Things are OK

Published June 18, 2013 - Muscat Daily. Click here to view the column on their website.

The title of this column may sound a little strange, but it’s actually the official name of an informal event that took place in Salalah’s largest ballroom last Friday night with none other than H E Yousuf bin Alawi bin Abdullah, Oman’s Minister Responsible for Foreign Affairs.

The aim of the meeting was to invite young people in Dhofar to meet with His Excellency in an informal setting as part of the National Youth Commission’s efforts to address youth issues in Oman. Naturally, word got around quickly in Dhofar about his visit so hundreds flocked to the meeting from all corners of Dhofar. I arrived an hour early and the venue was already filling up.

By the time His Excellency arrived, the room was so full that there were dozens of young men standing along the walls eager to listen to the discussion. I refer to men here because out of the 500 or so people who attended, unfortunately no more than a dozen were women.

The efficient moderator ensured that no time was wasted on introductions or flowery language. His Excellency was eager to start receiving questions from the audience. Over the course of five hours, questions concerning everything from Oman’s relationship with Iran to our Bedouin persona non grata were thrown his way.

An experienced diplomat and politician, he skillfully continued answering nearly every question into the wee hours of the morning. Two huge monitors in the room were broadcasting the live Twitter feed of the event with questions and commentary from people following remotely.

Among the recurring topics was the general discontent with the employment situation for young people in Oman and the rise in cost of living. Other issues covered in the discussion were Oman’s financial situation, speculation about a GCC union, borders with Yemen, Omani embassies around the world, Syria, politics in Dhofar, Iran, education, health, the Arab Spring and even intermarriage!

He pointed out time and time again that the only way Oman is going to move forward in this world is with education, hard work, dedication, and drive. Everyone knows this but it was important for youth to hear it from the one man who truly understands Oman’s position in this world. I was thrilled that he was openly criticising the ‘Omani productivity issue’ which translates into many Omanis still expecting to be spoon-fed by the government. One of his classic quotes during the evening was ‘Money that didn’t come from sweat will not last’.

Naturally, the night was not free of heated debates on sensitive topics that are often kept to private discussions behind closed doors. As far as I’m concerned, honest discussion of difficult topics is extremely healthy if we are to progress as a nation. During the Arab Spring, there was an explosion of free debate on the political situation in Oman and the region. This was followed by a major clampdown on free speech a year ago exactly which has caused general bitterness among writers, bloggers, journalists and activists in Oman.

As a young Omani woman who cares deeply for her country, I choose to be more optimistic. His Excellency’s visit was extremely important to our region and our youth. Although Oman is a relatively small country, officials don’t tend to mingle with the people very much. It’s not part of our leadership culture. The country’s top officials rarely make speeches or directly communicate with locals in public.

Despite the fact that His Excellency has been Minister Responsible for Foreign Affairs for over four decades, I have never seen an interview with him nor heard him speak in public or on television. All I know is that he has done a remarkable job of maintaining Oman’s positive foreign relations and following His Majesty Sultan Qaboos bin Said’s simple foreign policy ‘Oman shall not have an enemy on the face of the Earth’.

Overall, the event was a positive step taken by one of Oman’s top leaders to ensure more honest communication takes place between Omani youth and their government. After the youth-dominated nationwide sit-ins and protests since 2011 in particular, I’m hoping our officials begin to see that the only way forward is transparency.

On a final note, there has been a lot of speculation this week in Dhofar on whether other key officials in Oman are going to step forward and make themselves available for similar unfiltered discussions around Oman. Once we move away from a culture of finger-pointing and blaming to a culture of cooperation and productivity, it will be safe to say that things are OK!

Salalah Musings

Published May 7, 2013 - Muscat Daily. Click here to view the column on the newspaper's website.

As we struggle to recover from nationwide jetlag (my sister’s words, not mine) caused by the new weekend, many of us in the south are still scratching our heads trying to figure out how to plan our days from now on.

Dhofaris are huffing and puffing about the local wedding schedule. In a tightly-knit tribal region like Dhofar, weddings are a big deal and they almost always happen on Thursday. Now that Thursday is a working day, Friday is a holy day, and Saturday is an early night, when are we supposed to have our weddings which go on till three o'clock in the morning?

Some furious locals solemnly swear they'll continue to have their weddings on Thursday and simply skip work. In fact, one of my relatives is getting married this month on a Thursday and they’ve decided to just go ahead with the wedding and pretend that it’s still a weekend.

As simple as it may sound, I highly doubt it will work out that way in the long run. Then again, when will we do our banking? Do we really want to run errands on Saturday? Will businesses remain closed on Friday? What about businesses that work six days a week? Will they close on Friday and open on Saturday?

In all cases, Dhofaris bid farewell to the last Thursday this past weekend with a full-fledged madar (traditional celebratory dance) on Haffa Beach at midnight. Apparently, it was quite a sight.

Meanwhile, in case anyone has been following the land drama down south, 16 locals who spent a week behind bars over a controversial tribal land dispute involving a water well and the planned medical city project are free at last as of last Wednesday. Tribal politics in Dhofar are something that cannot be explained in a book let alone a column, so I’ll leave it at that.

On the topic of tribes and land, last month I randomly attended a rally in Canada to support Canadian First Nation peoples in their battle for land and respect for their languages and heritage. It was an eye-opening experience for me to mingle with native tribes. To be honest, I found many similarities between those proud Canadian natives and the mountain tribes in Dhofar. Strange but true! If you’re interested in learning about the Canadian crisis, look up the Idle No More movement.

Other controversies this week in Salalah include baby sharks being sold at our local hypermarket, and an eyebrow-raising campaign infiltrating the school system encouraging high school girls to sign an oath of modesty. I’m all for modesty, but one of the posters of the campaign shows a figure dressed in black from head to toe (including full face, hands, and feet!) with the caption that said something to the effect of ‘modest queen’. I’m yet to become aware of a religious text that claims women must dress in black tents from head to toe in order to become more pious.

And finally, Salalah is busy this week with Oman’s first pantomime festival. Believe it or not, there’s a very active male-dominated underground theatre scene here in the south. Most theatre groups put on their popular plays in the monsoon during the Salalah Tourism Festival when the city is bustling with tourists. Speaking of monsoon and tourism, the Dhofar Municipality had better announce festival dates. Monsoon is six weeks away!

PS (I am drowning in post-grad assignments, hence the 'light' column).

The Cousin Debate

Published April 23, 2013 - Muscat Daily newspaper. Click here to view the article.

Earlier this week during a brief jaunt to Muscat, I picked up some trousseau items for a young friend of mine who will be marrying her first cousin in a few weeks. Naturally the marriage is arranged, as is the case with most marriages at this end of the country.

Although he is her first cousin, she barely knows him. He approached her father for her hand in marriage and given the family connections, the father felt obliged to agree to his nephew’s proposal. The marriage was settled, a dowry was paid, and a wedding date was set. She was given ten weeks’ notice to get ready.

Like any good Dhofari bride, she will be so busy preparing for the wedding day that she won’t have time to think about what her future will look like with this man. She knows that she will be moving into a bedroom suite in her relative in-laws’ house. As for the groom, she may hit the jackpot and end up with a very nice guy who will encourage her to pursue an education or - heaven forbid - a career!

Most likely however, she will end up with a man who will get her pregnant immediately and then she will have no choice but to stay at home and be a good wife regardless of whether their relationship works out or not. If she were ever to consider a divorce, the entire family will pressure her to drop the idea.

