Our classroom is hot. It's hard to focus. We've begun to notice the increasing temperatures outside that hint at the impending heat of summer. Our professor, Ustaadha Latifa, senses our drifting thoughts and makes her way across the whitewashed room and to the window. Her black abaya sways with each step, creating the illusion of floating, which, when paired with her petite frame, is easy to believe. She unlocks the window and allows fresh air into the room. As the breeze flows in, it brings with it the distant sound of the call for prayer, a welcome melody that has been too far from my hearing for too long. I close my eyes for a brief moment and simply listen. I feel the air involuntarily leave my lungs in a satisfied exhale, the kind that only happens in moments of deep contentment. This moment, hearing the call for prayer for the first time since I moved to Ibri, reminds me of our group's week of prayer back in Muscat...
The sound of devoted believers raises me to consciousness. I don't have to open my eyes to know it's 5:30 am and dark outside. I am informed of these facts simply by listening to both my internal clock and the calls for prayer echoing throughout the city. What would it be like to be one of the devoted who wake up every day before 5:30 and make their way to the mosque; those who turn towards Mecca again at mid-morning, noon, mid-day, and sunset?
A couple of weeks ago our group decided to partake in this tradition for a week. We got up early for prayer and continued to pray throughout the day, meeting each time in a chapel across the street. It was fascinating to see how individuals, and collectively the group, responded to this practice.
The first thing I remember noticing was the discipline it took to pray 3-5 times a day. It's not easy to roll out of bed so early, much less trek down the street to go sit in prayer. As the week progressed, I found myself going through the day with increased mindfulness, a greater awareness of myself, my community, and the divine. There was always some part of my mind that was thinking about these connections, and the moment those reflections left my mind it happened to be time for another prayer.
Towards the end of the week, this awareness slipped into the meaningless motions towards which we are so prone. Practicing this type of prayer forces a certain amount of structure, which, early in the week, provided comfort and stability to my day; but as the week went on, the structure lent itself to laziness. I began to check the boxes, do the motions. This tendency is never completely absent from our lives, but it was interesting to me how quickly the others and myself fell into this pattern.
Upon reflection, these hardly feel like discoveries. They are exactly what I would expect to happen. It makes sense that doing something multiple times a day throughout a week would keep it in your mind. Along the same lines, it is natural that when we followed the same pattern long enough we fell into a routine. The structure lost its novelty and became just another part of our day. It's important to acknowledge that this reflection is based on a single week of trying something deeply engrained in both a culture and its people, so I cannot speak for anyone else's experiences with this practice other than my own. But, it is also important to recognize that we all do this. We all fall into a routine. It's human.
If we accept this, the questions change. We begin asking questions like: How do we stay engaged in the important stuff? How do we continue to progress, challenge, explore, and find joy in the structure of life? Why do I choose this structure? What is its redeeming value? Social value? Philosophical value? What about a structure-less life? Where do we need structure? Where do we need change? Ultimately, why do you do what you do?
I am currently in Ibri, which is a small(er) trade town that is a guaranteed and necessary stop on a well-populated route between the UAE and Yemen. Its placement in the interior comes with warmer weather, more conservative values and dress, and a better glimpse of traditional Oman. I am here with my group for six weeks studying Arabic at Noor Majan. I absolutely love it here. Ibri may not be as exciting as Muscat, but the people are amazing and classes are fun. Noor Majan is a phenomenal institute with exceptional teachers and administration. I am already keeping my ears open for opportunities to return.
Most weekends the institute plans optional excursions, a couple of which I've discussed below.
Exploring Ibri:
Our first excursion during our time at Noor Majan was to see Ibri, our home for the next six weeks. We left the school early in the morning before class. Our first stop was the date market, something for which Ibri is well-known, and rightfully so. The dates in Oman are phenomenal, but are even more so in Ibri. The sweet, sticky fruit perfectly compliments the spicy cardamom coffee served in every household, a pair that can only be made better when sitting in a circle on the floor, surrounded by friends.
After satisfying our "sweet-teeth", we explored Ibri castle. The heavy wooden doors are studded, a form of protection from the elephants used as battering rams back in the day, and there are slots above said doors where the castle's inhabitants would pour boiling date syrup on intruders. On a less brutal note, we also found windows that perfectly framed the dramatic landscape, strategically placed to maximize airflow and minimize heat from the sun.
Our last stop was the livestock sale. At 8:30 a mass of people organized themselves into a circle, creating a channel for sellers to showcase their animals and prospective buyers to observe. It was noisy, to say the least. As soon as the prices were called out, the auction began and the air filled with the sounds of the animals, prices, haggling, conversation, and pebbles returning to the ground after being thrown at sellers to catch their attention. It was a fascinating experience.
Old Oman:
The next weekend our excursion took us to one of Noor Majan's teacher's houses. As we drive through the tiny village, I am impressed that the school's bus can fit through some of the narrow passages. We stop at the end of the road; to our left stands a soft peach-colored house, date palms creating a shady walk to the steps. Men enter one door and women another, each gender guided to our respective sitting rooms where we are welcomed with an array of fruits, dates, coffee, and tea.
The women chat casually and admire the decor until the men enter the room, our cue to leave while our hosts prepare lunch. During that time, we go for a short jaunt through the gardens. The date palms provide shade for us as we follow the falaj to the source of its water and admire the mud brick structures that were the villagers homes before 1970.
After lunch, we departed our teacher's village and left to explore a nearby dam. We roamed around the dam for about an hour, climbing over its walls and down to the creek below. Once again I found my minimal climbing skills extremely useful and my fear of heights not helpful at all.
Bat Necropolis:
Another Noor Majan excursion went to the Beehive Tombs. These ancient structures are a UNESCO World-Heritage site, believed to be tombs, though this has not been conclusively proven. Here's how UNESCO describes the site:
"The protohistoric archaeological complex of Bat, al-Khutm and al-Ayn represents one of the most complete and well preserved ensembles of settlements and necropolises from the 3rd millennium BCE worldwide. The core site is a part of the modern village of Bat, in the Wadi Sharsah approximately 24 kilometres east of the city of Ibri, in the Al-Dhahira Governorate of north-western Oman...Together, monumental towers, rural settlements, irrigation systems for agriculture, and necropolises embedded in a fossilized Bronze Age landscape, form a unique example of cultural relics in an exceptional state of preservation."
It was amazing to be reminded of the history of this place, the roots humanity placed here. As I walked through the structures, I was reminded of the connection we share with those past and present. They too lived, grieved, and loved. They too sat here, if not this mountain then one like it, and looked out onto the land that sheltered and sustained them. Up here, I can understand why people would choose to live here, why they would, in some form or another, forever live here.
May you find stability in structure, excitement in change, and joy in the depth of the life you lead. And if you find you are no longer engaged in the structure of life, may you find the courage to go out and pursue that which makes your eyes light up.
Salaam,
Anna