Background and Introduction
Imagine riding through the great Arabian desert under a scorching sun or a lashing sand storm, crossing a seemingly endless plain of nothing but sand dunes. How miraculous would seem the mountains of Yemen, rising steeply in spectacular formations with countless terraced fields where sorghum and corn sprout and acacias, coffee and fig trees give shade! How pleasant would be the fresh air, the cool seasonal rains and the balmy ambiance! See map
Because of its inaccessibility and its past rulers' isolationist policies, Yemen has been a mystery to the rest of the world. North Yemen opened its doors to foreigners only in the early 1970s after a despotic Imam was overthrown following an 8-year civil war and the republicans emerged victorious. But Aden in the south flourished as a busy harbour under British rule from 1939 to 1967, while the rest of South Yemen remained a largely unknown hinterland. This region, the Hadramaut, is the cradle of Arab civilization where the oasis culture was developed and subsequently spread throughout north Africa. Today, the "Land of the Queen of Sheba" is an insider's tip for travelers seeking the untouched and the exotic, and is visited by some 70,000 tourists each year.
In May 1990 the unification of the former Yemen Arab Republic in the north and the Democratic Republic of Yemen in the south sparked great hopes for the country's future. Yet, developments following the Gulf Crisis in 1990/1991, when Yemen took a sympathetic stand towards Iraq in the Security Council, were disastrous for the economy as Saudi Arabia caused a refugee crisis by ejecting hundreds of thousands of Yemenis in retribution. The political crisis which followed after the first nationwide elections in 1993 brought into the open the old rifts between former North and South. The concurrent rise of Islamic fundamentalism helped create a new and complex situation. Political instability and economic hardship may continue to plague Yemen in the future.
This was the country we had moved to. My transfer from Somalia to Yemen has an amusing back story. Stewart McNab was Senior Programme Officer and second in command in UNICEF Somalia when Hootoksi, I and the children arrived from New Delhi. Later, he was promoted to the UNICEF Representative in the Arab Republic of Yemen (North Yemen) office in Sana'a. UNICEF's Yemen programme lacked a robust communication component, so Stewart asked me to visit and see if I might be interested in moving there as a transfer from Somalia was soon due.
The most direct route from Mogadishu to Sana'a was via Jeddah in Saudi Arabia, on Yemenia. However, the two-hour stopover in Jeddah required a Saudi "transit visa" which was subject to a successful interview by the Saudi Consul General in Mogadishu. I appeared before the Consul General in his opulent office who stamped my visa only after I assured him I would read the Quran!
Half the Yemenia Boeing 737 to Jeddah was full of Somali women, their arms and ankles laden with what must have been kilos of gold, for sale in Jeddah. The women were dressed in the revealing Somali dhirer, but they changed into black Arab abayas as soon as we took off. The Saudi women on board also doffed their stylish western clothes in favour of the abaya. I later learned that many of these Somali businesswomen then carried their dollars to Malaysia to purchase furniture for the market back home!
On landing in Jeddah, my backpack caused a fuss at the security counter because the x-ray revealed a paper clip lodged in a seam. The security personnel refused to allow the bag through and would have cut it into pieces had a senior officer not arrived in the nick of time and saved the situation. However, the incident must have confirmed my dodginess, so I was confined to a windowless room under the watchful glare of an armed guard. To be fair, he was reasonable enough to escort me to the bathroom, but he never let me out of his sight!
Because of my confinement I never heard any flight announcements (they were all in Arabic which I wouldn't have understood anyway) until there was a lot of shouting and I heard my name through the commotion. When the guard opened the door, Yemenia staff grabbed me and dragged me away, they were quite hysterical as the flight to Sana'a had been announced many times and "Mr. Robert" was missing! Nevertheless, the aircraft had already started taxiing! But I was bundled into one of those vehicles that can be raised and was driven to the plane which by now had stopped, the door was opened and I was let in. From that day onward, whenever I flew Yemenia, which was often, I was called “Mr Late” by the staff, and was treated as a sort of VIP!
It was never easy to reach Sana'a, the "Hidden Jewel of Arabia", situated as it is in the heart of mountainous Yemen. Yet those who did manage to complete the dangerous and tiresome journey on donkey or camel-back, were awestruck and inspired by the tall, beautifully decorated buildings of the age-old city, its well-stocked markets and imposing walls, gates and fortifications. According to popular legend, the city was founded by Shem, the son of Noah, not far from the mountain where Noah's ark came to rest when the flood subsided. Yemenis thus claim it to be the oldest living city in the world.
Flying in, I was overcome with amazement and wonder, much as the ancient travelers must have been. Those intrepid traders and adventurers landed on Yemen's beaches and trekked for days over rugged mountains before they reached the prize, the walled city of Sana'a, which is known to have stood there for 2,500 years.
Our five years there brought us an avalanche of exotic and wonderful and sometimes bewildering and frightening experiences. In hindsight, Yemen was the star destination in our long nomadic association with UNICEF. During our stay, the country went through a series of momentous and convulsive events and I feel privileged that we were part of history in the making.
Steeped in Arab culture and tradition rarely seen elsewhere, Yemen is unforgettable and irresistible.
