Yemen Trip Letter IIIb
Hello again,
The journey is coming to an end. I hope you have enjoyed the ride.
As always you can see photos at clubphoto.com (tumicki23@yahoo.com to access albums) and refer friends to beckyofarabia.blogspot.com for past letters.
Yemen Trip Letter – January 2006
Part III b – Weekend to Manakha / Al Hajjarah
By this time Rhonda has returned to Saudi for a day before flying on to Thailand. Marion from Italy joined me for this weekend outing. She was a wonderful traveling partner and did such a great job describing Bolzano where she lives I decided I must go visit there too.
Manakha is 95 km southwest of Sana’a. This area is known for its terraces built on long slopes. These terraces hosted coffee plantations and today more and more qat plantations. Shortly outside Sana’a our driver A’del stopped at a roadside fruit stand so we could get snacks for our day’s trek; lots of tangerines, apples, and bananas among other fruit to pick from. We continued into the mountains and passed by a small town swarming with people and livestock. If I was in the market for buying sheep, cows, and oxen, I would have requested to stop. I noticed a man walking through a field below with his purchase in tow – a cow. Another quick stop was in another market town and this stop was for the driver to purchase qat. He says this is a good area for it. Many men and small boys walked around with plastic bags filled with qat branches. A bag could run between 500 – 1200 riyals. The children and some men asked to have their pictures taken while we waited for the driver to return. The Yemenis are very photogenic.
The next stop was in Manakha to look at accommodations and to meet our guide. We had the option to stay here for the night or higher up in the village of Al Hajjarah. The hotel was full so back in the vehicle but now a small boy got in the back with me. The driver said he was our mountain guide. Really? Both Marion and I had stunned looks on our faces. No doubt this little boy could show us the way but what would happen if one of us fell and needed to be carried out? We were still in shock over this guide when A’del almost hit a man walking toward us. It appears they knew each other and the man jumped on the side board clutching his bag of qat and rode with us to the top of the hill. This man, named Zaid, turned out to be our real guide so the little boy was made redundant.
Not too far outside Manakha was Al Hoteib, a pilgrimage site perched on a solitary mountain. It is revered by followers of the Ismaili sect as the location of a shrine dedicated to a 16th century preacher. We followed the steps, about 300 I would guess, at a severe incline. From the top we saw a panoramic view of rolling hills followed by rugged mountains followed by a brilliant blue sky. A lovely spot for photos and a little rest before taking the steps back down. It is a well known fact I am slow walking down hills but I guess Zaid thought I was struggling down the steps due to my daypack. He offered to carry it for me for the rest of the four hour hike. I said I was OK but he insisted. I started calling him Sherpa Zaid. After a steep up, we leveled off and followed a contour line along a terrace through an orchard. It was a gorgeous day and super to be out walking in the fresh air amongst the mountains. This is my kind of vacation!
A small boy from Al Hoteib was still with us trying to sell us eucalyptus seed necklaces. He was persistent but polite. He was with us for some time and I thought he was losing out on sales back in Al Hoteib where more tourists would be coming. Sherpa Zaid said the boy lives in the small village of Kahel. We would be stopping there for a local snack and the boy had to fetch it from his mother. Kahel is a quiet and half abandoned village with about 5 families living there. It appears abandoned because most of the male villagers go into Sana’a looking for work. Not surprisingly, this is happening to most of the smaller villages. We gave the boy an empty water bottle to retrieve the milk snack and he ran ahead.
Zaid had a spot in mind on a hill in the village for us to have our snack. You enter the village by ducking your head to pass through a low, dark stable walking around animal dung. Out in the open again we climbed up steps to get to the spot. What a view! This trip keeps getting better and better. The boy found us and we sat down to a soured milk and garlic mixture to dip a thick local flatbread in. Oranges, apples, and cookies were shared along with stories and laughs. Marion and I asked Zaid about his family in Manakha. He has a younger brother and 4 sisters. Zaid, 28 years old, has been married for about 9 years. His wife was expecting a baby any day. She has had 4 or 5 other miscarriages previously and I bet the family was nervous but hoping for the best. I can only wish he has a healthy baby today.
