I landed in Dubai and was met by my company’s representatives. As I did not have an Afghanistan visa and work permit yet, I had to stay in my hotel in Dubai until that was sorted out.

This was nearly the end of my Afghanistan adventure even before it began.

On the seventh floor of the hotel was a sports pub with big-screen televisions. I visited the pub in the evenings as the then Super 14 rugby championships were shown on one of the channels. As a keen rugby supporter, I enjoyed watching the progress of the South African teams.

One specific night I was having something to eat at the bar counter whilst watching the rugby. A man dressed in a Thawb (traditional Arabian clothing for men) came and sat next to me at the counter. I thought nothing of it until he started talking to me, enquiring where I was from. I was not looking for conversation as I wanted to watch the game. However, to be polite, I said to him.

‘I am from South Africa.’

He kept on talking, telling me about the wonderful sites in Dubai that I should visit. Whilst he was talking to me, he put his hand on my leg and rubbed it. I could not believe it! I told him not to touch me again and shoved his hand away from my leg. I continued eating my meal and watching the rugby.

About three minutes later, he said something to me again and, at the same time, he put his hand on the inside of my leg. I just saw red, and before I could think twice, I hit him with my elbow. I connected him on the jaw, and he went flying off the bar chair. He fell onto the floor and was out for the count. People were running out of the bar, and there was a big commotion going on. Somebody screamed that he was dead, and someone shouted Police, police, call the police! The barman and two other men went over to the Arab and tried to revive him with ice water. I sat on my chair and finished my meal while I was still watching the rugby.

A few minutes later, the police arrived in force. There were about eight uniformed cops. They looked at the Arab on the floor, and the barman speaking in Arabic pointed at me. They came over to me, and one policeman spoke to me in English, asking me what had happened. I explained to him what had happened and admitted that I had struck the man on the floor. They asked me to accompany them, and we left the bar.

As we were leaving the Arab, I struck regained consciousness, and I was relieved to see that he was waking up as I knew I had hit him pretty hard. They loaded me into one of the three police vehicles they arrived in and drove me to a police station or office. At the police office, I was questioned again. I explained to the officer that in my countrymen don’t like to be touched by other men, and I warned him not to do it again, but he obviously ignored my warning.

I was told that I could not go around assaulting people in their country and that they are now obliged to deport me back to my own country after they have charged me. One of the policemen was an officer, and after a long discussion in Arabic by him to the other cops, I was told to leave and go back to my hotel.

I was very relieved, and on the long walk back to my hotel I realized how lucky I was to get off in this matter. I decided it would be safer to stay in my room.

Two days later, all the paperwork was sorted out, and I was on my way to Afghanistan.