The spontaneity and generosity of Yemeni hospitality or How I spent the evening with Abdul....

Author’s note: The experience conveyed here is from 17 September 2010.

Yemeni hospitality is frequently touted as being among the most generous of all cultures. Countless books have been written that demonstrate the giving, friendly spirit of the Yemeni people as well as their ability to live spontaneously and free from the constraints of time. These aspects of Yemeni culture have played a central role in a number of my experiences in Yemen thus far including the one recounted in this post. It is my hope that this experience will not only encourage others to live spontaneously and freely in the moment, but also to help provide information about what I have experienced to be the “real” Yemen. Before getting to this adventure it is necessary to provide some background information to set the stage for my unique tale of Yemeni hospitality. Here goes........

This afternoon, following a wonderful two hour walk/hike through Sana Village on the outskirts of Sana’a, I left my friends Kate and Barbara and hopped on my bike, unsure of where I was going but certain that it would not be directly home. Since Kate and Barbara live in an area of Sana’a I do not frequent too often, I decided to take advantage of being in the area and headed in the general direction of the Movenpick Hotel and US Embassy. It was refreshing to go biking for the sake of biking and to see an area of Sana’a I have not previously experienced from the seat of my bike. Shortly into my ride I decided to replenish my recently depleted supply of qat and soon spotted some on a street corner. After making a quick deal and talking the price down, I hopped back on my bike with a fresh wad of leaves in my right cheek. For the next twenty-five minutes I dug in and enjoyed the ride through Sana’a’s eastern edge while simultaneously interacting with many of the friendly Yemenis I passed (or was passed by) on my bike. At one point a motorcycle with three men kept pace with me and allowed us to have a brief exchange, though I ended up mostly alternating between nodding and saying Tammam (Good/fine) and shrugging and saying Moo fa him (I don’t understand). Regardless of their intended message, I appreciated their friendliness. At another moment I heard a horn behind me and at first (incorrectly) assumed it was an impatient taxi driver, but was then pleasantly surprised to have a amiable taxi driver shouting Welcome! while at the same time leaning to my side and waving. What friendly people.

After biking up the hill that is home to the Movenpick and Sheraton Hotels as well as the US, British, and Turkish Embassies, I made my decent back into the heart of Sana’a with the intention of heading for home. The only other time I had traversed this particular part of Sana’a was on a long walk on my third day in Yemen. As a result, I was not entirely sure which streets would get me to Tahrir Square, but knew the general direction I needed to go. I continued on and was moving along at a nice speed when I suddenly came to a street dominated by pedestrian traffic that was much more difficult to navigate on a bike (or car for that matter). After several minutes of moving along at a snail’s pace I finally caught a break in the foot traffic and was able to get back to a more desirable pace.....for about forty feet. I then found myself again in the middle of a street clogged with veiled women and small children and lined on both sides with vendors selling their wares. I next spotted a side street and took that hoping it would get me out of this area. I covered about a hundred feet before realizing it was not a thru street and turned around to join the crowd again. At this point I realized I was in the Old City and was dumbfounded about how I had entered it without noticing. For those unfamiliar with Sana’a’s Old City, it is the original walled in heart of the city and consists of narrow, cobblestone lanes flanked by shops on all sides and usually teeming with activity and people. Overall it is not the best place to bike and certainly not where I planned to end up, but I was there and was not going to magically make my way out.

