the width of a nose hair.

Left: The Iranian team prepares. Right: To reach the knockout round, the U.S. had to beat Iran. The many meanings of the match were almost too much to process.Photograph by Dean Mouhtaropoulos/Getty

At halftime, I met Ali al-Khaldi, a twenty-three-year-old ambulance dispatcher from Dhahran, an oil town on the coast of Saudi Arabia. Khaldi had worked the night shift before boarding a plane to Doha. He hadn’t slept since the previous day. “The offside trap is working perfectly,” he said. Argentina had not lost for thirty-six matches, a streak lasting more than three years. Khaldi said that he would be happy with a 3–0 defeat, as long as Messi scored a hat trick.

Three minutes into the second half, Saleh al-Shehri, a twenty-nine-year-old forward, playing in his first World Cup game, burst through the Argentinean defense and placed a shot past Emiliano Martinez, the startled goalkeeper. The screens in the stadium flashed green, showing the Saudi sword. Then the Green Falcons went ahead. The ball fell to Salem al-Dawsari, a veteran winger who once played a single game in the Spanish league. He pushed it out from under his feet and swiped a vicious rising shot past Martinez. Apparently, it was Dawsari’s signature move. The stadium went berserk. Dawsari performed a cartwheel and then a backflip. I looked at Khaldi, who put his hands over his face and then kissed his friend. He looked like he was having a panic attack.

The Saudis played like giants after that. Hassan al-Tambakti, a young defender from Riyadh, celebrated his tackles like goals. Mohammed Kanno, a tall, leggy midfielder, shadowed Messi everywhere he went. When the Argentinean fans, who came to Qatar in great numbers, tried to rouse their team, the Saudi fans waved their hands and whistled, to show that they were not scared. Messi picked the lock once or twice, squirting the ball to Argentina’s forwards, but the Saudis smothered them each time. Owais, the goalkeeper, came flying out and crashed into Yasser al-Shahrani, the team’s tigerish left back, fracturing his jaw. Celebrating in the din, Khaldi was hoarse: “The atmosphere is crazy. The result is stunning. The vibe is . . .” He could not describe the vibe. “I have the worst headache. It’s killing me.” Saudi fans streamed out in the golden light, into the modernist imaginary of Lusail, calling “olé”s and baiting the Argentinean fans. Three Saudis rolled out a Green Falcons prayer mat and turned in the direction of Mecca.

The Saudi victory kick-started the tournament. Spain defeated Costa Rica by seven goals to zero. Pablo Martín Páez Gavira, an eighteen-year-old midfielder known as Gavi, slanted in the fifth goal with the outside of his boot, becoming the World Cup’s youngest scorer since Pelé. A few hours earlier, Japan had defeated Germany, 2–1. The Germans are no longer the same team that won the World Cup eight years ago, in Brazil, but they cruised through the first seventy minutes, with a one-goal lead. The Blue Samurai equalized with a quarter of the game to go before Takuma Asano, a bleached-blond winger, squeezed the ball past Manuel Neuer, Germany’s imperious goalkeeper and captain, like a cat slipping through a closing door.

The Qataris cheered the underdogs. “Sometimes when I see people speaking about how there isn’t a football culture here, it really, really, really hurts me,” Asma, a twenty-four-year-old Qatari woman, told me the following day, on Zoom. Asma loves soccer in all forms. She plays midfield. Her younger sister is a mean goalkeeper. “Football is what we grew up playing,” she said. “We play football in the heat, barefoot, and we’re good.” Asma was having trouble leaving the house during the tournament because of all the games that she wanted to catch on TV. “I’m cheering for Japan against Germany by default yesterday,” she said. “Because of this sense of war against the Western countries that is going on.”

