Going to space adds a lot of glitter to a person’s story: forever an astronaut. But who is Hazzaa al-Mansoori, really?

I’m a kid from the southside of Abu Dhabi, born very close to Liwa, the Empty Quarter desert. A really quiet place: looking outside of the window I would see the desert, unstopped, sand dunes forever. So sometimes I thought that I was unlucky being away from all the activities of downtown Abu Dhabi, but other times I appreciated my very amazing place, especially at night. From there I could see everything above me: the clouds, the stars, the Milky Way. At night the desert is really fascinating, there’s no light pollution there. And that was the spark that ignited my passion: one day, this kid will go to space!
So like any normal kid, I grew up dreaming of a career that would make me go to space. The days go by, until one day when I saw jets flying low above Liwa, they had a route there, like a flying roll. They were so fast, so loud – I loved it! I remember that my brother and I tried chasing the jets with our bicycles, waiting for them, and trying to overtake them: this moment was one of the first that really attracted me to the sky and the stars.
But as I grew up and graduated from high school, and realized that for our country going to space was really impossible. We’re a very young country, without a space program or any other activity related to the space sector. So I buried that dream, but I still pursued something a little bit closer to the stars: I joined the air force to become a pilot. Nevertheless, every time I was flying at night I looked up with that same dream: perhaps someday, or perhaps my kids… it was always there.
Until five years ago, space was merely a dream to me. Now I’m married and I have four kids, I remember that I bought them glow-in-the-dark stars, and put them all around the house. And at night, I’m telling them stories and showing them stars, because that was something that really expanded my own imagination.
So, imagine my surprise when I see that His Highness Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid tweeted that the UAE is looking for astronauts, and citizens are welcome to apply for the privilege to be among this elite club. It was absolutely thrilling for me, so I applied and I started my process.

That was December 2017, right? Doesn’t the selection process for astronauts take even longer, to evaluate all sorts of physical, mental, and leadership abilities…

The evaluation covers all aspects, because going to space means you are representing all of humanity, not just your country, so the screening must be very thorough to see if you are up to the task.
My experience as a pilot helped a lot when training as an astronaut, because you acquire fundamental skills that are crucial for these missions: how to react fast, how to analyze things, how to conduct procedures and break them into checklists, how to communicate with other crew members.

I imagine you were not the only candidate with that childhood dream, with that ambition, maybe even pressure.

I remember that when we ended up in the final stages of the selection, we went to Russia to do the more intensive medical and psychological test there. Nine candidates: doctors, engineers, pilots, and scientists, I was ecstatic to already get to know them, and their stories and experiences. I was so satisfied to reach that stage because, you know, I thought that I might personally get to know the first UAE astronaut! It had been ages since someone from our region went to space: the first one was Prince Sultan bin Salman Al-Saud – he flew with the US Space Shuttle in 1985, and two years later Mohammed Faris from Syria was aboard the Russian Soyuz. Since then, more than 30 years later, nobody has come from our region, so it was really significant because it’s going to send a very strong message of hope, of commitment, and that nothing is impossible.
So, the nine candidates: I tried to get to know them more – really, it was an honor to know each one of them, we are still in contact. And it’s a journey that I will never forget, very tough, especially the period with the Russians: imagine coming from a young country, and having to prove yourself in front of someone with more than 60 years of space missions, from Yuri Gagarin onwards. So it was not easy.
I remember the call, the voice of Salem Humaid Al Marri [the Astronaut Program Manager] saying, “Hazzaa, it was a very tough decision to make…”

All recruitment uses the same formula, be it an office job or an astronaut…

Absolutely! And he gave me this thrilling suspense… and I thought maybe
I had not been selected. I mean, it was up to them: I did my best, but I was prepared for both scenarios. But then he tells me, “Hazzaa, we chose you for this mission.” I felt such a sense of achievement… I mean, 4,000 applicants. But now… [laughs] who should I tell first? My mom? My father?
And also, another thing that I had on my mind, is that it is hard to change occupations. I’ve been flying for more than 15 years, and in the last 5 years my job got even more difficult: I was doing acrobatics – I participated in the Dubai Airshow to do a single airshow with the aircraft – a highly demanding job, and to earn that title is a big thing among pilots. So to leave it all and pursue a new dream, I never had this in my mind. But how could I say no to space?
I told my wife that I was applying for the job, and she encouraged me from the beginning; also my kids showed me huge support by wearing space costumes and astronaut suits all of the time. But in the beginning I didn’t tell many people about my application to the space program, only my wife, my children, my mother, and my father – maybe a couple of my closest friends too. So when they announced my name, a lot of people were very surprised, because I had not shared my dream with a lot of people.
But that’s because as a kid I remember that I was shy to say out loud,
“I want to be an astronaut”, because that’s something that seemed impossible in our country. Even years later, when I was a candidate in aviation college, instead of conventional aircrafts I chose to give a presentation about the Space Shuttle, but I was disappointed with the reaction from my colleagues.
It was merely a dream, a very intimate one. So imagine how proud I was, at last. Sometimes you have to hold on to your dreams and be ready, because
it’s not only luck: it’s preparation and timing.
On the 3rd of September 2018 they announced our names – it was me and Sultan Al Neyadi as the back-up – and the following day we already were in front of the Soyuz capsule, with a very old guy speaking in Russian, and it was really tough even though we had a translator. So meanwhile, we had a year of training and learning the Russian language, because it is paramount that people under- stand each other immediately inside the small volume of the capsule: there are only three seats, and you must support your commander. Everything is in front of you – written in Cyrillic of course – and you have to know what you’re pressing. So, in the end, I was sat on the right side, and Jessica Meir from the United States was on the commander’s left side, always working together to make sure every- thing was in place, and organized a checklist for our launch.
The time we spent training in Russia was really an amazing journey: we were at Star City, home of the Cosmonaut Training Center, a place filled with history: Yuri Gagarin, the first astronaut – cosmonaut, as they say in Russian – also trained there before his mission.

