Time Flies

Its been a jam packed few weeks. We journeyed to the beautiful city of Nizwa, where we explored even more forts, went to a renowned souq full of pottery and khanjars (Omani daggers), and explored a small village built around the irrigation systems.

At the Souq in Nizwa

This past weekend, I spent in Salalah with Lili and Liv, and a handful of other groups of students from our program. Salalah is in the south of Oman, a chilly 12 hour overnight bus ride away from Muscat. Salalah is widely considered to be one of the most beautiful destinations in Oman. The weather is significantly colder, somewhere in the 70s, and is misty, foggy, and Mashallah, GREEN. The beaches are unsafe, as the waves are ferocious at this time of the year, but beautiful nonetheless. I tend to feel at home whenever I find myself on the beach, even when halfway across the world.

Fruit Stalls in Salalah

The culture of Salalah differs from that of Muscat. In Salalah, while almost the entire female population was covered, and many more cover their faces as well, the women were out and about, milling through the souq, along the beach, walking the streets. In Muscat, women tend to stay indoors, and while this is partially due to the weather, it doesn’t stop the men from venturing out.

Two surprises (in the sense that I didn’t think these were possible) were that the people were even friendlier and we got even more attention. There is not a significant expat population in Salalah like there is in Muscat, and so barley a person walked or drove by us, without staring, and the cat calls and such were unceasing. The people were incredibly friendly however in our interactions, and we were amazed at the ease with which we found ourselves in conversations with locals. Also, in Muscat, partly due to the expat community, English is much more widespread. Often, people constantly insist on speaking to us in english, even if we repeatedly reply in Arabic. In Salalah, we were able to naturally chatter away with locals in Arabic. We also barely had to negotiate at the souq or with taxi drivers. They didn’t jack up the prices exponentially for foreigners as they do in Muscat. They would offer us relatively reasonable, but still negotiable prices, from the beginning. I am sure that our ability to communicate in Arabic helped.

Frankincense (below) and frankincense burners (above)

Another note on the appearance of women in Salalah. In the Middle East, there is a market for facial creams that make a woman’s skin lighter, or rather, whiter. In Salalah, it was much more common to see women whose faces were washed out and clearly had used some cream of this sort. The style of drawing in distinct, dramatic, black eyebrows over one’s eyes was popular as well.

We had a pretty sketchy taxi driver, who tried to offer Liv pills for the “head ache” he seemed to think she had, wanted to pull over at a small shop on a deserted road to enjoy some tea, and offered to take us to the mountains the following day. Chances are, he was just being hospitable, yet it based on our culturally shaped instincts, we were pretty freaked out. In regards to such interactions in Salalah, one of our Omani male friends was distressed. He said he felt so ashamed of his people for treating women like this, for talking to them like this. These instances were rare, not at all usual. However, while in Oman there is more gender segregation, the respect shown towards women is incredible. In Cairo, women are often free to roam the streets and have a slightly elevated degree of independence, however men take to constantly harassing women in the streets, without provocation, no matter how conservatively she is dressed. In Oman, women are shown the utmost respect, such behavior isn’t tolerated. While men will occasionally push the limits with foreign women, as a general rule, men are very respectful.

A concert showcasing traditional dance styles,
which we stumbled upon while exploring Salalah

Recently, I have had more encounters with men regarding me and any friends inappropriately. Another taxi driver asked Liv and I if we would marry him, and later if we liked to drink alcohol (remember alcohol is forbidden in Muslim law). In the airport in Salalah, two men asked us all about our program, and then asked if they could see us and spend time with us in Muscat (both were at least 45 years old). I had assumed that as we assimilated into the culture, as our arabic improved, as we navigated Oman with more assurance, we would be respected more. Rather, it seems, that such confidence makes us seem more approachable, and thus it has brought on more inappropriate attention.

As I said before, there is this assumption that Western women are easy. And with this in mind, it is absolutely sickening when we are treated in such a way.

