“Though no one can go back and make a brand new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending.”
Dedication
This biography is first and foremost dedicated to the center of my world—my beloved wife, Takya Abdulla Mohammed. You have been my constant, my compass, and my comfort through every chapter of this journey. In moments of doubt, your faith in me lifted my spirit. When I faced losses—financial, emotional, and personal—you held our family together with grace and strength. You sacrificed without complaint, loved without condition, and believed when belief was hard to come by. Every achievement in my life bears the mark of your unwavering support. This journey, this legacy, belongs to you as much as it does to me.
To my three wonderful children, Sultan Nasser Alawai and Jaabal Nasser Alawai—you are my greatest joy and the true reason I strive to be better every single day. I have always hoped to teach you that success is not just measured in wealth or titles, but in how much of yourself you give to others. Your kindness, curiosity, and values remind me that the future is bright. I hope this story inspires you to carry forward our family’s legacy of empathy, resilience, and purpose.
To my family, friends, and mentors, thank you for standing beside me in the moments that mattered most. Your presence has helped carry me forward.
To the Alawi Foundation team and all those I’ve worked alongside in real estate, investment, and humanitarian work—thank you for believing in the vision and working with heart. Your dedication has transformed dreams into action, and action into impact.
And to every individual who has felt unseen, unheard, or left behind—this story is for you. I know what it means to grow up with little, to walk streets where no one expects you to succeed, and to carry dreams in silence. I hope this journey reminds you that your story matters, that your struggles can be the seed of your strength, and that the most powerful change begins when one person dares to give.
Dr. Nasser Alawi Abdullah
Phase 1 : From Dust to Determination
“Sometimes good things fall apart so better things could fall together.”
I was born on the 22nd of December, 1960, in a modest home that echoed more with hope than with comfort. My earliest memories are not of toys or travels, but of my father’s relentless hands cracked, tired, and unwavering. He worked with a quiet determination, often sacrificing his own comfort so we could survive another day. He wasn’t just earning a living he was building our future, brick by brick, dream by dream.
We had very little, but in that scarcity, I found the seed of my greatest strength. Watching my father toil from sunrise to sundown planted something deep within me: a hunger not just to escape poverty, but to become someone who could help others rise out of it. I used to tell myself, “One day, I will not only succeed I will make sure I lift others as I climb.”
I didn’t have a smooth path ahead. My childhood was marked by sacrifice. I remember studying under dim streetlights because we couldn’t afford proper electricity. My schoolbooks were second-hand, sometimes even third-hand. But I cherished them like gold. Education, I believed, was my ticket out. And I chased it with everything I had. In those days, we didn’t speak of dreams loudly; they felt fragile, like glass that might shatter under the weight of reality. But I held mine close. I wanted to become rich not for status or extravagance, but because I knew what it meant to be left behind. I had seen people being ignored because of the shoes they wore or the homes they lived in. I never wanted to be the one who walked past someone in need.
As I grew older, I understood that building a better life meant starting from scratch. I didn’t inherit wealth or a network. What I did have was discipline, a willingness to work hard, and a deep-rooted empathy for others. These values, engraved in me by my parents, became the foundation of everything I built later in life.
Marriage brought a new chapter one filled with love, partnership, and purpose. My wife became my biggest support system. She believed in me during the days when I doubted myself. She stood by me when storms hit. The financial earthquake of 2008 nearly wiped out my savings and the Covid-19 crisis, which tested not just my businesses but also my resilience. In all tough times, her strength became mine.
We raised three children together, and the lessons I learned in hardship became the lessons I passed on. I told them stories of my father’s hands, of the days I had nothing but dreams and determination. I taught them that wealth is meaningless if not shared, and that dignity is something every human being deserves.
That’s why even today, if I see a cleaner working outside a coffee shop, I invite them inside to sit and share a cup of coffee with me. Not as charity but as a statement. We are all equal. The only difference between me and the man sweeping the street is opportunity—and I believe everyone should get one.
Phase 2 : Building Empires with a Conscience
“Incredible change happens in your life when you decide to take control of what you have power over instead of craving control over what you don’t.”
