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The best stories are in the details

F a s h i o n
Thob Dhofari

Dhofar’s answer to the traditional Omani laysu (both now increasingly run over by the generic abaya) is the Thob Dhofari. What really sets this southern ladies’ all-encompassing garment apart is its rich prints and a back that is longer than the front, left trailing behind the women as they walk.

In true Dhofari charm, the dress even comes with its own story. Legend has it that an Arabian king used to sprinkle a magic powder on the ground, and young women who walked over would fall in love with him. To escape his charms, Dhofari women donned a long flowing dress that swept the powder away as they walked over.

The real pride of the house is the special thob kept for weddings, made of black velvet and adorned with shiny embroidery. Too heavy and hot to be worn on a usual muggy Salalah day, this is best kept for special occasions, and may cost up to RO300.

I n t e r i o r s
Frankincense burners

Since the southern region of Oman is world-famous for the frankincense it nurtures, it is unsurprising that even today Dhofar remains a centre for making pottery incense burners, which are traditionally fired in an open oven.

Freestanding burners have an open top that supports the charcoals that are sprinkled with frankincense. A space between the base and the incense receptacle allows air to reach the coals; and handles are useful, too, as they enable the frankincense to be passed round easily. These burners come in various shapes and sizes, and are often daubed red, yellow or green, or decorated with incisions. They can be elaborately constructed with different tiers, and might even be figurative in design (in the form of a boat, for instance). Most common in Dhofar are those that are round and cup shaped, or square-bottom burners, which taper outward and have stepped corners.

But all you have to do is walk through Salalah’s Haffa souq to discover that the once-traditional pottery is offering a younger, more creative clientele the opportunity to express themselves in new ways. While you still find shelves of burners that haven’t evolved over generations, what will really turn your head are the newer ones. Decked in mauves, sprinkled with glitter and adorned with every type of floral frill possible, they ooze kitsch and charm like never before.

And like the perfumed oud, pure frankincense or bukhoor that will eventually follow your purchase, they too hold the promise of celebration.

P o r t r a i t
Khatija at shop 40

Sitting in her little stall in Salalah’s Haffa souq, Khatija is working her deserted alley, selling incense to off-season wanderers. The upcoming khareef might bring up to 300 customers a day – each hungry for frankincense, clay burners, myrrh and the other attractions of Dhofar. Now, though, there is only a half deserted lane, where lady shopkeepers eyeball each other, sharing gossip, vying for customers and waiting for the all-important monsoon.

Wander into her quarter and most outsiders will see nothing more than the heavily veiled signature of the women of Dhofar. But local women like Khatija are breaking stereotypes every day, and entire lives will unravel over an evening if you stay long enough. She came to Oman 28 years ago, married into the sultanate, and was eventually taught the business by her now-deceased husband so she could support the four girls and four boys that she mothered. Her business put all her children through school; three daughters are nurses, in charge of the children’s ward in a local hospital, while the fourth works in a money exchange. Khatija’s shop is little more than a cubicle stuck in a wall, but after years of hard work, days that end at ten at night and a natural humour that gets her through the off-season, she has the last laugh – and the best stories.

A r c h i t e c t u r e
Mirbat in the morning

Like many things from Dhofar, traditional architecture along Oman’s southernmost coast is more complex than art and craft further north. Perhaps it is the influence of the border, the art of Yemen and the ever-present whiff of Africa, further south over the sea. You might find a few old houses in Salalah, but the capital of Dhofar is now dominated by a highway, new houses, a huge port and more traffic than it has ever hosted. You can still find the old houses if you look in the older parts of the city, tucked away from most eyes, but the dilapidated buildings that pepper Awqad, Husn and Haffa will bring you mostly heartbreak.

Instead, head an hour east to the coastal town of Mirbat for interesting old buildings you will find at the waterfront and around every corner from there. The most easily recognisable characteristic of the houses are the peaked edges of their roof, like the corners of a frankincense burner. Set off from Salalah after an early breakfast and you’ll be in time for the good light. Like Taqah, which you will pass on your way out of Salalah, Mirbat also boasts a fort, but the real heroes of the show are the merchant’s houses, some centuries old. But perhaps the most recognisable building is the tomb of Bin Ali, with its whitewashed conical dome.