On a lighter note, I picked up a copy of Cosmo’s Middle East edition. As you would imagine, the magazine is radically different. The fashion, beauty etc. articles are similar, although middle eastern readers stories are included in the “Your Juiciest Secrets” section (about as juicy as Seventeen magazine would get, not quite classic Cosmo), and middle eastern women and their feedback are featured throughout the magazine.

One of my favorite quotes (on interviewing men): “One guy takes a shirtless shower. And we were there with the camera!” (Shirtless? In the shower? Whaaaaat? Men baring their chests for Cosmo, SCANDAL).

It gets pretty racy in the “Love and Lust” section, where the following topics are addressed: how to make your man commit, what type of girlfriend are you?, petty fights, and.... “His 9pm Cravings”- such as “low-key physical attention” and a “great scalp massage.”

And tips for achieving pleasure? wearing “happy” colors, listening to uplifting songs such as “Don’t Stop Believing,” massaging a pressure point in the center of your hand, and hugging your friends more frequently.

I couldn’t find the word sex once. Well played Cosmo, keeping it munasib.

Women are essentially dirty

Especially when being, you know, especially biologically women-y, and all that dirty stuff. In fact, women aren’t even supposed to pray to Allah, or touch the Quran, during those times. Or shortly after pregnancy for that matter. They are just dirty. Despite the daily (five-times-a-day-DAILY) ritual of washing your hands, mouth, nose, face, right forearm, left forearm, head, ears, right leg, and left leg, three times each, women, at the end of the day, are just too dirty sometimes to connect to Allah.

A small group of students and I visited the Grand Mosque on Sunday. Sunday afternoons we meet for “Interest Groups,” (I’m in the religion themed group), in which we discuss various aspects of the broader topic with a local expert or leader in the field. We discussed prayer in depth this week. The Sheikh brought us to his office where he served us dates and coffee, before we entered the information center, where books and pamphlets on topics ranging from “Women in Islam” to the “Jihad” were available in a wide variety of languages. 

We learned the motions and regulations of prayer, and discussed the greater symbolism behind a number of the actions.

For example, while Muslims have a prayer shortly before sunrise, they are not supposed to pray during sunrise, as that is when Satan’s followers are believed to be praying. 

While traveling, Muslims can combine the noon and afternoon prayers, and the sunset and night prayers. 

Men should grow beards for a number of reasons. One, is to imitate the prophets. Another, is to distinguish oneself as a man. Actually, if women have facial hair, they are obligated to remove it, so that they don’t resemble a man.

(Side note- while the Sheikh is certainly respected in Muscat and is an incredibly well versed and intelligent Islamic scholar, I don’t know whether the last part is just one interpretation, or if it is largely respected)

It’s time. Let’s do it. Let’s begin the discussion on women.

I’ve been so good. I’ve been so open and accepting, and even defensive, of the role of women in Oman. I have focused on the historical bases of today’s gender segregation. I have strived to maintain a sense of cultural relativism, and not pass judgement.

Sometimes, it feels like absolute rubbish.

Just because women were taken as hostages in tribal warfare hundreds of years ago, doesn’t mean a women should have to cover herself, don all black, and refrain from engaging in platonic relationships with men. 

This isn’t by any means a cultural comparison between Oman and the U.S, (Allah knows gender equality hasn’t been reached in the U.S. either). Women are men are biologically different. And with the exception of one or two secluded, small, indigenous cultures that anthropologists love to point to, women and men have played distinct roles in nearly every human culture. That may explain, but it certainly doesn’t justify inequality.

Sometimes I want Omani women to want more for themselves. 

They are educated through high school, and many go to universities as well. We’ve been taught that with education comes enlightenment and empowerment. Yet while Omani women are participating more in their societies, specifically in women only domains, and while they are certainly respected, its hard for me to not understand female empowerment in an American way. I’m doing my best to shed that ethnocentrism. Growing up in the society I did, I have difficulty reconciling gender segregation with any degree of gender equality. Especially when I see men doing so many things that women can’t. Men playing endless hours of soccer, men constantly going out- whether it be to sporting events, restaurants, or cafes- men being able to comfortably roam the public sphere. 