Yemen's unique architecture is one of the first and most obvious features to draw one's admiration. The houses vary in height from 3 to 10 storeys, depending on the location and building materials used. The distinctive windows are topped by semi-circular qamariyas adorned with stained glass of various colours. The older, more traditional houses have many circular and arched windows with panes made of alabaster. When seen at night, especially when traveling in the countryside, the windows are like colourful beacons floating in the surrounding darkness, comforting reminders that the warmth of humanity is near.
Alabaster is a kind of rock gypsum which used to be extracted from deep in the ground by ingtrepid miners. When cut into slabs, the material is semi-transparent and has a wonderful way of diffusing the transmitted light which makes it the perfect material for windows and lamps. However, very few alabaster artisans remain in Yemen today, as the material was long replaced by cheap glass. Read more about this HERE.
Hootoksi had a great job teaching English to adult Yemenis and this enabled her to form friendships with many young women, and she also participated in stage productions - click HERE for details of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves and the Christmas Concert, both in 1993.
My work with UNICEF brought me in contact with Yemenis in all walks of life and took me to far-flung and sometimes barely accessible places. I was privileged to meet and often mingle with tribal groups, government officials and international oil and gas personnel, sometimes participating in wedding celebrations and qat chews. My government counterparts were Dr. Ahmed Al Hamly, director of health communication and education, Dr. Adel Barakat who was in charge of nutrition programmes and Mr. Ahmed Said Zayeed, head of the Yemen immunization programme.
As UNICEF's communication person in Yemen, one of my responsibilities was to advocate for greater corporate social responsibility as a means to promote increased financial and material support from the oil and gas industry for our, our partners' and the government's development work with children and their communities. As the industry employed many expatriates it was important for them and other foreigners to appreciate the social and economic condition of the Yemeni people so that they would be more aware of and sympathetic towards their condition. One of the tools was an annual guide book on Yemen called Welcome to Yemen: a UNICEF Guide. The booklet is a guide to the local culture and living and working in Yemen. Click here to read it. (To reorient the book on screen, click the 'rotate' icon on the top of the PDF viewer).
My objective was to persuade the oil companies to fund educational and health projects for children in the areas where they were working. One of the most exciting privately funded projects was to teach local schoolchildren in the 10-14 year age group to collect seeds from indigenous trees and then to plant them on the edges of the many ancient mountainside terraces which were in imminent danger of collapsing. The structural integrity of these terraces was essential to keep in place precious topsoil, vital for Yemen's coffee and other crops to thrive, during the rainy season. The project was carried out very successfully in collaboration with the Arid Lands Initiative, an NGO which had been researching and monitoring the terraces. I'm certain that we helped protect terraces which had not been used and cared for in years.
In 1990 we were there when the two Yemens - South and North - reunified after decades of political and ideological separation. But the Gulf War broke out less than a year later and we saw how that war traumatized and devastated the Yemeni people. Yemen officially opposed coalition sentiment in the Security Council (by a quirk of fate, Yemen presided over the Security Council at the time), and voted against Desert Storm and for peaceful negotiation, instead. This move triggered immediate retribution as Saudi Arabia and other wealthy gulf states summarily expelled about a million people of Yemeni origin. Most of these unfortunates lost everything and were forced to trek to Yemen as impoverished and often starving refugees in their own homeland. Many of those who had been born abroad became stateless returnees without a clue as to what to do or where to go.
Then, in early May 1994, civil war erupted in the new Republic of Yemen, and raged for 8 weeks. Soviet era Scud missiles from the south rained on Sana'a as heavy northern artillery bombarded Aden, Mukalla and other towns in the south. Fortunately, Michel, Farhad and Adil were schooling abroad at the time but Hootoksi was evacuated, along with many tens of thousands of expatriates and foreign workers, while I remained behind as part of a core UN team. The exodus was massive - the US, European countries, Jordan and Syria evacuated their citizens by the planeload while India, Sudan and Egypt sent in ships.
But in retrospect, those traumatic events are mere bumps on the ten thousand year-long course of Yemeni history.
Photo: Aladin/Archive Photo
Photos
Collecting Our Bags From the Airport
Hootoksi Tyabji, Sana'a, 1992
"Shamlan" and "Hadda" were the brand names of the most popular mineral water sold in Yemen. When you wanted to buy some, you didn't ask for bottled water, you asked for Shamlan or Hadda.
We were at Sana’a airport, returning from one of our holidays, waiting at the baggage carousel for our bags and getting more impatient with each passing minute! Folks in the queue long after us were walking out with their bags, where on earth were ours? Round and round, round and round, went one fancy piece following another and then there among all that expensive luggage was a battered Shamlan box with a live goat tied up in it! The animal looked none the worse for wear and he let out a plaintive bleat and was soon claimed by a futah-clad, gun toting, qat-chewing Yemeni who walked through customs with his baggage and a goat trussed up in a battered Shamlan box!
Zubin the Cat
Hootoksi Tyabji, Sana'a 1990
A colleague at work found this beautiful steely grey kitten crouching under a car in the YALI compound. She showed it to me and of course I could not resist taking it home where I introduced it to Chooki, our fluffy old dog, who immediately accepted the new addition to our family.
