Slave No More

Published May 22, 2012 - Muscat Daily. Click here to view article on the newspaper's website.

I'm a recovering addict. How's that for an opening sentence? Let me start at the beginning. I've always been a very organised person. Before cellphones and the Internet, I managed my life through daily planners (remember those?) Once modern technology invaded Oman and I discovered the wonders of handheld phones, I started managing my life through my BlackBerry.

I was constantly tuned in to my channels of communication. On my handheld alone I managed my work e-mails, personal e-mails, blogs, Facebook and Twitter accounts, WhatsApp account, BlackBerry Messenger, and good old SMS… not to mention the occasional call or two! I also drafted most of my columns on the phone.

With over 2,000 contacts, life seemed manageable on the handheld. Furthermore, I was on my computer all day at work then I'd spend a good chunk of my time at home on my laptop answering personal e-mails and tuning in to world happenings. I was your typical tech-savvy 20-something year old. In other words, I was a complete slave to modern technology.

A little over a year ago while on vacation in London, my BlackBerry decided to die a cold and damp death after I accidentally left it by an open window all night. When I realised what had happened the next morning, I frantically tried to revive it by removing the battery several times, shaking it, banging it against the wall, and finally begging it with all my heart to come back to life. When it failed to respond, I finally sank to the floor and stared at the blank screen for over an hour as my life fell apart. I thought I had lost everything; my contacts, photos, notes and conversations. Slowly I began to feel physically ill. My illness was soon followed by heart palpitations. That's how upset I was. Don't mock me.

With eight whole days before my flight back to Oman, how was I going to survive? For the first couple of days, I wandered through the streets of London feeling lost and miserable. I was depressed and unable to focus on anything or anyone around me. On day three, I settled down under a tree in Hyde Park and decided to address my anxiety. Why was I so miserable? Why was I so dependent on this ugly little handheld device? What had I become? And finally, how on earth did we all live and communicate before cellphones and e-mail? To be honest, I couldn’t remember. This realisation scared me.

I acknowledged how ridiculous the situation was and decided to take control of my own life. The next five days turned out to be the best part of my vacation. I allowed myself to unwind and enjoy leisurely strolls and meals without constantly looking at my phone and worrying about minor work issues thousands of miles away.

Upon my return to Salalah, I bought a new BlackBerry but only activated my work e-mails. I bid farewell to Twitter and Facebook on the handheld. I forbade myself from using the computer at home unless absolutely necessary. My phone was put on silent mode after 10 pm every night and I was actually able to walk from one room to the next without carrying my phone with me.

A few nights ago just as I was going to bed, my year-old BlackBerry decided to die a peaceful death. This time though, I stared at the blank screen, yawned and went to bed. I felt neither stress nor anxiety. My contacts were saved on my computer at work and my e-mails were all safe and sound somewhere on the World Wide Web. Nothing else mattered. In other words, I was finally growing up.

Looking back at that cold morning in London a year ago, I can't tell you how pleased I am with myself. I'm still a long way away from being able to switch my phone off completely and not check email for a few days, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that as everyone around me becomes more and more connected, I am seeking to disconnect. In fact, I'm sitting at my kitchen table right now writing this column on real paper using a real pen. My phone is charging in another room. All is well in my world.

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!

Women's Rights in Oman

Published March 27, 2011 - Muscat Daily. Click here to view the article.

Following my column two weeks ago on International Women’s Day, today I'm tackling something closer to heart… women's rights.

Oman has been a pioneer in the Gulf when it comes to women's rights. His Majesty the Sultan has worked hard to guarantee equal rights and opportunities for women. Forty years ago there were no schools for girls in Oman. Today, there are more women than men enrolled in institutions of higher education. Our participation in the labour force is also increasing on a daily basis.

However, like most countries we have our issues when it comes to women. Although the Basic Law of Oman prohibits discrimination on the basis of gender, women still face legal discrimination under the personal status law of Oman.

It's a sore subject because Oman's interpretation of the Islamic Sharia law is what controls the personal status law in all matters related to marriage, divorce, inheritance and child custody. I have great respect for the Sharia law, but I think people should have a choice.

It bothers me that it’s legally possible in Oman for any male member of my family to marry me off without my consent. No woman I know in Dhofar has ever signed any marriage papers.

The men of the family ‘arrange’ it all. It’s also irritating to know that a husband can grab two strangers off the street and make them sign a divorce document in court as witnesses. The court doesn't even bother to make sure the woman gets a copy of the divorce paper.

It’s legally possible in Oman for a man to divorce his wife with two witnesses, then go home and pretend nothing happened. Who's going to tell her? There are definitely gaps in the system, and according to my sources some practices tend to vary by province.

The reason this issue isn’t discussed publicly is because very few men abuse their privileges when it comes to marriage and divorce, but that does not in any way justify these discriminatory practices.

As far as I'm concerned, every human has the right to be in control of their own life. Obtaining a woman’s signature on her marriage and divorce papers should be mandatory.

Another issue that drives me up the wall is that a man can legally take on an additional wife without informing his first wife. I know for a fact that many men abuse this right. The personal status law of Oman is very vague about polygamy.

It only specifies that a man should treat all his wives equally. It also bothers me that inheritance laws of Oman discriminate against women. Again, I think people should have a choice.

Several international human rights' reports state that women in Oman are legally restricted from travelling abroad without the permission of a male relative. From my experience, I know this is not true.

However, according to my humble knowledge, a male relative can stop a woman from leaving the country if he wishes. I have searched high and low but cannot find a legal document confirming this. If you know anything about this, please share.

Yet another sore subject is marriage to foreigners. It is nearly impossible for an Omani woman to marry a foreigner. There are seven billion people on this planet, but my country tells me I'm only allowed to marry one of the several hundred thousand men who hold an Omani passport.

In the rare case where approval is granted, the woman faces an even bigger battle involving child custody and the ability to sponsor her own kids in Oman. The ironic part is that if you have a child from an 'unknown father', then that child automatically gets citizenship. What is wrong with this picture?

