three: farming with the hatalis of ruma

Him hab ur ball ob raid, raid ha’r,/ Him hide it un’ de kitchen sta’r,/ Mam Jude huh pars urlong dat way,/ An’ now huh hab ur snaik, de say./ Him wrop ur ioun’ huh buddy tight,/ Huh eyes pop out, ur orful sight—/ De Cunjah man, de Cunjah man,/ O chillen, run, de Cunjah man!
De Cunjah Man, James Edwin Campbell

Far away from the large-scale enterprises and hired labour that characterises modern agriculture in Oman, three families of Hatalis are busy on their collective farm deep in the wadi, outside Ruma. Stray drops of rain hit the freshly dug soil, and we take cover between a bank of vines and the walls of their well. Just above, as the rock walls begin to climb behind the fields, are the remnants of ancient houses, pointing to the settlement’s history. Plantations are common through the nooks and crannies of Wadi Bani Auf, fed by an extensive falaj network that channels water from the mountains above and wells below. Ages ago, this area is believed to have been home to a lot more water than is now present, so much so that it sported forests – and its residents cultivated grapes, eating the fruit and perhaps even fermenting them.

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