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

From Mabtun to Sawb

Khalid Qeetun – of Funiq, Tawi Attair – came up with the plan to walk along the top of the Jebel Samhan range (from near the TV aerial above Mirbat) to Jebel Kharis and then descend an ancient camel track down the cliff to Sawb on the plains.

Khalid picked me up from Salalah and took me to his home in Tawi Attair. From there, one of his friends took Khalid and I together with Mohammad and Ayoub in his Landcruiser all the way up to Jebel Samhan. Eventually we were let off near the now-abandoned marble mine at Mabtun.

With Khalid's uncle at Mabtun

As we were taking our stuff from the Landcruiser, one of Khalid’s uncles came along. This was rather surprising since we were at least 15 kilometres from the nearest village and 5 km from the nearest house. We posed with him while the driver took a photo of the historic occasion. In the excitement of meeting up with this relative in the middle of nowhere, the driver, sensing his services were no longer required, got into his wagon and  took off. With a sinking feeling in my stomach I realised I’d left my tramping boots in the vehicle. By this time he was too far away to signal for him to stop, and we had no way to communicate – no mobile phones in those days! I would have to trek all the way wearing the lightweight sandals I had on!

We gathered up our packs, maps, water-bottles, walking sticks, and a rifle – supposed protection against wild animals, the likeliest being the endangered Arabian leopard, into whose habitat we were trespassing. It was a big comfort to know that in the event that our lives were endangered, we could prolong our days by killing one of perhaps fifty leopards left in the wild!

So, who was in our group? First, the originator of the idea, Khalid Qeetun, a geography teacher from Tawi Attair. I had known Khalid for two years by this time. On previous occasions he had introduced me and other English teachers at the College of Education (now the College of Applied Sciences) to places he thought might be interesting to us. So it was for our mutual benefit that we went out on shorter trips: us to explore and get to know places around, while he got plenty of opportunities to improve his English. It was a happy arrangement. Khalid was a typical jebali young man. He was of slight built but very fit. He knew of the area we were venturing into although only through various uncles who really did know.

Next was Mohammed from Mirbat. Mohammed was also a keen geography teacher and a friend of Khalid’s. He was the one carrying the 303. Lastly there was Ayoub, also from Mirbat. He was a recent recruit on the oil-fields, and had taken leave for 10 days.  He had been roped in at the last minute, and as we were to discover, both him and I were equally unfit!

Which brings me to the important subject of preparation! What training had we done before we set out on this 2 day 20 hour trek?
After a couple of hours of tramping it became clear that I hadn’t adequately prepared for this serious expedition. Already I was slowing down. It was difficult to keep up the pace that Khalid and Mohammed had set. In part this was due to my footwear. One side of a sandal had pulled out of the sole so when I walked I had to grip the inside of the sandal with my toes to prevent my foot slipping out of the sandal. I tried wearing socks for a time but found that they created problems of their own with my feet sliding up and down inside the sandals. More importantly, I was carrying too much weight in my packs!  Lastly I knew that a couple of kilometres leisurely walking 2 or 3 times a week hadn’t prepared me for this difficult mountain traverse.

Taking a break

We stopped for lunch after covering 8 km of up one rocky hill and down the next. After starting at an elevation of about 1200 metres, we were now at 1500 metres. We found some small almost leafless trees to sit under, as, although it was late winter, the temperature in the day time was still about 25 C. It was very tempting to stay longer than we needed under the meagre shade, but we knew we needed to keep moving if we were to reach our target by nightfall – Jebel / Wadi Kharis. While here Khalid noticed that his backpack was damp. On investigation he discovered that the 4 litre plastic jerry can of water in his pack had split and most of its contents leaked out: our main supply of water had gone! The rest of us had perhaps 5 or 6 litres all told, which had to last the four of us 4 hours of walking that day, plus most of the following day. It was far too little to get us to our destination easily. There were no inhabitants around. No more passing uncles. Not even a lone she-camel we could milk. We had passed all springs – they were at much lower altitudes – and no more fresh sources would be accessible until we had descended the mountains to the plains.

