To Lemon for Christmas

Sana'a and Socotra Island, Yemen: 22-29 December 2013


One of the many only-found-here species found on
"the Galapagos of the Indian Ocean"

Follow this link to see the album.

Christmas in Yemen

By Randall D. Ball

Sunday, 22 December 2013, we flew from Lahore to Sana’a via Dubai, which was uneventful (for us, that sometimes feels rare—no one getting sick, or passing out, or missing connections and spending extra nights at airports or hotels where you get food poisoning, or losing your luggage, or suffering from mysteriously cancelled flights, etc.), arriving mid-morning.  We had a brief tour of the old town in Sana’a, which is also where our hotel was.  We enjoyed a good, very big lunch with various breads, salads, beef stew, chicken, rice, and yogurt topped with honey for dessert—and mint tea, of course.  We would drink a few gallons of tea on this trip.

The next day had a rough start—there was a strike at the airport.  A fellow tourist commented to us that he had imagined a lot of possible bad things happening to him while on holiday in Yemen, but he hadn’t pictured this.  While we waited at the airport, Anastasia and Talula shared their stickers with another little girl, and we talked to her parents, both Yemeni, who commented that they were ashamed of their country right now and apologized.  We ended up back at our hotel, which was a better option than waiting around the cold airport.  We sat on the rooftop terrace overlooking Sana’a, enjoyed some tea, and relaxed.  Then we got the call:  the airport was open!  We made it just in time to board our flight to Socotra Island.  Apparently, some Italians were booked for the same flight but missed it;  they were not able to get a flight to the little island off the Yemen coast for another four days.

The flight on Yemen Airways was nearly uneventful, except for the Scandinavian woman in front of me who accused me of putting gum on her armrest.  Two hours after boarding the delayed flight, we were on the island, which is part of Yemen but is actually closer to Somalia.  It’s called the Galapagos of the Indian Ocean, and one of the world’s most unusual places.  We were excited to be there.  Our guide Shehab and our driver Ali picked us up at the airport and drove us to into town.  After a very tasty fish dinner on the island, sitting outside with goats wandering around us, we settled into our hotel room for the night.

The next morning, we drove up into the mountains to see the famed dragon’s blood trees and other unusual flora and fauna, including bottle trees, cucumber trees, and some large, white Egyptian vultures around Dixsam Plateau.  Then we headed south, bisecting the island, arriving at an isolated, sandy-white, dune-filled beach in Nojed Omaq.  The girls had a terrific time playing in the sand and in the surf.  Then we stopped at Dogub Cave, where a shepherding family offered us a goat for sale.  We politely refused, but we did share some fruit with them.  On the way back, we were invited to lunch with some locals on a hilltop, where we enjoyed goat, rice, tomatoes, and Pepsi (and tea).  I had some goat brains, which were pretty good.  I declined the offer of goat stomach;  the memory of chewing sheep stomach at a Chinese hole-in-the-wall hot pot restaurant in Abu Dhabi is still fresh in my mind. 

Following our meal, Christine and the girls joined the other women and attempted to communicate, while I sat with the men, smiled and laughed and made hand gestures, and drank tea.  Anastasia turned into a dainty princess as she walked slowly and carefully through the grass;  she was afraid of prickly bushes.  This overly-cautious movement was in stark contrast to the way she had behaved at the beach, when she fearlessly played in the waves, or when she plowed through sand dunes undeterred by rocks, animals, or vegetation.

After lunch, we drove into a protected wilderness of dragon’s blood trees, where our driver demonstrated how to cut into the tree to get to the sap, which is used for makeup and for medicine as a blood coagulate.  Dinner was around the corner from our hotel, another outdoor affair with fresh fish, beans, and bread, with goats wandering about us.  Anastasia and Talula alternated between chasing the goats away and feeding them bits of bread.  Some of the other diners would offer the girls bits of bread to feed the goats as well, so there was entertainment for everyone.

A visiting Saudi man who had to order extra bread because he kept offering it to the girls as goat food, asked Anastasia, “Where are you from?”

She answered, “Abu Dhabi.” 

He laughed and shook his head.  “No, really.  Where were you born?”

“Abu Dhabi.”

He looked at me and I nodded.  “It’s true;  they were both born in Abu Dhabi.”

“Where do you live now?” he asked Anastasia.

“Pakistan.”

The Saudi diner shook his head again.  I don’t think he believed us.

Actually, both our tour guide and our driver in Socotra asked me several times about Pakistan, asking if it was safe and obviously thinking otherwise.  Of course, before we left Lahore, our friends in Pakistan asked the same question about Yemen. 