The kitten was well fed but the first evening home was chaotic! It was into everything, pulling things down, exploring, unraveling, scratching, meowing, and carrying on! To calm my fast fraying nerves, I put on a Mozart symphony with Zubin Mehta conducting. The kitten liked it and immediately relaxed and fell asleep in my lap. So, he was christened "Zubin."
Zubin settled in with our family very easily but one day I came home from work to find he had been out for much longer than usual. I waited till around 10 pm and then decided to go out and look for him.
Our house was in the Hadda area and opposite us lived one of the President's assistants. As a result, security on our street was excellent and we were familiar with the armed guards whom we greeted off and on. That night I did not even notice them as I was intent on finding Zubin and went around the streets shouting Zubin! Zubin! Zubin! hoping to see him somewhere; but instead of the cat I noticed the guards and every other person on the street laughing and snickering while they seemed to glance furtively in my direction. I began to feel most uncomfortable and just as I was considering throwing something at someone, I heard a meow and there was Zubin strolling along without a care in the world!
The next day at work I related this saga to a Yemeni friend who laughed out loud when she heard I was out on the street alone and at night calling for Zubin!
Zubi in Arabic means -- penis.
OUCH!
Bab al Yemen
Hootoksi Tyabji, Sana'a, 1990
Have you been to the Suq?
And watched it from afar?
The crazy jostling of people and goods,
The maze and tooting of cars?
Have you been to the Suq
And walked along with the throng,
And sneezed at the spices, been dazzled by color,
And heard the Muezzin's song?
Have you been to the Suq
And bargained for silver or gold
Or held in your hand an artifact
That is very, very old?
Have you been to the Suq
And eaten a dragonfly
Or laughed with the women and children
Made an unmatched buy?
Have you been to the Suq
At the close of another day
When the noise and bustle, the throngs and the hustle
Have all just melted away?
Michel's 21'st Birthday
Hootoksi Tyabji, Sana'a, 1992
Brilliant architecture, bleak yet haunting landscapes, and wild-looking men in futas (traditional man’s dress, a kind of skirt worn with a belt and jacket) sporting Kalishnakovs and curved daggers called jambiyas are part of the everyday scene in Yemen.
Boys in secondary school carry their guns into the classroom and nobody thinks anything of it! A man unarmed is no man at all!
It was 1992 and Michel, Farhad and Adil were home for their Xmas break. As Michel’s 21’st. birthday was around the corner, we decided to celebrate with a large party. Our house was perfect for outdoor entertaining in the summer, but December is too cold for that, so we put our heads together and came up with this plan.
We would rig up a tent and have the BBQ going inside it. Perfect - but where would we find such large pieces of tarp? could one rent them?
After searching a few days, Farhad's friend Mohammed led us to a wonderful store on Taiz road which rented just the stuff we needed. They had all sizes and shapes of canvas, complete tents, ropes, coal burners, lamps, sofas, chairs, cushions and what have you. We picked out three pieces of tarp of the needed large sizes and after much bargaining settled on a daily rate to be paid in advance, and in full. Perfect! Robert counted out the money and handed it over to the owner of the store, a wild-looking Yemani with his cheek bulging with qat (a leaf rich in amphetamines which Yemenis chew). He took it and said that in addition to the money we were paying out, Rob would have to leave his gun as additional security. When Robert explained that he didn't own a gun, the shopkeeper laughed at what he thought was a rather poor joke! He was incredulous when he realized we were serious and proceeded to inform us that the deal was off!
We begged and pleaded and offered all sorts of things in lieu of the gun. Our car registration, Rob's UNICEF ID, some extra cash? No, no, no none of these would do! it was clear – no gun, no deal! What sort of man doesn’t own a gun?
By now, we were all getting a bit tired of the saga and decided that we would have to manage without the tarp when I noticed a sudden gleam in the shopkeeper's eye! He pointed to the four gold bangles that I always wear and indicated that those would do as security. A quick family conference resulted in my handing them over in the interest of 21’st birthday celebrations, and they were wrapped in a scrap of newspaper and thrown into a drawer. Would I ever see them again? Tarp for gold? Were we all MAD?
The party and our "tent" were a great success and on the day that the tarp had to be returned, I went to the shop with bated breath. Would the owner have disappeared? Would the shop still be there? Would the bangles? I needn't have given it a second thought! They were returned to me wrapped in the same dirty scrap of newspaper and there we were with yet another memory of life in Yemen!
When Hamburgers Came to Town
Hootoksi Tyabji, Sana'a, 1992
There was much excitement and lots of chatting when I walked into class one day! A brand new American-style fast food restaurant had opened up and many of my students had been there. They were not supposed to go by themselves, only with a male family member. They loved the novelty of it all and when I asked about the taste, one of them said "Oh teacher, it's not the taste we like, it's the feeling. We like to hold the bun in our hand. It makes us feel like Michael Jackson!" I haven’t figured that one out to this day, but in any case, Maree, a fellow teacher, and I decided to check out the hot spot one lunch break.