It is worth noting that Oman is one of the very few remaining UN members that has not fully ratified the UN Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW).

Oman presented a report to CEDAW in October 2011 but stipulated reservations on several issues including women’s right to move freely, granting nationality to children with Omani mothers, and other CEDAW provisions that are not in accordance with Sharia laws.

There are a few other issues that I would like to highlight, but I’m running out of space. Stay tuned for another feminist outburst!

The Role of Women (International Women's Day)

Published March 13, 2012 - Muscat Daily. Click here to view article on the newspaper's website.

Last Thursday the world observed International Women's Day. Rallies, seminars, and parties were held around the globe to celebrate women's achievements and to address their struggles. In Salalah, the occasion slipped by without much notice. I celebrated quietly at a barbecue under the full moon in the mountains of Dhofar with friends.

The past year has been an interesting one for women around the globe. Some countries took a step forward; others took ten steps backwards.

Arab women were publicly shaping their countries and fighting for democracy in places like Egypt, Tunisia and Libya during the Arab Spring. Many are still fighting to this very day in countries like Yemen, Bahrain and Syria. Furthermore, three remarkable women were awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 2011.

On the other hand, just last week Afghanistan's highest Islamic authority issued an edict saying that women were worth less than men - a statement released by Karzai's office and then endorsed by the president.

"Men are fundamental and women are secondary," it said, adding women should avoid "mingling with strange men in various social activities such as education, in offices and other aspects of life". We are secondary now, are we? I'm glad Hamid Karzai is not my president!

His Majesty Sultan Qaboos bin Said has always been an avid supporter of women in Oman. We are truly blessed to have such an enlightened leader.

From the very first day he took over from his father in a bloodless coup over 40 years ago, he has been encouraging Omani women to empower themselves and become active members of society. In fact, in Oman we get to celebrate Omani Women's Day on October 17 as well as International Women's Day on March 8.

What's it like being a woman in Oman? I get asked this question a lot. Foreigners with very little knowledge of Oman tend to think we live isolated lives like women in Saudi Arabia simply because we're next door neighbours. They couldn't be more wrong!

Oman has taken significant measures to ensure women's rights in most areas. Women in Oman can work, drive, vote, own property and hold office. We also have equal opportunities when it comes to education.

When I was working on my undergraduate degree here in Oman, more than half of the students enrolled at my university were females. For a town as conservative as Salalah, this was quite something.

However, like most women around the world we have our share of struggles. Having two female ministers and a handful of ambassadors doesn't mean all Omani women are empowered. Many forms of discrimination still exist against women in Oman.

Drive into any village or small town outside the capital and observe how the women live. There is a lot to be done. First and foremost, women in rural areas need to know what their rights are.

The main issue we face in places like Dhofar is society's attitude towards women. The majorities of men down south disapprove of working women and prefer their women to be at home where no other male can see them. Naturally, the glass ceiling is also a big issue for working women in the public and private sectors.

There are also some aspects of the law that discriminate against women in Oman especially when it comes to marriage, divorce and inheritance. They aren't major issues but they matter a lot. I will save that argument for my next column.

Today I am focusing on the positive and paying tribute to all the incredible women in Oman who have helped shape this country and who continue to prove themselves on a daily basis. Happy Women's Day!

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!

The Lunch That Never Was

Published January 31, 2012 - Muscat Daily. Click here to view article.

Today you must bear with me. I will be complaining about an attitude that a large percentage of my Omani family, friends and colleagues suffer from. Foreigners living in Oman joke about it online and behind closed doors. Even Omanis sheepishly admit it's a problem. Before you read any further, keep in mind that I suffer from mild Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. It's the small details that drive me crazy. I'm going to give you a list of scenarios that I had to live through in the past fortnight, and you help me pinpoint the problem.

Scenario One: Last week I arranged a workshop for 40 Omanis to attend. I booked the venue, arranged the menu, and sent out invitations. I also called all participants the day before the event to confirm their attendance. They all knew attending was mandatory.

On the day of the event, 25 people showed up on time and another five strolled in an hour late. When I called the missing ten their excuses were as follows: three forgot, two went to the wrong venue, four never bothered to come, and one was busy at the fish market. None of them bothered to let me know they weren’t coming.

Scenario Two: Last weekend a relative of mine got married. The bride's family announced they were slaughtering a goat and having a low-key wedding lunch. I was asked to make a wedding cake and 100 cupcakes as a favour. Never one to turn down an opportunity to bake, I happily agreed.

The day before the wedding I spent six hours in the kitchen making the cakes. On the morning of the wedding I woke up bright and early and spent another six hours decorating the cakes. I was proud of my work.

An hour and a half before lunchtime, the freshly cooked goat and rice arrived early from the catering company. The family decided that having fresh hot rice and meat was more important than the wedding luncheon, so they sent around trays of rice to all the invitees' houses instead of having them over. Lunch never happened. I never got an explanation or an apology.

Scenario Three: A college student who requested an internship in my office refused to start this week. Her excuse? She needs to catch up on sleep because a five-day break between the last day of exams and the first day of her internship just wasn’t enough.

Another student showed up on the first day, then never came back again and won't answer her phone. A third student had the audacity to ask if he could just skip the internship altogether but receive a certificate of attendance anyway in order to graduate.

I can think of endless other incidents of a similar nature that I witnessed in the past few weeks alone. Sometimes I find the attitude charming and try to convince myself that Oman is one of the very last nations on earth where people are still laid back, and that I should appreciate it while it lasts.

Occasionally I find it deeply amusing. Lately, however, I've been finding this lack of urgency and accountability simply irritating.

I questioned several Omanis about this recently and their only explanation was, “It's part of our culture.” I couldn't agree more. It is part of our culture and has been since the 1970s when modern life was handed to us on a silver platter. However, do we really want it to remain part of the culture? Are we proud of it? I'm certainly not.

There may be plenty of productive and professional Omanis out there, but they remain a shining minority. A large percentage of Omanis my age really do not understand the importance of proper work ethics, commitment, and most importantly the value of others' time and their own. It may be unintentional, but that doesn't justify a thing.