From the outside, the prototypical astronaut is an incredibly proficient individual, trained in hard sciences, engineering and physics. But I remember a quote from Gagarin that hints at the spirituality and the politics of space exploration – maybe true, or perhaps soviet propaganda: “I looked and I looked, but I did not see any God”… So, can you tell us about the mystical side of your mission?

As fascinating as going to space can be, I knew I wouldn’t even have to look around to find God [laughs], he’s beyond. What really got to me was the creation of the planet: I mean, the Earth provides us with oxygen, with water, with every- thing we need – for free – and looking at that perfect mechanism from space, it was really fascinating. And to be honest, it was beautiful just to look at the earth from there, 400 kilometers above it. You are not far enough away to see it as a sphere, but seeing the curvature, the cycle between night and day, the colors… it’s amazing. To me, it gave me a higher sense of purpose, of reason.
And how much respect we should pay for what we have here: you know,
on the Earth everything seems like a gift, but only in space you realize how expensive all those things are: the oxygen that you’re breathing, the water, even the pressure – because outside it’s a vacuum. Astronauts say, “the coffee of today is the coffee of tomorrow” because we have a process to recycle urine so that we purify and drink the water from that again. So, it is really tough to live in space, everything you have to generate yourself: pressure, humidity, water.

The contrast of free and expensive is very interesting, and in constant evolution when it comes to the space sector: in the last 10 years, also due to the lower cost to launch a satellite into low orbit, the space sector has seen a renaissance fueled by new national missions on one side, and a plethora of private start-ups promising everything from space explorations to asteroid mining. The new buzz had led some countries, including the UAE, to adapt their space law regulations, to accommodate the ambitions of these new ventures. As an astronaut who was part of a novel national space program: what do you think is the most distinct feature compared to the idea of space promoted by private enterprises?

The pride, the pride to represent your country in space. And it all started with a picture taken in 1976; when the Apollo-Soyuz crew visited Sheikh Zayed in the UAE. At the time we were a very young country, still building roads and schools while some went to space. I saw this picture for the first time 10 years ago in my squadron, and the look in Sheikh Zayed’s eyes – the hope that someday, someone from the UAE will go to space – for me it served as a reminder not to let go of my childhood dream. And now that we have announced that program and gone into space, everything changed in our country… Everything!
Talking about space has its own magical way of influencing people. And that is very important, because to finally go to space you start by building programs, by launching satellites, by training engineers specialized in this sector. This was our far-reaching vision: building human knowledge and transferring it to others, but one of the missing links was to have an astronaut, because seeing someone from your region going to space speaking Arabic was going to be very powerful. And I remember when I returned from my mission, Sheikh Mohamed bin Zayed was there to welcome me home, the Crown Prince of Abu Dhabi, in front of a crowd – but not just any crowd, there were a lot of kids, and I saw in their eyes something new: they thanked me because I did something previously considered impossible. But now they can say, “I want to be an astronaut, because I saw one from my country going to space.” We will really see it in their generation, because whether it is conducting experiments, like we did, or making accessible commercial ventures, it will increase the demand on the space sector. And that’s great, because despite the objective of the mission, if you want to go to space you have to be educated, you have to have the capabilities. Not only in science and education, you have to be fit too. So having that dream is going to be changing your lifestyle too, the way you see the world, because that’s the most amazing thing about space: we are all coming from different countries, but when we are there we are working together – as humankind. Seeing the Earth from above turns all thoughts about borders, about countries, and makes them somehow dissolve together in a very harmonious way.

What you say makes me think of how in the 1970s the dissemination of a simple picture, Blue Marble, helped launch the modern environmental movement, and radically reframed the way we think about our relationship to the planet. Seeing you stepping out of that capsule gave those kids a new projection, no longer imaginary, but a very tangible dimension of the potential of their ambitions: you yourself became a symbol of sorts. I find this remarkable especially in relation to the new challenges that the planet will face in the near future. What object could instead symbolize the relation between your life story and the UAE?

As a kid, I grew up raising camels. I’ve always loved camels because they are really tough, resistant, and they can endure the harsh environment of the desert for a long time – in Arabic we call camels “the vessel of the desert.” I would always compare myself to a camel… I sometimes thought about that quiet place [the desert] as unfortunate, but all that quiet land led me to look up. I remember listening to many stories from when we were children, my parents talking about how our ancestors always looked to the stars for navigation, for guidance, but also for knowing the seasons: at the end of August, in our region, the appearance of one star means that the heat is going to break, and that’s the moment to plant trees. The desert drew me
to the stars. So, I think the camel is something really tangible of my heritage: its capacity to endure reminded me of my patience throughout the years, waiting for this moment.