The snack hit the spot and we were ready to continue on. The little boy stayed behind in his village while we climbed up and up. Along the walk we saw a person here and there working in the fields, a man leading his small flock of sheep and a cow, women with buckets going to fetch water, and a few other flocks shepherded by small boys. It was about 3 pm and the sun was about to hide behind the mountain we were walking along. We felt the mountain chill and stopped to add more layers. Sherpa Zaid was also getting cold and Marion had an extra jacket. Now he was sporting my yellow daypack and the purple wind breaker over his white gown, suit jacket and his jambiya around the waist. This could be a new look in trekking attire.
As we approached a cluster of houses, Zaid asked if we wanted to stop for tea – why not, it was cold and we were in no rush. He called out several times towards a house off the trail. Eventually a girl came out with a thermos of tea and small glasses. Then she brought out some jewelry and jambiya knives. The knives were nice and after much debating about getting one here on the mountain side or back in Sana’a, Marion decided to get this one at a fair price. The tea, however, was not a fair price. First the girl was asking something like 300 riyals. We bargained down to 50 riyals each.
What goes up must come down. It was a long and rocky descent to the village of Al Hajjarah. Sherpa Zaid and Marion played mountains goats and bounced and pranced down the rocks while I felt like an elephant fumbling and tripping over rocks for what seemed like an eternity. I was happy to be on level ground. The only hotel in the area was at capacity for the night and good thing our names were on a list. Marion and I got a room with three mattresses on the floor. The larger rooms had maybe 8 – 10 mattresses so if you are in a group tour you sleep as a group. The shower facilities were primitive but served its purpose. After a hot shower I rested my tired legs out on the patio with a cup of hot coffee basking in the last rays of the day at peace with the world. With some day light left, Marion and I decided to explore the village and maybe getting a bite to eat. We mentioned this to Zaid and he said the only place in the village serving food was the hotel. We were already getting hungry and it was now 5 and dinner would be ready around 7 inshallah. Zaid walked with us as we stopped to browse at souvenir tables and small souvenir shops – same type of souvenirs but still fun to look. We continued on to the adjoining village on top of the hill. The evening traffic was building up on the trails and stairs with flocks of livestock barreling along disregarding the pedestrian traffic. I made my way down the stairs just before the avalanche of hoofs and horns came through.
Entering the neighboring village was similar to Kahel with walking stooped over through a stable to enter the village. We walked among the towering buildings with a few tourist shops here and there. One lady shop keeper was a true character and I ended up taking a hand embroidered sash. I said I had no money with me and she said no problem, bring it tomorrow. We did do that but this time I was not as quick and the morning traffic of hoofs and horns nailed me. A cow barreling down the stone steps broadsided me into the stone wall and clipped my shoe with its hoof. Besides a bruise on my leg from being bashed into the stone wall, a hoof print on my hiking shoe, and having a little adrenaline rush, I was OK.
By the time we got back to the hotel that evening other tour groups were still settling in. This last one was a big group of about 20 from Spain. A large room on the ground floor was being set up for dinner. It was typical Yemeni style with cushions on the floor and windows all around. Marion and I found a corner to sit in and we waited like the others for food. We had the good fortune of being served first because 1) Zaid possibly told the cooks how hungry we were or 2) we only had two in our group. By now it was 7:30 and we dug in without fanfare. The rest of the groups were served as the food was made. The last group was served an hour after we were. It was another good meal and we were happy to lean back and rest on the cushions to relax our bulging stomachs.
No sooner than the last group finished their meal, the dishes were picked up off the floor and the musical instruments were brought out. There was a small drum, something like a guitar and a tambourine. The drivers, guides, and hotel staff were eager to sing and dance. It was great fun to watch and participate. Most of the dances consisted of two men holding hands and gliding down the middle of the room on the balls of their feet keeping beat to the music. This would be repeated up and down the room with turns and twists added. It can also be fast moving like a polka. We were no longer stuffed after dancing a few rounds. By midnight we were tuckered out after the hike and dancing and said good night.
The next morning after breakfast we did a shorter hike to other neighboring villages. It was another sunny day and be were happy to we out walking again surrounded by mountains. A large school bordered one of the villages and I thought back to my Peace Corps days of walking to school with the kids along with herds of goats and sheep and women on their way to the water well. We stopped at one of the wells and I watched the activity of the women and children. The children came to play while their moms’ would be washing clothes, loading donkeys with jerkins of water, and some stopping to rest between chores. What different lives people live.