Neuer, like the other European captains, had wanted to wear a One Love armband. Before kicking off against Japan, the members of the German team protested their silencing by putting their hands over their mouths. Asma mocked them: “Going”—she covered her mouth—“and then losing it. You know, those things really help me sleep at night.” Like many Qataris, Asma closely followed Western reporting on preparations for the World Cup. She noted that criticism of her country, which once centered on its involvement in corruption at fifa, had moved on to labor conditions and the treatment of L.G.B.T.Q. people. “It’s just, honestly, weird,” Asma said. “It gets to a point where it’s confusing.”

At first, Asma assumed that rival nations were trying to get the location of the tournament changed. But now it seemed as if Qatar couldn’t do anything right. “I don’t know if Westerners do have their own outcome or desired goal to reach,” Asma said. “If they do, and we fail to see it, then it’s all for nothing. They’re not really changing anything, even though they might believe they are.” The fact that Dubai, a popular destination for European soccer players and their clubs, didn’t seem to attract the same kind of ethical scrutiny drove her crazy. “They go to Dubai and love Dubai,” Asma said. “And they don’t care about migrant workers there. They love to take pictures of Burj Khalifa”—the world’s tallest building—“but they don’t care about the people who build Burj Khalifa. It just gets, like, very confusing from an Arab perspective. Very, very, very confusing.”

After the Germany match, Qatari Twitter was a loop of homophobic memes. La’eeb, the ineffable mascot, held a rainbow banner that was on fire. Skirts were Photoshopped onto the German team. The Japanese were a big hit in Qatar, on account of their extreme cleanliness. A picture of Japanese fans helping to tidy up Khalifa International Stadium, after the team’s victory, was modified to show them putting rainbow flags in the trash.

The political subtexts of the World Cup were many, and updated by the hour. The day before Iran’s second match, against Wales, Voria Ghafouri, a popular former national-team player and a critic of the regime, was detained after training with his team, Foolad Khuzestan—an apparent warning to the players in Qatar. Carlos Queiroz, the team’s Portuguese coach, begged to talk about something else. “Why don’t you ask the other coaches?” he told a reporter from the BBC. “Why don’t you ask Southgate, ‘What do you think about England and the United States that left Afghanistan and all the women alone?’ ”

Gareth Southgate, the English manager, is a centrist, down to his zip-neck polo shirts. He seemed flummoxed by the possibilities. “I think there’s a risk that everybody tries to escalate,” he said at a news conference. “Were we to try to produce a better video than Australia did? That would be impossible.” (The Socceroos made a black-and-white film calling for better treatment of workers and same-sex couples in Qatar.) Southgate asked, “Do we have to come up with a better gesture than Germany?” After the German interior minister was photographed wearing a One Love armband, Qatari fans sported one in support of Palestine. Pan-Arab feeling was strong in Doha. “I’m cheering for all the Arab teams,” Asma said. “I’m cheering for Tunisia, Morocco, Saudi Arabia.” After the victory over Argentina, Sheikh Tamim bin Hamad al-Thani, Qatar’s emir, wrapped himself in the Saudi flag.

In early June, 2017, Qatar’s immediate neighbors—Saudi Arabia, Bahrain, and the U.A.E.—mounted an economic and diplomatic blockade. Air travel between the countries ceased, Qatar’s land border with Saudi Arabia was closed, and Qatari diplomats were expelled. (Egypt, Yemen, and the Maldives also joined the blockade.) The ostensible reasons were Qatar’s willingness to fund and shelter Islamist opposition groups (a long-standing issue—Osama bin Laden was a visitor to Doha in the late nineties) and the activities of Al Jazeera, Qatar’s pesky, state-funded news channel. Donald Trump, a recent visitor to the region, took credit on Twitter: “I stated that there can no longer be funding of Radical Ideology. Leaders pointed to Qatar—look!” He described the blockade as “hard but necessary.” At the time, Qatar imported ninety per cent of its food. There were rumors that Saudi troops were ready to invade.