On a final note, in case you were wondering what happened to all the cupcakes from Scenario Two, rest assured that I made two neighbourhood soccer teams very very happy that afternoon.

My Take on Polygamy

Published January 17, 2012 - Muscat Daily ... click here to view article

I come from a polygamist family. My father currently has three wives and fifteen children. Do you find that incredibly weird? I must confess, occasionally I do too. Most of the time, however, I never really stop to think about it.

A few months ago, I was on a training programme with young citizen journalists from different parts of the world. On our first day I spent my lunch break with a Muslim girl from Europe. Halfway through our meal, she asked the inevitable question, “How many siblings do you have?”

After I answered her, she was silent for a few moments, and then whispered, “I've never met anyone from a polygamist family before.” She spent the remainder of the programme questioning me about what it was like. To be honest, she made me feel like I'd just landed from outer space. I've been thinking about it ever since. Is it really that unusual?

Polygamy has been practised in different cultures around the world throughout history and is still legal in most Muslim countries, with the exception of Tunisia and Turkey. Even though it is legal, I know it’s not widely practised outside the GCC.

In Oman, polygamy may have died out in most areas up north, but the tradition is alive and well here in Dhofar. I assume the reasons behind this are somewhat related to the stronger tribal ties at this end of the country.

Why do men in Dhofar choose to take on another wife? Islam allows up to four wives under certain circumstances and conditions.

Despite this, I believe very few men in Dhofar these days remarry for religious reasons. I hate to sound negative, but most polygamists I know (the number isn't small) remarried for entirely selfish reasons.

In many cases men take on a second or third wife to show off their wealth or to produce more sons who will carry on the family name. Some men who are unhappy with their first wives but can't divorce them due to family pressure choose to remarry. A large number of polygamists marry women half their age to help the men feel 'young' again. That seems to be the most common reason.

There are also a small percentage of men who take on a second wife for semi-acceptable reasons. For example, a former neighbour of ours took on his deceased brother's wife as a second spouse in order to take care of her and keep the kids in the family. I can't say it made sense to me, but it seemed to work for them.

Some men whose wives are infertile will marry other women to bear children while keeping their first wives. Divorced or widowed women also tend to end up being second or third wives since most single men here wouldn't consider them for marriage. Most polygamists take on a second wife after they hit 40 or 50 and realise they're not getting any younger. Having two wives isn’t uncommon in Dhofar. Three or four is rare.

The big question is, does polygamy really work? In my opinion the answer is a big no. A few years ago I was involved in a research project here in Dhofar on polygamy. After hundreds of interviews and months of work, it became obvious that women are victims when it comes to polygamy.

None of the women we interviewed were happy in their marriages. On the other hand, the men seemed to be fine and most had remarried for entirely selfish reasons. It was truly heartbreaking.

Polygamy may have worked for many centuries and it probably made sense in many cases. However, in this day and age I think it causes more heartache than happiness and I'm confident that no man is able to love and care for two women equally, let alone four! Furthermore, no woman in her right mind wants to share her husband with another woman. Men may fantasise about being the perfect husband who loves and treats his wives equally, but who are they kidding?

People may argue that I'm generalising and that they know a happy polygamist family. But are they really happy? When two wives live under the same roof, they are under enormous pressure to appear to live harmoniously, regardless of their feelings. I'm sure there are a handful of really decent polygamists out there who treat their wives equally and who manage happy homes, but I have yet to meet one!

Naturally, the law in Oman doesn’t protect women when it comes to polygamy. A man can remarry without even informing his first wife. That doesn't speak well for women's rights in Oman, but I'll save that rant for another week.

Many non-Arabs may wonder why the first wife simply doesn't ask for a divorce if her husband comes home with a young wife. If only it were that simple! Most women above the age of 40 are not educated. They have no means of supporting themselves and probably have at least five children. Where do they go? Do they head back to their father's house if he's still alive? Camp out in their siblings' spare bedroom forever? They have no choice but to stay with their husbands and endure the pain.

If you think polygamy will die out with the current generation of middle-aged men, think twice. I can think of three men I know under the age of 40 who have two wives. I also know two young women around my age who became second and fourth wives respectively in the past 12 months.

In fact, just a few months ago, a married man asked for my hand in marriage. I wasn't planning on sharing that piece of information with the world, but seriously…how could I not? Someone in this day and age assumed a young independent woman like me would be okay with being a second wife! Fortunately, I'm not. As much as I love my family and all my stepmothers and step-siblings, I am against the practice.

On a final note, a couple of years ago I read an article that suggested polygamy contributes to lower divorce rates in Oman. Whoever assumed that probably hadn’t had their morning cup of coffee. Polygamy will die out sooner or later. Until then, please say a prayer for all the women who've suffered through this bizarre tradition. And if you have a positive polygamy story to tell, do share....

Indian Gray Mongoose

I know this sounds nerdy, but I'm terribly excited about coming across a 34 inch (around 90 cm) mongoose on my way home the other night in Salalah. It was heading towards the Dahareez banana plantations. I've never seen one before even though they do live in Dhofar. More on these cobra-killing creatures here.

Things We Don't Talk About

There is a young Nepalese housemaid who works at a house down the street. Every morning she’s outside scrubbing the cars of the lazy young men who live in the house. At noon she’s outside hanging laundry. In the evening she’s dragging garbage bags to the communal garbage bins. She always looks tired. I’ve been watching her for over a year.

Last week, one of the young men in the family drove up to the house with a carload of groceries. He lit a cigarette and settled down onto the front steps to supervise her as she carried heavy bags and boxes of bottled water into the house. On her fourth or fifth trip, she tripped and dropped a sack of onions on the steps. He shoved her and shouted something at her. She nodded, picked up the stray onions, and carried the sack in.

Like many of her South Asian, Southeast Asian and Ethiopian counterparts in Oman, she probably works over twelve hours a day doing all the housework and taking cake of the family children. She earns a mere RO30 or RO40 Omani riyal a month. At the most, she’ll earn  RO 60. Sometimes her employer won’t pay her salary for months at a time.

