Arabia Felix

 

In the southwest corner of the Arabian Peninsula, in the high dessert, there is a place where time has stood still.  It was known in the ancient world as Arabia Felix, the kingdom of the Queen of Sheba. Today it is called Yemen.  Its capital city is Sanaa, meaning, “fortified place.”  It is situated in the north, 7,000 feet above sea level. Here, I spent five years as an expatriate.  I learned to live in a place where some of the modern conveniences were absent, but the beauty, the warmth of its people, and the friendship offered to me were my souls delight.

Within Sanaa is Bab al Yemen, “the old city of Yemen”, which is surrounded by stone walls that rise up to about 60 feet.  It has a huge gate that can accommodate seven camels at the same time. During the reign of the Imams, this gate was locked every evening and was opened the following morning. Once you are inside, the scene captivates you.   Time seems to turn back to King Solomon’s days. Houses that are six to ten stories high and made of reed, mud and stone dominate the skyline.  The Town Square is paved with cobblestone, and one corner is elevated.  This is where criminals still lose their limbs.   The crowd mill around the square, buzzing and yelling.  Children with coal black eyes run around.  Men wearing futah and Colbert jackets haggle for prices of qats. (These are green leaves that when chewed have a mild effect similar to marijuana).  They also use a red-and-white-checkered Quifiyah as a turban. To complete their attire, the men always don a jambia, a traditional curved dagger with an ornamental hilt.  Meanwhile, the women put on black djellaba or layers of cloth from head to toe. Underneath they wear colorful dresses with deep décolleté.  They cover their faces and wear scarves drawn to the forehead so that only their dark brown eyes are visible.  And they paint their hands with hena.  Wherever you go in Yemen, the men dress auspiciously and the women remain mysterious.

The first time I went to Bab al Yemen was when I wanted to change my dollars to Yemeni rials.  A friend told me that the black market inside gave better exchange rates. I searched for the moneychangers and got lost in the labyrinth of alleys. I was forewarned not to go alone, but I did. In my wandering, I heard a gnashing sound in one of the houses. I peeped through the door, and saw a camel plodding a sesame seed oil press in a circle. The odor of the dung clung to my shirt as I walked away.  I followed the smell of the pungent spices that pervaded the air, which led me to the souk.  Rusted scales with stone weights dangled above the heaps of dried red peppers, beans, nuts, ginger, peas, and various spices. Behind the valley of spices sat the vendor waiting patiently for customers. I greeted him, “Asalam alaikom,” and asked where the moneychangers were.  He pointed toward an alley.  Again, I worked my way through the maze until I found them.  For my one hundred-dollar bill I got a bag full of Yemeni rials. I fingered each bundle and estimated that I had 10,000 rials in denomination of 5’s, 10’s, 20’s, and 50’s.  In Yemen, people don’t write checks; they pay in cash.

There was more to discover inside Bab al Yemen.  I went to another alley and found the silver market. Antique jewelry was sold there. Silver heirloom accented by precious stones such as earrings, necklaces, bracelets, and rings were displayed in the shops. Much of this jewelry was centuries old, but these days, people prefer to keep gold rather than silver.

The houses in Yemen have a unique architecture that dates back a thousand years and was developed from its rocky terrain. Many of those still standing are more than 400 years old. Because these houses are made of indigenous stone, loam, brick and reed, which are abundant in the area, they harmonize perfectly with the landscape. The ground floors are used as stables for sheep, goats, donkeys, and other domesticated animals. Dry goods are stored in the first floors, and visitors are received in the second floors. The top floors, called mafraj, are the domains of the men where they sit on carpets and lean on hard cushions tacked against the wall, discussing issues of the day while chewing qats. The floors between the second and top levels serve as the kitchen, as well as sleeping and praying rooms (Muslims pray daily at certain hours). These houses have unique windows called qamariah, which are made of limestone frames and stained glasses, and are elaborately designed.  In Yemen, the same architectural style can be found in every house and building.  The same mysteriousness and serenity prevails.

I visited my Yemeni friends in their homes, ate their lamb chops, and drank tea. I even chewed qats with them, which bonded our friendship stronger.

In the highlands of Yemen, time moves slowly.  Clouds make the day seem long.  A boy herds his sheep and goats in some rocky slopes.   Somewhere, in those houses, a mother feeds her child, cooks dinner, and waits for her husband to come home. I thought of this often when I drove back to Sanna after visiting some villages in the hinterland.

By present standards, Yemen is a poor country, whose farming methods are still ancient.  The government struggles to keep in tune with the modern world, but hardly anyone has heard of Yemen. The Yemeni people go on to live their simple lives.  Because of their strong tradition, culture, and religion they continue to endure life. Even today, Yemen has not been affected with the crass materialism and base morality of the west.

Maybe I feel nostalgic about this place or that I still long for adventure like searching for lost treasures.  But if you look closely, there’s a smile on my face.  It has been there since I first set foot in Yemen, when I made friends with the people, when I visited their homes and dined with them, when I made time my friendly companion, when I realized that life could be lived simply and I could still be happy like the Yemeni.

a. rz. diamante, 1986