I continued on and began to become familiar with certain parts of my surroundings. I had been in this area of the Old City before, but never while on a bike. Twice more I ended up in backstreets that led to nowhere and was forced to turn around. It was after turning around in this second instance when I saw a man pointing and calling in my direction just ahead of me. I was not entirely sure if he was directing these gestures at me, so I pointed and said “Me?” The man confirmed that he was indeed talking to me, so I slowed to a stop and dismounted from my bike. He immediately asked me where I was from and what my name was, speaking in intelligible and well-practiced English. I supplied him with the requested information and, seeing an opportunity to practice my Arabic, replied with Mah ismuka? (What is your name?) My new friend answered by speaking his name, Abdul, and simultaneously handing me a business card. As I looked down at the card and read The Cultural Center for Foreigners’ Call and Great Mosque, I realized that Abdul worked in the Great Mosque in the Old City and was likely a well-respected and well-known man. Abdul then introduced me to his friend standing by us and explained he was the muadhin, or person who performs the call to prayer, of the Great Mosque and was responsible for reciting Allah'u'Akbar each day before the Iftar meal during Ramadan. I was honored to meet this man and have the opportunity to shake his hand, which he graciously offered me. I then explained to Abdul that I had gotten lost in the Old City while biking home from a hiking excursion. He assured me that he would help me find my way, but asked if I minded walking and talking with him for “just five minutes.” Having nothing else to do and enjoying the opportunity to get to know my new friend more, I said “Sure.” And so began my evening with Abdul, whom I would spend the next three and a half hours with in the Old City.

As Abdul and I walked and talked, we shared an authentic level of enthusiasm that is not easy to find. We were mutually interested in each other’s life and life experiences, and took turns sharing personal details. After walking for a bit Abdul explained to me that we were “inside the Great Mosque” and that I was safe in there because I had someone “on the inside.” We then made our way to a small closet type room from which Abdul produced a chair for me to sit on and where he parked himself. We continued to talk, exchanged phone numbers, and then decided to have a tea. Before leaving Abdul’s closet, he gave me two books: an introductory book to Islam and a welcome guide to Yemen. He assured me the books were intended to be free of charge and that they were mine to keep saying “even if someone gave me two million dollars for one of the books, I would not take the money.” I thanked Abdul for the books and was then flabbergasted when he extended an invitation to me for a wedding later in the week. I told him how honored and excited I was for this and said Tammam jiddan (very good) and Shukran (Thank you) several times. As we gathered up our things, I learned that Abdul is the father of three children, two boys and a girl. He even showed me a report card of his fifteen year old son, who he described as “not a good student.”

Once Abdul and I had collected our things we began walking again, heading out of the Great Mosque and into the heart of the Old City. As we walked together it was refreshing how easily the conversation flowed, similar to an exchange between longtime friends. It was apparent that the comfort level between the two of us was mutual and made for a very memorable experience. Along the way Abdul frequently stopped to greet friends and acquaintances, leading me to believe he is not only well known in the area but also well liked. After walking for perhaps ten minutes, we arrived at a small shop where Abdul instructed me to sit down as he did the same. He then introduced me to the shopkeeper, his friend Mohammed, and retrieved a small bag of sweets from his things that he wanted to share with me. Not being a very big fan of sweets, I did not really want any, but to refuse would have been extremely rude, so I ate a couple of the small cookies and two of the sugarless bread biscuits, which I preferred. Just before we had begun to eat the sweets Abdul had walked just down the lane in the suq to get tea for us, which was provided complimentary by another friend. In the time he was gone, I made small talk with Mohammed and a few of the customers who came to his spice shop. Abdul later explained to me that the spice shops in the suq previously met all the needs of medicine for Yemeni people and negated the need for traditional pharmacies. This is not the case today, however, as pharmacies are abundant throughout all of Sana’a.

I was thrilled when Abdul returned with the tea, which was traditional Yemeni shay flavored with cardamom, mint leaves, and delicious Yemeni honey. Unfortunately I spilled my cup after a few minutes and immediately began apologizing, to which Abdul said, “Please it is not big deal” and, without hesitation, gave me his tea to replace my spilt one. Mohammed provided us with some newspaper chunks to dry the spilt drink with and we continued on as if nothing had happened. Not long after finishing our tea, Abdul informed me that he and Mohammed needed to leave to go to the mosque for prayer. He told me to watch over the shop until Mohammed’s brother arrived, which would be in a few minutes. I bid my friends a temporary farewell and decided to pass the time by reading, while periodically looking around to take in the Old City. It was easy to see how busy Mohammed must be, as I had to tell several people “Mohammed towaleh ( Mohammed straight ahead)” , which I said while making a walking gesture with the index and middle fingers of my right hand. Everyone understood what I said but likely wondered why Mohammed had entrusted his shop to a random adjanabee (foreigner). After watching over the shop solo for about ten minutes, Mohammed’s brother, Ahmed, arrived. We exchanged pleasantries (in Arabic) and I began to tell him that I was a teacher here in Sana’a. He was quieter than his brother, but kind and friendly nonetheless.