She is probably verbally abused regularly and in some cases physically and sexually abused as well. Her employer is guaranteed to have her passport locked away, even though it is now illegal in Oman (What’s the point though when there’s no penalty?)

She was probably deceived into coming here by a greedy agent who had her sign a phony contract promising double or triple what she’s making now. Her employer won’t let her leave until she’s paid back her employment visa charges. Assuming she earns 50 OMR a month, it’ll take her over a year to pay the amount back in order to regain her freedom again.

The whole scenario above has ‘Human Trafficking’ written all over it. Unfortunately, many Omanis don’t see it that way. In fact, I don’t think most of them have ever heard the term ‘human trafficking’ before and have no idea how serious it is.

I am a proud Omani, but the general attitude among locals here towards South Asians & Southeast Asians makes me sick. I’m using housemaids as an example only. The same applies to construction workers who have built this country block by block (literally) and other low-skilled laborers. Whenever I try to discuss this with colleagues or friends, they claim that the abuse of migrant laborers is worse in other GCC countries and that laborers are better off in Oman. As if that justifies ill-treating another human being!

In 2007 the US State Department's Annual Trafficking in Persons Report pushed Oman down to Tier 3, the lowest rating on the human trafficking index. This embarrassing rating wasn't because the situation here was terrible but rather because we didn't appear to be doing anything about it.

Furthermore, international human rights monitor groups weren’t able to operate in Oman to the best of my knowledge, and that didn't look too good for us either. After it became apparent that Oman was still down in Tier 3 in 2008, the government publicly rejected the report then hastily set up a National Committee for Combating Human Trafficking (NCCHT) as well as the National Human Rights Commission (NHRC). This placed us back in Tier 2 during 2009, 2010 and 2011. Tier 2 basically means we're not complying fully with minimum standards to eliminate human trafficking; however, we're making significant efforts to do so.

The NCCHT's website is informative and it provides hotline numbers for reporting cases of human trafficking. The site also enables you to download the National Plan for Combating Human Trafficking in Oman. That’s a good step in the right direction, but what about spreading awareness among Omanis? Employment agencies aren’t the only culprits in this battle.

The aim of this column isn't to criticize government policies, per se, but rather to address the issue from a human perspective. Nearly sixty years ago my father’s family lived in a cave in the mountains of Dhofar. My grandmother was out with the animals from sunrise to sunset. Like most Dhofaris living in the mountains at the time, every day was a struggle to find food and water. Today, almost every single Omani household has one or two maids whom they treat with very little respect. What went wrong along the way and when did we stop being humble?

Something I find quite interesting is that Oman was one of the very last nations on earth to abolish slavery in 1970. It's incredible to think that people who actually owned slaves are still alive today. I mention this because perhaps in some way this is linked to how many Omanis view and treat their domestic help, and why they feel the need to have them in the first place. Naturally, slavery is a taboo subject that no one discusses in public here.

I know it’s not fair to generalize because there are plenty of really great employers who treat their labourers as humans. By employing help Omani families are indirectly supporting immediate and extended family members in their employees' respective countries. However, that does not by any means justify low wages, forced labour, threats, blackmail and confiscation of passports..

This is just the tip of the iceberg, and the situation is far more complicated than anything I can fit into one column. Oman has made great progress in the past 41 years, but most Omanis remain uninformed about issues related to human rights.

As a young Omani who cares very much for her country, I'd like to see more awareness campaigns in public schools about human rights. Kids need to learn from a young age how to treat people of all backgrounds with dignity and respect. I'm tired of seeing neighborhood kids throw rocks at the municipality workers who collect garbage from our streets.

Just yesterday, it was announced that His Majesty Sultan Qaboos bin Said has advised the Ministry of Education to increase the number of Islamic studies classes in schools. Since basic human rights are extremely relevant to the peaceful message of Islam, perhaps the new curriculum can include more basic human rights teachings. This country needs it. Food for thought….

 

Published January 3, 2012 - Muscat Daily

PS (due to some nasty comments, let me clarify one thing: my family does not employ a housemaid. We do our own housework and take our own garbage out ..... pretty scandalous, huh?)

The Salalah Shuffle

Anyone who flies Oman Air regularly between Salalah and Muscat will immediately know what I’m talking about. Someone had to write about it eventually. It’s just too comical to ignore.

Last week I was in Muscat and on my last day I had to attend an all-day meeting then immediately head to the airport to catch my flight back to Salalah. By the end of the day, I was exhausted and looking forward to a smooth flight home.

I checked in early to make sure I was guaranteed a window-seat, and the woman at the business class counter cheerfully confirmed she had secured it for me. I thanked her profusely and headed off to the superb Oman Air business class lounge; one of the perks of being a loyal Sindbad Silver member.

If my air miles were credited to my account accurately, I’d probably be Gold by now, but I don’t mind. I’m a pretty content flyer as long as I get my window seat. Did I already mention that?

When I reached the designated gate for my flight, my heart began to sink. I counted at least 20 veiled women waiting at the gate. This could only mean one thing; The Salalah Shuffle was bound to happen. Despite my intense prayers as we boarded the flight, luck wasn’t on my side that night. A very large veiled woman was planted firmly in my seat when I arrived.

I sighed and handed the cabin crew member my boarding pass. Without batting an eye, she directed me to an aisle seat a few rows down. I told her I had specifically requested a window seat but she repeated again that I had to move to the aisle seat.

I gritted my teeth and settled down in the new seat. I didn’t bother putting my bags up in the overhead bins because I knew I’d be shuffled at least one more time before the flight took off.

Within a few minutes, a tired looking man arrived and informed me that I was sitting in his seat. I stood up and apologised, explaining my situation. He nodded and confirmed that he was familiar with the Salalah Shuffle.

After consulting a cabin crew member again, I was shifted to yet another seat. By this time, all hell had broken loose on the flight. There were stubborn women blocking the aisles because they refused to sit next to any strange man. Other women had simply taken over empty seats and refused to move, as was the case with my precious window seat.