If she insists, her father will probably swear that he will divorce her mother. The poor bride will end up being forced to remain silent and obedient.

Cases like this happen regularly in Dhofar. Not only are a large percentage of marriages arranged, but they are almost all between first, second, and third cousins. This tradition of inter-breeding goes back hundreds of years and is protected fiercely by the conservative south.

A few years ago a colleague of mine almost married a man from a different tribe. After the engagement, one of her cousins stepped in and swore she would not marry the man. He slaughtered a cow as a symbol of his determination to stop the marriage, and the poor girl’s engagement had to be cancelled because her cousin’s wishes had to be respected. As ridiculous and medieval as this may seem, the practice is very much alive in Dhofar.

Almost everyone in my immediate and extended family is married to a cousin. In fact, if I were to list the number of relatives who have approached me for my not-so-delicate hand in marriage, you would be baffled. At age 15, the first of the relatives came knocking at our door. The argument went along the lines of ‘You’re a treasure that must be kept within the tribe to protect you and keep the blood pure’. Treasure? Tribe? Blood? I’d almost forgotten we were living in the 21st century.

Rest assured that I do not intend to mock our way of life here in Dhofar, but I am concerned that this out-dated tradition may not be appropriate anymore. Not only does it complicate the idea of choosing one’s marriage partner for young people, but genetic and blood disorders are rampant in Oman. In fact, according to data published by the Ministry of Health almost 60 per cent of Omanis carry genes of inherited blood disorders. If this isn’t enough to put you off inter-marriage, then I don’t know what is.

The reasons behind the prevalence of inter-breeding in the south of Oman are purely tribal. Because Dhofar is a patriarchal tribal society, there is an obsession with keeping tribal blood pure and strong. Furthermore, some research has shown that inter-breeding can lead to higher fertility rates. Marrying cousins is also cheaper because dowries are lower, requirements are fewer, and the girl can easily move into her uncle’s house and get along with her in-laws.

If it were up to me, I’d ban cousin-marriage altogether. However, I would say a more logical and fair solution would be to enforce pre-marital genetic screening for relatives. Your thoughts?

Not Eating Out in Salalah

Published April 9, 2013 - Muscat Daily. Click here to view the column on their website.

Most of March for me was spent at a snowy human rights retreat. The experience was so intense and stimulating that I had no time whatsoever to keep up with what was going on in Oman. I usually monitor Twitter, Facebook, local news forums, and all Google alerts concerning Oman and Dhofar in particular. Upon my return to hot and humid Salalah a few days ago, I asked everyone ‘So what’s the news?’ The recurring answer was ‘McDonald’s opened’.

Before the new Omani weekend announcement bomb that was dropped on us earlier this week, McDonald’s had managed to pop up in almost every conversation.

Personally, I was put off McDonald’s by a road trip my family took through rural USA 14 years ago where we ended up eating Big Mac meals at least twice a day to keep my then-seven year old brother happy, and because there really wasn’t much else to eat where we were (look up Mayfield, Kentucky if you really must know). A few years later the documentary Super-Size Me almost put me off fast food for good. You should watch it.

As many parts of the world move away from fast food due to better health awareness, why was the opening of McDonald’s in Salalah such a big deal? Thousands flocked to get their burger fix in the first couple of days causing major traffic jams, and even a local traditional music troupe were brought in to celebrate the opening.

In other words, the opening of McDonald’s in Salalah was major local news. My brother spent one and a half hours in line to get his a burger and sundae for old times’ sake.

Many locals have referred to McDonald’s as upscale, modern and clean. I’m not entirely sure about upscale but it definitely scores on cleanliness front compared to most restaurants in this town.

With its cheap prices, friendly staff, tasty fast food, and quick service, McDonald’s is a slap in the face to 90 per cent of restaurants in Dhofar.

I asked family and friends this week to describe the restaurant scene in Salalah in one word. Answers ranged from ‘non-existent’, ‘cheap’, ‘dirty’, and ‘greasy’ to ‘pitiful’. Unfortunately, I tend to agree.

To be fair we do have a handful of Lebanese, Turkish, Indian and Chinese restaurants that serve decent food. Seating in these restaurants is below standard because the culture of ‘dining out’ hasn’t really reached Salalah yet.

Restaurants in Salalah generally refer to the hole-in-the-wall places where you drive up, honk your horn obnoxiously, shout your order to the poor Asian worker who functions as chef, waiter, and cleaner, then drive off with cheap Styrofoam packaged junk food and try not to think about the possibility of spiders crawling out of your sandwiches (been there, done that).

A little over a year ago an incredible independent Thai eatery opened up in one of the local banana farms. At the time, I thought to myself ‘At last! A decent restaurant! Something different!’ To my utter dismay and for reasons beyond their control, the owners are closing down the restaurant this week. And we’re back to square one….

With the government investing so much in tourism in the south of Oman, it baffles me why so little attention has been given to developing the restaurant-scene. The only fine dining options in Salalah are at the two five-star hotels. There’s nowhere really to have a coffee with friends.

Female-friendly options are very limited. The beach stretch in town is lined with male-dominated hookah joints when it should have at least a couple of decent cafés that actually serve coffee. When contemplating eating out, my friends and I usually end up on the beach with a bag of shawarmas. What other options do we have?

Two Years Later

Published February 26, 2013 - Muscat Daily

February 25 marked the second anniversary of the eruption of Arab Spring protests in Dhofar, the southern region of Oman. Protests in Muscat, Sohar, and other areas of Oman started earlier, and by the end of the first quarter of 2011 almost every major town in Oman witnessed some form of demonstration or peaceful sit-in.

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Compared to other Arab Spring countries, the Omani protesters had no interest in bringing down a regime. Their main concerns revolved around creating jobs, higher minimum wage, and better living conditions. Other demands included more freedom of speech, less government control over the media, political reforms and the removal of several key government officials.

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Unlike other countries, authorities' initial reaction to the protests was to quietly receive the written demands, study them, and initiate immediate changes. Within weeks the cabinet of ministers was reshuffled, ministries were dissolved, several key officials were fired, 50,000 jobs were created, minimum wage increased, new legislative powers were granted to our version of parliament, and other major changes took place.

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These instant reforms may not have solved the real underlying issues but they were a smart and quick solution to maintaining some form of stability within Oman as regimes collapsed around us and violent protests swept through the Arab world. The Omani protests continued for about four months.

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Despite the quiet and peaceful nature of the majority of sit-ins, several of them ended rather violently with an army crackdown. In Dhofar the protests ended abruptly in May 2011 after the army moved in to the main sit-in area and arrested several hundred protesters over a period of two days. Some surrendered peacefully and others who clashed with army officers were subjected to tear gas and batons.

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In Dhofar most of the protesters spent around nine days in prison whereas a handful of the main organisers spent over 50 days behind bars. Similar scenarios took place in other areas of Oman as well.

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Looking back it really is quite remarkable to think that Oman went through a rough patch at all! Those difficult few months aren't really discussed in public anymore. Until 2011 Oman had been viewed internationally as a quiet and peaceful country. In fact, several international newspapers referred to Oman as a 'sleepy' nation.

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Despite having gone back to a perceived semi-sleepy state, don't be fooled. The aftermath of the Arab Spring protests continues to affect Oman. Despite enjoying more freedom of speech after the protests, a major crackdown on bloggers, writers, and activists started last June. Charges included defamation, instigation, spreading of rumours, and lèse majesté . Many of them are currently serving one-year prison sentences, and nearly two dozen went into an organised hunger strike in prison that ended earlier this week.

