Off-Season

Be in me as the eternal moods / of the bleak wind, and not / As transient things are— / gaiety of flowers. / Have me in the strong loneliness / of sunless cliffs / And of gray waters. / Let the gods speak softly of us / In days hereafter, / the shadowy flowers of Orcus / Remember thee.
Ezra Pound

June 2007

Sitting in her little stall in Salalah’s Haffa souq, Khatija is working her deserted alley, selling incense to off-season wanderers. The upcoming khareef might bring up to 300 customers a day — each hungry for frankincense, clay burners, myrrh and the other attractions of Dhofar. Now, though, there is only a half deserted lane, where lady shopkeepers eyeball each other, sharing gossip, vying for customers and waiting for the all-important monsoon.

Wander into her quarter and most outsiders will see nothing more than the heavily veiled signature of the women of Dhofar. But local women like Khatija are breaking stereotypes every day, and entire lives will unravel over an evening if you stay long enough. She came to Oman 28 years ago, married into the sultanate, and was eventually taught the business by her now-deceased husband so she could support the four girls and four boys that she mothered. Her business put all her children through school; three daughters are nurses, in charge of the children’s ward in a local hospital, while the fourth works in a money exchange. Khatija’s shop is little more than a cubicle stuck in a wall, but after years of hard work, days that end at ten at night and a natural humour that gets her through the off-season, she has the last laugh – and the best stories.

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