Honourable men jumped up from their seats and swore they’d give them up for any woman. Frustrated tourists were trying to understand what was going on. Cabin crew members were frantically trying to seat and re-seat everyone so the flight could take off on time.

And that my friends, is the Salalah Shuffle.

After being moved three times, I was finally assigned a middle seat at the back of the plane between two annoying people who hogged the arm rests the entire flight. Boy was I glad to get home that night!

If you’re not familiar with the Salalah Shuffle and think I’m exaggerating, rest assured that I’m not. I have been on over 35 flights between Salalah and Muscat in the past twelve months. If I’m not qualified to write about this, then I don’t know who is. I am a survivor. With every flight from Muscat to Salalah I am prepared for the inevitable chaos that will surely ensue.

Sometimes I’ll be settled in my seat when a cabin crew member will approach me and beg me to change seats because a stubborn woman somewhere is refusing to sit next to a man and somehow I look like a friendly person who doesn’t mind switching seats.

Most of the time I’m happy to oblige because I feel sorry for the flight’s cabin crew. The Salalah Shuffle is a bigger nightmare for them than it is for people like me.

You may be thinking cabin crew should just be stricter with their arrangements. That’s true. However, when an elderly woman (or several!) has taken over someone else’s seat and refuses to move, how do you deal with a situation like that?

You can’t delay the flight or force her to move. It simply doesn’t work. Shuffling and re-shuffling passengers is extremely frustrating and a complete waste of time. Furthermore, for security reasons I assume it’s important to have people seated in their designated seats.

Why not look for a win-win situation? Society in Salalah is still very conservative and I fully understand women’s hesitation to sit next to a strange man. My humble suggestion to Oman Air at this point is to unofficially dedicate the back few rows of every flight between Salalah and Muscat to women. Surely that can’t be too hard, right?

Whenever a woman checks in, send her to the back. It’s the same as dedicating the first row to women with babies. There’s a logical solution to any problem, and as far as I’m concerned the Salalah Shuffle has gone from being deeply amusing to plain annoying. Makes you wonder how Saudi Arabian airlines function!

Published December 20, 2011 - Muscat Daily

Monotonous Ribbons

PS (I wrote this immediately after the ridiculous women's event I attended. I was furious. And yes the guest of honor yet again was the Minister of State, HE Sheikh Mohammed Marhoon Al Mamari)

It all started when I was six years old. My first grade teacher would excitedly announce to the class that our school was having an event.

We would be forced to make posters and tidy up our classroom to impress a certain guest of honour who would be visiting our school. A makeshift stage would be set up, speeches would be written, and trash would frantically be collected from the school grounds.

Someone with wasta would contact Oman TV and beg them to send a cameraman to document 'the event'. Someone else would contact the newspapers and ask them to send reporters.

The guest of honour in most cases would be an Omani man, usually between forty to fifty-five years of age. He was almost always a senior government official, be it the Minister of State or the local municipality head.

He would arrive dressed in a crisp dishdasha, khanjar (dagger) and holding a fancy walking stick. The prettiest girl in class was usually chosen to hold the cushion on which lay a pair of shiny new scissors which His Excellency would use to cut the red ribbon at some student exhibition that was put together mostly by teachers.

He would nod and smile as students nervously explained the projects and posters their teachers had made to impress the guest of honour. After a quick tour and obligatory photographs, he would be rushed out by his entourage and it would all be over.

Did the event accomplish something? Was it organised? Not really. However, it didn't really matter as long as we made it to the second or third page of the newspaper the next day.

In college and high school, student clubs would snooze all year and then there would be a sudden burst of activity when the administration announced an 'event'. These events involved the usual red ribbons, long pointless speeches in flowery Arabic, tired dignitaries, and many exhibitions put together in a hurry to please the chosen guest of honour.

A few days later, an awards ceremony would be held to honour the students who participated in the frantic assembly of pointless exhibitions for the first event. The ceremony of course included the obligatory checklist of Omani red-ribbon protocol in addition to cheap gifts wrapped in shiny Christmas-theme wrapping paper.

Twenty years later, I'm still trying to figure out why we continue to organise such events. They involve no creativity or passion, and most certainly no humour at all. I mean, heaven forbid should we ever make our guest of honour laugh, right?

To me, these occasions fall under the category of 'Omani Red Ribbon Events' .i.e., events with lots of pomp and ceremony but very little content. Over the years, I'm pretty sure I have attended over one hundred events of similar nature, and on every single occasion I ask myself 'why am I here?' I know not all Omani events are as boring as my description, but almost 99 per cent of the ones I've attended were.

A couple of weeks ago on the occasion of National Day I was invited to attend an event honouring women from Dhofar. The invitation card stated that one hundred women from this part of the country would be honoured for their achievements and contributions to society.

I put on a fancy abaya, grabbed my notebook and pen and headed to the event. For the first time ever, I was actually excited to attend an Omani red-ribbon event.

I arrived at the venue and was immediately told I couldn't go in through the main door because women went in through the side entrance. I thought that was a little odd considering the fact that the event honoured powerful women.

Nevertheless, I didn't make a scene and quietly moved myself to the side entrance. In the gender-divided ballroom, I managed to find myself a seat with a good view of the stage and the audience.

As we waited for latecomers to arrive, I was able to survey my surroundings. Over a hundred male guest officials looking uncomfortable in their khanjars, tired looking cameramen, and the familiar table with a mountain of gifts wrapped in shiny gift-wrap.

Nearly an hour later, the guest of honour arrived with his entourage and took his seat in front of the stage. The first five-minute speech felt like an hour. The second speech felt like ten hours. People began to play with their phones and stare at the ceiling. I began to lose hope.

When the final speech ended, I clapped half-heartedly along with everyone else and waited for the exciting part. When the master of ceremonies finally appeared with a list of names and the guest of honour was invited onto the stage, I sat upright.

The first name was read, then the next, and people began to turn around and look at each other in confusion. It finally hit me that they were going to quickly read out a list of names without indicating who the women were and what they had done to deserve the award.

