Part Two of this story rejoins my journey as I follow in the footsteps of Charles Doughty, who explored Arabia in the late 1870s and wrote one of the most detailed accounts of its time.
We have already visited Tayma, the ancient oasis town where Doughty enjoyed the lush gardens of tall palms, a variety of fresh fruits along with much coffee drinking in the homes of the local Shammar tribe.
Little did he know that he was about to experience a whole different type of Arabian oasis altogether…..
We have already visited Tayma, the ancient oasis town where Doughty enjoyed the lush gardens of tall palms, a variety of fresh fruits along with much coffee drinking in the homes of the local Shammar tribe.
Little did he know that he was about to experience a whole different type of Arabian oasis altogether…..
Whilst Travels in Arabia Deserta has been described as a masterpiece of travel writing by some, Doughty as a man, is possibly less well-regarded.
He rubbed people up the wrong way, but did produce a book that gives precious insight into life at the time.
As a modern explorer I’m really intrigued to learn more about him, his travels and his descriptions. Are they true to the precious Arabia that I know today?
He rubbed people up the wrong way, but did produce a book that gives precious insight into life at the time.
As a modern explorer I’m really intrigued to learn more about him, his travels and his descriptions. Are they true to the precious Arabia that I know today?
Doughty went from Tayma to Ha’il, and then to Khaybar, but the journey was not without incident. To get to Khaybar one must cross the Harrat, the huge area of volcanic rocks, a seemingly barren land. At a height of over 4,000 ft (over 1,200m) it was chilly too, quite a shock for a man who had recently endured great heat.
The most frustrating thing was he couldn’t sleep. There’s nothing worse than this when camping. I always travel with a hot water bottle that I put near my feet when it’s cold and find it very effective.
Walking between the lumps of sharp rock took time too. From bitter experience I know how challenging it can be, wary of every step, avoiding the sharp edges.
He climbed to over 5,000 ft (1,500m) where the weather turned grey and gloomy. This is common in the boundless Harrat Khaybar where the weather can turn suddenly. It’s not an area one ventures into without experience or the right equipment but it’s sublime to do so when able.
The most frustrating thing was he couldn’t sleep. There’s nothing worse than this when camping. I always travel with a hot water bottle that I put near my feet when it’s cold and find it very effective.
Walking between the lumps of sharp rock took time too. From bitter experience I know how challenging it can be, wary of every step, avoiding the sharp edges.
He climbed to over 5,000 ft (1,500m) where the weather turned grey and gloomy. This is common in the boundless Harrat Khaybar where the weather can turn suddenly. It’s not an area one ventures into without experience or the right equipment but it’s sublime to do so when able.
He mentions passing AlAbyad, the majestic volcano which sits next to its partner, AlBayda. They are both rare, breathtakingly beautiful white volcanoes. It is one of my favourite places and I can imagine what Doughty experienced traveling through this unique area.
The contrast of the black lava from Qidr volcano, its massive skirt butting up against the white frills of AlBayda is stunning. It’s not an easy area to traverse in modern times but must have been epic for Doughty. I have great admiration for his whole journey, but for this section I have an even higher level of respect.
Eventually he gets to Khaybar on his quest to see antiquities of the Yahud, people who lived there hundreds of years before. It is another ancient oasis, once known as Hibra, one of the oasis towns said to have been conquered by Nabonidus (the last Babylonian King) around 552 BCE.
It had once been an oasis on the Incense Road, the ancient trade route linking Southern Arabia with Mesopotamia, the Mediterranean and Levant. It consists of a vast area of palm gardens lying low in valleys meandering between volcanic outcrops.
Water that falls in the Harrat Khaybar is trapped in its shallow aquifers and escapes in the form of natural springs within Khaybar’s valleys. It covers a much bigger area than Tayma and has interesting topography, so will mean some real exploring for me. I grew up on a large farm in Wales and would spend hours exploring the countryside, so this suits me fine, following my nose, seeing what I can find.
The contrast of the black lava from Qidr volcano, its massive skirt butting up against the white frills of AlBayda is stunning. It’s not an easy area to traverse in modern times but must have been epic for Doughty. I have great admiration for his whole journey, but for this section I have an even higher level of respect.
Eventually he gets to Khaybar on his quest to see antiquities of the Yahud, people who lived there hundreds of years before. It is another ancient oasis, once known as Hibra, one of the oasis towns said to have been conquered by Nabonidus (the last Babylonian King) around 552 BCE.
