Natural Omani cosmetics Our history and flora are full of treasures for the body. By Rob Wissing
Traditional beauty care often began with household ingredients, with the same sort of ingredients familiar from the range of 'natural' beauty products: honey, lemon juice, cucumber slices, egg, oils, herbs – blended into creams as skin softeners, shampoos and deodorants.
Kohl, itself an Arabic word, like mascara, has been employed to enhance the eyes for thousands of years. Those sirens of the Nile, the women of ancient Egypt, were among its first fans. Most kohl is made of the soot obtained by burning some form of plant. Living in the home of the frankincense tree, Boswellia sacra, Omanis have naturally given pride of place to kohl made from its fragrant gum, luban. By inverting a bowl over burning incense, the soot can be
collected and scraped off. It is mixed with oil and kept in a container called a makhal, ready to be applied. A cheaper alternative was the powdered burned roots of Aerva javanica or ra. It was mixed into a paste and might have ground shells added to it for added sparkle. Another wild plant used as mascara was the little violet-flowered but spiny Blepharis ciliaris; the roots were burned and the ash used. It's popular name is the eyelash plant. Kohl is not only used as a beauty enhancer – it's medicinal properties include the belief that it 'cools' the eye, and more importantly, that its protective power averts the evil eye. This is why you'll see children of all ages, both boys and girls, and even old men, charmingly wearing kohl. That it makes anyone's dark eyes even more alluring is another major advantage. A practical explanation is that dark outlining protects the eyes from the sun's harsh glare. Kohl was much more widely used for its amuletic properties when the high incidence of eye diseases like
trachoma made blindness a common affliction in the past.
Henna, of course, is well known as a dye and a hair tonic. The dried grey-green leaves of this ever-popular shrub (Lawsonia inermis) are ground to a fine powder and sifted before having water or lime juice added and allowed to thicken to a paste. Sometimes the flowers of the Apple-of-Sodom bush (Calotropis procera) are mixed with it to give the henna a deeper darker red-brown stain. A skilled specialist applies the henna in a bewildering maze of designs to the hands and feet, while the person being henna'ed sits stock still until the dye dries. After it is washed off, everyone can admire the pattern created by the deep orange dye. These days, stencil packs of traditional and modern designs can be bought, but in the interior of Oman, it's more common to see people of both sexes and all ages, especially at Eid, with the whole palm or sole of the foot dyed uniformly. Babies can often be seen kohl'ed and henna'ed for double protection-cum-adornment. Fingernails can be stained with henna too, and even the entire first joint. Traditionally, a bride is adorned with henna the night before her marriage. Some families insist that the groom too is similarly treated. Part of the rationale of using henna must be due to the very old symbolism attached to red; it's the colour of blood and life. In Africa red ochre is still used as a body paint for tribal ritual, rites of passage and beautification.
Like kohl, henna has many other uses here in the sultanate.
It's seen as a general health measure and believed to be efficacious against eye infections and headaches. A layer of henna also protects the feet from hot sand, and it's common to see brawny fishermen with their palms brightly henna'ed, not to look pretty, but to harden their skin for hauling in those heavy wet rough nets. The thick long dark hair most women keep covered because of Islamic practice is nevertheless still their crowning glory. Old and rancid emergency measures like using butterfat or camel's urine for haircare in the desert were long ago superseded by several plants as conditioners and shampoos. Hair is treated with a henna rinse to make it glossy and free of dandruff. In the northern mountains of Oman, women dry and grind the leaves of the common myrtle, or yas, used as a
fragrant shampoo. They also press an oil from the seeds of the Moringa (shu') tree, which they swear delays greying and encourages a thick glossy head of hair. Dhofari women grind the seeds of Ipomoea nil, a type of Morning Glory. It lathers with water and can be used as a soap and shampoo. In the same way, other plants like the leaves of that characteristic tree of the wadis Ziziphus spina-christi (sidr) and Hermannia paniculata provided herbal shampoo substitutes before the BodyShop was a feature. Boiled sidr leaves were also mixed with lemon juice and used as a softener and
conditioner for the hair and skin. Those odd little bundles of finger-long twigs in the local souqs you've probably wondered about are miswak, natural toothbrushes. They're cut from the common Salvadora persica shrub, which is known from Africa to India as the 'toothbrush bush,' and dried. To brush your teeth, you peel one, soak it in water for a while, and chew the end. It has a fresh astringent flavour and does the job of both toothpaste and toothbrush.
Another popular emollient, or skin softener, is a paste made of the ground seeds of the mahleb plant, a member of the Prunus family, mixed with the yellow dye that comes from the safflower, Carthamus tinctorius. Bedu women in particular apply this to their faces, and as both plants are rich in oil, they protect the skin from drying out, to which desert-dwelling people are especially exposed. For seven days before the wedding, brides are massaged with a rich blend of oil absorbing and skin cleansing dried ground peas and rice, mixed into a paste with yellow turmeric, sandalwood and rosewater. Several secret recipes for depilatories are also put to good use at this special time. In Salalah, the blue shades of indigo were de rigeur, so women's skins were tinged with a body wash of ethereal blue, while two lines were drawn from each ear to the nostrils and around the chin. Nowadays, the heavy theatrical make-up of the past is more generally seen in little girls decked out splendidly for the Eid dances in Dhofar.
It goes without saying that aromatics, incense and perfumes are a major part of the Omani woman's repertoire of beauty aids. Basil (rehan) is a popular garden herb that contains thymol, an aromatic volatile oil, and is valued as a deodorant and breath freshener. Often people will pick a few leaves and rub them between the palms and sniff the rich refreshing smell. Rural women sometimes wear a sprig behind the ears under their headscarves. Until very recently, even men in the Yemeni mountains wore wreaths of aromatic herbs on their heads, an unexpected mixture of vanity and practicality. The burning of those fragrant mixtures called bukhoor is so entrenched in Oman that smoke itself is included as a beauty aid. Every Omani home has a four-legged wooden frame called a mabkhara. Clothes are hung over it and an incense burner placed under it so that the heady odour impregnates the fabric. Hair will also be perfumed, or 'fumigated,' in this way. For perfumes themselves, however, a whole volume awaits us. Perfume has been a cultural tradition here for as long as memory. Their range and nature was legendary. From the days when Bilqis, Queen of Sheba, sashayed out of Yemen to entrance Solomon and the ancient world with her perfumes and spices, they have passed into the flesh and blood and smell of the language: not even 'all the perfumes of Arabia' could sweeten Lady Macbeth's murderous hand. Just listen to the roll call of sensual names: attar of roses, jasmine oil, aloewood, mukhallath, the heady smoky aroma of oudh from the jungles of southeast Asia and that exotic blend of rare aromatics, Amouage. The enormous olfactory dimension of perfumes in Oman will all need a great deal more time to be indulged.
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