 | DAY 12 |
Al Hudaydah |
Looking out on to the Red Sea. Incredibly warm and shallow water.
The fishermen coming back in at around 7am from a long night of fishing, apparently not too successful
"Le chef du village" as we dubbed him; I thought I had woken up in Africa!The sleep on the beach was great. The moon must have set at 10 pm or so, and there were millions of stars in the haze above. It was comfortable sleeping outside. Warm with a bit of a warm breeze. We were woken up by an older man whom we have dubbed "chef du village" 'cause he seriously looked like he had come from an African village. He was staring at us, while still sleeping, wondering what planet we came from. We had both felt a presence over our heads. He then went and woke up Hamid in the car. He dissapeared and returned, trying to sell us necklaces made of sea shells at 6am! We could tell he was the "chef" because he was screaming out at the boats in a language that sounded nothing like Arabic. He would point to and fro and say that there was fish there. How he could see fish, I didn't know, but the boats followed his orders. Then the zorgas came back in, and of course they had caught fish where the chef had directed them to go. There was even a boy whom we saw swimming who caught three fish with a spear. The chef sat down with us and discussed the usual round of politics. He let us take his picture, standing proudly. I guess he had managed to ask Hamid to give him a ride into town so he hopped in with us as we left. He was such the back seat driver telling Hamid to turn this way and that way, to go faster, higher on this dune, etc. We reached a deserted beach. Aida and I waited till they were out of the way to change into our swimming suits. I felt so paranoid that Hamid was going to come back and stare at us in our swimsuits. We walked down the beach a ways, a safe distance from him, and swam. The water was incredibly warm, not even refreshing. It was extremely salty and the beach shallow for a far distance out. But it was so relaxing to swim. Hamid slept on the side of the beach and the chef dissapeared somewhere. When we went back to shore and dried ourselves, the chef appeared from nowhere and told us to get dressed quickly before the men saw us. What men he was talking about I had no idea, we were in the middle of nowhere! Soon enough, men were walking up and down the beach. We tried to get dressed while in the car as Hamid took his turn for a swim. The road back from the beach – amazingly empty. Sort of. At first there are some trees, some shrubs, even some huts, but no solace from the sun. No shade anywhere. Incredible. Hamid hung his underwear on his side mirror in order to dry as we hopped along the sandy path, leaving the chef behind. Although Hamid had promised the chef a ride to town, he decided to ditch him. We were bummed, we wanted to talk to him some more. Besides he had directed us to the beach! It was May 1st, a national holiday. The streets of Al Hudayda were empty, save the garbage. At 9am we stopped in a small shop for some assir limon. It's 40 degrees at 9am, amazing. We're driving towards the mountains again. Another flat. 10:30 am. Marawa. Stopped at the souk for some fish. Only now it's gonna rot in the back of the car at 45 degrees! Hamid's changing tires, I just took a dump in the sand dunes and Aida's writing. Sitting on the side of the road with the trucks and Toyotas passing us by. How to describe this feeling of overwhelming heat?! I feel somewhat light headed, although I don't think it's the heat. Silly crazy mood of mine. But I better save my energy for we have barely any water. So I was sitting at the souk and the children and men and a few women surrounded me, amazed that I even speak Arabic, just staring at me. One insisted on my giving him my glasses. It was so strange to be the object of their curiosity. They just stood there staring at me. I don't know where Aida ran off to, I think her and Hamid went to buy some more tapes. Aida liked one of the songs, so wanted to get her own copy. We lunched in Qutay, where we had our fish cooked in the clay oven. Tasty but a bit salty for me. Besides I'm not too hungry. I'm filled with the water I've been drinking and trying to recover from yesterday. We wait inside a funky garage for our tire to get fixed. The kids in here are watching the TV, a small black and white screen whose signal comes in and out every few seconds. We're inside because of the fan and the cold Canada Dry's. It's too hot for me here. I'm sweating like crazy. I thought I'd be clean today after the swim, but I think I'm dirtier today already than I have been so far. The dust from the cars passing by, from the air, the sand, the salt, the motorcycle fumes. There's this brown river along the road that forms a very thin fertile valley. There are palm trees, banana trees and others. People seem to bathe in the water. The mountains are plentiful all of a sudden, very rocky with green shrubs on them. It's still very hazy out and not worth a photo. It's getting cooler, but not enough in the front passenger seat of this car. The back was super windy yesterday, but it's Aida's turn for the back seat as she takes a nap. |
 Manakha |
Our next destination: Hajjarah, Arabic word meaning rock, way up at the top of these mountains.