Consulting the map - Jebel Samhan

We stopped for a break on the edge of the cliff to consult the map. There was a sheer drop of at least 200 metres directly below us. However, from the birds-eye view this vantage point afforded, we could trace our path along the cliff-top, down the valleys and on to the plains far below.

Ayub warming himself

About 5 p.m. we decided to stop and get ready for the night ahead. It would get dark quickly and we had limited light power. I was keen to have somewhere against a rock wall to protect us from the cold wind. However, the others were more concerned about snakes coming out of the rocks or, worse still, leopards preying on us. We found a spot out in the open. It was hard-packed bare ground with a few stones and plants. After clearing the area, we spread out our bedding a few metres from where we would build the fire. We collected a large pile of dead trees and broken branches which would, hopefully, serve us with enough heat and light to last the night. We set to and cooked a simple meal of canned tuna and rice served with tea.

Next morning we were all up at first light. I had spent an uncomfortable night on the hard ground. It had been cool, too, especially in the hours before dawn. After a quick meal we broke camp and packed our things. As we were packing up, I noticed one of the others had a couple of cans of tuna. So I asked around. Each of us had brought several tins of tuna! All that extra weight lugged around unnecessarily!

The Big Cut - Wadi Kharis

We assessed our water situation. It was critical. We had only about 3 or 4 litres remaining, and it was going to be 10 hours before we reached our goal. So, at 7.30 a.m. we set off not knowing how we were going to cope. And me in particular! We had to walk for about an hour before we came to the ‘Big Cut’, a huge wadi that bisected the mountain transversely. In ancient days this wadi served as one of the main thoroughfares between the frankincense-growing areas to the north and the coast – about 25 kilometres away. Wadi Andhur, one of the major frankincense collection centres from the 3rd century BC until 4th century AD, lay almost 40 kilometres due north. We were going to be following one of the most difficult and dangerous parts of the journey. It was comforting to know that we weren’t the first to go this way. Thousands of camels, traders and soldiers had come this way in ancient times. However, we didn’t have the benefit of a guide who had been that way before. We hoped to descend from an altitude of about 1600 metres  to about 200 metres during the course of the day.

It didn’t take long to find the track down the cliff face. At first it was easy going with a magnificent view towards Mirbat and Hinu. We continued following the track. It was littered with hundreds of huge chunks of limestone that had broken away from the escarpment over the centuries. Looking back and up the cliff we noticed that there were a number of new pieces of stone poised to follow the others down the hill. We hoped it wouldn’t be today that they decided to move on down.

I started out the day feeling energetic and refreshed after the night’s rest. As the day wore on, however, and our water supply ran out, I got more and more tired, becoming so lethargic in the end that I stopped walking and sat down under a tree on a small rocky promontory, and couldn’t go any further. Khalid was very concerned with this turn of events. I explained how thirsty I was. After some discussion among them, Khalid and Mohammad went off to try and find something to drink – for me!

The track down Jebel Samhan

They were concerned for me. They didn’t want their teacher to die in their hands so they marched off looking for that elusive liquid to slake my thirst. They had already talked about the goats they’d seen grazing in the distance. In my comatose state I didn’t think in terms of goats. But they did. Some half an hour later they returned carrying an aluminium bowl of fresh goat’s milk. I was surprised and humbled.  They related how they had wandered around the cliff-side for some time calling out for the shepherd, eventually finding him. He was happy to oblige, fetched his aluminium bowl, and proceeded to catch one of his goats and milk it into the bowl.

In no time this bowl of expensive liquid had rejuvenated me! I drank the warm milk and waited. I got back on my feet and started moving. The others were encouraging me by saying it was all downhill from now on. Additionally, the jebali shepherd gave further directions on how to reach his hut a couple of hours walk away. We could even see it in the distance through binoculars. We set out again. This time my pack was reduced to a couple of kilos. The others distributed the weight between them, Khalid carrying most of mine as well as his own.

It was still a long way to go. Once Khalid and Mohammad were confident that we knew the way, they went on ahead and Ayub and I brought up the rear. It was a struggle but Ayub and I finally arrived at the shepherd’s hut at 5.30 pm. But we made it! I collapsed onto the mat outside the hut next to Khalid. Various refreshing drinks were offered me. I drank any and all – a couple of cartons of juice, 4 or 5 glasses of water, several small glasses of sweet, red tea… Phew, it was so great to be able to drink again! But it was embarrassing just how much I did drink!

