Wadi Hadhramaut
The life and lines of Yemen's ancient architecture.
Photographed and written by Tony Walsh
We entered Wadi Hadhramaut from the plateau on the edge of the Rub al Khali. From the heights of the plateau the black tarmac road cascades into the wadi in two exhilarating series of hairpin bends that set the heart racing and undoubtedly added to my pleasure when we reached the wadi floor, safely.
Hadhramaut is certainly the most famous wadi in Arabia and one of the most well known valleys in the world – a spectacular example of geology carved out of honey coloured rocks. Over 200km long and several kilometres wide, its cliffs create the backdrop to a series of towns that gives rise to it being called the 'valley of mud brick.' The history of Wadi Hadhramaut is ancient, reaching back through the millennia, but it wasn't the ancient history that drew me into Oman's southern neighbour but those acclaimed mud brick towns. Most are living examples of the skill of the craftsmen who, using shapeless mud, created elegant, dramatic and ultimately very practical buildings.
Three main towns are located in Wadi Hadhramaut: Shibam, Tarim and Seyoun, the principal administrative centre. Like most of the day’s visitors I visited the town of Shibam via the main road that snakes through the wadi. From a distance the town is barely distinguishable from its surroundings. The houses rise out of the valley floor creating a series of sheer cliff faces, much like the walls of Wadi Hadhramaut itself. Only the white tops of the houses give shape to the town, creating the impression that a sprinkling of snow has just fallen on a mini mountain in the heart of Arabia.
Freya Stark called Shibam the 'Manhattan of the desert' when she visited the town in the early 1930s, because of the height of its houses. While a bit unfair – given that Shibam predates Manhattan's skyscrapers by a couple of thousand years – the analogy is a good one for as I walked into the market square I was dwarfed by houses rising up to eight stories into the sky. The height itself is impressive but what makes it more so is the fact that each of the houses is constructed from mud.
Shibam is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, its inclusion acknowledging not just the actual architecture but the social structure that created it and that still lives on today. Shibam is over 2,000 years old and is probably built of the 'tell' of a still older town. It possibly owes its name to Shibam bin al Harith bin Hadhramaut bin Saba al Ashgar, who was a Himyarite, the nation tribe who ruled the region from around 2,100 years ago. In the mid 16th century the town was substantially damaged by two disastrous floods and it is from that date that the current town's plan and the building façade came into being, and have remained unchanged for almost 500 years. This is because the town's regulations since that rebuilding state that when a building needs repair or rebuilding the house's external appearance should not change. The roofline should not alter to avoid the possibility of an altered line overlooking the rooftop living space of its neighbour. The windows should remain in position to ensure they do not peer into those of another. And the door has to open as the original one so that the comings and goings of occupants and visitors remains private.
Simple mud bricks are still used for the majority of private buildings in Wadi Hadhramaut. Most builders can make the bricks close to the building they are to be used in as large deposits of mud are found throughout much of the wadi. Near Shibam I talked with Mohammed Yousef who was involved in brick making. He explained that a mixture of mud and straw was used, with the best mud coming from the agricultural fields as they have a fine grain due to the silt flowing with the water into the fields. The process certainly looked labour intensive and relies on an ample supply of water when mixing the mud. Relatively flat, at only five centimetres deep, the bricks are shaped in a wooden mould and simply left in the sun to dry, then stacked ready to be used. Mohammed said that since the walls at the base of the building need to be stronger and thicker than those on the upper stories, the base bricks are about 30 by 50cm, with those on the upper stories narrower and shorter. The cost of the bricks I found out from Mohammed: about ten Yemeni rials each (23bz). When completed the building is frequently left without any additional finish, creating a simple uniformity to the towns that is so pleasing to the eye. Mohammed also let me know that a good reason for using mud is that if a house needs repair, damaged bricks can be ground down and re-used.
Like most ancient Arab towns, Shibam's houses are clustered tightly together and in the space of some 300 square metres around 500 dwellings and mosques are closely packed, creating from the outside the impression of a cliff face. A sur (defensive wall) surrounds the town and its height of over six meters adds to the impression of a secure well defended town. Shibam has a formal gateway that pierces the wall, creating a sense of having arrived when passing through. A constant flow of people, on foot and motorbike, passed me as I walked into the town. Inside the gateway an open public square was busy with the activity of buyers and sellers. Surprisingly, although the market must be a regular daily one, the sellers used trolleys or simple stalls to sell from rather than permanent shops. Despite its relatively small size this square turned out to be by far the largest open space in the town. Apart from being the focus for shopping, the market square also serves another purpose: it is the exit for the tiny alleyways that run through Shibam. Perhaps deliberately, the palace of the governor occupies much of one side of the square, so all the comings and goings of Shibam happen under its gaze.