It had once been an oasis on the Incense Road, the ancient trade route linking Southern Arabia with Mesopotamia, the Mediterranean and Levant. It consists of a vast area of palm gardens lying low in valleys meandering between volcanic outcrops.
Water that falls in the Harrat Khaybar is trapped in its shallow aquifers and escapes in the form of natural springs within Khaybar’s valleys. It covers a much bigger area than Tayma and has interesting topography, so will mean some real exploring for me. I grew up on a large farm in Wales and would spend hours exploring the countryside, so this suits me fine, following my nose, seeing what I can find.
Entering the village of Bishr he passes the ancient citadel known as AlQamus, along a narrow track.
Today it is uninhabited but as I pass under a fallen tree along this track, I try to imagine how many others have followed this exact path before.
The ground is white in places, as if it’s been dusted with snow. At first, I wonder why, then I remember the salt in Tayma. It is where the natural salt has dried at the surface after heavy rainfall.
It’s rather pretty and creates a great crunching noise underfoot but shows it’s a very wet area. Whilst it is great for growing things, living here would have had its challenges.
Today it is uninhabited but as I pass under a fallen tree along this track, I try to imagine how many others have followed this exact path before.
The ground is white in places, as if it’s been dusted with snow. At first, I wonder why, then I remember the salt in Tayma. It is where the natural salt has dried at the surface after heavy rainfall.
It’s rather pretty and creates a great crunching noise underfoot but shows it’s a very wet area. Whilst it is great for growing things, living here would have had its challenges.
I think Doughty is a little bit in awe, as he says, “how strange these Khaybar valleys in waterless Arabia”. The houses have several floors, with lower rooms being used for tools or animals as they are so damp. Upper rooms have large casements open to the street and ornamental triangular topped openings that act as shelves and places for storage. Sadly many of the buildings are in disrepair now. The ravages of time and weather have not been kind. Walls in some houses are made of stones, but many are mud or clay bricks and as such they now look like they have melted.
The oasis was home to the Khaybara, the people who farmed the date gardens, in partnership with the local tribes, who retained ownership of the land. These Bedouin tribes lived most of the year with their animals in desert pastures, descending upon Khaybar during the summer date harvest in order to secure their half-share of the crop. This temporarily swelled Khaybar’s population to as many as 50,000 people. They camped on the Harrat Khaybar, surrounding the oasis, rather than entering the valleys of Khaybar, for fear of mosquitoes and fever. Their animals were penned in roughly put together roofless, compounds of basalt rock, called marabit (stables) and can still be seen today surrounding the oasis. Walking around these areas I often wondered what the mass of low-walled mini enclosures were, and now I know.
The community was based around 3 suqs (or kinships as Doughty calls them). He also observed that the “many nations of Khaybar” included Kurds, Albanians, Gallas and Arabs, along with other people gathered up along the way. The Ottoman army also had a small garrison at Khaybar, to protect it from raiding nomads. There is just one building that I know of with arches and tall ceilings of this period. It is quite different to all the other houses and must have been very impressive in its day. As in many other wet areas, malaria, which Doughty calls ‘valley fever’, was a sad reality of life. When the garrison was first set up in the oasis, Doughty is told almost all the soldiers died in the first year. Life for everyone was a struggle, even the mixed nationality ‘soldiery’ (Doughty’s word for soldiers) added to their meagre income by trying to grow crops in areas of “idle soil”. There were often skirmishes with local nomads, with deaths on both sides.
Regardless of the challenges, life carried on, the unusual mix of people getting on as well they could. Doughty tells us, “when moon and sun above heads, the people of God should rest from worldly toil”. Women would sit in house tops, platting palm straws, often singing at their labour. At night the sword dance was regularly performed by the light of fires. The same chant, repeated over and over again, was initially appealing to Doughty but soon lost its charm. Accompaniment was provided by tambour and pipe reeds of the mizmar. I know that a tambour is a small drum, I’ve seen them used by traditional folklore groups around Saudi Arabia, I wasn’t too sure about the mizmar. On investigation I find that it is a double-reed aerophone, of Egyptian origin.
