Changing Eid Traditions

Published August 13, 2013 - Muscat Daily

As I flew across three continents on the last day of Ramadan for a much needed month-long holiday with my family, I couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of guilt at not being home in Salalah for Eid al Fitr. It is probably safe to assume that many Omanis feel the same way. More and more families I know of are going away for Eid or simply refusing to partake in endless week-long Eid activities.

 

Eid traditions are very strong in Muslim communities around the world, and Dhofar is no exception. Growing up, the last few days of Ramadan always involved a frenzy of activity in preparation for Eid. My mother and I would bake hundreds of cookies and sweets, stock up on the best Halwa, prepare the house for hundreds of guests, and make a list of all the relatives that we would have to visit.

 

During my childhood, the night of the moon-sighting at the end of Ramadan was a big deal. We would gather around the television after iftar and wait for the Omani moon-sighting committee to tell us whether Eid was the next day or not. If Eid was declared, the announcement would be followed by several hours of intense activity and majlis-preparation. If the moon wasn’t sighted, we would breathe a sigh of relief and look forward to an extra day of fasting and more time to prepare.

 

On the morning of Eid the men of the family would head off to the mosque after dawn for Eid prayers while the females frantically prepared the majlis for the first envoy of guests who were bound to start showing up at eight o’clock in the morning. Traditional Eid songs would be playing on the radio or on television. As a child, Eid meant gifts, new clothes, sweets, and small change that is handed out to children in the form of brand new 100bz notes.

 

The first three days of Eid involved non-stop visiting with relatives and friends. The days that followed were usually a bit easier. Nevertheless, the visiting and catching up with relatives did go on for at least a week. In other words, Eid was a big deal

 

Then came the Internet and cellphones and life in Oman began to change more and more rapidly. Keeping up with Eid traditions and hundreds of relatives became overwhelming and no longer feasible. The number of guests has dwindled as people have become busy with their own lives.

 

For an introvert like me, I still love to spend the days before Eid baking for guests but having to be on guest-duty for at least three days just doesn’t entice me anymore. Furthermore, Eid al Adha is only two months away. I’m ready to make an effort with Eid traditions, but at the moment I think one Eid a year is enough for me. As selfish as it may seem, I’d much rather use my time off to travel and relax. Staying at home without partaking in Eid activities is just not an option in Oman at the moment.

 

Thinking of all the Eid traditions and special memories that helped to shape my childhood in Salalah can make me feel slightly nostalgic but not for long. I’ve accepted the fact that life changes and so do traditions. So, from the back patio of my holiday hideaway I tip my mug of coffee to you and hope you enjoyed your holidays. Back to my pile of vacation reading!

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 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!

Why The Black Abaya?

Published February 8, 2011
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Have you ever wondered why women in Oman and in the GCC wear the black abaya? I certainly have. We started off pretty well. Take a look at photos from Oman in the 1960s and 1970s. Women wore modest, traditional and colorful clothing. I’m not quite sure when the black crept its way into Oman, but many people blame Iran and Saudi. Today, the concept of the black abaya has become so engrained in our society that we can’t imagine our lives without it. Most girls in are told by their families to start wearing it when they turn thirteen or fourteen and are stuck with it for life. Once you start, there’s no going back. 

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I started wearing an abaya in grade eight because all the girls in my class wore it, and I didn’t want to stand out. Now, ten years later I can’t even drive to my sister’s house down the street without putting it on. Why? Because I’m afraid of what will happen if I don’t wear it. I feel as if I’d be committing a crime against society by not wearing it. In fact, I’m pretty sure society here in Salalah would also feel I’m doing something wrong, and someone would surely feel the need to report my scandalous behavior to someone from my tribe!   

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 I asked my male colleagues (regular victims of my random feminist outbursts) why they think women should wear the black abaya.  Most said girls must start wearing the abaya when they reach puberty to protect their 'reputation'. I asked them to explain what they meant by that but they just went around in circles repeating the argument about reputation. A couple of others believe society looks down upon girls who don’t wear it. My favorite answer was from a guy who said men wouldn't be able to concentrate at work if their female colleagues wore colors. Really?! 

