 | DAY 3 |
Mukalla |
The sha'abi's (locals) sleeping on the bus. |
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Aida is sleeping, her head bobbing up and down. A lot are sleeping right now, a little after 7 am. We're climbing up this mountain by bus almost inch by inch. I think I could walk faster than this. Even the driver seems bored as he's not really driving, but steering along the curves. The mountain walls have these natural looking caves in them. I've seen a few more roaming camels. We passed through a part that seems to be the future industrial center for foreign companies in the oil and construction business. Very stoic modern camps with big signs at the gate. Such a remote part of this country, such a remote part of the world... I wonder if my friends who have worked for oil drilling companies like Schlumberger camped in places like this, wherever in the world they were sent to. The road amazes me. So nicely paved. You wonder how it ever got built - lots of North Korean cash infusion for the ex-communist South; German and other Western European cash infusions for the rest of the country. I'm afraid I'm not taking as many pictures as I'd like. All the sights I see and people are going to remain in my head. It just doesn't seem appropriate for me to whip out my camera and snap away. Al Mukalla – all I can remember is the modern city that stinks. Down by the bus "stop" (there was no bus stop to speak of, but that's what it was known as) was something like a bay that didn't open onto the sea that was the town garbage and toilet dump. I don't think the men wear anything under their skirts – as I see them squat down to do their business in that "bay" or on the side of the road when we stop for a break. Waiting for the bus to leave, I was sweating so hard while breathing this stenchy air in. I wonder if the locals smell it. It feels so heavy and humid – like a weight on your lungs. I went to buy some water and the man gave me two sandwich bags tied closed with cold water in them. I wondered if it wasn't from the bay. I remember reading in my guidebook not to drink unbottled water, but I don't obey. I won't for the remainder of the trip, either. If I'm going to be in Yemen, then I'm going to drink Yemeni water, whatever the guidebook says! We walked around last night and had some interesting sandwich (bread, tomato, egg and onion) and fresh lime juice which I'm loving (assir limoon). Got woken up by the sounds of the mosques which today seemed so loud – as if I had awoken inside one! I find the people here a real eclectic mix. Some look African, others like my memories of Omanis. They have interesting faces and I wish I could photograph them all! The eyes are dark but it's as if they shimmer, reflect, shine. Like little jewels. With the thick long lashes. Set so well inside the face. Having this feeling that I'm forbidden to look make them so much more beautiful to me. I can't keep away. I can't look away. Some of them are lighter brown (like the man next to me on the bus yesterday) and they shimmer just as much. Perhaps it is because their skin is dark – this beautiful brown color than is neither dark nor light. And it's not Indian either. It's different, their own. Like a very deep tan. They tie their turbans around their backs and knees when sitting so that they don't have to hold their legs or keep them open. The mountains and hills and plain and rounded. What renders them beautiful is the play of sun and shadow that form shapes along them. Sometimes going the same direction as the mountain range, sometimes cutting across. And they move – shadows dancing across the mountains, when it's really clouds dancing across the skies. I don't miss anything. I only find it difficult to write down my impressions, experiences and thoughts down like this. I'm used to having time to reflect, sitting at a desk and quietly let the words seep out. Writing on a hot bouncy bus, or on a bed where I'm concerned about the bugs that I see crawling around on the sheets doesn't make for inspirational writing. Most buildings seem unfinished – but it's on purpose. They build one floor at a time, leaving the "foundational columns" (I forget the name) open, with the steel bars still there so that they can build easily when the next floor is needed. Also, they build not only floor by floor, but room by room. I guess as the family grows, so the house does too, one human being at a time. We've passed so many areas where the land is marked by one of two things: a mound of rocks and stones, mounds one after another; or the "little staircases" as Aida calls them – what seems to be the corners of the houses still to come. We made it to Shibam. Only what we thought was a hotel next to the city had moved to Al Hawta and is one of those old forts turned into a luxurious hotel. I guess our reliable guidebook (the one that says not to drink the water), hasn't been updated in a while. Apparently the hotel shut down almost two years ago. We manage to hitch a ride to the luxurious hotel. After mega bargaining we're paying $50/night. This will be the biggest amount of money we spent throughout our journey here. By the time we leave, after the souvenirs and personal drivers, we'd each only have spent less than $300. At the hotel we run into some French tourists, who seem to be here as if on one of those chichi spa vacations. One of the women asks us if we have any tampons, to which we say no and let her know that in the Arab world she's going to have one hell of a hard time finding tampons, so she might as well set her sights on pads instead. Nothing that is going to pervade a woman's body... | |
 Shibam |  
Details of the castle walls 
The Hadramut area is renown for its detailed wood work, such as on these doors. |