The blockade, which lasted until January, 2021, had a galvanizing effect on Qatar. Eighteen thousand Holstein cows arrived from the European Union and the U.S. and were housed in the desert. (Qatar is now a dairy exporter.) The blockade was also a reminder of why the country wanted to host the World Cup. The fear of small, preposterously rich nations in the Gulf is what befell Kuwait in 1990, when Iraq invaded and the U.S. Congress had to think for a moment before doing anything about it. “Everything Qatar does arises from its security dilemma of being kind of wedged between these two regional major powers, Iran and Saudi Arabia, both of which the Qataris don’t trust,” Andreas Krieg, a researcher at the School of Security Studies at King’s College London, told me. Krieg spent three years in Doha, in the twenty-tens, establishing a staff college for the Qatari military. “The worst thing that could happen to Qatar is being kind of rendered irrelevant,” he said.

Under the previous emir, Sheikh Hamad bin Khalifa, who deposed his father in a coup, in 1995, Qatar modernized aggressively. “We have simply got to reform ourselves,” Sheikh Hamad told The New Yorker, in 2000. “Change, more change, is coming.” Since 2003, Qatar has hosted more than ten thousand U.S. military personnel at Al Udeid Air Base, twenty miles southeast of Doha. “That was like buying a gold-plated insurance policy,” Steven Simon, who worked on Middle East issues at the National Security Council during the Clinton and Obama Administrations, told me. In 2006, Qatar overtook Indonesia as the world’s largest exporter of natural gas. (Revenues were up fifty-eight per cent in 2022, following the invasion of Ukraine by Russia, the previous World Cup host.) The country’s sovereign wealth fund owns Harrods, many billions of dollars’ worth of New York real estate, and a ten-per-cent stake in Volkswagen. A former British diplomat, posted to Doha, told me that a Qatari official once asked him why he thought that the country had invested in a billion-dollar liquid-natural-gas terminal in South Wales. “To sell us gas?” the diplomat ventured. “No,” the official replied. “It is so, when we call, your Prime Minister picks up.”

But gas pipelines and defense agreements and department stores guarantee only so much attention in the Gulf. “We’re not the only ones with a lot of money. We’re not the only ones who are doing these arms deals. . . . So what do you do?” Khalid, the businessman, said. “You buy influence by getting into sports, because that’s where people talk about you.”

People also talk about “sportswashing,” to describe the activities of sovereign wealth funds like Saudi Arabia’s, which recently acquired Newcastle United, an English Premier League soccer team, and plans to spend two billion dollars on liv, a breakaway golf league. The term suggests using sports to launder a lousy reputation. But, in the case of Qatar, staging the World Cup was more about gaining a reputation at all. Even bad publicity—around labor practices and human rights—is publicity. “Criticism will only go so far,” Simon, the former N.S.C. member, said. “The subject is raised, and the Qataris respond politely and with assurances.”

In Doha, people didn’t want to take anything for granted. “I don’t know if Qatar has won or not,” Khalid said. But he had been watching a Netflix documentary about previous World Cups, and he didn’t think that Argentina’s military dictatorship had done too badly out of it, in 1978. Likewise, he recalled anxieties around Brazil’s favelas and the Zika virus in the run-up to the 2014 tournament. “That’s the point. These World Cups come and go,” he said. “But do people remember in the long run? Does this global conscience really exist, or is it a very short-term thing?”

Qatar’s second match was on a Friday, the country’s day of rest. In a restaurant in a busy part of Doha, I met Salim, a young clerical worker from Bangladesh. Salim came to Qatar six years ago, from Chittagong. He paid eighteen thousand Qatari rials (about five thousand dollars) to a middleman to get a job as a building inspector at one of the World Cup stadiums. It took Salim almost two years to earn the money back, and during that time he was terrified of falling foul of his employer, or of any Qatari he happened to meet. “First time when I see Qatari people, I feel afraid,” he said. “Because I thought if I do anything wrong with them . . . they will make any problem.” Salim said that he was encouraged to massage his inspection findings, to allow the project to meet its hasty schedule. “Everyone had a big pressure,” Salim said.