We were still a long way from civilisation. However, after some time one of relatives of the family came in his 4WD and took us to Sadh where we stayed the night. The next day we explored Fushi, Hadbeen and Kaisa . It was a very leisurely day. We didn’t exert ourselves too much. That evening we all returned to our respective homes – Mohammad and Ayub to Mirbat, Khalid to Tawi Attair and I to Salalah. Our expedition had ended!
Lessons I learnt about Dhofaris that day
They went the extra mile even when they didn’t have to – carrying my pack. I wasn’t a Roman soldier but they did it willingly; self-sacrifice – nothing was too difficult for them to do for others when required; and hospitality – the jebali shepherd and his family offered what they had to us even though they knew none of us personally.

The “7 minute” boat trip

It had been a long day. The four of us had walked, clambered, scaled and trudged over, around, through and over rocks, rivers, seas and sand! And now we were at the end of our tether. Mohammed had started out at a run and was now trailing behind with Salim who had developed a limp. Suhail’s lack of fitness had got the better of him and he was looking forward to the journey’s end!

….

How did we come to venture on this expedition in the first place? We decided to walk the 20 km or so from Hadbeen to Hasik before the road went through and the old ways forever forgotten. The team of friends who had gone with me on my previous expedition unfortunately at the last moment were not free to join me on this new one.

I decided to press on alone, hoping to find some new soul mates to accompany me. I dropped in on another friend, Suhail Said Al-Amri of Jufa, 8 km inland from the old frankincense export port of Sadh. Strangely, Jufa is just a few kilometres away from Sawb which was the terminus of my last, almost abortive, trip along the top of Jebel Samhan, down the cliff following the old camel trails, ending up in the village of Sawb, where Suhail taught geography in the local primary school.

This time I was determined to make it a successful trip in every way so I made a point of walking long distances around Salalah whenever I could. I didn’t want to be left behind by being unfit. And that part of my preparation did pay off!

Salim, Suhail, Mohammed, Ross

Suhail enthusiastically decided to join the team, even though at short notice. We continued on to Hadbeen where we met up with one of his friends, Salem Al-Araimi, a fisherman. Word soon got around, and before long a fourth person volunteered to come, Mohammad Zu’amri Al-Mahri, a former student of mine at the College of Education (now the College of Applied Sciences) in Salalah.

Late in the day we started to gather together the supplies we would need for an early start the following day. We hoped that we would be able to complete the route from Hadbeen to Hasik with just one night’s stop somewhere along the way. But things didn’t work out that way!

….

Earlier in the day I had tried to negotiate with my fellow-travellers to camp out somewhere along the way. Unfortunately some were adamant that we not camp out. One reason given was that (at that time) ‘dangerous’ Somali fugitives were known to be using the coast as a road north to Dubai and ultimate freedom. So as the day was coming to an end we tried, unsuccessfully, to flag down numbers of passing motorboats. We were getting exhausted by this time. To cap things off the sun was almost set. What to do?

Nearing Ras Hasik

Clambering around a couple more rocky bays, we suddenly came across a couple of motorboats tied to some rocks. Signs of civilisation at last!

A few more steps and we spotted numbers of camels browsing in the next bay. We had arrived at Wadi Samhan! It was 6.15 p.m. and the sun had just set. What a relief it was!

It was Mohammed’s uncle with their camels! We were ushered into a tent made from tree branches covered with plastic sheeting. There in the light of a kerosene lantern, we slaked our thirst on cool water, warm camel’s milk and hot sweet tea, in that order.

I thought we were going to stay the night there but I was outnumbered – Salim and the others wanted to press on to Hasik! For a moment I had forgotten that Salem was a fisherman, and that there was a motorboat in the next bay!

“How long will it take?” I asked.

“Seven minutes!” answered Salim.

Salim as a fisherman had done that trip many times before so his estimate should have been accurate. However, other factors came into play.