The names were being read so fast that at one point there were about ten women congregated in front of the tiny stage trying to figure out whose turn it was. After about eighty names, it was abruptly announced that the event organisers were handing the guest of honour a trophy.

Camera flashes went off and reporters gathered around the stage. Before the forgotten twenty women or so could object, dinner was announced and everyone stood up. One of the organisers unapologetically told our table that someone had lost the last page of names. Disappointed, I left the event.

Despite the event being wrong on so many levels, there was plenty of media coverage over the next few days as expected and the event was even featured on the news!

Till today, I have not been able to discover who those women were and what their contributions were to society. Perhaps I'll never know. What I do know is that the event was a replica of all the other pointless events I have attended over the years. If you want to renew my faith in Omani event management, invite me to something interesting. La fin.

Published December 6, 2011 - Muscat Daily

Oman's Pride: The Royal Opera House

Think you’ve read enough Royal Opera House Muscat (ROHM) reviews these past few weeks? Well, here’s one more. Rest assured that this will probably be the only opera house column from my end of the country this year.

In 2001, His Majesty Sultan Qaboos bin Said - a lover of classical music - ordered the building of an opera house in Oman. At the time, it all seemed like a farfetched dream. Ten years later, his vision became a reality.

Before I elaborate further, keep in mind that I'm a devotee of classical music and arts as well. Just a few months ago I thought I was beyond privileged to see Swan Lake at the Royal Opera House in London.

Little did I know that before the novelty could wear off, I would be in possession of tickets to Swan Lake here in Oman, performed by none other than the famed Russian Mariinsky Ballet! In my own country! Only one hour by plane from my home in Salalah. That’s only 12 hours by bus, ten by car or nine days by camel, depending on your preferred method of travel. It’s a dream come true.

During my visits to Muscat in the past three years or so, I'd drive by the ROHM construction site and my heart would skip a beat from sheer excitement. The day the tickets went on sale in September and it was revealed that world-renowned Italian tenor Andrea Bocelli would be performing, I went online and almost had a nervous breakdown because the payment page didn't appear to be working. I couldn't just stroll into the box office because I live at the other end of the country.

I frantically tried the hotline and e-mail address provided on the ROHM website, but received no answer. They were overwhelmed with requests. I finally begged a friend living in Muscat to buy the tickets for me and after he posted them safely in the mail, he was promised they'd arrive within three days. Three weeks went by and my mailbox remained empty.

Oman Post had lost my tickets to the sold-out Bocelli concert (and you thought Najma al Zidjaly was the only Muscat Daily columnist with a Bocelli sob story?). My friend had to go back to the box office and get the tickets re-printed. Two weeks after I received the newly printed and couriered tickets, the old ones arrived in the mail. Do the math. It took over five weeks for a small envelope to reach Salalah from Muscat.

My story didn't end at that. The day of the performance just happened to coincide with tropical cyclone warnings. My mother, brother and I were scheduled to fly up to Muscat on the day of the performance. As we drove towards Salalah airport, the palm trees lining the highway were bent backwards from the force of the wind and I started getting calls from people warning me that flights may be cancelled due to bad weather. With the performance only a few hours away, we began to lose hope.

Our flight finally took off and we landed in Muscat only to discover that the bad weather had followed us up north. It was pouring and we were stuck in the world's worst traffic jam. Despite the drama, we reached our destination on time. All I can say is that the venue was incredible, the atmosphere was surreal and the performance was mind-blowing. Not only did Bocelli come back for several encores, but also received seven standing ovations. The whole experience was everything I'd hoped for, and more.

All in all, I am so proud of the progress Oman has made over the past few decades and the balanced choices we continue to make when it comes to development. Some people I know who were involved in the protests and sit-ins earlier this year claim they're boycotting the opera house because they believe the money spent on the project could have been used to fulfil more of their demands.

To me, that is ridiculous. First of all, most of their major demands were fulfilled almost immediately. The remaining demands were either irrelevant or need more time to be studied. Furthermore, the ROHM project was launched in 2001, and it would be insane to stop in the final stages because a group of guys protesting on a roundabout want their debts cancelled. As harsh as my words may seem, that's the reality of it.

As far as I'm concerned, the opera house will take tourism in Oman to a whole new level, thus boosting our economy and providing more jobs to Omanis. Isn't that what we want?

Furthermore, Omanis will be introduced to the best of the world's classical arts, and hopefully the world will also be introduced to the very best of Oman. As an Omani, I'd rather have an opera house here than mega shopping malls and skyscrapers.

ROHM is going to put Oman on the map in a completely different and very positive way. Just in the few weeks since the launch of the opera house, we've made it to Lonely Planet's top ten places to visit in 2012, as well as National Geographic Traveller's top 20 destinations for next year. And that's just the beginning!

The inaugurating season features world class talents like Andrea Bocelli, Renee Fleming, Placido Domingo and the Mariinsky Ballet. According to recent articles, the ROHM also promises to nurture and cultivate local talents.

If that's true, then it will become a centre for bridging cultures and fostering understanding. Music and arts have the potential to unite people regardless of their nationality or religion. There are no boundaries with the arts. It’s something most people on this planet can relate to. To sum things up, the ROHM is truly an inspiration, and I'm looking forward to the second part of the season!

Published November 22, 2011 - Muscat Daily

Maniacs Galore

A couple of days ago I was driving through downtown Salalah as usual, on my way home from work. As I neared a major intersection, a 25 seater bus passed me dangerously on the left in order to speed through the intersection before the lights changed.

I could tell from a mile off that there was no way either of us would make it and as I predicted the bus braked suddenly at the lights and slowed down. When I drove up, I noticed the bus was full of small children in school uniform. Some had their arms and heads hanging out of the huge open windows and others were hanging out of the door.

I thought I must be hallucinating, so when the light turned green I followed the bus through town until it slowed down to let a couple of kids off. To my utter astonishment and horror, the idiot behind the wheel was driving with the bus door wide open. A child who looked no more than six years old was sitting on the fold-out chair right in front of the door.