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Don’t get me wrong here. I’m not against the abaya at all. In fact, I love wearing it. It’s practical and comfortable and I can wear whatever I want underneath it. Furthermore, it’s extremely fashionable. Black happens to be very elegant especially when studded with jewelry or adorned with silver or gold linings and other designs. The cost of abayas can range from twenty to two or three hundred rials depending on the detailed hand embroidery, designer brand, and crystals. Wearing the abaya is also an easier way to cover up without having to worry about coordinating an entire outfit. On the other hand, it gets dirty easily, gets stuck in the wheels of my office chair at least twice a day, and is a constant tripping hazard. Furthermore, during the summer the abaya becomes your own personal heating pad. Black absorbs heat like a sponge absorbs liquid.

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 So, why do we wear it? Because we’ve gotten used to it and are afraid of what people will say if we don’t? Why the obsession with conformity? Society in Oman has always had a problem with anyone different, more so here in Dhofar where it’s almost taboo to stand out of the crowd, especially for females. As a young woman who practically worships individuality, I find this very hard at times. I'm sure many young women out there share my sentiments. 

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 From a religious point of view, wearing black isn’t strictly required by Islam. Muslim women should wear loose fitting and modest clothing that covers the body. Can that not be achieved with green or purple? I knew a woman here in Salalah who made beautiful colored abayas and tried to market them to the local women a few years ago but most claimed their husbands would never let them. The word ‘let’ is what gets on my nerves. Abayas are beautiful, but every woman should have the right to choose whether she wants to wear it or not.  What concerns me is that girls all over Oman are being forced to wear black from a young age by their families. There is absolutely nothing wrong with a little color. In Muscat, things have changed and it’s not uncommon to see women in color but as for the rest of us, black rules. I don’t predict any changes in the near future in Dhofar because we haven’t even started tackling the issue of the black face veil, let alone the abaya!  Goodness knows how long it’ll be before women here can start choosing what they want to wear. Food for thought…

The Funeral Debate

Published January 25, 2011
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There's no denying the fact that in Dhofar everyone knows everything about everyone else. When something interesting happens, word spreads immediately and it becomes the talk of the town. This can be horrible at times and quite useful at others. By useful, I mean funerals. When someone dies, within an hour every relative, friend and acquaintance is informed and people start flocking to the funeral. Unlike other countries, funerals in Oman happen very quickly. The body of the deceased is washed, wrapped in a shroud immediately, and kissed goodbye by the closest family members. It is then taken by the men of the family to the graveyard where the burial takes place on the same day in the Islamic way followed by special funeral prayers at the mosque performed by all the male mourners. Meanwhile, the females hastily prepare the house for the funeral. Personal belongings are shoved into closets, bedding is rolled up, and the kitchen is stocked with drinks, fruit, and tea. Prayer beads, chapters of the Qur'an and boxes of Kleenex are placed at every corner, and the neighbors and close relatives send their housemaids over to help with the preparation.

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While the men are at the graveyard burying the deceased, a huge tent is being installed outside the house to accommodate them upon their return. Tent companies can set up a huge funeral tent outside your home at a moment's notice. Within an hour or two, hundreds of men will have flocked to the tent to pay their respects. Meanwhile, the house will be bursting at the seams with female mourners. Close relatives spend all day at the funeral whereas distant relatives and acquaintances come to pay their respects and leave within an hour to make room for more mourners. Some women take shifts in the kitchen preparing refreshments and meals while others walk around the house with trays of coffee, tea, and drinks offering them to guests. In the house, the women usually talk quietly, cry, or read the Qur'an and pray. Some of the older women wail like banshees despite the fact that funeral wailing is un-Islamic and quite frightening. For immediate family members, the hours go by in a blur of greetings, condolences, noise, and chaos. This goes on for three long days from early morning to late at night. Everyone is expected to come and pay their respects during those three days and by the end of it all life supposedly goes back to normal.

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I have mixed feelings about the whole funeral system in Oman and particularly in Dhofar, and I'm sure many of you Omanis out there share my sentiments. First of all, funerals are extremely costly. Not only do you have to serve refreshments to hundreds of people but in Dhofar usually several animals are slaughtered to feed the guests at meals. Providing lunch and dinner to that many people is no joke. Who can afford that kind of expense these days?

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Furthermore, after losing a loved one, the thought of facing hundreds of people within a few hours is emotionally and physically draining. Because men and women mourn separately, when can immediate family members comfort one another? Recently I was at a funeral where a couple had lost their child. The mother was receiving guests all day while her husband was outside in the tent doing the same. They did not see each other until midnight when everyone had left. Despite the fact that she remained strong and greeted people with a smile, I could tell all she wanted was to be alone with her husband to mourn the loss of their child. It was written all over her face. In my opinion, I don't think anyone should have to go through that.

