And everytime again and again / I make my lament against destruction.
Yevgeny Yevtushenko, People

Such problems are non-existent for Saleh's uncle, Dahi Zenar, who sits with failing eyesight in the bright sunlight, weaving a basket on the balcony with Qarn Dawi in the background. His soft purple turban seems larger than life, and he wears a knife in a leather sheath stuck through a belt across his dishdasha. "We built these homes on our own, without any assistance," he says proudly, wagging a finger over the rooftops. "We have a lot more children to house nowadays, because in the old days a lot of us were away in Bahrain and Saudi Arabia for work. Now we enjoy health and prosperity." Except for the lemons, of course.

But 4WDs, infrastructure and airwaves have changed the ways of the mountain people forever, and Yasab might just be far enough to still hold on to some remnants of authenticity. There are few places where you can still hear the howl of wolves — now all you have to do is ask Eisa.

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