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RABEA

PORTRAIT OF AN OLD CAPTAIN

written and photographed by
MANUEL BENCHETRIT

“Once Rabea carried seven kingfish,
but I know a man who put 16
of them on his back. He’s still alive!”

Rabea Ashoor has turned his smiling, wrinkled face towards the Indian Ocean for so long he has forgotten just when he started looking seaward. Yet the oldest fisherman in Salalah is keeper of the most extensive memory of Dhofar.

He is skipping along the dusty walkway like a schoolboy, bursting into a sort of Arabic nursery rhyme on his way to the market in the centre of the city – a common-enough sight if the person in question isn’t 160 years old as Rabea claims to be. Accuracy doesn’t matter here: the old fisherman is witness to a time when overstatement was the very condition through which news could be spread, tales fostered and legends bred. Rabea has seen things that most people alive today wouldn’t know of. For his first pilgrimage to Mecca he had to first board a ship sailing to Bahrain over 40 days, and to fake his identity to get into Saudi Arabia. An aura of adventure and mystery revolves around him, while epic history and fantastic dreams seem to melt in the memory of which he is the keeper.

Rabea doesn’t speak. Instead, he seems to scatter around him a collection of traditional Dhofari rhymes that no one remembers. Anything you say may spark off a recital, which lets him avoid unnecessary conversation. Even when he isn’t singing he injects a rhythm into his voice, mixing Jebali, Mahri, Arabic and perhaps even Urdu.

RICHES

Generosity on the road

He is said to be rich and content. Rabea was the first man to own a GMC in Salalah, and owned ten boats at a point in time. But in characteristic fashion he gave eight of them to his friends, one to a relative and kept the only remaining boat for himself. “I’m happy,” he explains, “because I have a clean heart and am generous.”

You will find more generosity outside his fishing shop, where a teapot and a thermos full of cardamom-flavoured coffee hook visitors. Everyone is welcome at the plastic table, not far from the Haffa frankincense souq. Do people come to buy a fishing line or to enjoy the distraction? It’s hard to say. Bangladeshi neighbours often drop by for a snack; another passer-by said he stopped because he was puzzled by such offerings in the open street, and just “had to taste it.”

The guests are often the captain’s friends. Even though they are all younger than him he is the only one who refuses to take a seat, and restlessly fires out jokes. Talk invariably leads to the past, and the ruban, the best boat captain, has centre stage. He will tell of the days when they used to fish on huris, traditional canoes where seven men paddled while two commanded. They were based in Raysut, and while the fishing port still exists it is now surrounded by large commercial docks.

“We would carry the fish from Raysut to Haffa,” Rabea claims, leaping around with a cane on his shoulder to mime the bouncing back and forth of the stick that used to hold the baskets. “100kg in each, maybe 200 sometimes.” Saad Huzim, another former captain is definite about it: “Once Rabea carried seven kingfish, but I know a man who put 16 of them on his back. He’s still alive! He lives with his daughter - you can go and ask him. He’s old so maybe he wouldn’t remember very well, but I know it’s true. He had eaten 100 sardines that day.” One day, Rabea Ashoor fainted during the handling because fasting had weakened him. When he awoke, he jumped back on his feet and went straight back to complete the job.

PROGRESS

The end of an age

But even the toughest of men admits that powerboats made his life easier. As soon as he could he drove up to Dubai to buy two outboard motors. But Rabea remains wary of progress and views the coming changes to Haffa with suspicion. This area, where he has always lived, is slated for drastic urban reshaping. Almost all traditional architecture will be swept clean, with new construction taking its place. Apart from the buildings, the entire sociological diversity of the area is about to change. Tribes whose origin can be traced back to the west of the Arabian peninsula or east to Africa have lived here for decades, perhaps even centuries, while a large Bangladeshi and Indian
community has settled here in recent years. A sample of this micro-society can be seen around Rabea’s impromptu, free coffee shop.

The government grants the current inhabitants an allowance to compensate for their relocation. Some accept it with great pleasure. Others don’t. Rabea bin Ashoor is deeply rooted to Haffa soil, and he will keep enriching it with songs and the knowledge of the years. But one thing that he doesn’t know is how much he speaks of himself when he sings: “Diamond is the most sublime of all / For nobody can ever fissure it / For everyone failed to fathom it / It severs from every of its edges / Yet it bounces light in all directions / Diamond is the most sublime of all.”