A r t
David in the details

When David Kessel first landed in Dhofar, he was too tired to continue the highly detailed art he had been involved with. So instead of continuing with painstaking studies of modern art that revolved around Internet terms, he cleared the canvas and turned to faces. Ironically, it was the portraits that proved to be popular, and their deceptively simply, broken lines spoke more to people than the previous detail that would take up to three days of highly concentrated labour to construct. Such efforts resulted in work like Firewall, a term for a system that separates computer networks, translated into a canvas showing a wall of fire and a computer. This might be attacked for its simplicity, but could be appreciated for its easy, innocent humour that is weighed against an attention to detail. “I’m into details,” he says, “They exhaust you, almost leading to mental disorders. I was like a jeweller hallucinating with his minute work in front of him. It was enough, and so I started to do faces. It’s a bit like Picasso, who started with complex art and then liberated himself. But if you cannot do the detail – the little rocks in the background, the computer keys in front – you have no right to do abstract. Many artists have not paid their dues.”

David’s friends whisper about how his parents were artists to the Hollywood stars, but Kessel gives off nothing more immodest than boyish charm and unkempt hair that belie his 47 years. Instead, he laughs off the fact that a lot of galleries haven’t paid him for
artwork, and a few instances when his art has been stolen. “I’ve lost close to 24 artworks, but to be a martyr for art is an honour – it still ends up in homes. My consolation? People who cheat us ultimately spend their money, but the benefit of my art will be up in their homes, and survive through different hands and generations.”

C u l t u r e
Frankincense and myrrh

Juliet Highet, author of Frankin-cense: Oman’s Gift to the World, asks, “Is it really possible for something so apparently delicate, so intangible as the sense of smell capable of affecting our emotions, triggering memories, influencing our brain and behaviour?” The answer will lead you to Dhofar, where the world comes to experience the charm of this resin firsthan. But there’s more to Oman’s south: although better known for its frankincense, Dhofar is also a source of myrrh, the gum resin of a shrubby tree, Commiphora myrrha, which favours desert conditions. Neither graceful nor beautiful, C. myrrha is stout – it is described as both a shrub and a small tree – with rough, grey bark and thorny branches. Like frankincense, myrrh is harvested by making an incision in the bark of the tree, which then weeps a substance that, after hardening, can be collected. Over the years myrrh has been exploited in medicine and perfumery, and can be found through history and across the world, from the Middle East to ancient Egypt, Greece and many other countries.

C u r i o s i t y
Frankincense chewing gum

You can burn some varieties, and dissolve others, but have you ever swapped a Wrigley’s for a stick of frankincense chewing gum? Visit the souqs of Salalah to try it:
collected from trees, flattened millimeters thin and stored cold and hard. One large spread will cost you half a rial, and last a whole day, if you can stomach its very special taste.

Chances are you’ll have to be born with a strong enough constitution to get through this unique gum, It tastes like a mixture between paint and something left too long out in the sun, and won’t do you much good on the 1,000km of road back home.

Try it anyway to get the full flavour out of your trip – it packs quite a punch, just like its home region. You’ll either love it or hate it, and you certainly won’t forget it. Don’t forget to store it in the refrigerator, though – the cold will keep it hard and easy to handle. Left out in the heat too long the thin strip of frankincense will start getting increasingly gummy and you’ll have a tough time trying to pry it off the plastic sheets it comes packed in.

S t r e e t f o o d
Coconuts in Salalah

No one is quite sure how long the coconut has been gracing the beaches of Salalah, but it is such an anomaly in the sultanate that every visitor heads straight to the nearest coconut stall, itself sitting in front of a patch of palms. Choose your coconut according to the ratio of water to flesh within, and you can have yours at room temperature or, even better, straight out of a little refrigerator.

Like the fruit they sell, coconut sellers are generally from out of the country, and the bearded man we photographed comes from the region of Kutchh in Gujarat, India. With a beetel nut in the mouth, he can offer you fresh coconuts, harder brown ones, bananas, custard apples and anything else grown in his backyard.

The humble coconut, one of the hardest fruits to crack, thrives around the world in regions with high humidity and sandy soil, and isn’t averse to salinity. Nearly all parts of the tree are used, earning it the Sanskrit name kalpa vriksha, the tree that provides all the necessities of life – certainly all you need in Salalah.