dust and water

She’d jes’ croon above de babies, she’d jes’ sing when t’ings went wrong,/ An’ no matter what de trouble, she would meet it wid a song;/ She jes’ prayed huh way to heaben, findin’ comfort in de rod;/ She jes’ “stole away to Jesus,” she jes’ sung huh way to God!
James Weldon Johnson, Black Mammies, The Book of American Negro Poetry, 1922

Selma moved a step up with 800 rials of credit and a battered 1984 model Abu Shenab. That’s what Sayid cobbled together, and bought, in 2002. He won a contract to deliver water from the Ministry of Regional Municipalities, Environment and Water Resources, and followed this up with another to ferry schoolchildren. For the first time, the villages of Selma – Adab, Mukandali and Sharjat Mu Lahla – had easy access to water and education. This means that approximately 150 people benefited, and continue to rely on, the Abu Shenabs that now crawl back and forth.

Business brought profit: Sayid started earning RO1,400 per month for the water, and RO15 a day for the school. That sounds like a fortune when compared to the goatherds wandering above the caves, but do consider his expenses. He splits his contract three ways, subcontracting his work to a friend and a brother – that’s one third of the total income right there. They operate in shifts, sometimes four each a day: delivering water, picking up students, delivering more water, returning students. Then there’s RO300 worth of petrol for each Abu Shenab, and the costs of maintaining the ride over what can easily qualify as the toughest, steepest road in Oman. Such a track wrecks havoc even on such tough utility vehicles and tyres have to be replaced every two months. Used Yokohamas cost RO40 each, but Chinese-made ones can be had for half the price. In time, Sayid paid back the 800 rials, and gave up his old pickup for a 1992 model, second hand from the Toyota dealer at Quriyat for RO106 rials a month. Such are the economics of working in Selma.

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