One tiny accident or even an encounter with a rough speed bump and that child would have been tossed out of the bus. I felt nauseated, so I pulled over but the bus sped off just as I was taking down its details. I called the emergency hotline and the efficient ROP officer who answered after the first ring told me to write down the licence plate number and file a complaint at the nearest police station.

I have seen thousands of maniacs on the road in my short four years as a driver, but that school bus driver takes the cake for utter recklessness and stupidity. After consulting with family members, I decided to first find out which school the bus belongs to. Salalah is a decent-sized town but I'm pretty sure I'll be able to locate the bus. Once I find out, I will pay the school principal a visit and then report the driver to the police depending on the outcome of my visit. I won't let this rest until I make sure those innocent children's safety is addressed.

Do you think I'm over-reacting? Unfortunately, I have seen enough car accidents and corpses these past few years to last me a lifetime. A couple of years ago I was in Muscat for a photography workshop. Just after sunrise, I was standing at my hotel room window trying to get a shot of the mountains when I noticed through my viewfinder a little blue car going at an insane speed down the road.

The car hit the kerb, flipped over six times and crashed a few metres away from my window. The body of a young man flew out of the car and landed in a heap on the sidewalk. Clearly hadn’t bothered fastening his seatbelt that morning. As people ran out of nearby shops and restaurants to help, I just stood there feeling numb and continued pressing the shutter button. It was all I could do.

For an hour, I stood there taking shot after shot. I watched as the restaurant owner checked for a pulse and shook his head. I watched as the police and ambulance arrived. I watched as they loaded the corpse into the ambulance and as the father of the young man arrived and identified the body. I watched as he stumbled out of the ambulance and covered his face with both his hands, sobbing.

The police officer touched his shoulder gently and offered condolences. I watched as the ambulance drove off and as he gathered his son's things from the car. I watched him leave just as the tow truck was arriving to take what remained of the car away. The last shot I took was of the municipality cleaner in orange uniform sweeping up the shards of broken glass from the sidewalk. All it took was an hour and life on that street went back to normal…except for me. All I could feel was a deep emptiness. I had watched someone die.

Since that day, my driving has never been the same. Every time I leave the house, I prepare to die. Pessimist? Not really. I'm just being realistic. I'm a very careful driver and I never speed, but apparently that doesn't matter here. No matter how careful you are in Oman, there are enough maniacs on the road to ensure your chances of getting killed on your way to work are high.

I see a car accident at least twice a week during rush hour. I also spot at least five or six people talking on the phone while out driving at any given time. As for speeding, I won't even begin to count the number of speed-crazed delinquents who cross my path every day. The number of road accidents in Oman has been increasing at an alarming rate. Every year hundreds of people die in car accidents, but people just don’t seem to get it.

When are Omanis going to wake up and realise how many lives they endanger every day with their reckless driving? We need higher fines and a strict point system where drivers lose their driving licence temporarily or permanently depending on the number of points in their traffic offence record. Road safety is a collective responsibility. From time to time I look at those photos to remind myself of the fragility of life. I’ve had my wakeup call. What about you?

Published October 25, 2011 - Muscat Daily

Enchanting Mirbat

A couple of weeks ago a seminar titled ‘Mirbat Throughout History’ was held at Marriott Resort just outside of the town of Mirbat in Dhofar. The town and its surrounding valleys and villages can almost be referred to as Dhofar’s forgotten treasure. I’m pleased the seminar took place, though I don’t feel it received nearly enough media attention. None of my colleagues had even heard about it. I would have gone, but the town lies 80km east of Salalah and I wasn’t able to get time off work.

Mirbat has intrigued me and thousands of others I’m sure over the years. With its rich history, hidden mysteries and diverse geography, it deserves more attention than it actually gets. The wilayat of Mirbat is a haven for explorers, campers, hikers, fishermen, and divers. It is home to some of the most beautiful unspoiled white-sand beaches in the country and the bays are home to an incredible variety of marine life.

The caves of Mirbat with their pre-Islamic writings are fascinating and the Tawi Attir sinkhole and bird sanctuary which lies deep in the mountains behind the town is 112m deep and was featured a few years ago in National Geographic magazine. Every month during the full moon, hundreds of locals from Salalah head to Mirbat to camp on the beaches and enjoy the timeless feeling of the area.

The pre-Islamic archaeological site of Sumhuram (Khor Ruri) west of the town of Mirbat dates back to 4000BC. Inscriptions rec-ord that it was established by LL’ad Yalut to control the Dhofari frankincense trade. According to history, Indian seamen who brought cotton cloth, corn, and oil in exchange for incense over winter, waited for the favourable monsoon winds to take them home. The site has been open to the public for a few years and as of this year has its own little museum. On site are two temples and several locations where you can see ancient inscriptions in a language that appears to have branched from the Proto-Sinaitic alphabet in the ninth century BC.

In addition to frankincense trees, the mountains behind Mirbat gravity point are also home to a mysterious valley of rare and ancient baobab trees. Some baobabs are reputed to be many thousands of years old, which is difficult to verify, as the wood does not produce annual growth rings.

While driving through the mountains you are likely to come across camels, mountain goats, deer, wolves, and even the occasional hyena or two. I’ve seen strange creatures in those mountains that I have yet to identify!

The actual town of Mirbat is home to many crumbling yet still-inhabited buildings and old abandoned Yemeni-style mud-brick structures. 14th century traveller Ibn Battuta spoke of the town of Al Baleed being famous for the export of horses to India though in fact the horses were exported from Mirbat.

Bedouins brought their beautiful Arabian horses overland on ancient trade routes through the Empty Quarter to the coast. A statue of an Arab horse at full gallop is placed on each side of the road at the entrance to the town to commemorate its past. The word ‘Mirbat’ in Arabic means the place where horses are tethered.

The Battle of Mirbat - which took place in the monsoon of 1972 - was the beginning of the end of the Dhofar Rebellion. If you’re interested in more details, the battle has its own page on Wikipedia. According to historical texts, the town of Mirbat was also the first Islamic capital in Dhofar.