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On the other hand, the support provided by the local community is amazing. Having hundreds of people come to let you know you’re not alone in your suffering and knowing they're all praying for you and your loved ones is extremely touching. I also feel that the transitional three day mourning period is a good form of closure for the family. Recently and to the horror of the old fashioned elders in Dhofar, some families have announced they're holding shorter funerals that last only a day or two. Other families have made it clear that no meals will be provided. I don't know how they would implement that rule, but I think it's extremely sensible. How else can we improve the funeral system in Oman? Any ideas?

Eid Al Fitr in Salalah

Published September 21, 2010

To be honest, I find it hard to believe that Ramadhan is over. Once you get into the routine of quiet fasting, the shock of the Eid is quite hard to handle. Despite the fact that we did not eat or drink anything from sunrise to sunset for an entire month, I have to admit that fasting was much easier this year in Dhofar due to the cool weather and monsoon rains. In fact, many people claim it has been the easiest Ramadhan in over three decades!

For most of us, last week was a blur of fasting, cleaning, shopping, baking, and preparing for the Eid. During the few days before the Eid, shops were open until the wee hours of the morning to accommodate the needs of the thousands of last minute frantic shoppers. On Thursday evening, everyone ate their Iftar with eyes glued to Oman TV waiting for the big announcement about whether or not we were fasting one more day, or celebrating the Eid the next morning. An hour after sunset the crescent moon had been sighted, marking the end of the Holy Month of Ramadhan and the beginning of Eid. I'm sad that Ramadhan is over but at the same time happy that I can eat and drink again at regular times! My morning cups of freshly brewed coffee at work were sorely missed!

The morning of Eid al Fitr is always awkward. We have all readjusted our bodily clocks, and have made new habits. Many may find they are wide awake at four thirty in the morning thinking they must get up and eat the pre-dawn meal (also known as Suhoor). After a couple of hours more of sleep, everyone wakes up and heads guiltily to the kitchen to eat their first breakfast in a month. Eating in broad daylight can take some getting used to, that's for sure! As the men head to the mosque for early morning Eid prayers, the women hurriedly prepare the majlis for guests. Each house has a spread of sweets, fruit, drinks, Omani coffee, and halwa, a traditional Omani sweet. By nine o'clock in the morning, children have already started visiting every house in their neighborhood dressed in their new clothes, and soon their pockets are bulging with candy and Eidia (small change given out to children during the Eid). By the end of the morning, they're all on a sugar high (adults included) and head home to rest before their second round of visits in the afternoon.

The next few days are dedicated solely to visiting family and relatives. In Salalah, women usually stay at home and receive children and male relatives on the first day of the Eid and do most of their visiting on the second or third day, or even after that. Over the past 72 hours I'm pretty sure I received and visited at least one hundred relatives. Each conversation blended into the next so I am finding it hard to remember everyone's news. It can be quite overwhelming, and it doesn't help knowing I have yet another four days of visiting to do before heading back to work on Saturday! In Salalah, visiting isn't confined to the first three or four days of the Eid like most of the rest of Oman. It can go on for well over a week. I suppose this might be related to the fact that families in the south of Oman are larger than in other areas of the Sultanate.

The Eid in Salalah feels special this year due to the unusually prolonged monsoon rains, the beautiful green mountains just beginning to appear out of the mist, and the presence of tourists from the GCC and other parts of Oman who have come to Salalah just for the Eid holiday. The presence of His Majesty Sultan Qaboos in Dhofar for Ramadhan and Eid this year made it even more special. Everyone was cheerful just by knowing His Majesty is in town and that he performed Eid al Fitr prayers at Al Hisn Mosque on the ocean.

At the same time, however, the Eid marks the end of the three month 'slump' that Oman gets into with the summer holidays, Ramadhan, and in Salalah's case, the monsoon. On Saturday, Oman can wake up from its very long nap and hopefully begin to get some real work done. Children and college students head back to school, work timings go back to normal and everything becomes a blur of activity again. It's about time! But..... we are already looking forward to next Ramadhan.

Forever White

Published July 20, 2010

If you’ve ever been to Salalah you may have noticed an unusual number of stores claiming to sell ‘women’s necessities’. If you’ve actually been into one of these shops, you will observe that at least one large section of the shop is dedicated to whitening products, and another even larger section to an extraordinary selection of makeup. The complexion of the female cashier ringing up your items at the front of the store is a pale greyish white. It seems a little odd to you. As she fumbles to give you the right change, you notice that her hands are the colour of coffee beans. You look up again at her face and try not to gasp. Surprised? Don’t be. She is only one among thousands of female victims in Salalah who were brainwashed into thinking at an early age that in order to be considered beautiful, you must be white.

