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MUTTRAH SOUQ
Offering everything from Omani garb to plastic toys, the souq is a world in itself. By Aninda Sardar

For the uninitiated, ‘souq’ is the Arabic term for a market. It is the traditional Arab bazaar where people would have travelled to on a given day of the week to buy their essentials. Souqs were the only markets then, in an Arabia devoid of shopping malls and designer outlets. Of course, the scene today is a far cry from what one would have seen even a few decades ago. The sultanate can now boast of innumerable modern shopping plazas, while mobility is not even a question worth bothering about. Yet, the traditional souq continues to retain the unforgettable charm of an era gone by, visited by scores of travellers and locals.

The souq in Muttrah is on one of the many waterfronts of Muscat. As one enters it, the world outside seems to disappear, to be replaced by an archaic one where time appears to have slowed down a bit. It is dark inside, and the only lights that can be seen are the ones coming from the rows of shops that form parallel lines on either side of the main entrance passage. Perhaps it is the absence of electronic cash registers, closed circuit cameras for shoplifters and the bar coded price tags of all items. Or maybe it is the sound of veiled women haggling over a bag of dates or an abaya or a dishdasha. The market has the effect of transporting one from reality. It is like stepping straight into the Arabian Nights. Well, almost, except for the number of foreign tourists who can be seen shopping for souvenirs or taking pictures.

Most shops here thrive on selling traditional Omani, Bedouin and Arab ware to tourists. A few of the shops do sell some cheap plastic toys and watches, a reminder of the modern world outside that is the reality. But they are not too many.

The usual items for sale are dishdashas, the ankle-length gown worn by men, abayas, the black long sleeved ankle-length outfit for women, hijabs, headscarves for women, and of course, the khanjar. Khanjar is the traditional Omani dagger with its characteristic curved scabbard, a symbol of national pride. One can buy a small one set inside a frame, like a picture, to hang on the walls as decoration, while the more adventurous can opt to buy a full-sized one made of silver and attached to a belt. While the former will dent the wallet by anything between RO3-15, the latter will see you poorer by a lot more. Traditional Omani swords and ancient matchlock guns can also be bought from here for decoration. Another novelty on sale is the sheesha water-pipe that is used for smoking, now increasingly bought as a decoration in many homes. A sheesha can cost between RO2-20. The price depends on the intricacy and detailing of the artwork on the glass base and the top, the material used to make the top half and, more importantly, your bargaining prowess. Typically, if the top part of the sheesha is made of brass or silver then they tend to be more expensive.

As one walks further into the souq the smell of bukhoor greets the nostrils. Bukhoor is traditional Arabian incense that is burnt on a majmar, an incense burner. The souq has sections, where rows of shops selling the same things can be found clustered together. Walking through the section selling perfume, the clinking sound of porcelain on porcelain turned our attention to a wizened old man selling kahwa. Announcing his presence by clinking two fenjans (small porcelain cups for serving the traditional Omani coffee), the old man looks like a character out of a storybook. He’s been here for as long as anyone cares to remember, we are told. Yet another man sat with his back to the central pillar inside the souq, ever ready to transport one’s shopping on the empty wheelbarrow by his side to the car for a few hundred baisas.

Further on, the single passage splits in three. Two of these end soon, bringing one back onto the streets. The third goes deeper into the souq, eventually taking one to the gold section. The narrow alley with rows of the glass-fronted displays of jewellery shops lends the aura of walking between walls of gold on either side. It is a bit of a shock to find so much gold and no guards or security. But this arrangement has been safe for centuries. Certainly, there is no special need to change the way things have been around here. The price of jewellery here may fluctuate with the ups and downs of the price of gold, like any modern gold market in the world, but there are no holograms or certificates to ensure the credibility of the shops. Most of the transaction is based on trust and reputation is transferred by word of mouth of customers. Bargaining is an essential part of shopping at the souq. It does well to remember that all prices here are hiked up. Sellers here expect to have to haggle over the prices of their wares. Bargaining is not about ripping the buyer off; here, it is the mental exercise without which a day’s shopping will remain incomplete.

Retracing the steps back to the world outside, one cannot help but wonder at the existence of a place like this in the heart of a city that is increasingly headed towards modernity. But the souq, despite its otherworldly charms, has not been immune from the effects of development. The entire corniche area has undergone thorough renovations recently. The earlier open-air market that lay at the mercy of the elements has been replaced by the protection of a roof and a gate now adorns the main entrance. Yet, for all the renovations and the development on the surface, the souq smacks of a world that seems to be truly immune to the ravages of time and the assaults of modernisation. At least for the time being.