Back at the hotel we collected our belongings and drove back to the tourist hotel in Manakha. Zaid invited us to his house and we had a very pleasant visit with his family. We met the mother, the father, his wife, and his brothers and sisters. We were served a hot beverage made from the shells of the coffee beans spiced with a ginger mixture. It was nice to exchange a few sentences in Arabic while watching an Arab music video channel. They were surprised I knew of Sami Yusef when his video came on. This was also a special part of my stay in Yemen to be able to spend time with a family and see how close their family unit is.
By now it was about 1 pm and instead of having a big lunch at the hotel, Marion and I decided to have tea and a sweet. We didn’t know the sweet was going to be the honey cake which they would have to prepare and bake. We wondered why we waited over 45 minutes for the snack. Turns out the kitchen was also preparing food for the tour groups coming in for their lunch time meal. We sat back on the cushions watching the groups come in looking exhausted. I wonder if they had been trekking too. It was also qat time and this time I decided to join in since we weren’t going anywhere soon. I picked of the leaves one by one and tucked them into my right cheek. I asked if you swallow or spit once you start chewing the leaves. No, the trick is to keep the qat tucked in the corner of your cheek and keep adding other leaves to it until your cheek is bursting at the seams. Communicating with someone who has a stuffed cheek is not all that pleasant since their words are muffled and they spray bits of green stuff every where. I didn’t go as far as having a tumor like bulge on my face but enough to say I tried it and it tastes like eating grass. I heard to enhance the effect you can smoke and/or drink coke while chewing. After the tourist groups ate it was time for more singing and dancing. I was sad thinking I had two more days in this special country.
The 2 ½ hour ride to Sana’a was in quiet. Marion and I watched the scenery go by as we slumped back on the seats tired and content. We got our second wind in Old Sana’a when we met for dinner with her friend Claudia who was feeling much better from the cold she picked up a few days earlier. I showed them around the souq and took them to my favorite jewelry store. They found pieces they liked and so did I but I decided to buy a few other things the next day.
My mission on my last day in Yemen was to go to the Post Office. For some reason I prefer to go to the post office to buy stamps to mail postcards rather than getting stamps at stores. I feel I am part of the community standing in line with the others but me not knowing if I am in the right line or not. Eventually things get sorted out. I also have a book idea revolving around post offices of the world and now I make it a point to go, try my luck with the lines, and take a photo or two if I can. At this post office a young girl of about ten would come close to me and look up with a big smile on her face. At first I thought she might be begging for money but she never held out her hand or tugged on my abayya. She kept smiling at me while I did my business getting stamps. I sat down at a table to put the stamps on and like my shadow she was right there with me. She helped me with my stamping task and that is when it dawned on me how she knew me. She was the little girl walking ahead of me with her mom and sister as we walked into town. She kept looking back at me with a wondering look as her mother tugged her along. She was wearing a deep purple colored skirt just like this little girl standing next to me. Finally, it clicked and I smiled at her and asked her where her mother and sister are. She pointed to another line and then her sister came over to join her. I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to take a photo inside the post office without seeming to obvious I wanted a picture of the inside. The girls posed and this picture will even be more special now with them in it.
On my way back to school, I walked around to the shops I frequented and said the phrase I practiced on my last day of school, “I am leaving today to go back to Saudi, thank you , good bye”. I went to the juice guy, the tea guy, and some souvenir stores. I wished fellow students good luck with their classes and secretly longing to stay and take more classes. Don’t be surprised if you hear I am heading back to Yemen for a three month stay to do just that. Want to join me?
In case you are wondering where to next, it will be Morocco in April for a week; definitely not enough time but enough to get an introduction to colorful Morocco. Another teacher from here and a friend from CA have a special arrangement with a visiting anthropologist to visit a Berber village to meet women weavers and to stay the night. The two days in Marrakesh and one day in Casablanca will round out the trip. I have started reading Michael Palin’s “Shara” to get a feel for the area.
Spring is in the air here with warmer temperatures and longer days.
Bye for now.