We arrived at Jamal Street and parked the car among a row of shops jammed with fabrics, ready-made clothes, cosmetics and bric-a-brac. Among them was this spanking new, brightly painted and lit Hamburger Joint. It had about six laminate-topped tables with benches attached in bright yellow and orange. Posters of the different burgers on offer were on the wall and once you decided on what you wanted you had to call in your order to the Lebanese owner at the counter, resplendent in red striped waistcoat and baseball cap. As he rang your order through, you paid. Just like Macdonald's! Maree and I sat down taking all of this in, when in sailed a Yemeni lady completely covered in black from head to toe, and veiled. There was no male with or around her and she boldly walked up and placed her order in Arabic. She chose to sit at a table opposite us and our food arrived at the same time. She ate her burger under the veil while we cast furtive glances to see how this was done! How brave, bold and "modern", we thought!
Once done with the burger, fries and coke, she wiped her gloved hands on a paper napkin, undid the gold clasp on her Gucci purse and pulled out a gold lighter and a cigarette, Virginia Slims, from a gold cigarette case. By now both Maree and I were ogling openly! No way could she smoke that under her veil, it would have to come off! She seemed to be enjoying this every bit as much as we were, for she proceeded to slowly run the index finger of her right hand over her veil where her mouth would have been. There it was …the button hole that allowed her to push the cigarette through it and into her mouth. Her eyes were laughing as she smoked it down while the customers at all six tables watched in fascination!
The Veil, Always a Mystery
Hootoksi Tyabji, Sana'a, 1993
I felt fortunate to be able to share the very special relationship that women have with each other in Yemen.
When I first started teaching English at YALI (Yemen American Language Institute) there were just one or two women in my class. In my fifth year there, women made up more than half of every class I taught, and all of them were veiled. They came from various economic and social backgrounds and many of them were married with families.
Initially, I was thoroughly confused and found it difficult to tell students apart from each other, and I often made mistakes calling out names; but soon I began to get better at it, and could identify women by their shape, gait and eyes. But when they came for the end-of-year party I threw for them at home and removed their veils, I was always quite surprised! I had imagined Bushra to look quite different and Asra’s nose was much shorter than I’d expected! In class we would discuss all sorts of issues, from politics to art, culture and world news and these women were often a lot more informed and articulate than I was!
In the 23 years that we had lived the expatriate lifestyle, there was one comment made by a Somali friend that has always haunted me. He said, "Have you noticed how hard expatriates try to assimilate with the locals in the first few months that they are here? They are so dishonest about the way they view us and so careful not to hurt our sensibilities. I would much rather interact with a foreign guest in my country who was honest with me. Friends can only be made when there is mutual trust, respect and understanding of the diversities between our culture and opinions and theirs."
So, I wore the veil to feel what it really meant to be behind one! And I found myself in complete agreement with my friend’s observation.
It happened when we were invited to a formal sit-down dinner at Noel’s home. It was in honor of a visiting "expert" and all those invited were expatriates. It was an invitation Rob had forgotten about, and only remembered a few hours before we were supposed to be there! I had just come home from a rehearsal for a pantomime, Ali Baba and the 40 Thieves, in which I had to wear a veil in one of the scenes. I decided I would go to this stuffy “do” in costume to inject some merriment into the evening, and Rob readily agreed. We arrived at Noel’s doorstep, and being the perfect gentleman that he is, he quickly covered up his shock and said “Oh, welcome, welcome, where’s Hootoksi?” Rob made some excuse on my behalf and we were ushered into the living room and introduced as Robert and Bilqis. Everyone smiled politely, and after I sat down, I was totally ignored. I heard one woman say to another “do you think she understands English?” and “poor woman she looks so hot” I was totally ignored while they talked across me!
At the dining table I was seated next to a gentleman who kept smiling at me but didn’t utter a word, and I began to feel they thought I was retarded! When we were at the dessert stage, the lady to my right, who had completely ignored me all this while, passed me the dish and asked if I liked dessert and did we eat it in Yemen? Each word was emphasized and carefully articulated, and the pace was slow and forced. I began my answer with a “Yes”, but did not get any further as the lady was so relieved to hear me speak her native tongue, that she went on and on about the beauty of Yemen and its "stunning architecture!", giving me absolutely no chance communicate with her Across the table from me I noticed every once in a way someone would be talking animatedly, and suddenly would notice me and quickly stop as if to say, "We mustn't joke around this one, it might offend her!" That night I felt as if my spirit was hovering above my body, and all that the people around me could see was my clothing and of course “the Veil." They were relating to that, not to the person inside and in doing so, their preconceived walls were intact and the opportunity to relate and understand “my culture” was completely lost!
At UNICEF in Sana’a many of the staff wore veils which made Robert and his good friend Stuart McNab fantasize what the face behind the voice looked like! This poem is for them!
Have you ever wondered
What lies behind the veil?
What shape or size the nose is?
The skin tone, tanned or pale?
The teeth pearly or spiky?
Lips pert or luscious red?
Smiling, often pouting?
Smooth or furrowed head?
Cheek bones high or drooping?
Hair cascading down?
Ringlets or a bobcut?