It’s no secret that Dhofari women are obsessed with being white. In fact, we seem to be quite famous for it! There are several women in Salalah who are well-known for their secret whitening ‘mixes’. They mix three or four whitening products with bleach and sell them for a high price in glass jars, catering mostly to young women and especially to brides-to-be. I’ve known girls who removed several layers of skin from their faces (using one of the mixes) in a feeble attempt to look white. Despite the fact that they end up looking like burn victims, many of them are satisfied. They seem to think it will make them more presentable ... more worthy (of what?). It’s very sad.
 

Our weddings are even worse. Somehow, over the past twenty years or so, Dhofari women have developed strict wedding makeup standards that no woman, in my opinion, should ever feel the need to comply with. Women spend months trying to book a makeup artist for any wedding they plan to attend, even if they are only distantly related to the family of the bride. In order to hide the natural colour of the girl’s skin, the female makeup artist applies several layers of unnaturally white makeup to the face, neck, back, chest, and any other visible part of skin (sometimes even legs!).

She then pulls out a pallet with an unidentifiable white substance on it that has the consistency of Vaseline and uses a paintbrush to apply it to the eyebrows, covering them completely in order to draw fake stick eyebrows an inch above their natural place. She then spends at least a couple of hours working on the eye makeup and lips. The girl ends up leaving the makeup artist’s house or salon several hours later (and fifty to a hundred rials poorer) looking like something between a geisha and a Goth. The look is bizarre. And then they proceed to the wedding, where they join hundreds of other unrecognizable women who are all equally plastered in white.
 

And if you thought that getting Dhofari makeup on was a struggle, wait until you hear how it is removed! My friends and relatives claim that dish detergent and a spoon for scraping is the only successful method. After an hour of scrubbing, scraping, and washing, the expected result is a sore but clean face.
 

I was at a wedding recently where the woman sitting next to me looked at my simple makeup with sad eyes and said ‘You are lucky to have enough confidence to come here looking like that.’ Looking like what? Myself? What is so shameful about that? I wanted to scream at all the women around me and tell them they are stunningly beautiful as they are.
 

Despite being educated and aware of all the health warnings, they continue to think white is more beautiful. All the shops continue to stock up on whitening products to support this local obsession. High school girls think that by smearing poison on their faces that they will live a happier life. I understand that this problem happens in many places in the world, but I tend to believe that it’s more visible in Dhofar. Most females here are unable to see that their dark-skinned beauty is something to be proud of! How beautiful we are, in all our shades and hues taken from the very earth we walk upon. Time to wake up and see beyond colour!

Premarital Screening, Anyone?

Published June 22, 2010
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As Oman observes World Sickle Cell Day this week for the first time (June 19th), and as wedding season starts with pomp and grandeur in Dhofar, I feel obliged to shed light on the issues of hereditary blood disorders and premarital testing. It is no secret that hereditary blood disorders are as common as your regular flu in Oman. The three main inherited disorders are Sickle Cell Disease (over 6% of Omanis carry it), Thalassemia (2% of the population), and finally, according to the Oman Hereditary Blood Disorders Association, 25% of Omani males and 10% of females are G6PD patients. Carriers of these three disorders tend to be more clustered up North but these disorders also exist in Dhofar due to intermarriage. And that isn't all! I won't go into the horrific local statistics on children with disabilities and birth defects.
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In Oman, where marriage between first cousins is the norm and where over 58% of the population carry hereditary blood disorders, it's simply logical that premarital screening should be mandatory. Yet despite the disturbing statistics, it still isn't! Many people I've spoken to around Salalah have never even heard of premarital screening or tend to falsely believe the tests are needed simply to determine whether one of the concerned parties is HIV positive or infertile. Naturally, they aren't keen on having such tests done for fear of public shame and embarrassment. Furthermore, a large percentage of Omanis aren't aware of the fact that disorders such as Sickle Cell Disease are hereditary. Little do they know!
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Pre-marital screening is a group of tests for couples who plan to get married. Though not advertised at all, to the best of my knowledge these tests can be done easily at any one of Oman's major hospitals. Many couples may both look and feel healthy, but are actually silent carriers of infectious or hereditary diseases. For couples considering marriage (especially when they are relatives!), pre-marital screening is imperative in identifying potential health problems and risks for themselves and their future children. Couples in a consanguineous marriage run the risk of having children with genetic birth defects such as Down’s syndrome and autism. This can be prevented! It is vital for these couples to be screened in order to help them to understand their genetic background and, if necessary, take precautions or needed treatment.
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However, many of you know as well as I do that getting young people to undergo pre-marital screening is going to be a hell of a struggle. In most cases, the couple haven't really spent time discussing marriage together since many marriages are arranged. Furthermore, testing is a sensitive topic. Many men are too proud and the tribal system doesn't really support the idea. In fact, many families think that it's taboo and tend to believe that marriage is made in heaven and no test is going to break up a marriage simply because both parties are Thalassemia carriers! Also, any couple who are madly in love and want to get married aren't going to appreciate it when a doctor informs them that there are blood issues involved and it would be wise to think again. However, as far as I'm concerned, and as far as children are concerned, love does not prevail in these cases. Nor does tribalism or pride!
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Our children need to be educated about these issues in school, and the health officials, we hope, will conduct vigorous campaigns encouraging citizens to undergo premarital screening and promote better health. In the end, it's worth it. It is of utmost importance that local media publications highlight these issues and urge Omanis and expats alike to take hereditary disorders more seriously. Premarital testing can prevent 60 percent of birth defects and nearly 100 percent of commonly inherited blood disorders like Thalassemia and sickle cell anaemia.
 