Like other migrant workers in Doha, Salim was caught up in the spectacle of the World Cup. He was also working as a fifa volunteer. “This is very amazing,” he said. He took pride in what he had helped to build but also had a sense that he was disposable. “Me? This guy?” Salim gestured to a cousin he had brought to our meeting. “We are the same like animals. We are doing work. We are getting paid. After finish this project? ‘Yes, you can go. . . . You go to Hell. I don’t care.’ ” Salim helped to document poor labor practices in Qatar, on behalf of a human-rights organization. He had intervened in about twenty cases—ranging from inadequate food to nonpayment of workers—but he explained that it was risky to raise complaints. Trade unions do not exist in Qatar, and Salim’s visa did not cover his advocacy work. “This is not safe for me,” he said. He was nervous about a security camera in one corner of the restaurant.

Salim was considering his options. He missed his wife. They were planning to move to Europe. “I want to go there, and I want to stay there for a long time,” he said. “Until I die, that means.” Salim had found another middleman who might be able to help them get to Spain. The cost was around five thousand dollars.

Qatar is often most shocking in the ways that it resembles the most unequal corners of other societies, including our own. It is the frankness of the Qatari system, more than its iniquity, that is unusual. “This is a common and almost universal kind of setup,” Iskander, the migration scholar, said. “And this is one of the reasons that we are all implicated in the system. It is not, you know, the Qataris behaving badly. It is us, as a global community, really having to confront what it looks like when you rely utterly on a system that deprives people of rights beyond their economic function.”

During her research in Doha, Iskander noted that recruiters targeted communities in parts of South Asia and North Africa that were suffering the impacts of climate change. “Those are the best places to get large numbers of workers very quickly. It makes perfect business sense,” she said. Qatar’s wealth and hustle make it an innovator, rather than an outlier. “Whose bodies are we willing to sacrifice to preserve this system of production?” Iskander said. “I think Qatar is kind of a window onto some of these politics as they emerge.”

In the months leading up to the World Cup, bachelors were evicted from their lodgings in Doha, to make room for tourists and to comply with the city’s zoning laws. Many were moved to the Industrial Area, a district of some twelve square miles, with a population density similar to New Delhi’s. I had tea in the district with a group of laborers and mechanics from Peshawar, Pakistan. A crane operator in his twenties named Imran had been in Doha for a little less than a year. In Pakistan, Imran had worked on fifty-ton cranes, earning about two hundred dollars a month. In Qatar, he had learned to use a hundred-ton crane, with a computer, and was making almost seven times as much. “Crane is all math,” Imran said. “It is a very sensitive subject.” He was working on a development on the waterfront.

Imran was a buoyant, positive soul. But the long, hot days were a killer. He worked twelve-hour shifts and lived an hour’s drive from the construction site. “They have no respect for labor. No respect for other people,” Imran said. When an older relative named Asif joined the conversation, however, Imran deferred to him and agreed that Doha was a good place after all. “People want to show the negative face of this country,” Asif said. “We earn too much money, alhamdulillah.” Asif described critical reporting during the preparation for the World Cup as total bullshit. Until about five months ago, the group of men had lived in Al Wakrah, a suburb south of Doha, where the English team was staying. Their current lodgings were at the rear of a warehouse, the front of which was a scrap yard for old trucks, which were being dismantled for parts to sell in Lebanon and Nigeria. The men slept five to a room. Shalwar kameez, freshly laundered, hung from pegs above their beds. “Wakrah-side was neat and clean,” Imran said. “This side is not neat and clean.” Drinking water was a problem. A vaguely irritating burning smell, from the scrap yard, drifted in the air.