I wandered into an alleyway and immediately found myself in the shade. The lanes of Shibam create a giant labyrinth, with houses towering above the ground. The houses are so high that no external reference point can be seen, not even the wadi cliffs that I knew were not far away looking down over the town. Away from the activity of the market square, the alleys were quiet with only a few people and the almost inevitable collection of goats. My own footsteps created no sound as the paths were made from hard compressed mud and no echo reverberated from the earthen walls around me.
At intervals during my exploration I came to open areas of sahat (small courtyards), where pools of light flood the open space in front of the houses or mosque. The light illuminates both the buildings, creating an air of importance to those in the sahat and also lights up the alley entrances that radiate away from it. I was surprised that in these open spaces no tree was growing – Shibam must be one of the few towns not to have them.
In one of the courtyards I came across Said Salim ba Haddi, sitting outside his shop of antiques and traditional handicrafts. Since he was not busy I was able to ask him about puzzling decorative wooden panels I had seen beside many doors. Kindly, Said got up and pushed at the wood panel that swung open. He explained that the lock of the door was set in the wall and the bolt went into the door; as opposed to modern locks that are in the door.
Doorways are not a feature of houses in Shibam. They are discrete, though they host handsome wooden doors usually with gridwork frames over panels to relieve the plainness and provide extra strength. In the stories above, the windows have more elaborate woodwork, with elegant fretwork designs cut from a flat board, the finished work being called a khlef. Some included a mashrabiyah, the exact spot to place a clay water jar so that a breeze may cool the water inside. I found that few of the windows had glass, relying on shutters on the inside or a loose cover on the outside to protect the room from dust and wind.
Opposite his shop Said pointed a mosque out to me. "That is the famous Al Rashid Mosque." It was named after the Abbasid Khalifa Haroun al Rashid, who instructed it to be built, perhaps as his mother was from Yemen, its whiteness a contrast to the earth coloured housing around it.
About a half hour's drive from Shibam lies the town of Tarim. This town's historical founder was Tarim bin Hadhramaut bin Saba al Ashgar, remarkably the uncle of Shibam bin Al Harith bin Hadhramaut bin Saba al Ashgar. Like the Al Rashid Mosque in Shibam, the towering minaret of the Al Muhdar mosque in Tarim is completely constructed from mud, its white finish locally called qudad. When mixed with water the limestone (quicklime) creates a long lasting and hard wearing external finish to a building. The final touch is to polish the surface using animal fat or soap to give it that dazzlingly smooth finish that is so remarkable. The thickness of this qudad may approach two centimetres and it gives rigidity to the building in addition to its protective and decorative functions.
The style of the Al Muhdar mosque crowned by a 46m high mud minaret, the highest in Yemen, is a curious mix of European, Arab, Moghul and east Asian influences, an indication of the cosmopolitan background of the people of Tarim. This comes from the habit of the many people from Hadhramaut travelling to southeast Asia where trading businesses in Surabaya, Batavia and later Singapore were developed. The traders used their wealth to endow mosques in Wadi Hadhramaut with the funds for their rebuilding in the style fashionable in the Hadhramaut during the 1920s.
Throughout the wadi, qudad is the finish of choice in the palaces of the wealthy like the one in Wadi Seyoun. This building was the palace of the Al Katheri sultans, who, though they originated in Dhofar, established themselves as rulers here. It was built in the 1920s by Mansur bin Ghalib and is now a museum. I was fortunate to meet with Said Ba Hadi, an employee in the museum, who walked through the building with me and pointed out some of the more interesting displays. These ranged from prehistoric flints and pottery from Raybun and Ba Qutfa to photographs taken by Freya Stark in the 20th century.
From the main towns in Wadi Hadhramaut, a drive enabled me to visit one of its attractive tributary wadis, Du'an. Here the settlements make use of a more rugged terrain and perch on the edge of a low cone shaped outcrop of rock above the valley floor. The architectural style is similar to Shibam, with height and simplicity of the façades being key elements. However, perhaps because of the more open aspect of the villages, I noticed a charming feature of many houses. While most have the mud bricks exposed, in some the more wealthy owners had not only used a finish of qudad but had additionally decorated the white façade with floral motifs. In one case, that of the Bugshan Palace, the whole qudad was decorated with a harlequin checkerboard of pastel colours.
Wadi Hadhramaut more than lived up to my expectations with its extraordinary mud houses set in a setting both dramatic and attractive. However I was now left with one problem before I left – how to tackle the ascent out of the valley.
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