Just before Abdul and Mohammed returned I walked from the spice shop up the lane to buy some more qat, as my previous bag had fallen out of my pocket during my bike ride. I had only been sitting and chewing for another five minutes or so when Abdul returned, at which point he and I parted ways with Mohammed. Once we began walking Abdul at once told me about a second wedding he had been invited to not five minutes prior. He told me how he had asked this groom to be if he could take his friend, me, along to the wedding, which is on Thursday. I was absolutely thrilled at this news and was generous with my thanks and praise of his kindness. I had known Abdul for roughly one hour at this point and already he had invited me to two weddings, given me two books, a bagful of sweets, a cup of tea plus his own after my spill, and everything short of the shirt off his back, which actually would not have been possible given that he was not wearing a shirt, but instead a suit jacket and a thoub, the traditional long, white one piece dress common of Gulf Arabs. Already a strong bond had been forged between the two of us and I continued to soak in each moment of this increasingly enjoyable experience.

Abdul next took me to the silver market to introduce me to more of his friends and allow me a chance to look at some of the finest silver and jewelry in the suq. We spent the better part of the next hour perusing the wares of several silver shops and visiting with the shopkeepers. I especially enjoyed our visit with Ahmed, who ran a shop with his sons. Abdul told me that Ahmed was a very honest and kind man, which I gathered from his overall demeanor and from the dialogue Abdul translated to me. At one point, Ahmed showed us some of his finer necklaces and explained how certain segments of it were created by combining two smaller pieces. It was fascinating to take the time to fully examine and appreciate the intricacies of these beautiful jewelry selections, something I have never previously done. Doing this allowed me to understand how much effort and time is involved in the work that silversmiths such as Ahmed engage in. Truly a cool experience.

After spending some time visiting with Ahmed, Abdul and I bid adieu and continued walking. As we walked we happened upon a group of three young boys who were fascinated with my mountain bike, which I had been pushing the entire time. Abdul told one of these boys a story about his name, Ibrahim, that had to do with a prophet from Islam. The boy liked the story so much he asked Abdul to write it down, which he obligingly did. We soon came to the last of the silver shops we visited, which also happened to be owned by some of Abdul’s relatives. Just before we walked in the shop I leaned my bike against a pole near the front entrance and was surprised to immediately see someone climb on and prepare to take off. It took me a few seconds to register that it was my friend Alexander (not his real name, but what I know him by), who also lives in the Old City. I found out that he and Abdul knew one another and was thrilled at our chance meeting. We then walked in the shop it became apparent that they were in the middle of a rush and Abdul did not want to trouble them. He got one of their business cards for me and we moved on.

Although the time was getting somewhat late, I continued to allow Abdul to guide me through the Old City. Around this time I also began to realize and appreciate something about Abdul in addition to his incredible hospitality and naturally generous spirit. This characteristic is that Abdul, like many Yemenis, has a unique ability to fully immerse himself in the moment with little regard for man-made time, except for prayer times, which allows him to embrace opportunities such as the experience he and I were presently sharing together. I do not know what he would have done this evening had he not saw me lost on my bike in the Old City and I doubt Abdul would have known either. I find it incredible that so many Yemenis I have met seem to have this sort of open spirit that allows them to so naturally flow with the events that unfold in their lives. They do not fight interruptions or delays because of rigid schedules or an incessant need for predictability, something I have difficulty with at times, but instead accept them and adapt. In the short time I have been in Yemen this is something I have been able to learn from its people, and shway ashway (slowly) I am trying to change these twenty-five year ingrained tendencies. It is not easy, but I feel I have made some progress.