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Smearing the dust of our journey across our faces, we passed out in the beds. We're taking rides in and out of Shibam (a 5-10 minute car ride) with the workers of the hotel. They work at this spa thing, and they live in the ex-hotel, so there's always someone heading in one direction or the other. They realize we're not here to sun tan or get deep desert massages (if there is such a thing, I don't know), and that we'd walk before we'd get a cab. They also seem to like to give us rides, as we can spend the duration discussing Arab politics and tell them what it's been like to live in the US and other such places. Walked through Shibam, finally without our veils. Even the little children (boys and girls) wouldn't allow for pictures. We spoke to some women who said our souls would burn in hell if we didn't pray (a Muslim belief). One of the women was shocked when she heard us speak Arabic. Thereafter she was adamant that we would go to hell doubly as fast. We tried to convince her that we were Christian, but she wouldn't believe that some Arabs are Christians (a common mis-conception throughout the world it seems!). Aida tried to approach it from a more logical standpoint and talked about Christ to her, that he was from what is now Palestine, and that Christianity was afterall born there, but the woman wouldn't buy it. She left us behind hurriedly and mumbled again under her breath that we were going to hell. We took a few pics but the light changes too fast at dusk. Right now there's mega sand in my eyes from the strong winds all around. We're waiting around in this ex-hotel for the next pick-up/drop-off of employees, so we can catch a ride back. There is a man here now, and he is barely comprehensible – he's got too much qat in his mouth to speak! It's quite hilarious actually. I keep wanting to burst out in laughter, but I don't want him to think that I'm laughing at him. I would just be laughing at how his words are veiled under all that qat! Aida and I cannot look at each other, for we know we'll end up laughing. I can feel her move every time I ask him to repeat what he has just said. All the others that work here – different kinds of Arabs from various countries – have been super friendly and easy to understand. Shibam is spectacular. The long buildings close together. It's impressive from far. So the drive over was really long – 7 hours. We stopped finally for lunch and I had some rice and vegetable soup with bread. I went to wash my hands with the men outside – but I kept having to wait till they were all finished before it was my turn. Even those who came after me would pass in front. I don't think I could take it for very long, being so used to the concept of standing in line for my turn without anyone cutting me off. The few women who were on the bus dissapeared and went in the back of the building. I don't know what they did, if they ate, if they were able to wash their hands... But they hurried back to the bus and waited silently. The empty desert-mountain road was long. Finally we hit the "valley" or Wadi Hadramut. Exquisite! Palm trees, old looking mud brick houses surrounded by these great canyon walls. I thought we were close but it must have taken us another two hours or more to get to Shibam. It felt endless. The "Allahu akbars" have started their pre-sunset calls. It's so beautiful – surround sound almost – you can hear the ones far away overlap with those close by, and their intensity changes with the wind. At one point in the bus it was windy and I liked the feeling of my scarf flying in front of my face. I could still see through it. Now my hair is loose and surprisingly it smells good, although it's all tangled and messy. The wind whips it hardly to the right, then seconds later, hardly to the left. It hurts. We sat in this café last night in Mukalla and had cocktail (mango juice with grenadine) and assir limoon and they had this constant announcement type of talk going on the loudspeakers. I didn't listen carefully – I wonder what it was all about. I was too tired to pay attention. How can they stand the wind in their eyes? This sand storm seems to be getting stronger.I sit here and squint all the time, while the incomprehensible man doesn't seem phased by the sand everywhere, now also going into his already full mouth I presume. This evening we chatted with some men who work at the hotel. There were two from Adis Abbaba that were very nice. We sat outside and shared political thoughts about the Arab world versus the Western world. I've got to remember to make tea like they do in Yemen when I get back – with all the spices. On the way back from the ex-hotel, we stopped at a place to eat foul (a bean dish) and we were the first foreigners there. The men needed to get their dinner, and we didn't mind joining them as neither one of us felt like sitting with the old French ladies and eating something Europeanized. It was nice being with the locals and being able to communicate. The mountains were beautifully lit – like blue ghosts off in the distance. We got back and hung out at the pool with the Egyptian guy who was in the car earlier today, on our morning hitch. We must have stayed out there for two hours talking with him – lots of topics: his marriage, Muslim women, European and American ways, etc. Then we went for a swim at 11:30 pm. That was great – floating in the cool water looking up at the black moonless sky with all its stars. Floating in the pool I thought of the stars and how the people of thousands of years ago, in this land of the Queen of Sheba must have had the same sky to look up at – or has it changed – the distance the light travels and the number of years it takes to reach us, etc… | |
 
Scenes of Shibam in the evening. |