Bah Humbug! Bah-rain!

Bahrain....when I think of the word all that comes to mind is a little flash animated miniature Scrooge shouting to the heavens: Bah Humbug! Bah-rain! Well, that is what I USED to picture. Needless to say my little cartoon was not entirely accurate. After spending the weekend in Bahrain,(thursday, friday, saturday, and sunday) I now picture it as a flat, arid desert region where the wondrously clear water of the Persian Gulf(or as my host family calls it, the Arabian Gulf) glistens like a thousand fallen stars in the distance. In truth, it hardly ever rains in Bahrain; especially in the summer- or so I hear Qua Tar, the head of my host family, and from what I have seen in the short time I was there, I'm not inclined to contradict. Most of the inhabitants of this island, or at least the ones I have seen in the area, are Muslim. If you want to be particular, Bahrain is really a large archipelago , and hundreds of the white scarved heads that I have grown accustomed to so quickly can be seen heading for the many mosques that litter the islands comprising this chain-island country. I have asked Qua Tar what these white scarves are and he has told me that they are the keffiyeh, the traditional plain white headress of Arab men.

Qua Tar is a squat, kindly man of 60, though the spring in his step and the gleam in his eye gave him the feel of a far younger man. He told me that he has lived in Bahrain all of his sixty years on earth, and that it is the gleam and smell of the crystalline waters of the Gulf that keep him young. He was born in 1947, a bloody year for the Jews, he told me. Following the nasty pogroms of that year, the Jewish community of Bahrain all but vanished; everyone being too frightened of death and persecution to stay in the country. Qua Tar is quite the interesting figure, and he has plaenty of stories to tell, having lived through the Islamic riots of 1994(living through this decade was no small feat in itself, especially as a near fifty year-old man. During this decade, Bahrain was plagued by sporadic violence which resulted in over forty deaths in the mid nineties.) and plenty of time to tell them.

Allow me to introduce you to the second half of the Hundai family who has been so kind and gracious to me these past four days. Humie, Qua Tar's beautiful wife, is the polar opposite of her irrepressible husband. Humie, although a nice person, and a gracious host, is the reserved, quiet, subdued, docile housewife who shambles around the house following her husband's every whim. I once asked Qua Tar how she got that way, and he replied that(very timidly, I might add. I did not want to offend their culture, but I couldn't help but ask.) she had been that way ever since, two years ago, she found out that she was destined never to have children. "She somehow feels as if she is responsible and that she is a bad wife to me. Now she tries so hard to overcompensate for her "shortcomings." It is a shame you did not come two years earlier, my boy, she was as lively as she was ravishing. But I still love her fiercely."

When I arrived in Bahrain thursday night, Qua Tar was there to meet me, and he brought me to his humble abode in Manama, the capitol of Bahrain. I spent most of that night and friday morning getting acquainted with Humie and he, and consuming the encless supply of Bahraini delicacies that Humie seemed to conjure from thin air. Even now, the local foods dance around in my thoughts...mmmm shrimp machboos....and oh that lamb samboosa! Simply scrumptious! Friday afternoon and night, Qua Tar was busy at work in his boat and so I was left alone with Humie. Qua Tar promised me he would give me a proper tour saturday, and so he did. We visited all the big sites: Qal'at al-Bahrain, which is Bahrain's main archaeological site, The Royal Tombs, where the long dead kings of Bahrain were buried, (there were more than 85,000 burial grounds! It was spectacular, but also somewhat frightening...) we even went on a boat tour of the Persian Gulf, where we saw all kinds of aquatic habitation such as dolphins and a whale shark-it was HUGE!! Unfortunately, my pictures are not yet developed yet, so I will put them up later.

After returning home for another wonderful meal prepared by the diligent Humie, and Qua Tar had settled down on the sofa with his pipe, the stories began. I think my jaw was dropping gradually but it wasn't until it was wide open that I noticed the drool coming down my chin as Qua Tar recounted for my eager ears his boyhood to manhood adventures. Embarrased, I brushed the drool away, but Qua Tar pretended not to notice. I realized I had been sitting on the extreme edge of my seat and was now perched in a somewhat precarious position. I eased myself towards the back of the chair and closed my eyes, letting Qua Tar wrap me in his veil of wonders. It was so easy to imagine young Qua Tar hiding from the guards and running through the immense complex of 2nd and 3d century temples that make up the Barbar temple, which I have yet to visit but sounds amazing. (It seems as if everything here is made up of a bunch of something else.) I asked him more about this temple and he gave me a couple of old photographs he had taken in his youth. The first one is an overview of the complex and the second one is of the entrance to the Holy Spring in the Barbar complex.

Qua Tar says that many believe this complex is a shrine to Enki, God of Wisdom and to the "Sweet waters under the Earth." The place is supposed to be massively big, with loads of places to get lost in without a map. Qua Tar never got lost, and he never used a map. He explored every nook and cranny, corner and alleyway. He knew the place like the back of his hand.

As Qua Tar settled into a story about his friends and he pearl diving, suddenly noticed a change in Humie's demeanor. She was still sitting as stiff as she was before, but her face had relaxed, and for the first time, I saw her smile-and what a smile it was! As I saw some of her former energy and vigor take hold of her, I caught myself staring at her immense beauty and averted my eyes, embarrased. I did not quite make out what Qua Tar had said, but I think that Humie and he had met pearl diving.

As the dinner hour drew closer, Humie resumed her rigid demeanor, and Qua Tar told me that he had invited guests. As Humie busied herself in the kitchen, Qua Tar asked me about my life. I was in the middle of explaining about this project when there came a loud knock on the door. Humie emreged from the kitchen to answer the door, but before she could, the door seemed to open of its own accord and a large man with keen eyes and a striking black turban burst entered the room. I did not see many turbans in Bahrain but Qua Tar later explained that although most had replaced the turban with the keffiyeh, there were still some muslim men who continue to wear the turban. Qua Tar introduced him as Hussai and his wife(who had been hiding in his shadow the entire time.) as Mumdai. I could see that Qua Tar was happy to see his friend but I couldn't help but notice that his gaze would inevitably slide up to the black turban atop his bald head. I too could not help myself steal glances up at it. Although, Hussai was a loud man, his wife reminded me a lot of Humie. She was subdued, submissive, and it seemed as if she lived to serve her husband's will. When Humie's efforts had been praised and appreciated, and Hussai had bade farewell to us, disappearing through the door with Mumdai shadowing him, I asked if Mumdai too could not bear children. Qua Tar looked confused, then understanding gleamed in his eye. He took me over to the sofa and told me that it was a sad business indeed. "Many Muslim wives believe that the only way to be a good wife is to serve their husband as if he were a god. There are plenty wives who take it too far and reduce themselves to docile pets awaiting their husband's next command. Humie was once a wonderful exception and this is why I fell in love with her. Hussai is one of those men who take advantage of these types of women, and Mumdai has been the result. Do not judge him too harshly; he has had a hard life. Now, it is time for you to pack and get some rest. You have a plane to catch tommorow! I was so preoccupied with this surprising news that I completely forgot to ask Qua Tar about the black turban. Ah well, I must pack. Tommorow I am off to Egypt, the land of tombs, mummies, and Pharaohs!