Taking a break alongside the road. My cousin Aida is the affectionate one on the right.
Selling qat, and chewing it at the same time of course! Manakha is supposed to have the best qat in all of Yemen.
Lounging in the mafradsh, chewing qat, drinking sweet red tea and listening to the oud. |
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We've reached Hajjarah – high atop these mountains. It's raining outside, we're sitting in the mafradsh of a funduq with only Yemenis and one young man is playing the oud and singing. It's beautiful. Some men clap once in a while with the sound of the music. We're all sitting here chewing qat. I realize that it's a nice thing to do on a rainy afternoon. I've enjoyed my time in Yemen. I'm very glad I came and saw this country. Experienced the Arab world – or at least a part of it that I never knew before. It's been a great experience. The people have been so well receiving, friendly, open, giving, very talkative (almost too much at times – it might be the effect of qat, I don't know). I find their eyes beautiful. They shine, they glitter, they seem reflective or perceiving. Maybe it's because of the whole feeling of the forbidden, perhaps because even the women's eyes are sometimes covered. Maybe it's the darkness. Whatever it is, I find that every person I meet here has captivating eyes! I feel I have seen a lot here. I've heard lots of sounds – at times defeaning: the car horns, the alarms, the thunder that echoes, the mosques, the kids, the "hellos." The smells: garbage, jasmin flowers, cactus flowers, the qat, the cooking of food, the spices, the incense, the fish, the cigarette smoke, the madda'a smoke... And of course the sights. I still can't get over the variety. Sana'a's old city, the lit up windows, the terraces cascading down endlessly on steep mountain faces, the dark clouds hovering over, the feeling of Africa in the Tihama, the huts, the palm trees, the architecture, the camels in the mountains and in the desert, the sand dunes – those that were empty and those with bush – the plastic bags all over the country, usually a sign of qat, the men half lounging in their tiny shop chewing in the afternoons, the henna on the women's hands and feet, the busy souks, the crowds of people, the stares, the questions, the surprise at our speaking Arabic. I've missed my privacy. I didn't notice until now. I'm in a quiet, bored kind of mood, I don't feel like being with others. We're always surrounded by others; even I'm always in the company of Aida. Rarely do I get a moment on my own, which I usually enjoy so much! Went to a wedding party this afternoon. Of the women only. Interesting. I thought all the make-up was absolutely hideous. They danced and seemed to enjoy themselves. Then we went to this girl's house and met a bunch of girls and women. They had so many questions about the US and France, they wanted to know everything about our lives, they shared with us that they weren't looking forward to getting married off and they were jealous that not only had we chosen our own boyfriends, but that we could travel without them. They gave us their addresses and asked us to send them postcards of the places we live. Came back to the hotel, had some rice and bread and watched the men put on a show of dance and song and weird games. Hamid hasn't been talking to us all night. I've felt that since the afternoon he's been upset, particularly at me. Aida keeps asking me what I did, and I just can't imagine that my reluctance to sit with him in the car last night has led him to be so upset. On our way up to town, we had stopped on the side of the road to take pictures, and one of Hamid's co-workers stopped by to say hello. Hamid was in a rush to get up to the hotel so we said we'd walk up the rest. Instead we took a ride with his co-worker, Khaled, when he lingered around longer. In his car, he had hung one of those orange blossom necklaces. I said it smelled nice. This innocent little comment made by me is eventually what would lead me into trouble. Khaled apparently understands this comment as some sort of flirtation and doesn't leave me alone all evening, which only seems to piss off Hamid even more. I eventually decide the hell with all of them, and quietly sit in the corner of the room next to Aida, write in my notebook, chew my qat, and watch the men dance. Although even when dancing, Hamid has such an intense and angry look on his face. The little kid who's a relative of the hotel's owner was so cute and lively. He sings, plays the tamtam (drum) and dances all night. They had quite a few dances with their djambias. It made me wonder where folkloric dance all started from. |