Wahine Magazine vol. 6, #3 summer 2000 "Arabia Unveiled"
by Shannon McIntyre

"Why Oman?" My husband Shayne and I have a favorite game: we close our eyes, spin the globe while randomly pointing a finger, and wherever it lands, that is where our next adventure will take us. Our fingers must have landed on Oman several times, and despite graphic images of the Gulf War and terrorist attacks embedded in my brain, we decided to risk it. We began researching Oman in the Internet, where we found a photo of an Omani woman fully veiled in black, with only her eyes showing through her burqua mask, betraying her fear. I thought she was the picture of oppression and sadness. My preconceptions of the lives of Middle Eastern women caused me to feel bitter and uneasy, so I started reading "Maverick Guide to Oman" to better familiarize myself with the culture and gain the confidence to physically explore it. Oman is on the coast of the Arabian Sea, just South of Iran and bordering Saudi Arabia, the UAE and Yemen. It's ruler, Sultan Qabus, has been working to modernize the country since he came to power in the early 1970s. As a result, Oman is more tolerant than most Middle Eastern countries when it comes to the rights of women. Indeed, many women work alongside men and hold positions such as police officers and politicians. Still, it seemed rather strict that the first question on our visa applications was, "What religion do you practice?" Yet we found that Omanis practice a branch of Islam called Ibadism noted for its sincerity, kindness, humility and tolerance. My next concern about traveling to Oman was of course: will there be waves? After all, there has never been a documented "surf report" of the region, and we could get skunked (no waves). Plus, what was I going to wear? Would my Southern California beach wardrobe be seen as appropriate enough, in a country that insists females be shrouded and veiled? The plane ride was a grueling 23 hours, and I ended up with bruises on my hips from squirming in my seat. We arrived in Abu Dhabi (the place that Garfield always sent Odi) at 8:28pm for a 30-minute layover. It was humid, dank, difficult
to breathe, and the architecture seemed right out of "Star Wars." I marveled at the ornate tile wall and great pillars. Most of the men wore long white robes called dish-dashas and turbans on their heads. We were smack in the Middle East, and I felt totally...foreign. Them my heart stopped a beat. I was compelled to stare, but respectfully looked away when I saw for the first time a woman covered head to toe in a black shroud, her eyes dimmed behind a mesh screen. She floated gracefully behind her husband - a big man dressed in white whose red and white head covering featured a black braided headband. I couldn't decide whether to make eye contact and smile at these strangers, or walk with my head down, a few steps behind Shayne. Suddenly, I was conscious of walking a few steps ahead of Shayne. I slowed down to wait for him. We arrived in Muscat, Oman an hour later and our surfboards were waiting! Customs asked to see what was inside our board bag. Shayne pulled out a surf magazine to help illustrate for them what can be done on these strange, long white objects. Then a customs officer opened my bag and saw the half-naked Wonder Woman I had painted on my board. He giggled, and a few others came over to check it out. Uh-oh; I had worried about this. Oman strictly prohibits any type of pornography. Would my fleshy painting be insulting to them? The officers just laughed, while Shayne pointed at me and said "It's hers." I began feeling impatient to get to the coast and begin our search for waves. Our plan was to drive directly to the most exposed points along the coast. After three days of traveling across bumpy dirt roads, passing herds of wild camels traversing endless stretches of the most barren, lifeless desert on the face of the earth, we finally saw the ocean. From a distance we could see the whitewater and we began to hoot and holler! Ras Madrakah is
a small isolated fishing village with a few shacks, myriad goats, and a population of around 200. Dressed in traditional Bedouin clothing, the locals welcomed us with smiles. The women shyly hid their faces with on e hand while waving with the other. We pulled up on the beach. There was a playful break with a windswell kicking. Two boys from the village met us on the beach and invited us to their home for coffee. Knowing it would be offensive to deny them, we put off our surf to join them. I'm so glad we did, because we had the most beautiful cultural experience of our trip. Their home consisted of plywood walls and roof with a sleeping carpet inside. That was it! There were two mats on the ground. The men sat on one and I sat with two sisters on the other. The girls were dressed in golden yellow dish-dashas and were wearing burqua veils. One had a traditional tattoo on her chin that looked like a sideways division symbol. I was enchanted by their beautiful, smiling brown eyes. Trying to be respectful in my long sleeve shirt and skirt, I wore my sarong over my head and used my hands to communicate. We smiled and giggled together, having only faint