‘Reflections on Marriage in Dhofar, Oman’ is accepted for publication

I am happy to announce that my 5th book, Reflections on Marriage in Dhofar, Oman, has been accepted for publication. I would like to thank Onaiza Shaikh for letting me use her beautiful photos for this book and my webpage. Onaiza writes: “I was born and raised in the beautiful city of Salalah, Oman. Though I’m an Indian citizen, my roots in Salalah run deep, the city holds a special place in my heart and continues to shape who I am.”

Reflections on Marriage in Dhofar, Oman explains the choices middle-class Dhofari men and women make when creating a life together. Based on 19 years observations of and discussions about Omani marriages, the book shows all the steps of marriage including how people decide to get married, the wedding invitations and parties are arranged, the newlyweds’ home is organized, the work within a marriage is delineated and a marriage succeeds or falls apart. Unlike many texts about family life on the Arabian Peninsula, the author spoke extensively to both men and women.

Ethnography – Finding the Middle Ground, part 1 of Discussing Photographs

Ethnography: Conversations about Men/ Masculinity, part 1

Crafting a Home: Interior Home Design in Southern Oman

Food Often Served at Weddings in Dhofar

My Favorite Description of Anthropology

The patience and tolerance to live harmoniously in an unfamiliar culture; the fortitude to be content with less than comfortable circumstances for prolonged periods; an understanding of and sympathy with a foreign history and religion; a willingness to learn a new language; the flexibility, imagination and humility necessary to climb into the head of people who live by a very different set of assumptions; none of these are found automatically in our modern developed Euro-Atlantic culture. (Gardiner, In the Service of the Sultan, 174)

Me Talk Pretty Never: Learning Arabic, part 1

Recreating Culture – Lessons from Bakeries and Cafeterias

Research: Article on Theodore and Mabel Bent Has Been Published

Back from Ubar or What to Read if You Insist on Staying Home

Back from Ubar or What to Read if You Insist on Staying Home

I am re-reading Apsley Cherry-Garrard’s The Worst Journey in the World (1922), one of my favorite travel books as it is an excellent description of people clinging to ‘civilization’ in difficult circumstances. This is an essay I wrote in 2004 about travel books. 

[O]ur passions are never accidental. We do not by chance…decide to specialize in epaulets  (Evan Connell, A Long Desire)

Friends of mine have a little house on a two-acre island in a small lake in quiet Ontario. I woke up one morning there and realized that from that point on, I would be going back – back in the boat to shore, back in my friend’s van across the border to the bus station, back on a bus to the train station, back in a train to the city where I lived, back on the metro to the station near my house, back in a taxi to my house. It amused me, that from that point I was merely retracing steps. As I was about to walk down to the dock, I realized I was on the very outer limit of the web.

In Women’s Ways of Knowing, the authors posit that women feel more comfortable being in the middle of connections (webs) while men prefer the edge. Perhaps one of the reasons I like traveling and reading about traveling, is that I get to go all the way out to edge and peer over. I rather enjoy edges, that moment you realize the limitations. I like ‘you can’t get there from here’ and all those Italian strikes that keep you stranded for days. I love the moment when the subway car goes underground and the annoying guy yelling into his cell phone suddenly pulls it away from his ear with disgust and shoves it into his bag. You get to the farthest point and there you are, stuck; you now have to wait, turn around, finagle, throw a hissy fit.

If I was going to be perfectly honest about it – I’d say close your computer and go buy Road to Oxiana, West with the Night, Three Men in a Boat, Caesar’s Vast Ghost and The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, but I am so seldom able to make people do what they ought to, even when, perhaps especially when, I know what is best. Those are all real travel books, this is a semi-travel essay. But although I’m not promising enjoyment (go read Mark Salzman), you will get a little edification, like it or don’t.

The question is not now, not ever, “why travel?” The solar system travels, Earth travels, you travel. The question is why travel outside of those tiny, minuscule patches of territory you know. “Ahem,” says a voice in the back, “I have lived in Boston all my life, hardly minuscule.”

But do you know where the Tufts college students party, the best Bollywood theater, the real Italian place in Little Italy, where to get your eyebrows threaded, where the cops drink? Do you know Jamaica Plain and Watertown? A person could live in Back Bay their whole life and never know Quincy. Face it, you don’t really know your hometown. You probably don’t even know your neighbors and, if you haven’t been paying attention, you might not even know yourself.

Yet, traveling is not the way to find yourself in any grand scheme: you go along with yourself and your main insights are ‘I hate grey carpeting’ and ‘McDonald’s has better pancakes than Burger King.’ People are always squawking “Paul Theroux” at me, well read his books – what are his insights? He hates it here. It is dirty and the people aren’t nice. And he also hates it over here. It’s dirty. And, quelle surprise, he hates this other place as well. In addition, he hates it over there, too depressing. And, by coincidence, he is unhappy here as well. The people who are impressed with this are mistaking indigestion for insight.