The journey is coming to an end. I hope you have enjoyed the ride.
As always you can see photos at clubphoto.com (tumicki23@yahoo.com to access albums) and refer friends to beckyofarabia.blogspot.com for past letters.
Yemen Trip Letter – January 2006
Part III b – Weekend to Manakha / Al Hajjarah
By this time Rhonda has returned to Saudi for a day before flying on to Thailand. Marion from Italy joined me for this weekend outing. She was a wonderful traveling partner and did such a great job describing Bolzano where she lives I decided I must go visit there too.
Manakha is 95 km southwest of Sana’a. This area is known for its terraces built on long slopes. These terraces hosted coffee plantations and today more and more qat plantations. Shortly outside Sana’a our driver A’del stopped at a roadside fruit stand so we could get snacks for our day’s trek; lots of tangerines, apples, and bananas among other fruit to pick from. We continued into the mountains and passed by a small town swarming with people and livestock. If I was in the market for buying sheep, cows, and oxen, I would have requested to stop. I noticed a man walking through a field below with his purchase in tow – a cow. Another quick stop was in another market town and this stop was for the driver to purchase qat. He says this is a good area for it. Many men and small boys walked around with plastic bags filled with qat branches. A bag could run between 500 – 1200 riyals. The children and some men asked to have their pictures taken while we waited for the driver to return. The Yemenis are very photogenic.
The next stop was in Manakha to look at accommodations and to meet our guide. We had the option to stay here for the night or higher up in the village of Al Hajjarah. The hotel was full so back in the vehicle but now a small boy got in the back with me. The driver said he was our mountain guide. Really? Both Marion and I had stunned looks on our faces. No doubt this little boy could show us the way but what would happen if one of us fell and needed to be carried out? We were still in shock over this guide when A’del almost hit a man walking toward us. It appears they knew each other and the man jumped on the side board clutching his bag of qat and rode with us to the top of the hill. This man, named Zaid, turned out to be our real guide so the little boy was made redundant.
Not too far outside Manakha was Al Hoteib, a pilgrimage site perched on a solitary mountain. It is revered by followers of the Ismaili sect as the location of a shrine dedicated to a 16th century preacher. We followed the steps, about 300 I would guess, at a severe incline. From the top we saw a panoramic view of rolling hills followed by rugged mountains followed by a brilliant blue sky. A lovely spot for photos and a little rest before taking the steps back down. It is a well known fact I am slow walking down hills but I guess Zaid thought I was struggling down the steps due to my daypack. He offered to carry it for me for the rest of the four hour hike. I said I was OK but he insisted. I started calling him Sherpa Zaid. After a steep up, we leveled off and followed a contour line along a terrace through an orchard. It was a gorgeous day and super to be out walking in the fresh air amongst the mountains. This is my kind of vacation!
A small boy from Al Hoteib was still with us trying to sell us eucalyptus seed necklaces. He was persistent but polite. He was with us for some time and I thought he was losing out on sales back in Al Hoteib where more tourists would be coming. Sherpa Zaid said the boy lives in the small village of Kahel. We would be stopping there for a local snack and the boy had to fetch it from his mother. Kahel is a quiet and half abandoned village with about 5 families living there. It appears abandoned because most of the male villagers go into Sana’a looking for work. Not surprisingly, this is happening to most of the smaller villages. We gave the boy an empty water bottle to retrieve the milk snack and he ran ahead.
Zaid had a spot in mind on a hill in the village for us to have our snack. You enter the village by ducking your head to pass through a low, dark stable walking around animal dung. Out in the open again we climbed up steps to get to the spot. What a view! This trip keeps getting better and better. The boy found us and we sat down to a soured milk and garlic mixture to dip a thick local flatbread in. Oranges, apples, and cookies were shared along with stories and laughs. Marion and I asked Zaid about his family in Manakha. He has a younger brother and 4 sisters. Zaid, 28 years old, has been married for about 9 years. His wife was expecting a baby any day. She has had 4 or 5 other miscarriages previously and I bet the family was nervous but hoping for the best. I can only wish he has a healthy baby today.