You can still find old Islamic graveyards on the outskirts of the town and shrines belonging to Islamic scholars from hundreds of years ago. Believe it or not, these shrines draw religious worshippers of different nationalities on a regular basis. I’ve always found grave ceremonies and sacrifices a little unsettling. If you've been to the tombs of Job or Bin Ali (both in Dhofar) on a Friday morning before prayers, you’ll know why!

Mirbat may seem like a magical timeless place right now, but don’t be fooled. The area as we know it is coming to an end. If you’ve been to the elegant Marriott Hotel just outside of the town of Mirbat, a quick scan of the humungous model in the middle of the lobby will give you goose bumps. The future of Mirbat lies in that plastic model. An RO1bn project covering 2mn sq m. The project includes hundreds of expensive villas, pools, five-star hotels, theme parks, clubs and a golf course. That is the future of Mirbat.

I have mixed feelings about westernised tourist resorts, especially when they land on a place as beautiful as Mirbat. Such developments may be catastrophic to the area. We’ve also been hearing rumours of a possible navy dock. Yet another project to take over what’s left of Dhofar’s natural beaches.

Since Oman is working so hard to promote tourism it seems totally insane to destroy the very things that make the country so beautiful and attractive. What Mirbat needs is a decent museum, a renovated souq, clear exploration paths and a little cultural regeneration ... not a nine-hole golf course!

If you plan to visit Salalah, take the time out to drive to Mirbat. Take a walk through the old houses and marina, and up to Mirbat Fort. Sit on the beautiful smooth rocks by the water with the seagulls and admire the clear blue ocean and the wooden dhows moored in the Arabian Sea. Try to capture the essence of this beautiful old town as we know it, for the winds of change are blowing our way!

Published October 11, 2011 - Muscat Daily

The World of Shura

I'm an independent Omani female in my mid-twenties. I work with hundreds of people, I read the newspaper everyday and follow local news on Facebook and Twitter. I keep tabs on anything and everything interesting that goes on in Dhofar, and last but not the least, I'm a registered voter.

During the past few weeks, huge bulletin boards have been popping up around town at every major intersection and highway. All of them show photoshopped sullen looking Dhofari men in expensive turbans. If you get close enough, you'll see the person's name and about half a sentence about them. Majlis A'Shura elections are coming up in a few weeks and I will be casting my vote, but the question is...for whom? I only recognise three of the candidates!

Over the weekend, I decided to take my vote seriously and do a little research about those mysterious men on the bulletin boards. Who are they and what do they stand for? First of all, I found the Shura elections website through the Ministry of Interior. Most of the tabs on the website are inactive, but I could click on the final list of candidates. Lo and behold, there are over one thousand people running for Majlis A'Shura in Oman this year; and 32 of them are from Salalah! Is it just me, or is there something fundamentally wrong with having 32 final candidates running for two seats in a town as small as Salalah?

Next to the name and photo of each candidate, there's a link to their biographies, but clicking on it takes you to a blank error page. It's hard to believe that no one has bothered to upload candidates' resumes onto the website yet. On the same website, I found campaigning regulations, voting rules and other interesting information. I also discovered that pretty much anyone over the age of 30 can run for Majlis A'Shura if they're a sane Omani with a good reputation. (how the heck does one measure reputation?!)

After noting down the names of the candidates, I started searching online in Arabic and English for any information on them. Three hours and 17 candidates later, I gave up. Out of the 17, three had actually posted easy to find information online. One of them had a website, as well as accounts on Facebook, Twitter and YouTube. Obviously, he'd done his campaigning homework before signing up.

What about the rest of them, though? After discussing it with several people, I've come to the conclusion that the remaining candidates are simply not interested in attracting strangers' votes. They're counting on their tribes to endorse them. I'm not sure how prevalent tribal power is in the North of Oman during Shura elections, but it's definitely the force behind elections down South. Believe it or not, in 2007, when the last elections were held, I didn't even bother finding out who all the candidates were. The men in my tribe held meetings with men from sister tribes, and after months of arguing, they all decided to endorse one candidate. I was driven to the election centre and told to vote for a certain individual. I did what I was told because I was a naive 21 year old. Today, I'm ashamed of myself for not even bothering to find out who I was voting for.

The only semi-valid excuse I can come up with in my defence is that Majlis A'Shura didn't mean much to many of us in the past because it served as a consultative authority only. However, after Oman's version of the Arab Spring earlier this year, things changed. When His Majesty Sultan Qaboos bin Said reshuffled the cabinet of ministers, he appointed former Shura members as new ministers. Then came Royal Decree 39/2011 granting Majlis A'Shura legislative powers.

This council is the closest we will ever get to having a parliament in Oman, so it's time to take our votes seriously. First of all, shouldn't the long list of candidates be filtered before election day? I'm pretty sure there are candidates out there who should never have stepped forward in the first place.

I met one of the candidates this week and asked him how his campaign was going. He proceeded to lecture me on how he was running for office to protect our land and our tribe from the enemy. I stared blankly at him until he finished, then politely nodded and changed the subject.

As noble as his cause may be, it has nothing to do with the future of this country. Sadly, he's not the only candidate out there who has stepped forward for all the wrong reasons. These elections should be more than just a fight for tribal power. Candidates should be astute politicians who are able to think about where the economy is headed and what they can do to improve education, health, and job opportunities for Omanis. They should be addressing demographic issues, corruption, and so forth. Dare I suggest that the purpose of this election should be to have a public debate to discuss the future of Oman? In the wake of the recent protests, Omanis want more from our candidates. They also want more from Majlis A'Shura. People should be publicly discussing the new powers that the council is supposed to have possessed after Decree 39/2011.

Most of my peers are boycotting the elections simply because they don't believe in Majlis A'Shura. In a way, I don't blame them. How does one convince independent young Omanis to vote for an establishment that has no clear powers and its members seen as incompetent middle aged males picked by their tribes for all the wrong reasons? We have a long way to go before tribes stop controlling elections, but I’m optimistic about the future. Come mid-October, I'll be casting my vote and may the best man win!

Published September 27, 2011 - Muscat Daily