Worn loose or in a crown?
Chubby cheeks or sunken?
Double chin or dimpled?
Freckled face or smooth?
Glowing skin or wrinkled?
Keep fantasizing, guessing,
Dream on for you won't see
What lies behind that secret veil
Always a mystery!
The first time I wore a veil in Sana'a, I thought I would suffocate! All I wanted to do was take it off and feel the cool, fresh air on my face, and so when I walked into class the next day and my student Rehma asked me "Teacher, how did you feel wearing a veil?" I told her exactly that! She laughed out loud and said "Well, which one did you try?" Seeing my perplexed expression, (was there more than one to try?) she set a date for me to go veil shopping with her. What a revelation that was! Not only are there many different fabrics to choose from, but different styles as well! We tried on several till I found one that was most comfortable, and amidst a cackle from both shopkeeper and customers, I sailed out into the street in my new identity.
What a wonderful garb! The anonymity of it is a secret weapon used to observe people's reactions, especially those of the male species!
It was a hot day and we were ambling along on the sidewalk when Rehma decided it was time to cross the street. She held my hand and proceeded to glide across a very busy main road choked with cars. I couldn't believe it! I was sure we would be run over in a second but she just raised her hand in a gesture which says to every driver in Yemen "Stop in your tracks while I cross", and the amazing thing was, they DID! That is the respect accorded to women all over the country!
"Teacher, I am taking you to the best fruit juice stall in all of Sana’a. Would you like to try?" Before I could answer she walked over to a man standing close to the stall and started chatting with him. She introduced him as her cousin and the next thing I knew, we were sipping cold freshly squeezed juice paid for by Ali. We thanked him profusely and as soon as we were out of earshot she burst into peals of laughter. "You see how good it is to wear the veil? I just made that man buy us juice. His name is Ali and he is my cousin Ali's friend. If he did not recognize me as his cousin that is shameful, so he just pretended that he knew who I was, but in truth he hasn’t a clue!
Riding home in a dalla dalla (public transport, a motor-bike-powered box!), Rehma nudged me and whispered "Look at that girl flirting!" I thought she was pulling my leg. How does one flirt in the obscurity of a veil? I looked closely at the woman across the seat from us and yes, she was - with her eyes!
Walking back and still on the topic of flirting, Rehma said, “It happens with great regularity you know! This is when your eyes really do become the mirror of your soul and it is with them that you trap a man. You can get him to go wild with desire by the way you look at him, by the way you blink or avert his stare; by the way you gently lower your eyelids, and once he's enraptured by your eyes, who knows where it all may lead?”
And so it goes on. The teasing, the hiding, the laughing the crying behind the veil.
Volunteering at Mother Theresa's
Hootoksi Tyabji, Sana'a 1994
Volunteering at Mother Teresa’s Home in Sana’a was the highlight of my week. I went every Monday & Thursday and helped in the care of the children all of whom were either physically or mentally challenged. It was a joy to be among them & one day I was sitting on the floor singing an action song with one of the little ones when I felt a hand on my head. I looked up into the beautiful, lined, kind and compassionate face of Mother Teresa. She said, “God Bless you my child” and walked on, an unforgettable moment in my life!
Many years later when she had passed on, Sister Deanna whom I had worked with in Yemen and who had moved back to Calcutta, sent me a postcard with a printed picture of Mother Teresa on it. In the top right-hand corner is a tiny bit of Mother Teresa’s sari a memory of her sent to volunteers around the world in remembrance and with love. I treasure it to this day.
An Unforgettable Image
Hootoksi Tyabji, Sana'a, 1989
Sana'a International School (SIS) was located outside town and consisted of a set of beautiful traditionally styled Yemeni buildings laid out in landscaped gardens tended by Chinese gardeners.
We had been living in Yemen only a few weeks when SIS had their annual Olympic Sports Event, and Adil was competing. We were there along with other excited parents cheering their children on to win the various sports events! Adil came first in his running, and we were proud as Punch watching him being honored with a gold medal. We recorded this historic event on camera but there was a lady behind us, completely covered in black from head to toe, veiled and wearing trendy shades. She was using the latest camera to video and was quite a sight to behold! We later got to know the lady, her name was Zabora Zabara, and she owned and ran a photo shop in town!
The Qat Chew
Hootoksi Tyabji, Sana'a, 1994
A lot has been written and said about ‘Qat’ and controversy rages as to whether it is or isn't a drug. People around the world discuss with great emotion its effects on the individual, on health, on the family income and on the economy of the nation. The debates rage on, but the fact is that between 12 and one o’clock in the afternoon, most people, men as well as women, drop what they are doing and rush off to buy ‘Qat’ from the souk. It is sold in bundles wrapped in plastic, usually pink, in shops or from the back of pick-up trucks fresh from the fields. The best leaves are small and tender and a bundle of these can be very expensive, between 8 and 40 US dollars! Once you have haggled on the price and bought it, it is tucked under your arm, along with your bottles of water (“Shamlan” was the preferred brand), and you are ready for the remainder of the afternoon. Important business meetings are conducted, and political decisions taken, over a Qat-chew. Long sessions may only be interrupted by the evening call to prayer. Women chew Qat in separate rooms from the men, usually on the upper floors. Children are left to take care of themselves during this important activity in the middle of the day!