The Industrial Area had a fan zone, a temporary enclosure next to a highway leading out of the city, where workers could follow the World Cup. Like many young men from Pakistan, the laborers from Peshawar weren’t really soccer guys. Next to the fan zone, a game of cricket was taking place in the dust. The fan zone had a large screen and around four thousand plastic garden chairs. Everybody who entered was given a lottery ticket, with a chance to win a water bottle and other merchandise at halftime.

Qatar was playing Senegal, which in its first game had narrowly fallen to the Dutch. I was curious to see whose side the crowd was on, and it was most definitely the Maroon. “Qatar is our second home,” Asif had said. The hosts played better in this game. Each time a Qatari player went over the halfway line, there was wild excitement and the sound of hundreds of plastic chairs tipping over. A few minutes before halftime, Boualem Khoukhi, an Algerian-born defender, who was naturalized to play for Qatar, miscued a clearance and ended up sitting on the turf. Boulaye Dia, a Senegalese striker, slammed in the opening goal. A few rows in front of me, a man stood up and spun around with happiness. The biggest whoops from the rest of the crowd came when the camera settled on a large-breasted Senegal fan. According to figures from 2015, the Industrial Area’s population is 99.02 per cent male.

Qatar lost the match, 3–1. I didn’t see the Maroon’s first and only goal of the tournament because I was politely removed from the fan zone by the manager. It wasn’t a fifa facility, he explained; it was run by Qatar’s Workers’ Support and Insurance Fund, which disbursed more than three hundred million dollars in unpaid wages to migrant laborers in the first nine months of 2022.

The upsets continued. Morocco beat Belgium, which was ranked second in the world. In Brussels, fans set fire to a car and some electric scooters. The Belgians crashed out in the group stage. There were goal floods—fourteen goals in a single day—and goal droughts. There were five 0–0 draws in the first week, four more than in the entire tournament in 2018. It was unclear whether the winter timing was helping or hurting matters. After defeating Germany, Japan went one better and toppled Spain. The Germans went home. The French looked ominous. The Brazilians, more than anybody else, looked like they were having fun. Before their second match, against Switzerland, the team bus bounced on its suspension in the parking lot of Stadium 974—a reusable structure made largely from shipping containers—and then the players tumbled out, looking sheepish.

The joy of watching the Seleção is not in how it scores stupendous goals. (In Brazil’s first match, against Serbia, Richarlison, a forward, popped the ball over his own shoulder and scored from a bicycle kick.) It is in how the players perform the most ordinary aspects of the game: little dabs here, slippery feints, ugly toe pokes, a shared urge for continual, needless experiment. In the first half against Switzerland, Thiago Silva, Brazil’s thirty-eight-year-old center back, sent the ball out to the left wing with a pass that looked like a chip with a golf club. The game was stodgy, to be honest. But, in the eighty-third minute, Casemiro, who is known as a defensive midfielder, sent a half volley flying into the top corner of the net. Yann Sommer, the Swiss goalkeeper, puffed out his cheeks and watched it go. The Brazilians ran to the corner of the pitch and bounced in a tight huddle. Their fans got going—thousands of windmilling yellow scarves—and soon the temporary stands of Stadium 974 were bouncing, too.

The U.S. team started promisingly, if unspectacularly, with draws against Wales and England. During the England game, in particular, the U.S. played with vigor and nerve, but without making many chances to score. The results left the team needing to beat Iran, of all countries, to progress to the knockout stages. In the semiotics of Qatar 2022, the many meanings of a showdown between the Great Satan and the Islamic Republic were almost too much to process. Two days before the match, the U.S. Soccer Federation displayed images of the group table with the Iranian flag altered to its pre-revolutionary design, in a gesture of solidarity with women protesting against the regime. In response, Iran’s football federation demanded that the U.S. be thrown out of the competition. At a crowded news conference, at which no female reporters were invited to speak, Berhalter, the U.S. coach, apologized, but expressed his support for the Iranian people and team. It was a minefield. By my count, Berhalter was asked twenty questions, nine of which had nothing to do with soccer. Tyler Adams, the team’s twenty-three-year-old captain, was scolded by a reporter from Press TV, an Iranian news channel, for his pronunciation of “Iran,” and was asked what it was like for a Black athlete to represent a racist country. Berhalter was criticized for the way that the U.S. deals with Iranian-passport holders. “I don’t know enough about politics,” he replied. “I’m a soccer coach.”

