My Friends... part 1

A while ago I thought a lot about how I wanted to remember my neighbors.  I knew that while some of them would allow me to take a final picture of them, there were some that would not.  Yet I wanted to take with me a photo that would remind me of them often.  One evening Marlen and I went to Fort Antiquities to look at Mandoos, dowry trunks.  We had not been in there a while and found that 1/2 the shop was redone. It was fantastic to be able to look at all these old items that were polished and displayed so well. Peter, the shop keeper has a tremendous amount of knowledge of the Oman History, plus he has resided in Oman for the last 28 years.  He told the most fascinating history of the things he had on display.  While Marlen was getting the history on some old guns, I looked through the cases that had pieces of old Omani silver.  He explained to me that the silver was dowry pieces of bedouin women.  There was a ring that caught my eye.  It was pretty plain, but instantly it reminded me of Marhuna.  The owner of the store was there as well and I told him how it reminded me of Marhuna, one of my dear neighbors and he just gave me the ring!!!  It was in that moment of finding the ring that I figured out I could photograph their hands.  Each one of my friends have served me over and over again in the last 8 years and they have loved me with their hand; pouring me coffee, peeling fruit, serving me dates and most importantly wrapping those hands around mine or embracing me to welcome me or show me how they felt about me.

MARHUNA: The oldest neighbor in my hood.  She is quite a remarkable woman, with her deep set eyes that are so kind and gentle. She has a very distinct way she carries herself.  She is respected among the other women and is always included in every affair.  She is widowed and lives with her brother and his wives.  Instantly, when I met her years ago I was taken with her.  I tend to gravitate to older people anyway, (it was instilled in me long ago when my own Gramma would taken me to work with her at the nursing home).  I would *coffee* with a group of neighbor ladies and it was at these coffee times that Marhuna felt like I needed to be introduced to the beauty techniques of the bedu.  There is a saffron paste that the older women apply in the mornings at the coffee time that will keep them smelling beautiful throughout the day.  She was like the official maker of the saffron paste and then she would pass it around to the ladies to apply.  I am not sure if I look just plain awkward in applying the paste or they felt like I needed an Omani hand in applying it, but without fail either Marhuna or Subha did it for me.  After they would apply it they would giggle and talk about me in Arabic, it seemed to truly make their day.  Later, I found out from some of the younger women that this was considered old fashion and they would not put this if their life depended on it!!!  It would be like wearing your mother's clothes!!!! I personally found it fun to experience the old bedu customs.  Marhuna with out fail would hug me every time I saw her on the street. She would walk out of her way to greet me in Bedu Arabic, always knowing that she would never get the response she was hoping for... me answering back to all her salutations... she would just look into my eyes and grin. Some of my favorite memories were those we made in my house.  I got such a kick out of watching her try to adapt to something so foreign as a couch and eating my food.  One day not so long ago, she came after Marlen's dad has passed away and I served them plums.  She ate the inside of the plumb, but took the skin and flung it towards the window.  I have the screens shut on our windows so flies don't come in, and that skin hit the screen and bounced off of it and onto the floor.  I laughed so hard on the inside.  Words cannot describe how different we are culturally and the grid she thinks through.  This picture of our hands is priceless to me.  I love her sense of style with jewelery.  She has great taste!