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Along with many other Omanis, I feel the arrests and exaggerated prison sentences may have come at a wrong time. Our old wounds have not yet healed. Furthermore, these recent events have caught the attention of major international human rights bodies.

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In all cases, today's column isn't about the aftermath. I simply wanted to reflect on the events of 2011. It was an important time in the history of this country. Some remember it as a time of courage whereas others like to pretend it never happened. Some believe the protests were justified, and others feel Omanis were simply demanding more spoon-feeding from our paternalistic government. Some believe the excessive use of power to end the sit-ins was uncalled for, whereas others feel the protests had gone on for too long.

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It was a difficult time for Oman, but nevertheless a learning experience for both authorities and citizens. The quick solutions didn't satisfy everyone. There remain concerns over succession, corruption, legislation and freedom of expression, but those discussions will take place sooner or later. Real change doesn't happen overnight.

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On a final note it is worth pointing out that despite the problems, Omanis remain fiercely loyal to His Majesty Sultan Qaboos bin Said. Even throughout the difficult months of protests, those demanding reform were very careful about criticising our beloved ruler in any way. This key element is what distinguished Oman from other countries that experienced the Arab Spring. With that behind us, what does the future hold?

The Language Crisis

Published February 12, 2013 - Muscat Daily

Recently I was privileged to meet a foreign researcher who was in Salalah to learn the Dhofari mountain language more commonly known as Shahri or Jebbali. Chances are you never knew such a language existed in the south of Oman.

In fact, I’m willing to bet you had no idea that in addition to Arabic, four other languages are spoken in Dhofar. The four unwritten Southern Arabian languages are Shahri (Jebbali), Mehri, Hobyot and Batthari. There has also been debate as to whether a fifth South Arabian language known as Harsusi can be considered a Dhofar-based language.

Contrary to what our ever-so-useful Wikipedia says, general consensus seems to be that Shahri (Jebbali) is spoken by approximately 50,000 or more Dhofaris from mountain tribes as well as a large number of individuals from town tribes. Mahri is also spoken by a decent percentage of the Bedouin population of Dhofar. I apologise if I have confused you with the terms ‘mountain tribes’ or ‘town tribes’. The tribal system in the south of Oman is complex!

As for Hobyot and Batthari, it saddens me to say that fewer than 200 individuals speak these Dhofari languages and they will both become extinct within a generation. Although I have lived in Dhofar my entire life, I have never had the privilege of hearing Hobyot or Batthari being spoken.

Because I come from a mountain tribe, most of my family speak Shahri (Jebbali). I am ashamed to admit that although I understand a lot of it, I do not speak it very well. Many people from mountain tribes who live in the town of Salalah tend to simplify their Jebbali by mixing Jebbali phrases with Arabic words. When I am in town, I understand most of what is being said. The minute I head up into the mountains, the language gets harder and harder to understand.

Although both Mehri and Shahri (Jebbali) are widely spoken at the moment, they are both endangered and will soon become extinct as well. I say this namely because they are both unwritten, and because 90 per cent of all languages in our world are expected to become extinct within the next 100 years. Furthermore, modern life in post-renaissance Oman has forced Dhofaris to speak Arabic every day in addition to English.

Another reason these beautiful South Arabian languages will die quickly is because authorities in Oman have made no efforts to preserve them. Simple as that! I am ashamed to say this, but almost every effort to research and document our dying languages in the past few decades has come from Western researchers.

Many efforts by locals to document and promote these languages have been quietly ignored by authorities, particularly the Jebbali or Shahri language also known as the language of the rebels during the Dhofar Rebellion in the 1960s and 1970s. As you can guess, the language comes with a lot of baggage.

Several years ago a huge controversy took place in Dhofar after a very interesting book was published attempting to study the history and roots of the Shahri (Jebbali) language. In addition to a build-up of other factors, the book’s aftermath led to a governorate-wide controversial debate on the history of the language and what to name it. Without going into too much detail the situation became ugly, several people got arrested, and the book was banned from being published or sold in Oman.

Although the speakers of any unwritten language are mainly responsible for its preservation, I feel it is not enough in Oman. It is my humble opinion that the Omani government should at least openly acknowledge the existence of the nine or so unwritten languages in Oman and support those who speak them to preserve their identity. Our culture lies within the language. Preserving cultural artefacts will never be enough.

I will try to say this as gently as possible and I beg you to try your best not to misunderstand me. Occasionally it feels to me that in an effort to make Oman and Omanis as ‘Omani’ as possible, the powers that be may have intentionally overlooked the importance of the diverse sub-cultures that lie within Oman.

The mountain tribes in the south of Oman with their pride, unique language, beautiful poetry and strong traditions are not something to be weary of. The same goes for Luwati, Mehri, Kumzari, Swahili, Balochi, and all the other beautiful languages spoken within our borders with their fascinating cultures. We should be proud of our unique identities.

Public discussions concerning tribes, languages, and sub-cultures within Oman are not often welcomed by authorities due to historical baggage. I find this very sad and frustrating at times. Omanis are an incredibly diverse population spread out across 309,50sq km.

Nevertheless, we all speak one common language, wear the same clothes, work in the same establishments, pray in the same mosques, receive the same education, cheer for the same soccer team, and are loyal to the same wise leader. Surely this is proof enough that we are able to maintain our own unique cultures while embracing a common Omani identity. In diversity there is unity!

The Issue of FGM in Oman

Published January 1, 2013 - Muscat Daily

A year and a half ago I wrote a column titled ‘Woman with an incense burner’ where I tried as delicately as possible to highlight the issues concerning female genital mutilation (FGM) in Oman, and Dhofar in particular where the practice is still very common.

The feedback I received from readers and acquaintances was overwhelming. Most of them expressed how horrified they were to learn this tradition was still going strong in Dhofar. Some advised me to tread carefully, whereas others told me to keep spreading awareness.

Naturally, I also received plenty of negative feedback from relatives and colleagues claiming I was hanging Dhofar’s dirty washing for the world to see and criticising a practice that they believe is purely Islamic. I paid little attention to these criticisms because I know the practice is harmful and primitive.

It was my intention to write today's column in February to mark the International Day of Zero Tolerance for FGM. However, a little over a week ago the United Nations General Assembly passed a historic resolution calling for an FGM ban in all countries. What does this resolution mean for Oman?

Although FGM is banned in hospitals in Oman, in Salalah for example the woman with the incense burner still roams the halls of the maternity ward at Sultan Qaboos Hospital chopping up newborn girls' genitals at their mothers' request. The nurses and doctors know she exists, yet they turn a blind eye. Other women take their newborns to older women in the tribe who perform it quietly then pierce the baby's ears at the same time to make sure people think the baby's howling is caused by ear pain

Should the government pass a legislation immediately banning the practice in Oman? Not necessarily. Introducing a new law before spreading awareness is a recipe for failure. The subject is still very taboo and is not even discussed in private, let alone in public. The first step is to bring it out into the open. In such a conservative society, this can prove to be quite a challenge.

One must also take into consideration the fact that women have been carrying out this tradition for hundreds of years. I mention women specifically because it is my understanding that most men are kept in the dark about this practice. In fact, several men who were willing to discuss it with me explained how horrified they were to discover their daughters had been circumcised. In the north of Oman I believe it's more of a paper cut. In the south, the practice is more brutal and involves chopping off part of or the entire clitoris.