A special room is set aside and furnished for the Qat chew and this is called the Dewan, undoubtedly the most important room in the house! It is traditionally the brightest, often located on the highest floor, with windows all around from which one has a fine view. The floor is covered with brightly colored carpets on which the Mafraj is placed along the walls.
The Mafraj is made up of specially formulated, firm, foam mattresses, about 27 inches wide, which are positioned on the floor against the walls. To support your back are 17-inch wide lengths of the same material, and rectangular cushions are placed at intervals to be used as armrests. The Mafraj is a most comfortable and no Yemeni home is without one. In the center of this arrangement one or more hookas (hubbly-bubblies) are placed. Most people carry their own mouthpiece, which they use before they pass the pipe to the next person for a puff. At the end of a Qat chew, the floor is littered with piles of leaves and empty Shamlan bottles.
My uncle Cavas and aunt Roshan Lalkaka were visiting us in Sana’a from Switzerland and one of my students, Karima, invited us to her home for a chew. It was a most memorable afternoon, described later by Roshan as "something out of the pages of my favorite book, Arabian Nights!" The thought of seeing Karima's face unveiled set my imagination off and I thought to myself that it would be nice to be able to picture her under her veil.
We were greeted at the front door by this beautiful young lady with a fabulous smile. She burst out laughing when she saw the expression of awe on my face and she took Roshan and me by the hand and said “Welcome, Teacher, I am so happy you are here." Karima was a mother of three, about 30 years old, and came from a wealthy family, as was apparent from the house we were being ushered into. We were taken straight to the dining room which was dominated by a large dining table groaning under the weight of all sorts of delicious Yemeni snacks piled high on it. The ceiling was ornately decorated and a huge chandelier hung from the center, with painted flowers and motifs in gold along the edges. The curtains were made of burgundy velvet, and the walls were covered with gilt-edged frames sporting photographs, paintings, and mirrors. After ensuring that we had eaten well, we were ushered into the ladies’ dewan, where all Qat chews take place.
In Karima's home. the dewan was on the ground floor and looked out into the garden. The floor was covered with thick carpets and the ceiling was resplendent with chandeliers. Right in the middle of the room were three large Madaas (hubbly bubblies). From the ornate brass base containing the water and tobacco, emerged several long pipes. These were passed around and many of the women had their own mouthpiece which they put on before they took a puff! Also in the center was a huge brass tray filled with exotic French perfumes, which were passed around and tried.
Along three walls of the room and on the floor was the Mafraj. This consisted of a firm and narrow mattress with a backrest and cushions which were used to lean on. It was covered in silk and satin, and draped on these richly covered seats were the most exotically dressed and coiffured women. Some wore their traditional Sanaani outfits with the beautiful embroidered hats, while others wore styles that came straight out of the latest Vogue magazines! All the ladies sported exquisite jewelry. They kept coming in and out of the room with bundles of Qat which they proceeded to wipe clean with great ceremony before chewing it. Qat must be chewed and stored in the cheek till it bulges, and it is slowly chewed till every bit of is gone! the chewer looks rather like a clown!
One of the ladies was an accomplished singer and musician. She took her lute and so began the singing, dancing, clapping, cheering, hooting, tooting and general falling about! Once she began with the bawdy songs there was no letting up as ladies chipped in with their own versions and words to a tune; one taking on where the other left off, complete with lewd gestures illustrating quite clearly what was being said. One did not need language to understand what was going on here!
As the evening unfolded and the room began to get stuffy, hot and full of smoke, Karima waltzed in bearing a brass tray with a smoking incense holder in the middle of it, trailing a strong perfume about her. I watched as Karima made a beeline for my aunt who looked utterly ill at ease! She lifted Roshan’s arm and held the burner below her armpit, then under her skirt, and then into her hair! “With the sweet smell of this incense, you are now ready for your husband” she chuckled. Roshan looked like she was about to pass out so we made a grand exit with our bodies perfumed and our minds and hearts enriched once again by the warmth of Yemeni women!
A Son is Your Wealth
by Hootoksi Tyabji
While in Yemen I was amused when I heard my expat friends say "I don't know how you dare to go about the old city on your own. Those men look wild and evil in their funny looking skirts! Aren't you afraid of the guns and knives they carry? How can you trust them?"
Afraid of Yemeni men? Most definitely NOT! To a Yemeni man, a woman is highly respected, and in over five years that we lived in Sana’a, I never had one negative incident, no bag snatching, wolf whistling, cheating, or eve teasing; and if I wanted to cross a busy street, all I had to do was make was a gesture with my hand, and all traffic would stop to let me through! A far cry from many other cities across the world! I once walked into a jewelry shop in the Suq, just browsing, and I saw a chain I really liked but did not have the money on me, so I asked the shopkeeper to hold it for me. He refused but insisted that I take it home and come back whenever I could to pay for it. I offered my name and telephone number, he didn’t want either. Trust?!?!