We headed out into the unknown with a 20 to 30 knot head wind, a 1 to 2 metre swell. It was pitch dark with only a sliver of a moon; and we were 50 metres from a very rocky coastline. I was feeling rather scared, to put it mildly!

We were making heavy work of the journey, travelling through a big swell with the wind whipping up white caps, when all of a sudden the motor stopped. The boat swung broadside to the waves. They started to break into the boat. There we were with no life jackets, no spare outboard motor, and not even one oar. We were certainly at the mercy of God and the elements.

Coastal road near Natif, Hasik, Dhofar, Oman

I fumbled for my torch. Shining it over the stern we saw a very large plastic bag entangling the prop. Within two minutes we were on our way again. Phew!

How wonderful it was then when we finally saw the welcoming lights of Hasik looming through the gloom. It would be half an hour more before we reached it. But still it was reassuring to see those lights! And so the 7 minute journey became 85!

Evidence for an Ancient Church in southern Arabia?

1600 years ago a terracotta cup inscribed with six symmetrical symbols got buried in a fort in southern Arabia. What did those symbols represent and what was the cup used for?

Greek Cross

A team of archaeologists headed by Dr Juris Zarins unearthed it from a buried fort, which was once an integral part of the ancient frankincense trade. Fort Hamran, as it is now known, lies 25 km east of Salalah in the Dhofar governorate of southern Oman.

The vessel they found was originally purple in colour and marked with six simple Greek crosses. Their conclusion is that it was a Christian chalice (communion cup)! And what was it doing in southern Arabia?

This raises the possibility that Christian monks had set up a centre in what was once a frankincense trading post. “There is a chance that Ain Humran was the missing ‘third church’ founded by the Byzantine missionary Theophilus Indus in the middle 300s.” (Clapp, N. (1998). The road to Ubar : finding the Atlantis of the sands. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. p.212)

The Nail

The Nail

Recently, while exploring a remote part of the Dhofari coast with a couple of friends, I climbed a hill to admire the view. I was surprised as I walked around on top of this hill to stumble across an old iron nail lying on the stony ground. It had obviously been lying there for a long time – how long is hard to know because the area is very dry and very rarely rains. The friend I was with is from a family of fishermen, and from a region which is very well-known for its traditional style of shipbuilding – he’s from Sur where dhows are still occasionally built. Immediately he recognised it as a ship’s nail.

We examined the nail. It was about 11 cm long, and square in cross-section. It was in surprisingly good condition with only a little rusty scale. As we handled the nail we wondered how it had got there. We looked around but the only signs of life were the blackened remains of what may have been an old fire. We came to the conclusion that maybe a long time ago somebody had burnt the timbers of a wrecked ship, and this old nail was now all that remained.

Today as I think about that nail, and that hill far away, I think of another hill even further away, and other handmade iron nails, used not for constructive purposes, but destructive — to cause pain and worse. I think of the one who suffered there on that hill, and I am thankful, very thankful for what he did for me, for you.

At this time of the year let us think how we can give of ourselves, and use our talents for constructive purposes, to build up not to destroy, to bring joy not pain, to give and not expect anything in return.

“He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose.” (Jim Elliott)

Michael the Mechanic of Sinaya, Salalah, Dhofar, Oman

Michael the Mechanic of Sinaya, Salalah

Do you know this man? He’s a very well known personality in Salalah, Oman. Ask any seasoned Jeep owner there and almost without fail they will have met him at some stage! I had a Jeep when I lived in Salalah – I think he’s fixing the cooling system on it in this photo! – and I got to know him well and trust him and his judgement on many things, but especially mechanical!

He started work in Salalah in about 1977, I think, and has many stories to tell from his time in Salalah over the years!

I left Salalah in 2005, and haven’t had any news of him since then. I’d be interested to know any new news. In fact, let me know and I’ll let you all know!

Plans for good not evil – أَفْكَارَ سَلاَمٍ لاَ شَرّ

أَفْكَارَ سَلاَمٍ لاَ شَرّ

Qasbar Fort

Location

Qasbar Fort lies less than 1 km north of Ain Tabruq on a hilltop about 450 m a.s.l. It commands a strategic position with an extensive view of the coastline (9 km away), and must have been an effective post for observing the movement of people and their animals. It lies 27 km east of Salalah.