If you know someone with a blood disorder then you will agree with me that there's nothing worse than seeing a five year old child hospitalized, in pain and on morphine while trying to get through a sickle cell crisis. Whoever is in favor of making premarital tests mandatory in Oman raise your hand! Both mine are up!

And The Chaos Begins ...

Published June 8,  2010

Driving through the streets of Salalah during the month of June can be a nightmare. Traffic jams at all times of the day and night in addition to occasional foot cramps and strained ankles due to hours of inching up and down the town's main streets can only mean one thing. The sight may be rather alarming to any newcomer, but all us locals know exactly what this means: preparations for the wedding season have only just begun!
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The shopping scene is utter chaos. It's almost impossible to drive anywhere near the fabric shops, the tailors, the beauty salons, and the shops dominated by females. Quite often, you have to park several blocks away from your goal and make your way on foot through tightly parked lineups of cars. They are all, to a fault, inhabited by sulky husbands with one or more babies on their laps, waiting patiently (or not) for their wives and daughters to emerge from the shops, tripping along in their high heels, laden with wedding accessories.
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If you find room to force your way in to any of the many 'women's necessities' shops (each one an absolute no man's land), what you'll see may well scar you for life. A pushy crowd of inhabited black abayas crammed together like tinned olives in an attempt to get a look at the latest fake Swarovski crystal beads. Or perhaps a six person deep lineup of women at the hair extension counters fingering the latest honey blonde wigs (an ugly but very popular current trend in Dhofari wedding fashion). Dare I forget to mention the exhausted Asian shopkeepers rolling out interminable yards of cloth, while individually counting out the hundreds of tiny beads that will be sewn into elaborate decorations on the traditional velvet wedding dresses?
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Of course, the underlying purpose of all this fuss is that mothers must view prospective brides for their sons at the wedding parties, and their daughters must view each other and fight for the position of the most beautiful girl, or the most talented dancer. This wedding fiasco starts in May with people trying to set their wedding dates so they don't clash with other tribal weddings. The scheduling also depends on whether they can rent a 'wedding house' or either one of Salalah's two hotel ballrooms for the proposed date. Women fight for invitations, even to the weddings from outside their tribes. The topic of discussion at work and social gatherings revolves around 'How many weddings will you be attending this July and August?' The answer can range anywhere from five to ten or more, I kid you not! (And for the men, it's many more, sometimes up to ten a week, but that's another story!)
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Once the women have established which weddings they will attend, they go into something of a frenzy trying to book separate henna, hair, and makeup appointments for each one of those weddings. Let me tell you from experience, this is not an easy process. Try to imagine the permutations! We are talking about many thousands of women here, and it's not that big a town. The next step is figuring out what to wear. Obviously, for most women, it's too expensive to produce a new dress for each wedding; however, it's also unthinkable in Dhofar to even consider wearing the same dress to two weddings. The women therefore must go to great lengths to find fashionable dresses to wear, either by adjusting old dresses, tailoring new ones, borrowing from relatives, or heading to any one of Salalah's numerous dress-rental shops. It's such big business now, women even run businesses from their homes, exchanging exotic dresses for a fee.
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Preparing for wedding season in Dhofar is an exhausting and stressful process for all the women involved, from the bride, to both the families of the bride and the groom, as well as all the female wedding guests. Despite the fact that most women here deem such extraordinary preparations to be necessary, I pray that all this madness becomes a dying trend in the years to come. I look forward to the day when simplicity is introduced to Dhofari weddings and when men don't have to go into debt any more to financially support the demands of the female members of their families. However, in the meantime, the chaos continues …