One beautiful, bright and crisp Friday morning we decided to pack a picnic lunch and go on a jaunt with our children and Michel’s friend Matt,who was visiting from New York. We drove out of Sana'a for an hour till we spotted a waterfall, a nice picnic place, where we spread out our mat and began exploring. Michel, Farhad, Adil and Matt decided to take on the rather steep and rocky mountain, while Rob and I walked for a while and then sat on some rocks, soaking in the fabulous vista in front of us. Somewhere in the background we heard a running stream and the occasional bleat of a goat. Time seemed to stand still, and we were only aware of how long we had been sitting there when we saw Adil running helter skelter down the cliff screaming "Is there rope in the car? Come quick! Farhad is stuck on the mountain and we need to get him down!"
Is there ever a rope in the car when you really need it? Of course not! Robert ran out on the road and flagged down the first vehicle that came along, a 4WD Hilux pickup truck. It was full of Yemeni men, their cheeks bulging with qat, their futas stained with mud, rubber flip-flops on their feet. Rob with his rudimentary Arabic was somehow able to communicate what had happened, and within moments the men scuttled up the cliff like surefooted mountain goats, their jambiyas and Kalashnikovs securely strapped to their chests!
Photo: (L-R) Robert, Adil, Matt, Michel. The arrow points to Farhad's location
Farhad was spreadeagled against a rock with no way to go backwards or forwards, and a sheer drop of at least 40 feet behind him. He needed to work his way forward but was frozen with fear! Michel and Matt stood helplessly below, comforting him, but not knowing how to help.
The men from the truck formed a human chain and coaxed Farhad to walk over them to safety. As soon as he was over on their side, they let off a volley of gunfire which I, standing at the foot of the cliff, heard and I thought, it’s all over, there has been a terrible mistake! I began sobbing and the driver of the truck, an elderly man who had stayed with me, gave me the universal thumbs up sign indicating all was well! Everyone soon came down the cliff, with Farhad in the lead smiling and leading the way, and Robert totally overwhelmed by the men who had saved our son’s life! He thankfully pulled out some money from his wallet and offered it to the men, but they were terribly offended and one of them opened the belt that held up his futah to show us handfuls of money stuffed inside. Shaking their heads in disbelief, they climbed into their truck and drove away in a cloud of dust!
We later discovered that gunshots are fired to express victory, success and happiness. They are used to announce a wedding, the birth of a child, success at work, a job well done, and Farhad’s descent to safety. We also learned that the Yemeni believe that no amount of money could ever buy the life of a son & to even think of offering it, is a disgrace!
A few weeks later, Farida called. She was a good friend of mine who needed my help and I was more than happy to oblige by driving her to her aunty’s house not too far from where we lived. In the car she told me that we were going to visit one of the richest families in Sana’a, where the unthinkable had happened! The eldest and only son of her uncle had been hijacked three days earlier. He was 19 years old and the hijackers had given the father an ultimatum. Pay a HUGE ransom within the next hour, or the boy would be killed! The police and other family members had gathered at the house we were now entering, through huge iron gates.
Farida asked me to go with her and we were ushered into the ladies’ quarters. The house was a palace and the room we entered was the “dewan” where qat chews take place. It was vast and covered with expensive carpets, and the Mafraj lined two walls on opposite ends of the room. There were over two hundred women seated on the cushions and we took our place among them. The grandmother and the mother were being comforted by a host of women, all of whom were crying and wailing. Suddenly, there was a flurry outside the door, a lady came in and whispered something to the mother who announced that her husband had decided not to pay the ransom, and that she stood by him. I nudged Farida and whispered, "But can’t these people afford it?" and she replied "Of course, but you probably wouldn’t understand. For us, a son is priceless and by paying for his life, you cheapen it." I shook my head in disbelief, but the story has a happy ending!
The boy was released unharmed a day later and the hijackers, two Egyptian teachers, were deported back to Egypt!
A Gift for Robert
Hootoksi Tyabji, Sana'a, 1993
I was so excited about the gift I managed to find for Rob. He loves old carpets and I spent three days in the old souk looking for something special. On the last day when I was beginning to lose hope of finding anything at all, I came across this tiny shop hidden form the road in a dark side street. There were two old men sitting on some dirty rugs, chewing qat and watching the world go by! I asked what they were selling, and they seemed quite surprised by my silly question, the rugs they were sitting on of course! They were more interested in their conversation and seemed irritated at having to get up and show me the carpets. They seemed terribly over-priced and not attractive at all, so I proceeded to tell them I was looking for a special gift for my husband for Xmas. We started chatting and I managed to communicate with my few words of Arabic, but mostly with gestures and smiles. They were delighted to see photos of my family and when I told them that Robert’s ancestors came from Bait Al Tayyeb in the Hadramaut, they beamed and one of them asked me to follow him.
