Of football, missiles and the passing of Qatar’s ‘architect’

12 July was an odd-ball day.

It’s one that will go down in the annals of Qatar’s history. And ours too, simply because it was just such a strange day.

Or, to quote a friend who texted me that evening, “Today is pretty eventful, huh”.

“An understatement,” I’d replied because Sunday, 12 July, began before it had really begun.

And once it did begin, it just got progressively sadder – and odder.

But enough of this cryptic waffle.

Let me tell you what happened.

And so, here’s my diary account of the surreal events of 12 July 2026 in Qatar.

By way of a teaser, in case you are thinking of opting out, you can expect some sport, a spot of war and a death – none of which are connected.

It began with a cheer

Norway and England literally kicked off 12 July 2026 in Qatar.

They started playing their FIFA World Cup quarter final match to great fanfare at midnight – a game the H was intent on watching.

But after a full day of top-notch rugby, including joining 200 other South Africans in Doha to watch the Springboks beat Scotland 42 – 28 at the Doha Golf Club under the stars, it was a stretch too far to view the entire match.

He’d cheered the two opposing goals scored by full-time, before finally retiring to bed.

I’d woken at 3am, quizzed him as to the result, poor man, but to no avail. Eventually, I dropped back to sleep.

It started with shriek, then boom

But at 6.35am we were wide awake – woken by the shriek of an emergency public alert on our phones, followed by several booms with one louder than the others.

We know this soundtrack well.

In fact, everyone who has been living in the Gulf since 28 February 2026 knows it, thanks to a conflict that is not ours, but is nonetheless being played out in our backyard.

However, until now, we had not heard this shriek-boom-boom performance of missiles, drones and interceptions in ages because of the so-called “ceasefire”.

Nothing in months.

It returned to our playlist at 3.30am on Thursday, 9 June, but thankfully for us, our phones were muted and far removed, so we slept through it, and did so again on said surreal Sunday of 12 July at 5.36am.

But not at 6.30am.

Qatar was under attack again. 

With the shriek and booms come the inward personal groans – the oh-not-again feeling, followed by a touch of complacency since Qatar has kept us safe thus far and will surely continue to do so.

The all-clear follows – the threat has been eliminated.

And so off to work I go, it being Sunday and all. (I’ve been in the Middle East for four-plus years now, and I still struggle with the idea of working on a Sunday, albeit that my weekend starts on Thursday afternoon).

At work, a friend shares how she had been swimming at the Pearl, a popular residential area, shortly after 6am when the second barrage of missiles and drones began.

“We were floating in the sea. It felt like I was in some kind of simulation tank, and what was happening in the skies overhead, was not really happening.”

But it was.

It followed with a start

I, as ever, was keeping an eye out on the US Iran tit-for-tat spillover in the Gulf countries on a nearby Goggle box when I noticed a change of players in my peripheral vision – men dressed in white thobes.

More diplomatic talks, perhaps? (Qatar take its mediator role seriously, and has been very successful at it).

I’m wrong. Very wrong.

The visionary Father Amir, the man who began what Qatar has become today, has died, at the age of 74.

Can this day get any stranger?

The Father Amir is something akin to Nelson Mandela in this part of the world.

The man who transformed Qatar by expanding the energy sector, and placed great focus on the cultural, educational, social and political environment of the country for the benefit of the people, is no more.

We arrived in Qatar long after Sheikh Hamad Al Thani had handed power over to his son, His Highness Sheikh Tamim bin Hamad Al Thani, in 2012, but the respect and love the Qataris have for him is palpable.

For a glimpse of his impact on Qatar as its architect, read this Al Jazeera story

Sheikh Hamad Al Thani is also the man who scrapped media censorship in a bid to establish free and independent journalism in the Arab world.

Beating the rush

No wonder then that thousands would clamber to attend his funeral which, as is customary in the Islamic faith, will happen before sunset.

This necessitates my early departure from work to avoid getting stuck since my place of employment is a stone’s throw from the country’s national mosque which can host up to 30 000 men standing.

By early afternoon the road barriers are already in place and flags at half-mast.

And now, even as I write, the national colour of burgundy is everywhere, along with images of the Father Emir on billboards and the like, and newspapers are full of condolence messages.

Sinner for my sanity

As I try to comprehend all that has happened, including the cancellation of all church services, I flop down on the couch for some sporting escapism.

This day – 12 July 2026 – has just been “too much”.

English winning their semi-final against Norway, the noisy early morning reminders of a war playing out on our doorstep and the death of Qatari icon.

Phew!

But now there’s the MotoGP, Tour de France and the Men’s Wimbledon final.

But wait, Alexander Zverev is beating world number 1 Jannik Sinner.

Another surprise?

Gratefully, Sinner restores the equilibrium in what has been the oddest, memorable day by finally winning the championship.