Back to the magical evening, though. As I was saying, I continued to follow Abdul’s lead and suggestions and soon we were walking into the National Art Museum, Sana’a’s largest collection of Yemeni art. Immediately upon entering I was greeted by warm lighting that was amplified by the whitewashed stucco walls which were shaped in a smooth fashion that made the entire interior of the building appear to blend seamlessly in beautiful manner. Nowhere did I see a single pointed corner or two walls that met truly perpendicularly. I loved this gallery already and had not even seen any of the art yet! Abdul next began walking up the stairs, which I must admit was somewhat of a sight, given his short, thick stature and the relatively steep steps we were ascending. Like most Yemeni buildings, the floors in this building were tall and each one involved climbing a three-tiered section of stairs. After we passed the second and third floors without stopping, Abdul informed me “we go to the top first, and then come down.” When we reached the top, which was the roof of the building, the payout was immediate and well worth the effort. Sprawled out on all sides of us was the night time grandeur of Sana’a, which is unlike most cities in that there is no skyline of high-rise buildings but instead a constant spread of traditional Yemeni architecture. Rather than take away from the city’s effect at night, I believe it increases its charm and allows one to clearly see the mountains surrounding Sana’a on all sides. Also visible were the numerous minarets from the city’s mosques, including the six from the President’s Mosque at the south end of Sana’a. This is truly an incredible building and nothing short of elaborate and perhaps even a bit ostentatious. As I marveled at the view, Abdul pointed out a few landmarks to me including his old home, where one of his relatives now lives who may be our source of transportation to the wedding on Thursday. I then pointed to a landmark of my own, a tall Tele-Yemen tower near my apartment, and told Abdul “Ana shuqqa (my apartment).” Abdul was surprised by my ability to orient myself on top of the museum’s roof and told me I had a “good mind.” After I took a few pictures we began to descend the stairs to take a look at the art.

Although we did not spend as much time as I normally prefer to in art galleries, I thoroughly enjoyed the collection and intend to go back soon. It was wonderful to take in another art gallery, and I was reminded of my travels across the States a few months ago this summer. It is not surprising that the natural beauty of Yemen’s rugged and varied terrain, as well as its unique architecture and people has inspired so much stunning art. Indeed the art I saw there is as engaging as any collections I have taken in of more renowned and popular artists. I saw tinges of Impressionism and Realism/Naturalism, as well as traditional portraits and more abstract pieces. Seeing this art brought me great pleasure both because of the aesthetic beauty and to see that artistic expression is accepted and encouraged in Yemen. When Abdul and I reached the bottom floor I grabbed the opportunity to have a picture taken with my new friend in quality lighting and asked the attendant sitting nearby to do the favor. He appeased my request and seemed to enjoy doing so, especially when Abdul took his skullcap off and placed in on my head for a picture.

Once we stepped outside, it seemed clear to both of us that our evening together was winding down to its inevitable ending. As promised earlier, Abdul was going to see that I made it to the edge of the Old City before leaving me on my own. During our last bit of walking together Abdul continued to point out buildings from his past including the first house he and his wife shared. It was on the top floor where their marriage was consummated in a room Yemenis call the Flower Room, named so because it is where the ‘deflowering’ of the bride takes place. Before parting ways for the evening, Abdul shared some other deeply personal information that I believe would be disrespectful to repeat here, but mention because it is a testament to the incredible hospitality, generosity, and trustworthiness of Abdul and so many other Yemenis. It is these characteristics, after all, that made the experience recounted here possible. Were it not for the open and giving spirit of so many of the Yemeni people, this country would have much less appeal. But this unique and fantastic aspect of Yemen makes up for what it lacks in natural resources, monies, adequately working modern amenities, and, foremost, the overall unfair manner in which the country is too commonly misrepresented. It is my hope that accounts such as my own will help break down stereotypes and false premises that create boundaries and tension between nations and their peoples. In addition, I hope this has provided enjoyable reading and look forward to sharing future experiences with Abdul including a couple weddings at the end of this week. Until then, mara salāma (go without fear).