Click image to view larger version

THROUGH THE EYES OF A SHEIKH

Featuring the hidden neighbourhoods of OLD MUSCAT
“Fifty years ago, my shop used to rent for one rial”

WELCOME TO THE HILLAT
Baharna to Nyabeen to Myabeen
You will find the sheikh of Myabeen surrounded by boxes of Signal Cavity Fighter, tins of Captain Oats, Shan Super Tea Export Packs, TofiLuk, Wilayat of Oman tissues, Luna cream biscuits, Laser Super Glue and Greenland cheese triangles.


A peek into the grocery shop is enough to confirm that the glory days of sheikhdom are over. Sheikh Habib bin Thani al Hillali, 70, still manages and runs his Foodstuff and Luxuries establishment, after 38 years of holding office and even more spent managing shop. The Hillali family has been in Myabeen for generations, and used to sell their goods in the Souq Dakhal, long bulldozed to make space for the new town planning schemes you find laid out through old Muscat.

A hillat is a neighbourhood, and this one was originally called Baharna, after its original inhabitants. The quarter was redrawn in the Seventies, and merged with Hillat Nyabeen, with its back to the hills. Nyabeen is another word for a qarn, or a peak, but it can also refer to goat horns, and this was why it then changed to the more diplomatic Myabeen.

VEGGIES AND PAPERWORK
Day to day
Vegetables are among the sheikh’s hottest-selling items, delivered from the wholesale markets at Mawaleh every day, but he keeps pretty much anything you could possibly think of. This isn’t exactly prime location for a shop – chances are you’ve driven past it a million times – but almost all his customers are residents of Myabeen, and some even close friends, dropping by for conversation. The shopping is extra.

The sheikh will typically entertain them with talk of the good old days, all the while weighing fruit, rummaging in his pockets for change and whipping out a stamp for the occasional paperwork that needs official accreditation. All in a day’s work.

FRIENDSHIP
Pleasure with business
You might find another sheikh visiting, like Ahmed Mubarak al Raisi of Takiyah, who drops in frequently with a sheaf of official papers under an arm. “Habib and I grew up together,” he says, breaking into a smile under his fabulous walrus moustache. “He has forced more sugar down my throat than is good for me, with his halwa, coffee and tea. He has created a lot of problems for me.” And then, later, over laughs, “He used to be so good looking when he was young! He was good company – we’d always try and get him to join us on holiday but he wouldn’t come.”


More friends arrive as the morning draws on, and we all stuff ourselves between the cans of cola and cucumbers. There’s an old man from Sidab, who lived with Habib when they were children, and now arrives with his grown-up son to catch up on the news. “I worked at Omantel for 24 years,” he says, with obvious pride. “And with Cable and Wireless for five years before that.”


OUTSIDE
Alleys, gardens and graves
Outside, Myabeen drifts towards the crevices in the dark rock that rise up and props up the hillat. Walk on and you will reach the end, the last houses in dead-end alleys. The only ones who go beyond are stray dogs, slinking into the safety of shadows, coming out as the sun goes down, rummaging through the bins.

The last houses aren’t much better off, their insides spilling out through open doorways that reveal character splashed over the walls: green, peeling paintwork, exposed plumbing, clothes drying. This is the part of Muscat you don’t usually see.

IF WISHES CAME TRUE
Gifts from a sheikh
And Sheikh Hillali is right in the middle of it, stuck between the parking lot and crates of washing powder.

“If I could have anything I wanted, I would ask for money and housing for those who need it, because the prices have increased so much. People cannot afford the cost of fish any more. We need to help them out.”