It is also called a ‘shawm’ or a ‘zurna’ in Turkey and Armenia. Whilst there is no sign of any of this in the oasis today, I would guess that this performance took place in the central market of Bisha village. It is a larger area, with shops surrounding an open yard or marketplace. This was no doubt the centre of most activities, the only area big enough for such performances. Standing in the middle today, one certainly gets the feeling it has many stories to tell. I would love to be able to step back in time for a moment to see the sword dance for myself. The sound of the reed instruments being played with the drums, giving the beat from which the dancers took their guide to move, must have been enthralling. The rhythm would have been felt through the ground and bounced off the walls as it was such a small space. As for the shadows of the flickering flames of the fire, they would have danced around the mud walls, jumping from one corner to the next. Sometimes as I stand in an abandoned site, where many people used to gather, I get the real feeling of history. This is one of them, so I paused for a minute or two more, taking it all in.
The oasis was home to the Khaybara, the people who farmed the date gardens, in partnership with the local tribes, who retained ownership of the land. These Bedouin tribes lived most of the year with their animals in desert pastures, descending upon Khaybar during the summer date harvest in order to secure their half-share of the crop. This temporarily swelled Khaybar’s population to as many as 50,000 people. They camped on the Harrat Khaybar, surrounding the oasis, rather than entering the valleys of Khaybar, for fear of mosquitoes and fever. Their animals were penned in roughly put together roofless, compounds of basalt rock, called marabit (stables) and can still be seen today surrounding the oasis. Walking around these areas I often wondered what the mass of low-walled mini enclosures were, and now I know.
The community was based around 3 suqs (or kinships as Doughty calls them). He also observed that the “many nations of Khaybar” included Kurds, Albanians, Gallas and Arabs, along with other people gathered up along the way. The Ottoman army also had a small garrison at Khaybar, to protect it from raiding nomads. There is just one building that I know of with arches and tall ceilings of this period. It is quite different to all the other houses and must have been very impressive in its day. As in many other wet areas, malaria, which Doughty calls ‘valley fever’, was a sad reality of life. When the garrison was first set up in the oasis, Doughty is told almost all the soldiers died in the first year. Life for everyone was a struggle, even the mixed nationality ‘soldiery’ (Doughty’s word for soldiers) added to their meagre income by trying to grow crops in areas of “idle soil”. There were often skirmishes with local nomads, with deaths on both sides.
Regardless of the challenges, life carried on, the unusual mix of people getting on as well they could. Doughty tells us, “when moon and sun above heads, the people of God should rest from worldly toil”. Women would sit in house tops, platting palm straws, often singing at their labour. At night the sword dance was regularly performed by the light of fires. The same chant, repeated over and over again, was initially appealing to Doughty but soon lost its charm. Accompaniment was provided by tambour and pipe reeds of the mizmar. I know that a tambour is a small drum, I’ve seen them used by traditional folklore groups around Saudi Arabia, I wasn’t too sure about the mizmar. On investigation I find that it is a double-reed aerophone, of Egyptian origin.
It is also called a ‘shawm’ or a ‘zurna’ in Turkey and Armenia. Whilst there is no sign of any of this in the oasis today, I would guess that this performance took place in the central market of Bisha village. It is a larger area, with shops surrounding an open yard or marketplace. This was no doubt the centre of most activities, the only area big enough for such performances. Standing in the middle today, one certainly gets the feeling it has many stories to tell. I would love to be able to step back in time for a moment to see the sword dance for myself. The sound of the reed instruments being played with the drums, giving the beat from which the dancers took their guide to move, must have been enthralling. The rhythm would have been felt through the ground and bounced off the walls as it was such a small space. As for the shadows of the flickering flames of the fire, they would have danced around the mud walls, jumping from one corner to the next. Sometimes as I stand in an abandoned site, where many people used to gather, I get the real feeling of history. This is one of them, so I paused for a minute or two more, taking it all in.
Doughty is regarded with suspicion in the village. They don’t have many visitors from far off lands here, so the chief of the ‘soldiery’ sends at letter to the headquarters in Medina asking for guidance.
In the meantime Doughy is held under house arrest and had to check in twice daily. He had relative freedom in daylight hours, but slept at night in the room with one of the soldiers.
In the meantime Doughy is held under house arrest and had to check in twice daily. He had relative freedom in daylight hours, but slept at night in the room with one of the soldiers.
After presenting himself one day, he took himself up to the lava’s edge, to “meditate the time away, surveying the brick red and purple hues of the mountains in the distance”.