The snack hit the spot and we were ready to continue on. The little boy stayed behind in his village while we climbed up and up. Along the walk we saw a person here and there working in the fields, a man leading his small flock of sheep and a cow, women with buckets going to fetch water, and a few other flocks shepherded by small boys. It was about 3 pm and the sun was about to hide behind the mountain we were walking along. We felt the mountain chill and stopped to add more layers. Sherpa Zaid was also getting cold and Marion had an extra jacket. Now he was sporting my yellow daypack and the purple wind breaker over his white gown, suit jacket and his jambiya around the waist. This could be a new look in trekking attire.
As we approached a cluster of houses, Zaid asked if we wanted to stop for tea – why not, it was cold and we were in no rush. He called out several times towards a house off the trail. Eventually a girl came out with a thermos of tea and small glasses. Then she brought out some jewelry and jambiya knives. The knives were nice and after much debating about getting one here on the mountain side or back in Sana’a, Marion decided to get this one at a fair price. The tea, however, was not a fair price. First the girl was asking something like 300 riyals. We bargained down to 50 riyals each.
What goes up must come down. It was a long and rocky descent to the village of Al Hajjarah. Sherpa Zaid and Marion played mountains goats and bounced and pranced down the rocks while I felt like an elephant fumbling and tripping over rocks for what seemed like an eternity. I was happy to be on level ground. The only hotel in the area was at capacity for the night and good thing our names were on a list. Marion and I got a room with three mattresses on the floor. The larger rooms had maybe 8 – 10 mattresses so if you are in a group tour you sleep as a group. The shower facilities were primitive but served its purpose. After a hot shower I rested my tired legs out on the patio with a cup of hot coffee basking in the last rays of the day at peace with the world. With some day light left, Marion and I decided to explore the village and maybe getting a bite to eat. We mentioned this to Zaid and he said the only place in the village serving food was the hotel. We were already getting hungry and it was now 5 and dinner would be ready around 7 inshallah. Zaid walked with us as we stopped to browse at souvenir tables and small souvenir shops – same type of souvenirs but still fun to look. We continued on to the adjoining village on top of the hill. The evening traffic was building up on the trails and stairs with flocks of livestock barreling along disregarding the pedestrian traffic. I made my way down the stairs just before the avalanche of hoofs and horns came through.
Entering the neighboring village was similar to Kahel with walking stooped over through a stable to enter the village. We walked among the towering buildings with a few tourist shops here and there. One lady shop keeper was a true character and I ended up taking a hand embroidered sash. I said I had no money with me and she said no problem, bring it tomorrow. We did do that but this time I was not as quick and the morning traffic of hoofs and horns nailed me. A cow barreling down the stone steps broadsided me into the stone wall and clipped my shoe with its hoof. Besides a bruise on my leg from being bashed into the stone wall, a hoof print on my hiking shoe, and having a little adrenaline rush, I was OK.
By the time we got back to the hotel that evening other tour groups were still settling in. This last one was a big group of about 20 from Spain. A large room on the ground floor was being set up for dinner. It was typical Yemeni style with cushions on the floor and windows all around. Marion and I found a corner to sit in and we waited like the others for food. We had the good fortune of being served first because 1) Zaid possibly told the cooks how hungry we were or 2) we only had two in our group. By now it was 7:30 and we dug in without fanfare. The rest of the groups were served as the food was made. The last group was served an hour after we were. It was another good meal and we were happy to lean back and rest on the cushions to relax our bulging stomachs.
No sooner than the last group finished their meal, the dishes were picked up off the floor and the musical instruments were brought out. There was a small drum, something like a guitar and a tambourine. The drivers, guides, and hotel staff were eager to sing and dance. It was great fun to watch and participate. Most of the dances consisted of two men holding hands and gliding down the middle of the room on the balls of their feet keeping beat to the music. This would be repeated up and down the room with turns and twists added. It can also be fast moving like a polka. We were no longer stuffed after dancing a few rounds. By midnight we were tuckered out after the hike and dancing and said good night.
The next morning after breakfast we did a shorter hike to other neighboring villages. It was another sunny day and be were happy to we out walking again surrounded by mountains. A large school bordered one of the villages and I thought back to my Peace Corps days of walking to school with the kids along with herds of goats and sheep and women on their way to the water well. We stopped at one of the wells and I watched the activity of the women and children. The children came to play while their moms’ would be washing clothes, loading donkeys with jerkins of water, and some stopping to rest between chores. What different lives people live.