Off we went up hill and dale, past goats and little children playing and chasing each other down dirty, narrow alleyways! Finally, the old man stopped in front of a little old house with a small wooden door and began banging on a great, ancient iron knocker set in the middle of it. We were now in the heart of the old city. There was a shout from his wife inside the house and once he had properly identified himself, we were let in. It was like walking back in time! Like many in the old city, the house must have been well over 500 years old. Made of stone, it had narrow passages, steep stairways and low arches through which we had to bend to get through. We climbed right to the top into a dark room containing about ten rugs piled one on top of another. The old man unrolled a 3-meter runner which looked fabulous! He told me it was very precious, and he wanted me to buy it for my husband from Bait Al Tayyeb. The price he asked was most reasonable and I walked off with this amazing Xmas gift form an old man in the Bab al Yemen Suq! Many years later, a friend who was an expert on carpets told me that were I to sell it I would get 100 times what I paid for it!
Hijackings
Hootoksi Tyabji, Sana'a, 1992
Nothing is impossible in Yemen, all questions are answered in the affirmative and everything is ‘Bukhra, Insha Allah’ – “Tomorrow, God willing!”
There had recently been a spate of hijackings. 4-wheel drive cars were being targeted and the hijackers would make off with the vehicle, leaving drivers and occupants standing by the road unharmed. All sorts of wild and wonderful stories about this abounded, here are some of my favorites!
A young German couple and their infant daughter had come to Yemen to visit friends and decided to take off on their own on a short day trip in a borrowed car. They packed a picnic lunch and secured the baby in a bassinet in the back seat. They had a wonderful picnic, but on their way back to Sana'a they were stopped by a couple of men brandishing Kalashnikovs and clearly wanting their car. They were more than ready to hand it over, but tried to communicate that they had a sleeping infant in the back, and could they please get her out. The macho men were not about to listen to these driveling white people and they drove off, baby and all, leaving a cloud of dust and two utterly devastated people by the roadside. Ten minutes later, just when the man had managed to calm his hysterical wife, there was a roar of a motor engine and a screech of tires as the bandits returned and pushed the baby out of the car window to its relieved parents! Hijacking a car is one thing, but hijacking a baby is just not on!
A friend working for an oilfield subsidiary company had just returned to Sana'a from home leave in Ireland. He was on his way to a business meeting in a suit and tie. Along the way he was ambushed by a rough lot of chaps who not only took his 4WD car, but also his new shirt, suit and vest. They left him standing by the side of the road in his new underwear and tie!
And then there was this land dispute. Often you would hear shots ring through the air as one clan or group of people tried to settle a land claim with another clan, group or neighbor. Seldom was anybody hurt but sometimes someone got in the way and then all hell would break loose. On one such occasion, the body of the deceased was put in the back of a Toyota Landcruiser, and the family was on their way to the burial ground. En route they were hijacked, and they tried desperately to let the hijackers know that there was a body in the car, but would they listen? Their car was speedily driven off, body and all!
As the hijackers were barreling along they were stopped at a police check point where the car was inspected and the body discovered. They were booked for murder before they were found to have been the hijackers!
The Gulf War
On August 2, 1990, a force of one hundred thousand Iraqi troops invaded Kuwait and overran the country in a matter of hours. The invasion of Kuwait led to a United Nations Security Council embargo and sanctions on Iraq and a U.S.-led coalition air and ground war, which began on January 16, 1991, and ended with an Iraqi defeat and retreat from Kuwait on February 28, 1991.
The Gulf War as it became known, developed in two phases: Operation Desert Shield (August 1990 – January 1991) which was the military build-up towards the war; and Operation Desert Storm (17 January - 28 February, 1991) which began with the aerial bombing campaign against Iraq and ended with the American-led liberation of Kuwait.
The Gulf War had disastrous long term consequences for Yemen, which by unfortunate coincidence happened to be President of the UN Security Council in December of 1990, at a time when tensions in the Middle East were highest and emotions during Operation Desert Shield were at their peak. When the time came for the Security Council to decide whether a UN-sanctioned attack on Iraq was justifiable, Yemen voted ‘No’. Yemen’s immediate neighbour, Saudi Arabia, took exception to Yemen’s stance and summarily expelled thousands of Yemeni workers, who flooded into the country penniless and hungry. Many had no roots left in Yemen and were forced to live in hovels and scratch out a living in the Tihama region of the country’s western lowlands.
The Gulf War was an utter disaster for the Middle East, with global consequences. In particular, it was ruinous for millions of citizens and migrant and expatriate workers in the Middle East. Hootoksi and I had moved to Sana’a, Yemen, just a year earlier to take up another full-time assignment. As Operation Desert Shield progressed, UNICEF asked me to fly to New York where I was wanted to help keep the organization, its donors as well as the international media abreast of events as they unfolded, with emphasis on the disastrous consequences of the war on the region’s children and women.
At UNICEF headquarters I was provided a spacious, well-equipped office (with 2xfax machines, 2xcomputers, 2xtelephones, a TV and a radio receiver) and an assistant, Ms Claire Zamor. Here, I kept regular contact with the media networks, UNICEF country offices and sister UN agencies. With inputs from these and other sources, I prepared 25 Gulf Crisis Updates for the UN Task Force meetings. An information bank on crisis-affected countries and the movement of refugees was developed.
The Gulf War ended with the surrender of Iraq on 28 February, 1991, and I concluded my New York assignment a week later, on 8 March, and returned to Sana’a.