Although locals wholeheartedly believe the practice is healthy and obligatory in Islam, our religion neither encourages the practice nor condemns it. Information explaining why it's harmful to the child is not readily available to mothers. I blame the Ministry of Health mainly for this. I have spent enough time in maternity wards to know that the ministry is doing next to nothing to spread awareness. Women are terrified of what will happen if they do not circumcise their daughters, and by keeping silent the ministry is feeding the belief that the practice is healthy. Perhaps they think that by ignoring it the practice will go away?

It is worth noting that the MOH five-year 2006-2010 health plan included the need for studying the prevalence of FGM in Oman with plans to design awareness programs. To date, none of these plans have come to light, and goodness knows whether combating FGM is on the current agenda. The ministry's website is either very outdated or the current five-year plan has yet to materialise.

Assuming I were the Minister of Logic, I would encourage the Ministry of Awqaf and Religious Affairs, the Ministry of Social Development, Ministry of Health, and Ministry of Education to collaborate in launching a nationwide campaign to spread awareness among Omanis.

The walls of maternity wards across Oman should be plastered with awareness posters explaining the dangers of FGM. Mothers of newborn girls should receive an awareness kit including a booklet about FGM with a message from the Ministry of Awqaf and Religious Affairs confirming it is not obligatory in Islam. There should be health officials visiting maternity wards in the country to talk to mothers of newborn girls.

Continuing to ignore the practice will not look good for Oman. Our country has already made headlines in the international human rights arena too many times than is good for us in the past couple of years since the Arab Spring protests in 2011. Our reputation when it comes to freedom of speech and assembly is already tainted. Do we need to see more embarrassing reports concerning Oman's unwillingness to address the issues concerning violence against women (i e FGM)? With the new UN resolution, people will be watching Oman carefully. I say it's time for some action. What do you think?

Burqa - A Dying Tradition

Published December 18, 2012 - Muscat Daily.

If you live in Muscat and spend a considerable amount of time in shopping malls, chances are you've spotted a rather large number of women in fashionable abayas wearing the black face veil with a slit for the eyes.
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It's safe to say that almost every one of those women is from the south of Oman. The veil, more commonly referred to as simply 'the burqa', is almost exclusively Dhofari. The south of Oman has traditionally been more gender-segregated and conservative than any of the other regions. Women in Dhofar start wearing the burqa from the age of about 18.
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During my years at a public girls' high school in Salalah, most of my classmates were already wearing it. When I first started college, I was one of a handful of females on campus who did not wear it.

All the hundreds of other females at my university were hidden behind veils. The only time I ever saw my colleagues' faces was in the prayer hall.

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In 2005 while I was still at college, the government enforced a burqa ban in all institutions of higher education in the country. Naturally, the ban hit Salalah like a tsunami. Tribal meetings were held non-stop for weeks on end while furious families tried to decide what to do. Locals staged demonstrations and wrote long letters to various ministers, but to no avail. Many young women dropped out of college because their families couldn't handle the so-called 'shame' of having their daughters' faces exposed to the world for the first time.

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For months Dhofar suffered what can only be referred to as severe social unrest. Slowly but surely, the young women got used to having an identity on campus. They became more confident and started carrying themselves differently. Some of them even stopped wearing the veil outside campus. The changes were fascinating to watch. Today, most young women in Dhofar don't think twice about uncovering their faces at college or at their offices.
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The past couple of years or so have also witnessed hundreds of young women obtaining their drivers' licences and heading out onto the road without a face veil. Things are changing, but the general consensus down south continues to be that a woman's reputation and identity should be concealed and 'protected' whenever possible. The burqa is a symbol reflecting that mentality.
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The one and only time I wore a burqa was about ten years ago when I was forced to go wedding crashing with my cousins. You may lower your raised eyebrow while I explain. Dhofari wedding crashers, otherwise known as ‘mutafarrigat’ are women whose greatest pleasure is putting on their burqas and slipping in to strangers’ weddings anonymously to view the bride and guests without being recognised. I refer to them as simply 'Dhofari paparazzi'. Many families line up chairs along the walls of the wedding ballrooms especially for these women.

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As much as I respect freedom of choice, I am sorry to say that the face veil is not something I would wish upon anyone. Covering a woman's face is not something I associate with my religion. If a woman makes the decision to wear the burqa, then it is entirely her choice - if it really is her choice. From my experience, I can assure you that no young woman wants to wear it nowadays.Once you've become empowered and discovered what it's like to have a public identity, there's no going back. The tradition of the burqa is dying slowly in Dhofar, but it couldn't go away soon enough.

The Vacation

Published November 6, 2012 - Muscat Daily

As many of you know, Dhofar is a region where working and driving is still taboo for many women. It is a region where marriages are arranged, female genital mutilation is widely practiced, polygamy is almost normal and where most women go nowhere without a chaperone and a face veil showing only the eyes. Things are changing rapidly but Dhofar remains the most conservative region in Oman for women.

On a quiet evening a little over a year ago a few of my very Dhofari female friends were fantasising about all the countries they'd love to visit as a group of friends. Naturally, the thought of young women going off together on vacation was unthinkable. As we sat quietly on the beach sipping our tea, I suddenly asked them 'Why not? What are the real barriers to you getting on a plane and going on vacation? You all work and can afford it'.

Their eyes widened then they sat upright and started listing the perceived barriers. It is taboo, everyone would find out, the number of suitors would dwindle, reputations would be stained, upset families, tribal problems, general societal unrest, and the possibility of male relatives getting the police to stop the girls from leaving the country.

After reviewing the list carefully, they realised there were no solid barriers. Fortunately, His Majesty Sultan Qaboos bin Said is an advocate for the empowerment of women in Oman. As far as I know, currently there are no legal restrictions when it comes to women and travelling. Following two hours of intense discussion, the girls decided to apply the law of attraction and turn their dreams into plans. Anyone who walked past our group of huddled abayas on Haffa Beach that evening didn't know they were witnessing history in the making.

After 14 months of outrage, fights, tears, blackmail, and sheer determination, the girls packed their bags and we flew out to a beautiful European city at the top of our travel list. Many of our overly conservative male peers in Dhofar would probably assume we immediately threw off our headscarves and went clubbing. What really happened, though? What happens when you release a group of Dhofari girls from conservative families into the world for the first time on an allgirls trip?

Believe it or not, our intense seven days of pure bliss over Eid holidays last week involved bright-coloured headscarves (a wonderful break from the traditional black), long breakfasts at little cafes, bookstores, museums, galleries, lectures, long walks, many cups of tea, exploring the city on foot, and skipping through puddles in our boots.

The whole trip was everything we had wished for and more. Goodness knows we earned it. Several times a day the girls would ask each other 'Is this really happening? Am I really here?' On the flight back to Salalah we high-fived each other and celebrated our success as we slipped back into our fashionable black abayas.

Our trip may not seem like much of an achievement if you're unfamiliar with this region, but it means a lot to us. I remember when the idea of going to college after high school was still taboo. I remember when young women first started to drive and work. When breaking deeprooted traditions that are not practical, someone has to start. Someone has to pave the path for others.

Following the usual 'What did you do over Eid?' conversations this week at work, I sat through long uncomfortable silences followed by awkward conversations with my traditional middle- aged male colleagues after I confirmed that all my fellow travellers were indeed unmarried independent Dhofari females. They were difficult conversations but they needed to happen. Change has to start somewhere. What comes next? Another vacation? We may have opened up a whole new world for girls in our conservative little town.

I'm not calling for an immediate revolution and saying all Omani girls should get a passport and go backpacking through Europe. All I'm saying is that your life is too short to be tied down by invisible chains. Quite often the only real barrier stopping you from achieving your dreams is you. Your life and your choices are your own. I know mine are.