Preparing for the Big Day in Salalah

Published February 16, 2010 - Muscat Daily

Every town in Oman has its own set of characteristics that makes it unique. Living in Salalah has its charms but I think it's safe to say that weddings are probably the most stressful aspect of life here. In fact, they're so stressful that I'm going to have to dedicate this entire article to wedding preparations alone.
 

A couple of days ago I was talking to a friend whom I hadn't spoken to since she graduated from university six months ago. I asked her if she'd found a job yet and her response was 'I can't look for a job.. My brothers are getting married in August'. No, you don't have to check your calendar. It is indeed February 16th. So why do people need to spend a year preparing? Aren't weddings supposed to be simple, happy occasions? Not in Salalah!
 

I think we've reached the highest peak of wedding insanity in this town. After securing a bride, young men (regardless of whether they have a good salary or even a job) are expected to pay anywhere from five thousand to fifty thousand rials as a dowry to the bride and her family. Some families demand gold in addition to the dowry. Once the dowry part is over, the groom spends long weeks and months worrying about preparing the bridal suite - normally a five-star bedroom and bathroom in his family's house. Many families refurnish their entire house for the celebration. The women in the groom's family will often take over the whole process of selecting the best tiles, the most expensive carpets, glittery gypsum, curtains, and furniture. The man is left to pay the accumulated bills. The main purpose of all this is simply to impress relatives and guests. Quite often both the bride and the groom end up hating the décor in their bedroom (over which they've had no say). 
 

Meanwhile, as the women work on the suite, the man is busy trying to figure out how many cows or camels need to be slaughtered for the men's and women's separate celebrations (usually held over a period of two days), which restaurant will cook the food, which hotel or wedding house will host the women's part of the wedding, how many people will attend, and how much it'll all cost. Overall, if we add up the dowry and wedding costs, I'm guessing a young man can spend up to 50,000 rials just to get married.
 

The bride's side of the story is even more bizarre. As soon as the wedding date is set, most young women go into a 'beautifying' frenzy. This can involve months of whitening, softening, fattening and other preparations. Salalah still believes in the concept of 'fattening the bride for marriage'. A common trick is to drink a potion made containing ghee, brown sugar, cinnamon and milk three times a day. A bride spends months buying 'necessary' items for her trousseau - thousands of rials worth of velvet, silk, abayas, lingerie, makeup, perfumes, frankincense, watches, bags and shoes. Most brides are kept in hiding at home for at least a month before the wedding because being 'seen' at that point is still taboo for many families. Just before the wedding, many families invite relatives to view the bride's trousseau, which is laid out in the majlis to impress guests.
 

When did this all become the norm? These aren't 'our' wedding traditions from the past. They just aren't. What they are is a reflection of how we as a society have adapted to the modern world. Since when was marriage about getting into terrible debt and spending your life's savings (if you have any) just to impress people? What happened to the idea of opening a new page with your spouse and starting a new life, young and free? Weddings are so stressful and expensive that families have started marrying off two or three (or even more) sons on the same day to cut costs. Smart move.
 

Don't get me wrong here. Not every family is falling into this societal trap. I know some people who are trying to break away from these materialistic insanities, and I salute them for trying. But have many succeeded? Not really. After having observed the results of too many ostentatious weddings, I encourage couples to start out simple. You won't regret it. In the end, nobody's going to remember the how many perfumes you had on display or how much you spent on the bathroom tiles!

The Shisha Café Scene

Published January 19, 2010 - Muscat Daily

Anyone who visits Salalah is bound to drive along Haffa beach in the old souk area, or what we locals call 'The Corniche'. It used to be a quiet area where you would often see families sitting at their doorsteps chatting or fishermen mending their nets on the sidewalk under the coconut trees. Sadly, now all you see on that long stretch of beach are white plastic tables and chairs belonging to the cheap restaurants or ' cafés ' that basically serve tea and shisha (commonly known as hookah), and very little else.