Yet Omanis on the whole, seem content with their lifestyle. Of course, the keyword here could be “seem.” And there are exceptions. There are some (although relatively rare) Omani women, who don’t cover their hair. I have a friend who refrained from covering till sixteen, till her dad forced it upon her, and who refrained from wearing an abaya till she was eighteen. She is vibrant and curious and daring; she loves to belly dance and swim, and when comfortable, will joke around with some of her male peers- that is, once you get past her conservative and shy exterior. For the most part however, there is minimal resistance to the way things are. And I’m learning, but it’s hard. I’m learning to realize that what is right for me, within my culture, isn’t right for everyone. Not everyone wants what I want. This lifestyle works for Omanis, they are a pleasant and generous population, and if this works for them, if this is what they want, then who am I to tell them what is best for them. 

In other news, we grilled hamburgers and (chicken) hot dogs in honor of fourth of july! Our fireworks will be a little belated, we’ll just have to wait for the Omani National Day, coming later this month. 

Rasha (Left) with a number of cousins and siblings

This weekend, Rasha invited a number of us to her village. Lili, Liv, Shannon, Brett, Greg, Travis, and I joined her. Rasha lives in Ibry, which is an inland city, about an hour from the border of the Emirates. Rasha said we would be taking a bus. The system is a little different here though. Taking a bus is like commissioning a big taxi. The driver of a van, with four rows of seats, drove us the 2 1/2 hours to Ibry, and picked us up the following evening. Side note- gas is incredibly cheap here (think Middle East). A liter is .114 rials, which is about $1.12 per gallon. 

Upon arriving at Rasha’s village, we met a whole slew of her extended family members. We were immediately served coffee, dates, and fruit, and then spent some time with the family. For dinner, we drove out to a deserted area, spread out a mat about the size of a small room, and had a picnic. While we were expecting to stay at their house, her father put us up in a hotel room (girls and guys together, sccccccandal!)

In the morning, her father picked us up (while Rasha continued to sleep), and brought us to an animal souq, were cows and camels, but primarily goats, were being auctioned off. There were a number of women at the souq as well; almost all were entirely covered. We then visited the Ibry Castle, which resembled the forts of Nakhl and Muscat, and Rasha’s father toured around different parts of the city, as if we were his personal guests, not merely friends of Rasha. 

Beehive Tombs at Bat

After breakfast, we embarked with the family (women in one car, men in another), to the city of Bat, in order to see the ancient beehive tombs, dating back to 3000 BC (It is in fact a UNESCO World Heritage Site). I’ve noticed in Oman, that even gorgeous, National Geographic status, famous natural or historical sites, are very unregulated. Whereas there would be security checkpoint entrances, guards milling about, areas fenced off, etc. in the States, such things are left to themselves here. There was merely a sign saying not to harm the tombs. 

 We then stopped at a mosque, for noon prayers, and to use the restroom. For Omanis, a mosque is a mosque. While Omanis tend to go to the same mosques regularly, out of convenience, they will use any mosque. If it’s prayer time, they will just pull over to a mosque on the side of the road to pray. 

We later visited a smaller wadi, ate lunch (at 4pm, much to the dismay of our stomachs), and then we bussed it back to Muscat. 

Jumbo Trip

This weekend we endeavored upon a three-day escapade around Eastern Oman. (Heads up, this post is primarily just a play by play of this weekends adventure)

View from Jebel Akdar

Thursday morning, we clambered into 4 wheel drive vehicles. Each vehicle was driven by a guide from a tour group, and there were staff members and teachers from the World Learning Center in each car as well. Also, a number of the Omani peer facilitators joined us. First stop was Jebel Akdar. Jebel Akdar is the highest mountain in Oman. We made a number of stops along the way, to appreciate the view, take pictures, and once even to explore the village of Ayn. Ayn is a mountainous village, built around a natural spring. When Sultan Qaboos first came into power, and declared that he would educate the population, students were helicoptered weekly from these mountainous villages to attend school.

For lunch, we ate at an Omani restaurant, where we were split into groups of about eight (one gender only), into stalls to enjoy rice, chicken, and lamb.