Celebrating Eid al Adha

Published October 23, 2012 - Muscat Daily.

It’s rather hard to believe another Eid is knocking at our doors. I haven’t quite recovered yet from Eid al Fitr celebrations nine weeks ago!

For many of you, it may sound like just another Eid, but both occasions are quite different for Muslims worldwide. Eid al Fitr that we observed in August was a celebration following the completion of Ramadan, the holy month of fasting. The last few days of Ramadan witnessed intense worship and prayer rituals followed by a communal sigh of relief as we all re-discovered the privilege of eating and drinking during daytime for the first time in a month!

On the other hand, Eid al Adha that we will be celebrating this Friday is a commemoration of the Prophet Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his eldest son to God. It also marks the end of the Haj, the annual pilgrimage to Mecca that Muslims must complete once in their lifetime. It is not uncommon for Muslims to go two or three times, hence the millions of pilgrims each year.

Last week Dhofar bid farewell to this year’s many pilgrims as they embarked on their journey to Mecca to complete the Haj rituals. Going on the pilgrimage is a big deal and the farewells are often filled with emotion. I was approached by several acquaintances of mine who went off to Mecca asking me for forgiveness if they had ever done me wrong. They wanted to go off to the holy city feeling relieved and unburdened. I haven’t been to Mecca yet but I am very much looking forward to my pilgrimage when the time is right.

On Thursday every household in Salalah will turn on the television early in the morning to watch live coverage of the pilgrims as they observe the final day of Haj, otherwise known as Yom Arafa.

At dawn, the pilgrims will head to Mount Arafa, the site where the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) gave his farewell sermon. Families will gather around the television to try and spot their loved ones among the millions of pilgrims dressed in white. It is a rather extraordinary sight and I recommend that you tune into any Arab television channel on Thursday to watch part of it.

The first day of Eid on Friday morning will involve a lot of animal slaughtering (ie our sacrifice), plenty of meat, excited children, and then endless visiting of relatives and neighbours.

During the weeks leading up to Eid the main topics of conversation in this town are often limited to the following questions; ‘Anyone from your family on the pilgrimage this year? What are you slaughtering? When do you think the holidays will be?’ Naturally, the third question is always the hardest to answer. The powers that be in this little nation of ours aren’t always generous with holiday information. We are often informed of the public holiday a mere four or five days before Eid. It’s rather unfair to people who have travel plans.

Speaking of travels, I have noticed an interesting trend in Salalah these past couple of years. Many families have taken to escaping during Eid to avoid the hassle of having to slaughter and then visit a hundred relatives. This is rather surprising for such a family and tribal-oriented region, but in many ways I don’t blame them. I personally find that two back-to-back Eids can be a little overwhelming.

While the whole population of Salalah heads out into town today to create traffic jams (a favourite pastime) and stock up on last-minute Eid goods, I will be quietly packing my bright red suitcases in preparation for my own Eid escape. Even though I’m not fond of visiting and the thought of large quantities of meat make me feel rather ill, this trip isn’t about escaping. It is more of a social experiment involving a group of rebellious Dhofari girls eager to see the world. Stay tuned….

Insanity in Dhofar

Published August 28, 2012 in Muscat Daily. Click here to view the article on the newspaper's website.

Insanity is the only suitable word I can think of to describe the current situation in Dhofar. In case you are living in a bubble or are new to the country, let me enlighten you.

While the rest of the Middle East melts during July and August, the Dhofar region in the south of Oman experiences a very cool and wet monsoon, and our town becomes a tourist magnet. This year the holy month of fasting happened to coincide with our rainy season and this caused a predictable decrease in the number of tourists.

We foolishly assumed that very few tourists would come during Eid because normally people spend Eid with their families, right? Wrong. On the first day of Eid local majlis gossip revolved around the Haima crisis. Apparently there were hundreds of vehicle stranded without fuel trying to get to Salalah and most stations along the desert route were empty. Slowly, traffic became more and more congested in town and you could practically hear the mountains rumble as convoys of UAE land cruisers sped their way into Salalah.

Within a few hours, car rental agencies were out of vehicles and all hotels and apartment blocks were fully booked. Rumour has it that hundreds of tourists spent the night in mosques or under the stars because they couldn't find any place to stay. By the second day of Eid, many locals had rented out parts of their homes or even their entire houses to desperate tourists who were willing to pay anything for a place to stay. Those who weren't able to find accommodation in Salalah sought shelter in the neighbouring towns of Taqah and Mirbat.

By the second day, Salalah was out of basic necessities like milk, bread and petrol. An errand that would normally take five minutes took more than an hour, and UAE licence plates seem to have outnumbered Omani ones at one point.

Police attempted to control the insane traffic with very little luck. The roads leading up into our emerald green mountains and valleys witnessed back-to-back traffic. In fact, ROP officers had to turn people away from popular tourist spots like Darbat Valley and Ittin to avoid a major crisis.

With the exception of one trip to the supermarket early on Thursday morning, I stayed home the entire week and haven't even been into the mountains yet because it is just not worth it. Speaking of that one trip to the supermarket, on the drive from the door of our house to the door of the supermarket and back we counted 592 UAE, Saudi and Qatar licence plates, I kid you not. That doesn't even include all the vehicles from the north of Oman.

Official statistics confirmed nearly 100,000 visitors to Dhofar last week, most of whom arrived by car. Do you have any idea what that means for us? The population of Salalah according to the 2010 Census was a miserable 172,000. This town and its roads weren't at all prepared for a 50 per cent overnight population increase. Locals are jokingly referring to it as The Invasion.

It's nice to see so many people enjoying our monsoon, but I am baffled at how the huge influx of tourists was handled. Were MoT officials snoozing during Ramadan? Millions and millions have been spent to promote tourism in Dhofar. If most hotels and flights were completely booked out in advance, surely someone could have suggested a back-up plan just in case? Temporary sleep cabins like the ones set up for the London Olympics would have been useful. Several hundred of Muscat Municipality's new portable paid public toilets would have come in handy as well. The long washroom line-ups at local mosques last week were insane.

Furthermore, I know this isn't the ministry's fault but someone is going to have to think of a better garbage system. Our beautiful mountains have been littered with zillions of soft drink cans and plastic bags because many visitors haven't been able to grasp the idea of storing trash in the car until you find a suitable place to dispose of it.

I know we like to pretend everything's fine in Oman, but the current situation is just embarrassing and frustrating for locals and tourists alike. Officials are going to have to think of a better way to handle tourism because the numbers are going to increase every year and our economy needs it. A little planning and logical thinking goes a long way.

Women & Photography

Published July 17, 2012 - Muscat Daily. Click here to view the article on the newspaper's website

I'm writing this with my feet in buckets of cold water as I recover from a seven-hour hike with all my camera equipment through an unnamed city in a faraway land where I am taking an intensive outdoor urban photography course.I know it’s not considered the most feminine of activities, especially for a young woman from the conservative south of Oman. Fortunately though, being feminine and proper is the least of my worries most of the time.

I cannot recall exactly when I first became interested in photography, but over the past ten years or so my interest has evolved into a passion. My early days involved experimenting with black and white photography using film cameras (remember those?). I have since progressed to Digital SLRs with multiple lenses.

Despite my passion and ability to take good photos, I am not by any means a professional photographer. I would like to become one someday though, hence the investment in good equipment and the intensive photography hikes overseas with an incredibly talented photographer and teacher. Had I attempted the same adventure in Salalah, I would have ended up in serious trouble for endangering the reputation of my tribe (I’m only half-kidding).