Some things don’t change, and this is one of them. I adore the early morning light over Khaybar and the last rays of sun in the afternoon, ever changing colours of ruby reds and plum purples.
There is nothing quite like the calm of the birds, chatting to each other in an enchanting manner, the sublime light spreading its magical glow over the trees and forts.
Some things don’t change, and this is one of them. I adore the early morning light over Khaybar and the last rays of sun in the afternoon, ever changing colours of ruby reds and plum purples.
There is nothing quite like the calm of the birds, chatting to each other in an enchanting manner, the sublime light spreading its magical glow over the trees and forts.
One day he’s taken to see rock inscriptions and animal drawings.
In the past this area was full of ibex and oryx if the rock art is anything to go by. Looking up at the drawings carved into the basalt rock, I wonder how green the area must have been to sustain so many animals.
In the past this area was full of ibex and oryx if the rock art is anything to go by. Looking up at the drawings carved into the basalt rock, I wonder how green the area must have been to sustain so many animals.
Doughty also notes the “bowl-shaped dry vaults in the lava fields, bordered by laid stone” and says they are grave chambers.
He is quite right, they are now referred to as ‘pendant tombs’ and form part of the collection of ancient stone structures that litter this part of the world, built in Neolithic and Bronze Age times.
He is quite right, they are now referred to as ‘pendant tombs’ and form part of the collection of ancient stone structures that litter this part of the world, built in Neolithic and Bronze Age times.
Some days he goes to work in the palm garden. He finds it refreshing to be out of the village and doing something rewarding. The air can get sultry with little movement down in the village, so getting out to the gardens must have lifted Doughtys’ spirits. These little gardens are my favourite area of the oasis, so peaceful, except for the odd call of a bird and the trickling of water along the canal.
These waterways were managed very well, the irrigation rights to every plot of land are inscribed into the sheikh’s register of the village. “The weekday and hours when the owner with foot and spade may dam off and draw water to himself is stated. They take their wit in the day by shadows on the channel brink”.
Delightfully described by Doughty in old-style English, as is his whole book, he means they know the hour by where the shadow is. He is also told of another very clever way of measuring the passing of time to help with the management of water. In Medina, they used a metal cup with a tiny hole pierced in the side. The cup is set floating on the water and slowly fills up, eventually sinking after one hour. I adore simple stories like this where clever thought is used to make the most ingenious solutions.
These waterways were managed very well, the irrigation rights to every plot of land are inscribed into the sheikh’s register of the village. “The weekday and hours when the owner with foot and spade may dam off and draw water to himself is stated. They take their wit in the day by shadows on the channel brink”.
Delightfully described by Doughty in old-style English, as is his whole book, he means they know the hour by where the shadow is. He is also told of another very clever way of measuring the passing of time to help with the management of water. In Medina, they used a metal cup with a tiny hole pierced in the side. The cup is set floating on the water and slowly fills up, eventually sinking after one hour. I adore simple stories like this where clever thought is used to make the most ingenious solutions.
The canals are today the home to darting fish, just as they were when Doughty stayed in Bisha. They are a delight to see and quite unexpected in the heart of this dry land.
He also mentions white shells which lie at the bottom of the water. I’ve seen many of these shells, but not where he saw them.
I spied them in the dried mud that coats the walls next to the waterways. They would have been caught in handfuls of soft mortar when it was scooped up, sticking the dried mud bricks in place.
They are tiny but shine in the sunlight like jewels teasing the eye.
He also mentions white shells which lie at the bottom of the water. I’ve seen many of these shells, but not where he saw them.
I spied them in the dried mud that coats the walls next to the waterways. They would have been caught in handfuls of soft mortar when it was scooped up, sticking the dried mud bricks in place.
They are tiny but shine in the sunlight like jewels teasing the eye.
Doughty refers to his companions washing in Ain Safsafa before prayers. This is a lovely spring with several pools that flow freely near Safsafa Mosque and so I quickly head there. After a busy day exploring, it’s a delight to stop for a while and engage every sense. I watch the fish, mesmerised by their colourful tails, and am intrigued by the big fish who don’t really do much and the tiny fish who don’t stop darting back and forth. It’s time for coffee again so I’m very happy, watching the fish and listening to the birds sing their sunset chorus as the sun casts its last fiery colours over the surrounding sky and buildings.
