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

]]> http://rosmee.wordpress.com/2011/11/09/sunset-at-salalah-poem-dhofar-oman/feed/ 0 KiwiOman http://rosmee.wordpress.com/2011/11/01/hasik-beach-in-days-of-yore/ http://rosmee.wordpress.com/2011/11/01/hasik-beach-in-days-of-yore/#comments Tue, 01 Nov 2011 07:34:50 +0000 KiwiOman http://rosmee.wordpress.com/?p=640 ]]> 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

Cave painting depicting camels and other animals (Wadi Darbat)

Off to the caves we go, we go
Not a care in the world do we have, we have
Following a map to the caves, oh
Oh, following a map to the caves!

These are the caves with camels, with camels
Drawn all over their walls, their walls
Figures on camels and camels and figures
Drawn all over the walls.

Walking thru the grass, the grass
Occasionally swishing it with m’ cane, m’ cane
Deep in talk talk talk
With Ibrahim following behind.

Wadi Darbat during khareef (monsoon)

Looking straight ahead
Not focussing on anything in particular
Suddenly see the end of a long black thing
Crossing my path just in front of my foot.

Look to what is in front of it -
See an equally black much longer
Connected bit
With a black head attached!

I stop and back up in alarm.
It stops and rears up in alarm,
Then proceeds on its way
Heading for the nearest bushes.

A little later, walking back
From the caves to the car
Again thru longish grass
Again thru longish grass.

Think we should head
For the well-worn cow-track
- safer than walking thru the grass
Start to think of snakes again!

Then… “AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH”,
Scream I to Ibrahim.
He thinks I am teasing about snakes
But NO WAY! NOT! IT’S FOR REAL!!!!!!!!!

There in front is a bronzy-black, threatening head
Hood spread wide,
Head swaying from side to side
Ready to strike something, someone, ME — dead!!!!!!!

My scream wakes me up.
I hover in indecision for a moment.
Will my movement cause it to strike?
We have to get out of here ASAP or else!!!

It’s much more heavily armed than me
I only have a light walking cane
Speed and experience are on its side
In-built speakers blare, “GET OUT OF HERE!!!”

Extremely hastily I run backwards
My eyes still staring
Straight in front of me
At the waving snake.

I know it’s time
For me to leave the scene
- voluntarily
Not taken from it in a body-bag!

Wadi Darbat through vine-wrapped forest

At a safe distance I stop
I must get a photo this time
Whipping out my camera
Gingerly I race after the retreating cobra.

But all too quickly it vanishes
Into the thicker grass
I’m too scared (wise?)
To follow any further.

So, exhilarated and cautioned
By our exciting experiences
We very quickly find
The well-beaten cow-track, cow-track.

Then slowly we wander
Our way back to the car
Every few minutes telling each other
Some new facet of feelings and fears

On the snaky experiences
Punctuated by bismillahs,
Salamaats and other protective
Or thankful utterances!

Talk too of throwing a party
Killing a cow or two
To show our thankfulness
For being spared to live another day or two? or three?

Pass a few men drinking tea
Alongside their pickup
Under the shade of a tree
And recount our story to them, to them

“Why didn’t you kill it?”,
One big brave-looking fellow asks.
“It’s head was as big as yours!”,
Ibrahim replies.

His brave heart falters
His big mouth wavers
With an at-the-ready reply
Then snaps shut! Khlas!

Heading for home by car
Others also have the chance
To hear of our little adventure:
Again, more salamaats are freely dispensed.

Finally I drop off Ibrahim
Safely at his home
Then safely deliver myself home
Al-hamdulilah salamaat! Salamaat!

P. R. Hayden, Salalah © 1998

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.

….

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!

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

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

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!

Frankincense trees (Dhofar)

AD. During this period the Roman Empire had a great demand for the precious gum. Classical authors say that there was a gold drain on their economy in the eastern empire such was the demand for it. Strabo says that sometimes there were caravans of 2000 camels at one time although it is not known whether such large caravans travelled from Dhofar or from present-day Yemen (1).

Wendell Phillips wrote about frankincense in the 1950s and 60s: ”The ancient kings of Hadramaut had to secure Andhur Oasis to control the vital frankincense trade; the fortress on the ridge was designed to accomplish this objective. Even today (1960) camel trails can be seen leading out to the north-west in the direction of Shisr; another route leads west-south-west to the post of Hanun, where the frankincense collection centre described above was partially cleared… Mirbat is only 40 miles due south of Andhur Oasis, but a direct route is rendered impossible by the precipitous southern face of the intervening Jabal Samhan…” (2). Some Mahra interviewed by him stated that it took 3 or 4 days’ camel journey to reach Salalah from Andhur.

I dispute Philips saying that there was no direct route down Jebel Samhan to Mirbat. In 1999 three Dhofari friends and I walked along the top of the escarpment east of Mirbat until we reached Wadi Kharis (about 1700 m.). This deep valley runs north south and eventually leads to Wadi Andhur 40 km to the north. However, we descended the cliff face along an old narrow camel track and came out at Sawb on the plains near Jufa. This is one of the few places where it’s possible to come down the cliff between Mirbat and Hadbeen.

Traditional Dhofari culture - burning frankincense

Frankincense was exported from ports along the Dhofar coast up until the 1950s. Of course frankincense is still exported today although in much smaller quantities. Frankincense harvested from the eastern Dhofar mountains — that is the mountains above Mirbat, also known as Solot — was transported by camel to Mirbat and further to the north-east, Hasik. In December 1894 Theodore Bent and his travelling party journeyed from Mirbat to Al-Haffa by baggala – an Arab sailing ship – which was carrying a ‘large cargo’ of frankincense for Bombay. The 40 mile journey from Mirbat to Al-Haffa took them two days because of opposing winds. However Bent comments that one of the songs the sailors sang was about frankincense (3).

References

^{(1) Nigel Broom, “Frankincense and Myrrh”.}

(2) Wendell Phillips, “Unknown Oman”, p.201

^{(3) Theodore Bent, “Exploration of the Frankincense country of southern Arabia” (1900), p.233}

أَفْكَارَ سَلاَمٍ لاَ شَرّ