This brings us to the topic of today’s column; females and photography in Oman and Salalah in particular. First of all, I’d like you to keep in mind that the relatively small community of photographers in Oman has traditionally been all-male. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe the public emergence of females in the field of serious photography has occurred only over the past three to five years at the very most.

In Salalah, the only semi-acceptable photography profession for women is wedding photography. Women who take on this profession usually see it as a quick way to make money (approximately RO100 per wedding) in an all-female environment. Most of them go out and purchase an expensive camera, but due to lack of proper training the results are usually far from professional. I’ve seen results where the bride had red-eyes in almost every photo.

Besides wedding photography and without sounding too pessimistic, I can almost say that society frowns upon female photographers here in the south and perhaps in other parts of Oman as well. I know this from experience. I’ve appeared in public a number of times with my big chunky camera and was either given strange stares and asked what on earth I was doing, or word reached one of my male relatives that I was seen in public drawing attention to myself. A couple of years ago I ventured out into Muttrah Souq in Muscat with a female photographer friend and we also received plenty of glares.

To be fair, things are definitely improving quickly in the Muscat area and very slowly in other parts of Oman. There have been a few exhibitions in the capital over the past couple of years highlighting the work of female photographers including a very recent one at Shangri-La’s Barr Al Jissah.

Furthermore, a little over a week ago, His Majesty Sultan Qaboos bin Said ordered the establishment of a governmentsupervised Omani Photographers’ Association. Up until now the only outlet for photographers innSalalah has been the photography branch of the Omani Fine Arts Society. Again, it has been entirely male dominated until very recently. The handful of females who were brave enough to join is practically invisible according to an inside source. Personally, I have always felt a little intimidated by the club and didn’t consider joining.

On a final note, I hope the new association pays extra attention to training and to the unique role women can play in the Omani photography scene. After all, we do represent half the population! I know there are many hidden female talents behind closed doors in Salalah that are simply waiting to be encouraged and unleashed. The future looks a little brighter. Till then, I’ll be counting the days until I can freely set up my tripod in central Salalah and shoot to my heart’s delight without feeling judged or intimidated!

Khareef Salalah

Published July 3, 2012 - Muscat Daily. Click here to view article on the newspaper's website.

You guessed right. Today’s column is about the Dhofar monsoon season, commonly referred to as the ‘Khareef’. What kind of Dhofari would I be if I didn’t write an annual piece on our overrated rainy season? Nearly a fortnight ago the first drops of rain graced my car windshield at 7 am as the south of Oman slipped gently into Khareef mode.

To most outsiders, Khareef-mode means monsoon rain and emerald green mountains. To Dhofaris it means - among other things - weddings, picnics, mud, Salalah Tourism Festival, insane traffic, monsoon bugs, tourists and yes… rain.

As hundreds of thousands of GCC nationals and locals from the north of Oman flock to Salalah to escape the soaring summer temperatures in July, yours truly gets on the first plane out of this town.

To be honest, I had planned to write a piece describing why I can’t bear the festival or being in Salalah during the peak of tourist season. However, in a moment of serenity a couple of days ago while cruising at an altitude of 2,000 feet in a hot air balloon in a faraway land, a voice inside my head told me to stop being a snob.

Despite my short bouts of pessimism, July is actually a really fun time to be in Salalah. First of all, the weather is really great compared to the rest of the Arabian Gulf. Temperatures hover around the mid-twenties during July, August and most of September. To quote last year’s Khareef column ‘The heavy mist, gushing springs and emerald green mountains may look like tropical East Asia or even Scotland until you spot the first herd of camels grazing happily in a valley of wild flowers and butterflies. Sometimes it’s too good to be true, and it’s unbelievable to think that just a few hundred kilometres away lie the rolling sand dunes of the Empty Quarter’.

Between June 21 and July 18 this year, all the action will be taking place at the Salalah Tourism Festival. I have not been to the festival for a couple of years, but I keep tabs on the different activities and exhibitions that are held at the festival grounds. Highlights include the usual exhibitions, cultural events, concerts, traditional dancing and music, theme park, camel rides, and plenty of great food. The shopping pavilions hosting cheap products from China are a big hit with the women. If you’d like to acquire a few bargaining skills, I suggest you shadow a Dhofari woman at one of the shopping pavilions for a couple of hours.

Over the years the festival has hosted some incredibly wacky events including cheap freak shows involving half-animal half-human creatures, strange eastern European dance troupes and odd talent shows. This year’s wacky touch includes a traditional medicine kiosk where you can get branded with a hot iron rod (I kid you not). They also offer blood-letting services. Google it.

The festival means a lot to many people in Dhofar. It’s a fun place to take the kids and there are plenty of activities to keep all members of the family entertained. If I were to brave the festival at some point in the next few years, I’d probably head straight for the book exhibition and photography exhibitions. I might also stay for the daily fireworks and stop by the heritage village to see some of the dancing. I have a soft spot for traditional music.

All in all, monsoon is a great time to visit Salalah. The beaches may not be at their finest, but the rest of the atmosphere makes up for it. This year the holy month of fasting – Ramadhan – is expected sometime around July 20 depending on the sighting of the moon. This of course has affected the dates for the festival and will affect tourism in Dhofar. However, as far as I’m concerned the best time to visit Salalah is afterRamadhan. Dhofar will be at its greenest and hopefully the number of tourists will have declined. You might just be able to find a hotel room and a picnic spot!

Thobe Budhail

As we survive one of the worst heat waves Salalah has witnessed in the past few years, I am grateful for many things in life. I'm grateful for airconditioners that work.

I am grateful for a demanding office job that keeps me at work until after 5pm when the heat is slightly more bearable and I am able to walk to my car without turning into a puddle in the parking lot. I am grateful for iced tea, sunglasses and cool showers.

Most of all though, I'm grateful for my thobe budhail. If you're not familiar with the term, you're probably new to Oman. Thobe budhail translates into 'Father of the Tail'. Exclusive to the South of Oman, it is basically a loose-fitting square colourful garment with holes for the hands and head. The back of the dress is about a foot longer than the front and it comes with a big matching rectangular headscarf, commonly referred to as a losee or leeso.

There are many folktales attempting to explain the tail at the back of the dress. One common tale tells the story of a man who fell in love with a woman and she refused to marry him. He traced her footsteps to know where she lived and put a curse on her. To protect other girls, a tail was added to the dresses to erase their footsteps.

Another myth has it that a king used to sprinkle magic powder on the ground and any woman whose feet touched the powder would fall madly in love with him. To protect themselves, Dhofari women would use their tail to sweep the powder away. Many Dhofaris tend to agree that a few generations ago the thobe budhail sported a leather tail to erase women’s footsteps in the sand when they were out herding their animals.

Regardless of how it all started, the tradition of the thobe budhail is still going strong in Dhofar. Every single female over the age of about 12 wears the thobe budhail at home at all times. That goes pretty much without exception. Even babies wear them occasionally! They are available in every type of material imaginable from delicate silk to denim. Day-today thobes are cotton and come in a thousand different prints from delicate flower prints to wild African designs.

Some even have designer brand names illegally printed all over them. Recently, I saw someone wearing a thobe that had ‘Blackberry’ written all over it. I’ve also seen Prada, Louis Vuitton and Versace. Day-to-day thobes cost about RO3 each and are worn by all females; rich and poor, young and old. My wardrobe at home hosts about 40 of them.