Berhalter’s opposite number was Queiroz, the sixty-nine-year-old coach of Iran, who was leading the country in a third successive World Cup. Queiroz is one of soccer’s great soldiers of fortune. He played as a goalkeeper in Mozambique before coaching in England, Japan, Portugal, South Africa, and the U.A.E. He did a spell with Colombia. He worked in the M.L.S., the American league. Queiroz is fluent in the language of healing in which the sport likes to speak about itself. He understood that people might see other questions riding on the match, but that wasn’t his concern. “Our mission here is to create entertainment,” he said. “And, at least during ninety minutes, make the people happy.” Queiroz’s father was a coach, too, and Queiroz said that he had taught him never to lie to soccer, which seemed to mean thinking about anything outside the sport. “If my mind falls into the trap,” Queiroz said, “I am lying to football, and I won’t do that.”

Outside Al Thumama Stadium, which was built in the shape of a gahfiya—an Arab woven cap—there were people dressed up as bugs, with large, L.E.D.-lit wings, along with a noticeable police presence. I met Amir Salek, an Iranian venture capitalist who has lived in the U.S. for twenty-seven years. Salek was wearing a star-spangled banner around his waist and a headdress with Iranian colors. He was attending his seventeenth game of the tournament. He thought that the stakes favored the U.S. “The psychology of the Iranian team is that they win if they really, really have to win,” Salek said. “But tonight they can advance with a tie, and that usually is a recipe for failure.”

The noise inside was ferocious. The Iranian fans had brought horns. The crowd was partisan, but polyglot. The flags of Lebanon, Palestine, Croatia, Mexico, and Colombia jumbled together. When Saeid Ezatolahi, an Iranian defensive midfielder, walked out, he raised his arms to the black circle of the sky, as if to better absorb the din. The Iranians never got going. Their play was skillful but disjointed. The U.S. kept its shape and passed in patterns. The team’s midfield trio of Adams, Weston McKennie, and Yunus Musah controlled the tempo. Seven minutes before halftime, Musah played a perfect pass out to the right. Sergiño Dest headed the ball back across goal, and Christian Pulisic hooked it into the net, injuring himself in the process. (Pulisic was taken to the hospital with a pelvic contusion.)

The second half was more of the same. The U.S. created better opportunities, but Iran competed fiercely. A single Iranian goal would have changed everything. The drums never stopped. In the ninety-third minute, Morteza Pouraliganji, an Iranian defender who grew up near the Caspian Sea, sent a low diving header skittering wide of the post. His teammates scratched their heads. Matt Turner, the U.S. goalkeeper, ran down the clock.

At the end, the U.S. substitutes ran onto the field in celebration, while half the Iranian players sank to the exquisite turf. The Iranian coaches and some American players encouraged them to stand up again, but they didn’t want to. So much of the act of watching sport is about making a story, willing a memory into existence—imagining how we want things to be—only for something more prosaic and unexpected to happen in its place. The U.S. went on to face the Netherlands. Qatari V.I.P.s emerged from Al Thumama and were stowed in Bentley S.U.V.s. Drones buzzed in the Doha sky. The hubbub of the dispersing crowd joined with the other sounds of the city. ♦

Two men in sunglasses walk outside Lusail Iconic Stadium before the 2022 World Cup match between Argentina and Saudi Arabia. Lusail Stadium, where the final of the World Cup will take place.

— Published in the print edition of the December 12, 2022, issue, with the headline “Goals.”