The next morning was Christmas, and with the girls singing Christmas carols, we drove eastward along the coast to Irsel and Arher (my favorite spot on the island), where we stopped at a perfect and remote location at the foot of a mountain, in a lush green wadi that led to the ocean.  We walked through the surprisingly warm water of the little creek in the wadi, climbed part of a huge sand dune (and slid back down), and spent time at the beach.  The girls played in the sand, chased ghost crabs, and wandered about.  It was a beautiful day. 

We then had a late lunch at Dihamry, right on the rocky coast—more fresh fish, followed by a walk along the shoreline around some very red rocks where the girls found some goat bones to play with.  Talula had a leg bone, and Anastasia had a jaw bone.  They took their bones back to the hotel with them, and I caught Anastasia putting one of the goat’s teeth under her pillow.   We had to explain to her that the Tooth Fairy would only accept her own teeth.  That evening, we took a break from fish at dinnertime, opting for chicken as the girls fed and chased the goats.

The following day, we did some serious off-road driving.  It started with a bumpy trek along a dry, rocky riverbed, which led to a very steep, very rough mountain road.  Once we were up the mountain, though, we were first provided a view of a scenic plateau full of frankincense trees, and then a little further up another mountain, we reached the campsite at Homhil, where we would have lunch (pasta—and tea, of course) and hike to a natural pool.  It was a little too cool and cloudy for a swim, however—very unlike the first few days, but up in the mountains, it is supposed to be cooler and wetter.  It didn’t stop our guide from jumping in the water, though.

Dinner was more fish, again with the goat entertainment.  Anastasia was really into the fish by now, and to have her eat something besides pasta, bread, and Cheerios is an achievement.  Besides, we didn’t mind ordering the fish—it was good, it was fresh (and it was the whole fish—so you can play with the “fishy face,” glassy eyes and all!). 

The next day, we headed to the western side of Socotra Island, to Qalancia Beach and Detwah Lagoon, where we waded across the shallow lagoon to a little beach and the girls played in the sand and chased more ghost crabs.  They also found a few hermit crabs that they took with them to our lunch spot (another camp site—no regular restaurants are around the island besides the main town of Hadibo, where our hotel was located, but at each campsite, there is someone in charge who prepares food and cleans up).  They returned the crabs to the beach after playing with their new friends.  We returned to the hotel early, mid-afternoon, because the beach was just too windy and conditions in Hadibo were a little better anyway.  It was nice reading on the hotel’s second-floor porch outside our room.  We returned to our usual evening restaurant for dinner.  The staff certainly knew us by then.

On our last day on the island, we visited Adeeb Nursery, a small plot of island full of interesting plants, and then our driver took us to his home to meet his family.  We enjoyed tea, bread, tomatoes, and beans at his simple dwelling, and his kids along with some neighboring children had fun with Anastasia and Talula.  He had some goats, so that was fun for them too.

Then it was time to leave.  I can still see them out the back window of the Toyota Land Cruiser:  a group of about ten children smiling and waving at us, yelling “goodbye.”  It was a special time on Socotra, and what was left of our trip would be anticlimactic.

We had an uneventful flight back to the mainland, with a brief stop in Al Mukalla in southern Yemen right on the Gulf of Aden coastline before reaching Sana’a mid-afternoon.  We had dinner with no fish at the hotel, and then we flew back to Lahore the next day.  We did enjoy some pork and decent beer at the airport in Dubai, two things that are hard to come by in either Yemen or Pakistan.  Our driver Khalil met us at the airport in Lahore, giving the girls a big hug before leading us to our car and back home after a satisfying trip.

[P.S. by Christine
On the two occasions when we dined with locals, the girls and I always sat with the women/girls and let them stare at us.  One of the more memorable/embarrassing moments was when Anastasia joined us under a tree on the Dixsam Plateau.  She was wearing a skirt and didn't like the tall, scratchy grass.  She looked like a princess from  a foreign planet as she cautiously and ridiculously made her way to us.  On this occasion, everyone asked what lotion I used to keep my skin so light.  I told them I liked their browner skin and made the joke that we always want what we don't have.  (There was a man there who could mangle my English into their Arabic.)  Talula hid her face in my shoulder and Anastasia shook a few hands.

On the last day at Ali's house, same situation but now with little girls mostly.  Talula hid her face again; she finds the stares and attempted petting (especially aimed at the littlest blonde) overwhelming.  Anastasia once again stepped up to the task and performed "Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer", the alphabet and counted.  They really just want to hear the accent.  One braver Yemeni girl responded with the alphabet in English.

I'm sorry there are no photos to share these colorful experiences with you.  In both instances, the ladies/girls were garbed in bright, beautiful clothes.  All women had their faces covered throughout Yemen.  I always admire others' "local people" shots, but generally can't do it.  I'm not an anthropologist and don't want to make them feel like a studied object.  If I could come up with a reasonable way to ensure that those I took pictures of could receive a copy, I think I would be game.]