For special occasions, women may don thobes made of slightly more expensive material. Wedding thobes are usually made of velvet and have a million little crystals sewn onto them. These can cost up to RO500. Since women in Dhofar are very much into fashion, the thobe budhail business is always thriving. There is an entire section of Salalah's main stretch – Al Salaam Street - dedicated to thobe budhail shops. It is lined with about 40 or 50 shops selling different prints.

A colleague of mine who used to own one of the shops on that stretch told me that during the weeks before Eid, he would sell up to 500 thobes a day in his tiny shop. The only argument against this popular garment is that it’s not very practical, especially for active women. I’ve almost mastered the art of skilfully hitching it up while doing housework, but it can be a nuisance sometimes. Wearing them can also enhance weight gain in my opinion because it conceals pretty much everything. You also need to replace them regularly because their lifespan is short. I’m not a big fan of shopping, so I usually buy five to ten at a time.

As far as I’m concerned, the advantages of wearing them completely outweigh the disadvantages. They’re beautiful. The way they flow is extremely elegant and feminine. They’re comfortable. They’re affordable. In extreme situations, they act as a mobile dressing room. They're great gifts. Last but not least, they’re perfect for hot weather. Did I already mention that I’m not a fan of heat waves? Monsoon in Dhofar is 17 days away!

Published June 5, 2012 - Muscat Daily. Click here to view the column on the newspaper's website.

The Evil Eye

Published Tuesday April 24th, 2012 - Click here to view article on Muscat Daily website.

A few weeks ago I was sitting with a group of women from my extended family sipping tea and exchanging tribal news. One woman was asked about her newborn granddaughter.

The grandmother immediately started speaking loudly 'the baby has dark skin and big ears! She's so ugly!' All the other women nodded. I sat up furiously and said 'Hey, that's not true. She's absolutely adorable!' I had been holding the baby a couple of days earlier and she was one of the sweetest bundles of joy I had ever seen.

The protective grandmother gave me a furious look. My mother nudged me and whispered 'You're not supposed to say that', so I settled back down into my chair and let them get on with the conversation. I had forgotten about how superstitious my family is. The woman was simply trying to protect her grandchild from the evil eye.

Although superstitions are a big part of our culture here in Dhofar and in other parts of Oman as well, the evil eye isn't just superstition. It is considered an everyday hazard. If you're not familiar with the concept of the evil eye, it is a 'look' that is believed to be able to cause harm or bad luck for the person at whom it is directed. It is often fueled by envy.

In Islam, the evil eye is a common belief that humans have the power to look at other living creatures or objects to cause them harm. Although talismans are not commonly used as protection among Muslims, certain verses from the Holy Q’uran are used to ward off the evil eye. It is also a tradition among us that if a compliment is to be made you must say 'Masha'Allah' (God has willed it) as protection against such evil.

In Dhofar, many locals believe that the evil eye can bestow a curse on victims and may even cause death. In fact, I have heard of a few people in this town who are actually well-known for the power of their evil eye. Apparently, they have a history and many eyewitnesses to prove it. Sometimes I think my people find it hard to distinguish between the evil eye and hardcore black magic. Salalah is a peculiar town when it comes to dwelling in the unknown.

For the first few months of a baby's life, it is not uncommon to see small amulets containing verses from the Q’uran pinned to the child's clothing. Babies are thought to be the main victims of the evil eye especially when praised by childless women or strangers.

I remember an incident a year ago when I smiled at a baby in the middle of a supermarket in Salalah. Its mother saw me and immediately grabbed my arm and said 'Say Masha'Allah! Say Masha'Allah! Quick!' It took me a few seconds to realise what was going on before I could mumble the words and put her at ease.

Remember my last column on the bridal fiasco? During our three hours with the makeup artist, I had to sew verses of the Q’uran into the bride's wedding gown to protect her from the evil eye.

Other common practices include slaughtering an animal at the door of your newly built house to ward off evil. When buying a new car, locals often play recorded Q’uran CDs in it for the first few days to protect it from envy. Until recently it was not uncommon for Dhofaris to slaughter animals before harvest in order to pour their blood into water springs and throw scraps of flesh throughout their fields to ward off envy.

Naturally, I am a little superstitious as well because it's part of my Dhofari upbringing. However, I most certainly do not let it affect my day to day life. I'm sure there are plenty of evil forces out there, but I choose not to obsess about them!

Bridal Woes

Published April 10, 2012 - Muscat Daily. Click here to view the article.

Don't be fooled by the title of this column. Fortunately my current woes are limited to work and academia. After five years of procrastination, I decided to dust off my nerd glasses and start a post-graduate degree.

Having just survived my first intensive session of classes, I'm afraid my brain isn't as focused as it should be right now on tackling social issues in Oman. I shouldn't feel too bad, though. The day after my recent column on women's rights was published, it was announced that Oman will be establishing a committee to work with CEDAW to eliminate all forms of discrimination against women in Oman. Coincidence? Who knows!

In the meantime, let me entertain you with a story. On a quiet afternoon a few weeks ago I was packing for a business trip to Muscat. My plan was to be in bed by 8pm in order to be up in time to catch my flight out of Salalah at 5am. My phone rang suddenly and I recognised the number of a bride whose wedding was taking place that same night. When I answered, I heard the frantic voice of the bride's mother shouting into the phone 'We need your help! You need to accompany the bride!'

Accompanying a Dhofari bride is a task usually given to an unrelated female with a vehicle. It involves picking up the bride from her home, driving her to beauty appointments, and then making sure she arrives at the wedding on time. My friend's companion had cancelled at the last moment. It was clear what needed to be done.

Within a few minutes I was on my way. As we loaded her humongous wedding dress into the back of my car, the make-up artist called in a panic demanding we pick up three sizes of fake eyelashes on the way over.

Half an hour and three eyelash shops later, we arrived at our destination. We were escorted by a nervous housemaid through a dark alleyway and into a house hidden in the shadows.

We were then shown into a room with a sofa set and no mirrors. Sitting on a large armchair in the centre of the room was a tough-looking woman who introduced herself as the infamous makeup artist.

On a coffee table next to her sat the largest collection of makeup this person has ever seen. On the floor was a young bride who was receiving the final touches to her bizarre wedding makeup, (think Michael Jackson's Thriller video meets Nicki Minaj). The so-called final touches took over an hour. It was going to be a long night.

For the next three and a half hours (I kid you not) I watched the woman plaster my friend's face and shoulders with white paint then proceed to use every colour of the rainbow on her twitching eyelids. Towards the end of the session, we got into an argument about the amount of glitter I was allowing her to apply to my friend's face. She wouldn't take no for an answer. The makeup scene ended at 11pm with the artist running down the hall behind the bride with a pot of glitter swearing she'd apply 'just a little more!' We escaped just in time.

The next two hours were spent with the hair stylist who ran an illegal salon business from her spare bedroom. I watched her glue my friend's hair to her scalp then attach a huge wig using what looked like 100 hair pins. She then proceeded to curl every single lock of fake hair using an entire can of hairspray and a curling iron. By the time we left, it was 1am.

We finally made it to the hotel only to discover the wedding photographer had failed to show up. The patient groom was sitting in the parking lot in his car counting the hours. As we helped the bride into her dress, it became apparent that I would have to be the spare wedding photographer as I appeared to be the only person among the 400 guests with a professional camera.

To cut a long story short, I managed to get home at 3am. I had 30 minutes before the airport check-in counter closed. Fortunately, I decided to be sensible. I called Oman Air and postponed my flight to the week after. I then sent explanatory e-mails to my colleagues who were expecting me in Muscat.