Directions

Drive east from Salalah, taking the road towards Taqah. About 4 km before reaching the Taqah turnoff, turn north at the sign marked Nashib (15 km from Al-Mamurah roundabout). After driving 6 km on this road, park on the side of the graded road, about three quarters of the way up the hill. The fort is directly to the east on the top of a conical hill about 3 km walk away – an hour’s walk.

To get to the fort itself, follow the well-worn path to the right of the road. It skirts north around the edge of the hillside, and after crossing several rocky wadis it heads south-east across rock strewn fields, which form a saddle to the hill on which the fort is situated. As you start to climb the hill from the north you first come to what appears to be a deliberately cut 2 metre wide trench with a sheer three-metre high rock face on the higher side and 1 to 2 m one on the lower side. The solid rock face on the higher side is topped with a wall made of blocks of cut stone. This 40 metre long defensive moat across the hillside blocks the only practical path to the fort, making it very difficult for intruders to break through. Locals say that defenders used to light fires in this trench to stop attackers. The hillsides on the east and west lead down steep slopes to wadis, while the southern side of the hill is extremely steep and thus a natural defence.

Once past the trench there are piles of hewn stones some of which are cut in curves as if to fit over an arched doorway or window. Other pieces have been cut to fit into each other like a mortise and tenon joint. Many of the stones are overgrown with trees and other vegetation. Once past these on the eastern side of the hill you come to the ruins of two buildings. The first and smaller one is about 4 m long, 3 m wide with a height of about 2 metres. The other is near the summit. It is a much larger building – 18m by 10m by 3m high. Both walled structures, which these days are open at the top, show few signs of wear and tear, indicating how well designed and constructed they were. The walls are constructed of blocks of stone, with the walls an average thickness of about 1 metre. The internal and exposed parts of the external walls are thickly plastered with gypsum, much of which has survived intact. An unusual aspect of these buildings’ design is that neither have any windows, only a doorway. However, it would appear that these doorways are later additions. In both cases it looks as though the walls have been breached at a later date so that the space may be utilised, perhaps by goat or cow herders. The remains of any roof or its beams have long since disappeared. Exactly how these buildings were used is a matter for conjecture. It is thought that the smaller one was used for storing water, and the larger one perhaps for food stuffs.

Who built Qasbar Fort, and when?

According to stories passed on by local Dhofaris, the stone used for the construction of the buildings and their defences was carried from near the coast (from the quarry at Deirab near Khor Soli) some 8 km away. Locals say that the fort was built by Portuguese soldiers, who passed the hewn blocks of stone from hand to hand all the way up the hillside. However from a cursory examination the materials it is built of are the same as the hillside on which the fort stands. However, the gypsum which was used in the mortar and also for plastering the completed walls could well have come from the Khor Soli quarries.

On the southern slope of the hill, facing the sea, there is a 150 m cliff, which forms a natural defence. Near it, running along the southern and western sides there are the remains of a thick, stone wall, with what appears to be regular defensive turrets or lookouts projecting from the walls. There are also ruins of other smaller buildings and fortifications on the hilltop site, but their purpose and even shape is covered with years of rubble as well as being overgrown by the roots of trees and shrubs. The whole fort complex covers an area about 100 m by 40 m.

As far as water supply is concerned one story says that there was an ingenious pumping system for conveying water from Ain Al-Sarooj (about 500 metres to the west and 100 metres below the hilltop) to the fort. Another story says there was a well on the southern side, set into the side of the cliff some 50 metres down from the top. A possible piece of evidence to back up this latter story is an unusual cut stone lying on the top of the hill. This piece of limestone is about 60 cm long, 20 cm wide and 20 cm high. There are deep grooves running around it, like friction marks made by ropes. In fact it is very similar to a block of limestone which is part of the 2000 year old well in the old city of Samhuram.

From an examination of Portuguese policies, fortresses were generally built on the coast in order to maintain their trading routes. If it were a Portuguese enclave, how did they manage to keep their forces fed and watered in such a remote area with hostile inhabitants all around them?

