Al Madam Ghost Village When the Desert Reclaims the Dream
By Hafsa Qadeer
On a flat horizon of wind-brushed dunes southeast of Sharjah, a dozen pastel-toned houses and a small mosque sit quietly, half-swallowed by the desert. Known as the Buried Village, or Al Madam Ghost Village, this forgotten outpost is more than a curiosity for offbeat travelers. It is a mirror held up to the UAE’s early experiments with modernity, one that reflects not failure, but an unfinished story.
A Settlement Meant for a New Era
Built in the late 1970s, Al Madam was part of a government initiative to settle Bedouin tribes, particularly the Al Kutbi, into permanent homes. The concrete houses were simple, functional, and arranged around a modest mosque. It was a microcosm of the national ambition of the time: to shift from nomadic life into structured community living, as the newly formed UAE rushed toward a modern statehood.
But within a decade, life in Al Madam quietly unraveled. Families left behind furniture, toys, and open doors as they migrated toward cities with better infrastructure, jobs, and services. The desert, unbothered by time, returned to reclaim the settlement, filling living rooms with sand, burying courtyards, and wrapping the minaret in its soft, patient grip.
Why Was It Left, and Why Has It Stayed That Way?
Harsh environmental conditions played their part. Sandstorms often rendered daily life unbearable. Water supply was inconsistent. The houses, though practical, were not designed to withstand the full force of the desert’s slow invasion. As urban centers like Sharjah and Dubai boomed, Al Madam was gradually emptied, not by disaster, but by disinterest.
The bigger question today, however, is why the site has remained untouched in a country where real estate is often measured in millions of dirhams. Why has no one repurposed, restored, or even claimed these ready-made homes?
The answer lies in a blend of legal, environmental, and cultural hesitation. The land likely falls under protected heritage jurisdiction or sits in a bureaucratic grey zone with unclear ownership. There are no utility lines or paved roads. The cost of retrofitting this remote area far outweighs any commercial return. And unlike other abandoned villages, such as Ras Al Khaimah’s Al Jazirah Al Hamra, which has been partially restored for tourism, Al Madam has been left to exist on its own terms.
Preserved or Forgotten?
There are no visitor centers or ticket booths. No curated signs or glossy brochures. Just wind, sand, silence, and stories, if you know where to look. In this untouched state, Al Madam offers something rare in the UAE: authenticity. It has not been stage-managed into a heritage attraction. Instead, it stands as a quiet, decaying relic of the nation’s formative years. Some locals whisper about jinn, blaming the supernatural for the mass departure. But the more grounded truth lies in the slow bureaucracy, environmental impracticality, and perhaps an unspoken national choice: to preserve this place as a living memory rather than a revived destination.
What the Desert Tells Us
Al Madam is more than a ghost village. It’s a reminder that not every planned community, no matter how well-intentioned, becomes a success story. It’s a meditation on how ambition meets nature, and how not all of the UAE’s past can, or should, be glossed over with development. In a country defined by hyper-modern skylines and luxury lifestyles, this buried village is a quiet monument to resilience, abandonment, and the fragility of vision. For those who make the hour-long drive from Dubai or Sharjah, it offers something no mall or tower can: a raw encounter with a chapter of the nation that time didn’t quite erase, but chose not to rewrite.