As I stepped into adulthood, my hunger to build something meaningful never left me. My early experiences became my compass, guiding me through every decision I made. I didn’t just want to escape poverty; I wanted to rewrite its script. I wanted to prove that success and compassion could coexist. That’s how my journey into the business world began, not just with ambition, but with a mission.
Real estate was the first arena where I saw potential. I realized that beyond bricks and mortar, there was an opportunity to build communities, create jobs, and uplift lives. In 2005, I founded Alawi Real Estate Development with one thing in mind to create spaces that added value to people’s lives while also contributing to the economic development of the region.
I remember signing my first deal it wasn’t a massive project, but for me, it was monumental. I poured everything I had into it. Every detail mattered. I wasn’t just building a property; I was building trust, reputation, and a legacy. Over time, the firm grew beyond my expectations. We developed over 50 properties, including luxury apartments, office spaces, and retail centers. One of our proudest achievements was a AED200 million luxury residential complex in Dubai, which reached 95% occupancy in its first year.
Yet, no matter how high the buildings rose, I never forgot where I came from. That perspective grounded me. Every success was shared with employees, partners, and the communities we touched. I took pride in transforming a historic commercial building in Sana’a, not just for business, but as a symbol of preservation and progress. That project brought together culture, economy, and history something deeply meaningful to me.
Alongside real estate, I became increasingly involved in the Dubai Financial Market, where I began investing in stocks. It was risky, volatile, and at times nerve-wracking. But I loved it. I saw patterns where others saw chaos. My goal wasn’t just to grow wealth, but to build a diversified portfolio that could weather storms. This became even more important when the 2008 economic crisis hit. I lost a lot. It was painful. But it was also a lesson in humility and resilience.
Out of that loss came growth. I launched Alawi Capital Investments in 2010, focusing on sustainable and forward-thinking ventures. We achieved an average annual return of 12%, not just by playing safe, but by identifying opportunities in sectors like green energy, healthcare, and technology. One of our proudest investments was in a tech startup focused on renewable energy a company that went public with a valuation of AED50 million. That investment wasn’t just a financial success; it was a statement about my belief in innovation and sustainability.
Phase 3 : Charity isn’t a duty, it’s part of me.
“Recognizing that you are not where you want to be is a starting point to begin changing your life.”
For as long as I can remember, giving has been second nature to me. Not because I had more, but because I knew what it felt like to have less than enough. When you’ve stood in lines for food, worn shoes with holes, and studied by candlelight, your heart becomes tender toward those still living that reality. For me, charity isn’t a duty it’s part of who I am.
My journey with giving began before I even had the means to give. I used to offer my time, my advice, even a shoulder to lean on. As I began to build wealth, my ability to help grew but so did my responsibility. I always told myself, “If I ever make it, I will not forget those still waiting for their chance.” That promise became my compass.
One of the most cherished traditions in my life is organizing iftaari meals during Ramadan. What began as a small act feeding a few families in need has now grown into an annual movement. Every year, we distribute meals to thousands of underprivileged people, making sure they can break their fast with dignity and warmth. I remember sitting among them, breaking bread, sharing stories. No hierarchy. No status. Just humans connected by compassion and faith.
I founded the Alawi Foundation for Humanitarian Aid in 2012 with a vision far greater than myself. I wanted to create an organization that could respond swiftly in times of crisis whether it was an earthquake, a war, or a health emergency. When the war in Gaza intensified, and when earthquakes shook entire communities, we mobilized resources, volunteers, and relief efforts. To date, we have raised over $3 million for humanitarian causes and provided aid to thousands across Yemen and the Middle East.
The foundation also supports education and healthcare, two pillars that I believe are essential to any society’s growth. One of the most fulfilling projects was building a school in rural Yemen a place where over 500 children now receive an education they otherwise would have been denied. Watching those children walk into class every morning, books in hand, dreams in their eyes it reminds me of myself decades ago.
There’s a story that still lingers with me. One evening, I was having coffee at a local café when I noticed a street cleaner outside, covered in dust, working silently. I asked him to come in and have coffee with me. At first, he was hesitant almost embarrassed. But when he sat down, I saw something in his eyes. Gratitude, yes but also surprise. Surprise that someone would treat him like an equal. That moment wasn’t about coffee. It was about dignity. I believe we must never become too successful to recognize the humanity in others.