Other Dhofaris connect the ruins to the Al-Manjuwi Dynasty. Al-Manjuwis originated, according to some, in Al-Qashar (hence, Qasbar Fort) in Iran, or to others, in Yemen. The ruins are sometimes referred to as Qasrul Banat (Girls’ Palace) or Qasra Assadeen (Prisoners’ Palace).

An alternative dating is that of Yuris Zarins who, without excavating it, tentatively dated it to the same era as Samhuram and the nearby Hamran Fort (less than 5 km to the south-west). Both of these were occupied between 1600 and 2400 years ago. Another member of Zarins’ team at that time (in 1992) stated: “Since any occupants … could observe much of the Plain of Salalah including … Taqah …, it was reasonable to deduce that this was a mountain garrison from which the incense trade was policed. If so, and should these ruins tie in time-wise with the pre-Islamic city of Samhuram, then we could draw a theoretical line over the mountains towards Andhur and the only other known frankincense storage centre, Hanun. No invaders from the sea could head inland for either of these key storage sites without being spotted from this key vantage point.”(Fiennes pp.135,136)

In one of the wadis adjacent to Qasbar are numbers of rock drawings and paintings – see Jan Schreurs’ blog for details.

References

Fiennes, Ranulph. 1992. Atlantis of the Sands, The Search for the Lost City of Ubar. Bloomsbury Publishing: London.

Above article Copyright © Ross Hayden 2010

Khamis the Sailor of Auqad (Awqad) – Salalah, Dhofar (Oman)

Ruins of Khamis's Palace, Salalah

In 1930, Bertram Thomas (Wazir to Sultan Taimur bin Faisal of Oman) visited Salalah and referred to a number of personalities of the day who had gathered in a large house in central Salalah in his honour. On one occasion I mentioned to a close friend from Salalah about the book by Thomas. He said he had read the Arabic translation of it but hadn’t seen the English version. I showed him my copy, especially the part where he referred to well-known men from Salalah Thomas had met. My friend was very interested in this piece of local history and asked me to photocopy the relevant pages so that he could go through them with his father. A few days later after he had showed them to his father, he excitedly phoned me and said he had some news. I couldn’t wait to meet him!

My friend was particularly interested in a person whom Thomas refers to as “A sailor, one Khamis of Auqad”.

“How many Khamises were there in Awqad in your father’s time?” he had asked his father.

“Only one. Why?”, his father replied.

“I’ve been reading a book about an Englishman who visited Salalah in 1930. He refers to a sailor called Khamis of Awqad.”

“That’s your grandfather,” his father said.

“What?” my friend exclaimed, “but I thought he was a trader.”

“Well, he was, but before that, he was a sailor. He visited India and some other countries.”

My friend was flabbergasted by this revelation. It confirmed that the Khamis mentioned by Bertram Thomas was, in fact, his grandfather. Reading on…

“Khamis, a free man, yet was the father of a slave-born child, for he had taken to wife another’s slave woman, so by local canons the child belonged to her owner. The three  hundred dollars he had paid for the woman was the price of her hand, not of her freedom, and he was now engaged in paying a further five hundred dollars to her master, to buy the freedom of his own offspring.” [from Thomas, B. S. (1932). Arabia Felix: Across the Empty Quarter of Arabia. Jonathan Cape: London. Page 19]

Again the facts were accurate. Exactly the same information, including the amount paid, had been handed down to my friend by his grandmother, confirming Thomas’ reliability as a biographer.

What’s the meaning of this Dhofar cave painting?

Throughout Dhofar are hundreds of caves decorated with ancient cave paintings. Colours commonly used are black and red, but green is occasionally found. Some paintings seem like doodles; while others tell a story from long ago…

Dhofar Oman Cave Painting #01616 © Ross Hayden

Dhofar Oman Cave Painting #01613 © Ross Hayden

Dhofar Oman Cave Painting #01627 © Ross Hayden

The photographs here of this cave painting in the Dhofar Mountains in southern Arabia seem to tell a story. What it looks like is a caravan of laden camels being raided. We see men on horseback with swords and shields. There’s one man upside down falling to the ground. At the bottom of the painting is what looks like a tally – maybe they counted the cost of camels lost or men killed in the raid.

Any suggestions? Any other story this painting might tell?