clues of what the other was saying. Then one of the sisters got up and brought me a burqua veil of gold metallic fabric that she had made by hand. She proudly tied it to my face and said it was a gift to me. I felt extremely honored, even somewhat exotic and mysterious behind my new veil. Omanis believe beauty is enhanced by leaving much to the imagination. Girls choose to wear the veil in Oman and do not view it as oppressive - instead it is a symbol of deference to their elders, as well as a form of modesty. The mask is just as normal to them as wearing lipstick is to a Western female, and also serves as protection fro the sun and vigorous sand storms. I turned to the guys to show them my new look. One elder in a turban with a long with beard gave me the thumbs up and said, "looks goot." We finished our dates and chi, feeling totally blessed by their hospitality. Every place we went in Oman we were greeted with "Salaam al ay Kum," which means "peace by upon you." During our first surf, some village boys came to watch, and I could hear them cheering from the cliffs. I caught the first wave of the trip. I am probably on of the first women to ever surf Oman, if not the first. I named the wave "Burqua," because it was hidden behind a jagged headland like the face veils I had by then grown so fond of. The waves were just a little overhead, not perfect form, a little chunky, but super fun anyhow. The water was about 80 degrees and it felt like soft, warm butter. We decided we could find better surf, so it became the routine of our trip to explore the coast, surf random isolated points, and beachbreaks for a day or two, then move on. We drove 7 to 10 hours a day, blasting the air-con to protect us from the sweltering heat. There is so much potential for surf in Oman - so much to explore. I felt like a true nomad, moving from place to place, tenting on beaches nearly empty, except for the tracks of departed sea turtles. Another break we surfed in the South bordered the country of Yemen. It reminded me of a big day at Blacks. The locals thought we were crazy for going into the turbulent waters, especially warning us about the "glass" reefs. The waves were very consistent. The paddle out was indeed exhausting, but well worth the effort once outside. It featured big drops with punchy sections. From the lineup, we could hear "allah-aalllaa allakkalla" amplified from the village mosque loud speakers as a reminder to pray. People there pray five times a day, while life in the nearby sea is a bustle, brimming with turtle, dolphin and shark society. Thanks be to Allah that there was plenty of other food in the sea. The last part of our trip, we ventured to an outer island where we found perfect right point waves lining up every couple of miles. Unfortunately, they were only a foot or two. If only we were smaller. We found one spot that was overhead with deep blue water that reminded us of Trestles. We rode the waves about 50 yards and got in about five turns. When I came in from a surf, a lady and her daughters came up to me. I let the little girls check out my board - they were so curious. Maybe when I return in a few years, I'll have some local surf sisters to come back to. We camped on that turtle beach for about three nights. On the way back we tried to cross the Wahiba sand dunes in our rented Land Cruiser. After two hours of driving through the sand and over the beach and dunes, we got stuck. Every direction we looked, all we saw were endless rolls of sand and not another soul. It was dusk, so to avoid getting lost in the desert, we decided to follow our tracks back, but not before an attempt at sand surfing! We used Shayne's snapped board and dropped in to some 50-foot faces. The sand rumbled like an avalanche as we slid down, and I had scary visions of it turning into quicksand and swallowing us up. We made it out of the dunes, but were not yet out of trouble. It was dark and we wanted to make it to a hotel before morning. Shayne was cruising through a ghost town when out of the darkness, "THUMP!!" A camel sideswiped us. It limped off, but within seconds about 30 young men surrounded the car. We had no clue what any of them were saying to us in Arabic, except one guy who told us to wait, then he left the scene. I thought he either went to get the police or to see if the camel was okay. When he returned and said it was alright to leave, we shook every hand that was sticking into the car, bid them a humble "ShuKran" (thank you) then bolted. Boarding the airplane to go home, I was sad to leave. Oman is pierced into my memory: from sand surfing in the great Wahiba dunes to shopping for frankincense in the local market to visiting ancient ruins to the excitement of surfing virgin breaks. My view of the Middle East changed completely along my journey. I will no longer so readily absorb stereotypes fed to me on the nightly news. The Arabian people of Oman are the kindest, friendliest people I have ever met. I fell in love with the culture, land and sea, and am already making plans to return. (Unfortunately after the recent Terrorist events, I do not know how Americans are now viewed in Oman, and don't know if I'll ever be able to return)