We drove several hours, stopping only to glimpse the ruins of the old portion of the city of Ibra, to a mechanic’s shop on the edge of the desert, where air was released from the tires. We then headed into the desert, 4 wheel driving over sand dunes, driving by camels, freely meandering. Our car was driven by the leader of the expedition, and thus he took extra liberties and drove even more audaciously than his colleagues. We stopped for a bit to play in the sand, before heading to our campsite. The campsite was comprised of huts, resembling small cabins, and was run by a Bedouin family. We drank extra sugary tea and Omani coffee, along with camel’s milk. We sang, drummed, and clapped to Omani songs with our peer facilitators, before eating buffet style with kabobs and rices, chicken and fruit. Later that night, as my roommates Liv, Julie, Lili, and I chatted by lantern light, a number of our friends piled in a few at a time, and we had a solid few hours of girls’ time.

My peer facilitator, Rasha

I barely slept that night. It was so hot without air conditioning, that even without covers, stripped to the basics, I kept awakening, sweaty, and from weird dreams about Yemen invading Oman, (don’t worry I’m not clairvoyant) and trying to negotiate with Yemeni soldiers in Arabic.
Lili, Liv, Julie, and I woke at 5 to watch the sunrise. We thought we were about to miss it, so we sprinted (or as much as was possible) up the dunes, as the campsite was in a valley of sorts. We eventually watched the sunrise over the dunes (there wasn’t exactly a horizon, the dunes went on for days). Then, we enjoyed a scrumptious breakfast, showered, etc. in our open air bathrooms, and ... RODE CAMELS. I was in the first round of camel riders, (I was a little too effusive about it), and me and Lili’s camel were besties. He kept nuzzling me as we trotted along. Afterwards, we packed up, and drove to visit the home of another Bedouin family, where they discussed their customs and migration patterns, and sold us their traditional goods.

Riding camels!

Before continuing on to the town of “Al-Sur,” our driver decided to do a little showing off. Having all nine other cars lined up as an audience, he drove up a massive dune, and went mad at the wheel. He made 360 degree turns in seconds, drove/flew over hills and dips in the sand, and as we raced parallel to the ground, we were simultaneously sliding down. We then ghost rode down the hill, with him standing out the door, merely maneuvering the wheel with his toes. If he hadn’t informed us he had been doing such tours for 14 years, we would’ve been scared for our lives, but rather, it was a thrill.

Sand Clouding Our Windows, while 4 Wheel Driving

We had lunch in Al-Sur, and then arrived at our lodgings for the night, a resort in “Raas Al-Hud,” which is the first place the sunrises in the Middle East (although unfortunately the next morning was overcast). We had several hours to frolick in the Indian Ocean, collect shells, and relax. After dinner, we visited a major turtle reserve, where we were able to see (very sneakily of course), massive green turtles laying eggs. They generally lay hundreds of eggs each time they nest, yet only one or two will survive. We also got to see a baby turtle, about two by three inches big, scuttling to the ocean.

Our Lodgings in Ras Al Hud!

Saturday morning, we drove to Wadi Sham. A wadi is essentially a river bed. Wadi Sham connects directly to the ocean, and while parts of it are dry on the surface of the ground, beautiful pools pop up as you go along. The water in the wadi was the color of the ocean, if all the sand, seaweed, and all that discolor it were removed. It was a pure turquoise.

Walking along the Wadi

We hiked, climbed, and trekked for approximately an hour, in a towering canyon, along the wadi’s path. There was a portion of the wadi where fresh water was available. The water tasted as thought it was straight out of the bottle- significantly better than tap, and perfectly natural! When we arrived at our destination, we swam for a bit, and then a group of us continued on to the farthest accessible point of the wadi. At the end, there was a massive cave, upwards of twenty feet tall inside, accessible only by a thin entrance, that we had to slide sideways along to enter. Light was able to peak through in a few small openings along the top of the cave, and it was possible to climb up on one side, and slide down back into the water. After spending an hour there, we trekked back to the entrance of the wadi, picnicked by the cars, and drove the 100 something kilometers back to Muscat.

Wadi Sham