As I drive away from Khaybar I think of the two oases that I have been lucky enough to spend time in and explore. Tayma is most certainly the gentler place, retaining many of the features that Doughty refers to in his book. It was a joy to listen to Ahmed describe the house he was born in. Touching the clay walls, feeling the heat of the sun absorbed in every fibre, allowed me a fleeting connection with the people of the past. The central well Bir Haddaj is still a magnet of activity for the townsfolk, with tall palm trees, an island in the flat, sometimes barren and sometimes flower-covered desert.
Khaybar is an altogether different place, both in terms of geography and the challenges of life. It was in fact a hard place to survive. Malaria was common because it was so damp and that took its toll. Few children survived and even the strongest of men suffered at times. Life was treacherous with battles between the Ottoman soldiers and nomads. Life over 150 years ago was very different to what we know today. The oasis of Khaybar has its own unique beauty though. Palm trees are tucked into meandering valleys set below a vast sea of lava, punctuated by magnificient rock outcrops, upon which sit ancient forts. A multitude of little canals form the arteries of life – allowing water to flow into all areas. The enduring fish, both big and small are a delight, especially in what is the middle of a desert, albeit a volcanic one.
Doughty’s descriptions give a great insight into the reality of everyday life 150 years ago. I understand more and more why his book was so admired when it was published – even though he seems to exhibit some views that – to today’s reader – are less than kind to his hosts. Even the later traveller Sir Richard Burton noted that if he had respected the religion and customs of his hosts, he would have not had to go in constant fear of his life. I have travelled many miles through Saudi Arabia and have always encountered the warmest of welcomes and open hearts. Doughty’s upbringing certainly moulded an interesting character, who survived to tell his tale.
I shall simply finish with an enhanced respect for him. He produced a book of great insight into Arabia in the late 19th century, giving us all a window into the Arabian world 150 years ago. Both Tayma and Khaybar are amazing places, with many stories yet to reveal themselves. I’m looking forward to my next visit already…..
As I drive away from Khaybar I think of the two oases that I have been lucky enough to spend time in and explore. Tayma is most certainly the gentler place, retaining many of the features that Doughty refers to in his book. It was a joy to listen to Ahmed describe the house he was born in. Touching the clay walls, feeling the heat of the sun absorbed in every fibre, allowed me a fleeting connection with the people of the past. The central well Bir Haddaj is still a magnet of activity for the townsfolk, with tall palm trees, an island in the flat, sometimes barren and sometimes flower-covered desert.
Khaybar is an altogether different place, both in terms of geography and the challenges of life. It was in fact a hard place to survive. Malaria was common because it was so damp and that took its toll. Few children survived and even the strongest of men suffered at times. Life was treacherous with battles between the Ottoman soldiers and nomads. Life over 150 years ago was very different to what we know today. The oasis of Khaybar has its own unique beauty though. Palm trees are tucked into meandering valleys set below a vast sea of lava, punctuated by magnificient rock outcrops, upon which sit ancient forts. A multitude of little canals form the arteries of life – allowing water to flow into all areas. The enduring fish, both big and small are a delight, especially in what is the middle of a desert, albeit a volcanic one.
Doughty’s descriptions give a great insight into the reality of everyday life 150 years ago. I understand more and more why his book was so admired when it was published – even though he seems to exhibit some views that – to today’s reader – are less than kind to his hosts. Even the later traveller Sir Richard Burton noted that if he had respected the religion and customs of his hosts, he would have not had to go in constant fear of his life. I have travelled many miles through Saudi Arabia and have always encountered the warmest of welcomes and open hearts. Doughty’s upbringing certainly moulded an interesting character, who survived to tell his tale.
I shall simply finish with an enhanced respect for him. He produced a book of great insight into Arabia in the late 19th century, giving us all a window into the Arabian world 150 years ago. Both Tayma and Khaybar are amazing places, with many stories yet to reveal themselves. I’m looking forward to my next visit already…..
Sheila Russell Frgs | Date:01 Apr 2023
Sheila Russell Frgs
Sheila Russell is a modern explorer who has spent the last 5 years documenting the history, culture, traditions and natural beauty in Saudi Arabia through storytelling and photography. She is a Fellow of the Royal Geographical Society in London and has featured in numerous CNN Arabic articles.
Follow her on Instagram@SaudiTravelNotes
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