And that, my friends, is what most brides go through on their wedding day here in Dhofar. Not a very happy occasion, don't you think? My ordeal was a harsh reminder of why I removed myself from the Dhofari wedding scene several years ago. Never again!

Lest We Forget : Anniversary of the Dhofar Protests

Published February 28, 2012 - Muscat Daily. Click here to view the article on the website.

This week, the people of Dhofar are quietly observing the first anniversary of the protests that erupted in Salalah on February 25, 2011. It's hard to believe that a year has gone by since the day protesters marched through the centre of town with banners demanding reform.

They set up huge tents and a stage in the Minister of State's parking lot in central Salalah, where they remained for 77 days. The parking lot – nicknamed 'Freedom Square' – became the centre of attention during those months. Hundreds of people from all walks of life visited the sit-in on a daily basis to talk about a new Oman.

On Fridays, thousands flocked to the square to listen to the widely anticipated Friday sermons. Temporary food kiosks and water facilities were set up to cater to the needs of protesters, and donations were pouring in on a daily basis to help provide meals.

Dhofar wasn't the only province that suffered from Arab Spring fever. Despite very little media coverage in most local newspapers, protests were erupting all over Oman.

After negotiations took place between sit-in organisers in different parts of Oman, a final list of demands was delivered to the palace and then printed on a large banner and fastened to the Minister of State's main gate in Salalah.

The long list included demands for better economic conditions, more jobs for Omanis, freedom of speech and an end to government corruption. During those difficult few months, the government worked through the list in a remarkable and efficient manner.

Royal Decrees were issued on a semi-daily basis announcing jobs, benefits, a new public university, legislative powers for Majlis A'Shura (the closest thing our politically immature nation has to a parliament) and many other major changes.

Unfortunately, the sit-in didn't end peacefully in Dhofar. By the end of April, many satisfied protesters had gone home, but a couple of hundred who were hoping for more change continued with the sit-in. By then most of the major demands had been fulfilled, and the rest were either unrealistic or required more time.

On the evening of May 12, all hell broke loose in Salalah when the army arrived and aggressively took over the square. All communication services were shut down in Dhofar during the raid and several hundred men who happened to be in the square at that time were arrested and taken to the local prison.

Nearly a dozen key speakers and activists were plucked out of the square by helicopter and taken to a prison facility up north, where they remained for over 50 days.

Unfortunately, I was near the square at the time and had my precious Nikon D90 confiscated by the ROP after foolishly trying to get a shot of locals clashing with the army at the entrance to the square. After being interrogated and forced to wait in my car for nearly two hours, my camera was finally returned to me and I was allowed to leave.

The next morning, supporters flocked to the square and formed another quiet sit-in to demand the release of their friends and relatives from prison. A friend of mine managed to get onto the roof of a nearby building and snap photos of the army during their second raid.

Sometimes I look back at those photos and think to myself, “Did this really happen? How very un-Omani.” For weeks afterwards, the army presence remained strong in central Salalah. They finally withdrew just as our busy monsoon tourist season was starting.

To this very day, most locals frown upon the excessive use of power that ended the peaceful sit-in in Salalah. After all, it really was nothing more than a large communal debate in a parking lot over thousands of cups of tea.

Regardless of what happened, I think the Omani version of the Arab Spring is something to be proud of. Our uprising was a good example of how a nation can work together to create positive change…peacefully. It was liberating and very healthy for us.

At the height of the Arab Spring drama in the Middle East, several renowned international media publications had the audacity to compare the situation in Oman to places like Egypt and Libya. Only those of us living here knew how ridiculous these allegations were.

The situation here was completely different. People wanted economic reform. There was no rebel party and no one was trying to bring down a regime. Omanis wanted to voice their opinions and be heard.

Looking back now, I think one of the main lessons we learned as a nation is that public dialogue is not a crime. Standing up against corruption is not a crime. Challenging the status quo is not a crime.

During the past year we've broken boundaries that many of us never knew existed. The fact that I can discuss this in a local newspaper is quite something! I'm proud of the protesters for speaking up on behalf of all of us. Without them, tens of thousands of people would still be without jobs and none of these incredible changes would have taken place.

I'm also proud of how the government and His Majesty Sultan Qaboos bin Said handled the messy situation. Excluding those few days of chaos in Sohar, the Omani uprising was peaceful.

Looking forward, one thing is clear to me; with freedom comes responsibility. We can no longer be referred to as a 'sleepy nation.' The only way forward is hard work and dedication.

Muscat Beckons

Published February 14, 2012 - Muscat Daily. Click here to view article.

Every summer tens of thousands of Omanis from northern Oman head to the south for their annual Khareef migration. Dhofar's lush monsoon is the perfect getaway from the soaring summer temperatures in Muscat and the interior.Local newspapers bring up the migration on a regular basis throughout the monsoon season and the Ministry of Tourism posts teams at airports to record the number of visitors going into Salalah. It's a big deal.

However, has anyone noticed the annual exodus of Dhofaris to Muscat during the cooler months of the year? I have. Last weekend I treated myself to the spectacular South African ballet performance at the Royal Opera House with a good friend.

My weekend involved the usual shopping, a mandatory coffee at Shatti al Qurm and a brief visit to Muscat Festival at Qurum Park. The difference with this trip is that I spotted people from Dhofar wherever I went.

Muscat Festival and the major shopping malls were packed with Dhofari women on shopping sprees. Dhofari men could be seen lounging in all the cafes on the beach enjoying Muscat's beautiful February weather.

You may be wondering how I can pick out a Dhofari in a crowd. Trust me, it's easy. Dhofari women can be easily identified from the face veil with the eye slits, glittery abayas and their clip-on hair pieces the size of large melons.

The men are even easier to identify from the way they walk and – for lack of a better word – their swagger. Their dishdashas are usually quite long and sometimes even touch the ground. Their kummas' (caps) are usually tipped slightly to one side and often they have a tasseled turban thrown over one shoulder or draped casually over their heads. The Dhofari accent is also very easy to identify.

So why have Dhofaris chosen Muscat as their top holiday destination? First of all families in the south can be quite large. It's convenient to pack the whole family into a couple of cars and drive up to Muscat to spend a week or two in a rented apartment. Salalah is pretty deprived when it comes to shopping malls, cafés, restaurants, cinemas and entertainment, hence the fascination with Muscat. The capital area is a very nice place to be in during the winter.

Whenever I'm in Muscat, I use my time to catch up with friends, meet new people, stock up on treats, and pretty much indulge myself in every way possible. There's always something interesting going on, and the newly opened Royal Opera House has given me even more reason to fly up regularly. I have been to four performances already and look forward to many more in the coming years.

As a Dhofari woman, Muscat also allows me to be anonymous if only for a few days. I relish the freedom of cozying up in a café and working on my laptop without worrying about being stared at or recognised by members of the tribe (female…. face exposed …spotted at café… chaperone-less…must report!) I'm exaggerating a bit, but you know what I mean.

Dhofar is pretty conservative when it comes to women. I know Muscat and Salalah are only a 1,000km apart but they might as well be two different countries.

I do enjoy my brief jaunts to Muscat, but I'm always ready to come home when they're over. The hustle and bustle of the big city is fine for a weekend, but I can't imagine spending more than a week in Muscat. When the pilot announces the beginning of the descent to Salalah on the flight home, I put my book down and look out of the window to admire the view. I can never get enough of it. The moment the desert turns into smooth hills and I see the green banana plantations, palm trees and pristine beaches, my heart skips a beat. Muscat has its charms, but home is where the heart is!