 If you drive along the beach any evening of the week, between 5 p.m and 2 a.m, you'll see hundreds of Dhofari men in small groups at these tables smoking shisha and drinking tea. Not only is it popular here among local young men, but it seems to be very popular with the tourists. Shisha restaurants don't exist only on the beach, but can be found practically anywhere in town, in hidden alleyways, in farm plantations, and now even extending up into the mountains. Is Salalah slowly turning into the shisha hub of Oman? Do we want that kind of publicity?

Looking back, I am guessing that this unhealthy habit appeared in Salalah back in the mid 1990's. However, nowadays it has become a social trend that is well integrated into the daily routines of men in Dhofar. Most of the men who hang out at these restaurants are between the ages of 20 and 40. Dare I compare them to pubs in England? Both are male hangouts. Both provide the opportunity to socialize. Both are places where you can watch sports on television. Both may or may not employ attractive female waitresses. Last but not least, both serve an addictive substance.
 

It amuses me to see that men tend to believe that spending hours smoking shisha adds to their social status & sense of prestige. I asked a number of people I know why they find shisha so attractive, and their answers were very similar. They all agreed that shisha makes them high, kills all the spare time they have on their hands, and provides an atmosphere for socializing. As a person who suffers from allergies, I have no respect for people who smoke. What's so great about filling your lungs and the air around you with smoke? Does it make you feel good about yourself in the long run? I doubt it.

Sadly, there are several places in Salalah now where even women can get their dose of tobacco. Personally, I think it's an extremely unpleasant and unhealthy habit and I will never understand why men do it, let alone women.
 

I've come to notice that many users here believe that shisha smoke is significantly less dangerous than that from cigarettes. The moisture induced by hookas makes it less irritating and thus may trick the smoker into thinking it's the healthier option. Studies by the World Health Organization have confirmed that use of shisha is as harmful to a person's health as smoking cigarettes, if not more. In a one-hour shisha session, users consume about 200 times the smoke and about 70 times the nicotine as they do in one cigarette. People who smoke shisha have five times the risk of lung cancer as non-smokers. Why do it?
 

Several shisha smokers I know claim that if they had something more interesting to do, they'd probably quit. Perhaps Salalah needs more sports facilities, useful entertainment centers, bowling alleys, bookstores, cinemas, and more decent places to kill time? More activities for young people? Sounds like a topic for one of my future articles!

How Was Eid?

Published December 7, 2009 - Muscat Daily
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My alarm clock went off at 6:00 a.m on Saturday morning. I cursed and begged for another day of holiday. Just another day! But no such luck. It just kept on ringing until I was forced to get up and go to work. Don't get me wrong. I love my job, but I really enjoyed Eid and those precious nine days of holiday. I'm figuring you all cursed your alarm clocks too.
 

Basic Eid rituals are similar throughout the Muslim world, but each society also has its own unique traditions to celebrate this religious event. Also known as the 'Festival of the Sacrifice', Eid Al-Adha is a holiday celebrated by Muslims worldwide to commemorate the willingness of Abraham to sacrifice his son as an act of obedience to God. It is also about spending time with family and enjoying the simple blessings that life has to offer. The first day of Eid occurs the day after the pilgrims conducting Hajj descend from Mount Arafa in Saudi Arabia.
 

This Eid is a major social event in Dhofar. The build-up alone is an event! During the week before Eid, it is nearly impossible to move in town. The streets are filled with frantic shoppers trying to do last-minute Eid shopping. Old men bargain with carpet sellers by the side of the road, children beg their parents for new toys, and women carefully select the colours and patterns on the traditional Dhofari 'thobes' that they wear for Eid. Meanwhile, cows and camels are transported around town in old pick-up trucks, on unsteady legs, unknowingly headed for sacrifice.
 

On the day before Eid, also known as 'Yom Arafa', most adults fast and prepare their houses for visitors while keeping an eye on their television sets which broadcast the live descent of the pilgrims from Mount Arafa in Saudi Arabia. Some are even lucky enough to spot someone they know waving at the camera through the crowd.
 

At dawn on the first day of Eid, mothers prepare food and burn frankincense while fathers and sons dress in their finest for Eid prayers at the mosque. After prayers, the males head off with their relatives to slaughter. In Dhofar, brothers often get together to buy a cow or camel. They then distribute the meat among their families and the poor.
 

