A friend sent me the photo above and I got teary-eyed. I drank so many cups of that kind of tea, ate so many of that kind of parathas, sitting in a car in the parking lot of some small road-side cafe or driving along, looking at the beautiful scenery.
That kind of snack meant I was in the middle of a marvelous adventure – driving across the barren desert plain, going through the mountains or along a winding road next to the sea.
Even a luke-warm, uninspiring, tiny cup of tea in a plastic cup is magical in the right circumstances and there are few things more delicious than a freshly-made, hot-off-the-stove paratha.
There is another wonderful aspect of having a meal in Dhofar: the omnipresent generosity. Whatever food anyone had, it is shared. All meals are eaten communally and there is no policing of who ate what.
I miss Oman every day and I hope for peace for every Omani.
Marriage and Peace/ Marriage and Joy in Dhofar
Essay published: What a Frog in Boiling Water Knows: Oman, Before and After
(photo by Onazia Shaikh)
Come From Away 
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