Sunset at Salalah

Sunset at Salalah

Steady, strong winds

Hot off the desert

Whipping across the sandy beach.

Sea birds hugging the surface of the water

Near the shore.

Waves breaking

Spray flying back out to sea.

 

 

Two dishdashas walk past

One black, the other white

Both hitched up and hems tied at the waist

Exposing dark-coloured and white wizars.

They stop some 50 metres off

And start to turn back

I wave, one waves back

They continue on their return journey.

 

 

A container ship far out to sea crawls along the horizon

Heading towards Port Salalah

Newly-opened and 20 miles due west.

 

 

A 4WD speeds along the graded road behind me

Churning up clouds of dust

Quickly dissipated by the hot wind off the distant desert.

 

 

An open fishing boat powers by

Just beyond the breakers,

Rapidly U-turns

Then zooms off to where it came from

Its occupants obviously enjoying the exhilarating ride.

 

 

Two white Arabian steeds

Softly gallop by near the shallow water.

Their riders slowly take them about

Then head directly towards the low-angled sun’s rays

The peaks of their riding caps

Pulled down low to reduce the glare

Their horses now walking after the hard ride there.

 

 

Two more 4WDs speedily approach from opposite directions,

Swiftly scattering seabirds on the sandy shore,

Then slowly and safely pass next to the ambling horsemen.

 

 

At my back among the metre high sandhills

A crested lark walks, pecks, flutters, stops,

Waits for its mate; then they fly off together

Into the now low, yellow-orbed sun.

 

 

Shadows on the mini-dunes further dapple the seaboard’s surface

The white sands softening to a yellowish hue

Highlighting the tough stubbly sandhill plants.

 

 

To the north the jebel takes on a pinky shade

Contrasting sharply with the long belt of brilliant green

Of the lush palms on the Royal Farm

And the nearer sands.

 

 

On the darkening blue waters, now calmer

Several more fishing boats head westward and homeward

Towards the golden orb now poised just above the horizon.

The wind seems to relax as it sees the departing sun.

 

 

A large flock of seabirds cluster closely together on the sands

Soon joined by others come to share news of the day.

 

 

The burning ball sinks softly down

And disappears behind massive Mughsayl.

A fiery red glow in the west,

A pink blush over Jebel Samhan in the east

Are all that are left of its retreat.

 

 

Guiding lights come on at Port Salalah

As the container ship nears its next staging post

On the long journey from the Far East to Europe and East Coast America -

Maybe I can join its crew

And ‘fly off’ into the sunset

Like this poem which has winged its way to you!

© P. R. Hayden, Salalah 1998

Hasik Beach in days of yore

Hasik's limestone cliffs at Natif

Seas surge noisily up the bolder-strewn shore

Towards the quiet fishing village.

Behind the low houses, long and tall

Limestone cliffs tower over them.

Drawn up on the beach 70 houris lie idly by,

Another score bob at anchor in the choppy bay,

While three or four furlongs out to sea

A sambuq or two are hove to.

A houri from Hadbeen arrives

Laden with colourful hawari

For a wedding

And celebration in the town.

Three weathered fisherman stripped to the waist

Wade out to their houris

To untangle the long lines

Which tether them to the shore.

Waiting for the steamer! In the days before the road went through.

They clean their fish in the shallows

While greedy seabirds finish off the fishy remains.

The sailors sit and chat in a little shade

And mend their nets on the bouldery beach – at Hasik.

P. R. Hayden, Salalah © 2001