By mid morning, the men are back from slaughter, and the women begin to cut up and cook the meat. Dhofar's favourite Eid dish is 'ma'ajeen', small pieces of boneless beef cooked in beef fat. It remains tasty (and sterile!) for months if kept in a sealed container. Many families also make ‘makadot’, or camel meat dried in strips.
 

Children put on their new clothes, meet up with friends and visit houses in the neighbourhood to eat sweets, giggle and collect ‘Eidia’ (small change). Usually men do their visiting in the afternoon and women in the evening. When I say 'visiting' I basically mean making an effort to visit every relative in the immediate and extended family as well as all the neighbours. This can take days.
 

Every visit is almost identical. Guests are greeted in the family majlis with the usual 'Eid Mubarak! How are you? And your family? Your health? Come and eat meat!' Every majlis offers exactly the same things; Omani halwa, Arabic coffee, nuts, sweets, orange flavoured Tang, fruit, and the required bowl of ma'ajeen. It can become a little overwhelming once you've reached house number ten! Some large families choose to have a tribal picnic on the third or fourth day of Eid to avoid visiting houses individually.
 

Eid is all about being social and 'doing your duty' by visiting family and neighbours. Most people in Dhofar would never be seen in shops or at tourist spots during Eid. They're too busy visiting the 1,000 relatives on their Eid list! Looking back, I know I ate enough dried camel meat to last me a lifetime, and I probably discovered at least 10 new relatives whom I never knew existed, but it was a great holiday and a time to touch base with people I don't see very often. Until next year!

Arranged Marriages

Published November 24, 2009 - Muscat Daily
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I remember the night five years ago when I received a frantic call from my best friend telling me that her father and uncles had summoned her into the family room that afternoon to inform her that she would be marrying her cousin, nine years her senior. She had three months to get ready. I remember listening to her saying 'I can't believe this is happening to me. I can't believe it'. We were both devastated. She was looking forward to starting college and making a life for herself. Meanwhile, her family informed her bluntly that high school was enough, and that having an unmarried 19-year-old daughter in the house was a burden. In the end after a lot of pressure from her father she was forced to agree. She never saw or spoke to the man who was to become her husband until the night of their wedding. Now, five years later, she shares a house with her in-laws, has two very young children, and a husband who does not love her, and who will not allow her to study or work or even leave the house without his permission.
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Are you surprised? This happens in Oman all the time. Arranged marriages are in full force, especially here in Dhofar. I'm against such marriages, but that doesn't necessarily mean that they don’t work out. I've seen some positive examples of beautiful relationships that started off as an arranged marriage. However, I believe that it's a matter of luck and that those couples simply hit the jackpot. I know for a fact that most of the time it doesn't work out. With all due respect to conservative thinkers around the country, arranged marriages cause a lot of pain, trauma, and sadness.
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In Oman, arranged marriages usually occur between cousins, preferably paternal ones. As far as I know, the reasoning behind marrying cousins comes from families wanting to keep the family blood 'pure' and their wealth within the family. Distribution of inheritance is of extreme importance in our culture. Arranged marriages become more like a contract between families and not individuals where both parties feel responsible if it doesn't work out. I remember almost blowing up at a colleague who casually mentioned that he was proud of his tribe because all the girls married their first cousins, and that he would do the same for his daughters to maintain this beautiful tradition. I wanted to shout at him, "Who gives you the right to determine the fate of your unborn daughters?!" You cannot force two mature adults onto each other and expect them to build a happy life together. You cannot 'arrange' love and successful relationships. Life doesn't work that way. Not nowadays. Oman is a modern country! Marriage expectations among young people are very different than they were some years ago. As far as I'm concerned, young men and women have the right to choose whom they are to marry. They also have the right to get to know one another, and then decide whether it's right to take that big step. Marriage is not a game. It's not something fathers can decide on the spur of the moment in the family majlis over a cup of tea. Not any more.
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I've discussed this topic with many male colleagues who argue that arranged marriages do not end in divorce and are therefore more successful. The reason they do not end in divorce is due to family pressure. Most of the time, the couple are miserable but are too nervous about telling their families that they want to end the marriage.
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On a more positive note, over the past three or four years I've seen many families in Dhofar who are allowing their daughters to talk to their fiancés over the phone before the wedding in order to get to know each other a bit more. Often the couples are allowed to end the engagement if they feel it's not going to work out. Furthermore, many young people are defying tradition by choosing their own partners. I salute the open-minded parents who support their kids in making their own decisions when it concerns marriage, and I encourage other parents to give advice, love, support, and to simply let it be.