Back at the hotel we collected our belongings and drove back to the tourist hotel in Manakha. Zaid invited us to his house and we had a very pleasant visit with his family. We met the mother, the father, his wife, and his brothers and sisters. We were served a hot beverage made from the shells of the coffee beans spiced with a ginger mixture. It was nice to exchange a few sentences in Arabic while watching an Arab music video channel. They were surprised I knew of Sami Yusef when his video came on. This was also a special part of my stay in Yemen to be able to spend time with a family and see how close their family unit is.
By now it was about 1 pm and instead of having a big lunch at the hotel, Marion and I decided to have tea and a sweet. We didn’t know the sweet was going to be the honey cake which they would have to prepare and bake. We wondered why we waited over 45 minutes for the snack. Turns out the kitchen was also preparing food for the tour groups coming in for their lunch time meal. We sat back on the cushions watching the groups come in looking exhausted. I wonder if they had been trekking too. It was also qat time and this time I decided to join in since we weren’t going anywhere soon. I picked of the leaves one by one and tucked them into my right cheek. I asked if you swallow or spit once you start chewing the leaves. No, the trick is to keep the qat tucked in the corner of your cheek and keep adding other leaves to it until your cheek is bursting at the seams. Communicating with someone who has a stuffed cheek is not all that pleasant since their words are muffled and they spray bits of green stuff every where. I didn’t go as far as having a tumor like bulge on my face but enough to say I tried it and it tastes like eating grass. I heard to enhance the effect you can smoke and/or drink coke while chewing. After the tourist groups ate it was time for more singing and dancing. I was sad thinking I had two more days in this special country.
The 2 ½ hour ride to Sana’a was in quiet. Marion and I watched the scenery go by as we slumped back on the seats tired and content. We got our second wind in Old Sana’a when we met for dinner with her friend Claudia who was feeling much better from the cold she picked up a few days earlier. I showed them around the souq and took them to my favorite jewelry store. They found pieces they liked and so did I but I decided to buy a few other things the next day.
My mission on my last day in Yemen was to go to the Post Office. For some reason I prefer to go to the post office to buy stamps to mail postcards rather than getting stamps at stores. I feel I am part of the community standing in line with the others but me not knowing if I am in the right line or not. Eventually things get sorted out. I also have a book idea revolving around post offices of the world and now I make it a point to go, try my luck with the lines, and take a photo or two if I can. At this post office a young girl of about ten would come close to me and look up with a big smile on her face. At first I thought she might be begging for money but she never held out her hand or tugged on my abayya. She kept smiling at me while I did my business getting stamps. I sat down at a table to put the stamps on and like my shadow she was right there with me. She helped me with my stamping task and that is when it dawned on me how she knew me. She was the little girl walking ahead of me with her mom and sister as we walked into town. She kept looking back at me with a wondering look as her mother tugged her along. She was wearing a deep purple colored skirt just like this little girl standing next to me. Finally, it clicked and I smiled at her and asked her where her mother and sister are. She pointed to another line and then her sister came over to join her. I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to take a photo inside the post office without seeming to obvious I wanted a picture of the inside. The girls posed and this picture will even be more special now with them in it.
On my way back to school, I walked around to the shops I frequented and said the phrase I practiced on my last day of school, “I am leaving today to go back to Saudi, thank you , good bye”. I went to the juice guy, the tea guy, and some souvenir stores. I wished fellow students good luck with their classes and secretly longing to stay and take more classes. Don’t be surprised if you hear I am heading back to Yemen for a three month stay to do just that. Want to join me?
In case you are wondering where to next, it will be Morocco in April for a week; definitely not enough time but enough to get an introduction to colorful Morocco. Another teacher from here and a friend from CA have a special arrangement with a visiting anthropologist to visit a Berber village to meet women weavers and to stay the night. The two days in Marrakesh and one day in Casablanca will round out the trip. I have started reading Michael Palin’s “Shara” to get a feel for the area.
Spring is in the air here with warmer temperatures and longer days.
Bye for now.
posted by Becky of Arabia at 8:14 PM
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