You will get those (very infrequent) moments of revelation, almost all of which will be exasperatingly saccharine. Like me waking up my first morning in Italy and seeing, through a thick fog, a stone wall which enclosed a grove of olive trees (olive trees!) with sheep grazing underneath.

I went to Corfu, Rhodes, Cyprus, and Provence because I was going to write my dissertation on Gerald Durrell and Lawrence Durrell. Then, I spent the night in a sort of bed and breakfast place in Pathos and realized that after six months, I knew pretty much nothing about the Durrells and I would have to expand my focus to all travel writers. If you can’t fail little – fail big.

Most scholarly books on travel writing take some small selection and examine it closely, such as Janice Bailey-Goldschmidt’s and Martin Kalfatovic’s article, “Sex, Lies and European Hegemony: Travel Literature and Ideology,” which sounds like it covers everything a person would need to know. But is it only about European descriptions of travel in India until 1761.

When I was doing my dissertation on travel writing, I read all over the place: Pausanias’ Description of Greece, 2nd century B.C.; Egeria’s Travels, a European abbess’ account of her travels to the Holy Land c. 385 A.D.; Gustave Flaubert, Isabella Bird, James Fenton, Anthony Smith.

I ran through ’Abdallah ibn Battuta’s Travels in Asia and Africa: 1325-1354; Bernal Diaz’s The Conquest of New Spain, a Spanish soldiers’ account of his part in the defeat of the Aztec empire under Hernán Cortés in 1521; Matsuo Basho’s The Narrow Road to the Deep North, and Other Travel Sketches and Back Roads to Far Towns, a Japanese Buddhist monk’s walking tours from the mid to late 1680s.

I adore the English canonicals: Mary Kingsley’s Travels in West Africa, 1897; Apsley Cherry-Garrard’s The Worst Journey in the World, 1922; Laurie Lee’s As I Walked Out One Midsummer Morning, 1969; Eric Newby’s A Short Walk in the Hindu Kush, 1958.

I read the ones you have to: John Steinbeck’s Travels with Charley, 1962; Bruce Chatwin’s In Patagonia, 1977; Jonathan Raban, Mary Morris, Redmond O’Hanlon, Bill Bryson, and Pico Iyer. And the ones I wanted to: Mark Twain, Mark Salzman, Eric Hansen, Tim Cahill, Calvin Trillin, and Robin Magowan.

It’s a measure of my temperament that I deliberately avoided Meriwether Lewis and William Clark’s History of the Expedition under the Command of Lewis and Clark, 1814 and Alexis de Tocqueville’s Democracy in America, 1841. But I devoured J. R. Ackerley’s Hindoo Holiday: An Indian Journal, 1932; Vikram Seth’s From Heaven Lake: Travels Through Sinkiang and Tibet, 1987; and Anthony Smith’s Blind White Fish in Persia, 1953. What heaven to find No News From Throat Lake by Lawrence Donegan, 2001, Getting Stoned with Savages by J. Maarten Troost, 2006 and Driving Over Lemons by Chris Stewart, 1999.

And then there are the immortals: Gerald Durrell and Lawrence Durrell, Wilfred Thesiger, Dervla Murphy (would someone please knight her? She would probably turn it down but, honestly, the gesture ought to be made); and dear, cranky Amelia Edwards, A Thousand Miles up the Nile, 1877.

I got my Ph.D. and moved to the Middle East to teach. While there, one of the places I wanted to visit was Ubar, a stop on an ancient Arabian trading route whose “refinding” is recounted in breathless, “Entertainment Tonight!” prose in Nicholas Clapp’s The Road to Ubar, 1998. I had thought at one point I was close enough to get to it, but it turned out to be much farther away (slavish attention to maps is the hobgoblin of little minds), but I promised myself that I would figure out how to get to Ubar before I moved back to the States.

This involved finding someone to watch the cat, deciphering out airline schedules, securing hotel reservations, faxing the tour company, getting the right visa: pedestrian, unromantic toils. I woke up on the momentous day and hit the first disappointment, I did not have a “real” tour guide; he was a perfectly pleasant guy, but he wasn’t local and had no good stories. Second disappointment – we weren’t going in a Land Rover. As far as I’m concerned, for land travel it is Land Rover or Land Cruiser pick-up or just stay home.

We drove for hours up through the mountains (I think Eden must have looked like this) and then along through the flat, desiccated landscape until the desert started.

The museum at Ubar was closed, so my guide decided to “show me” the Empty Quarter, the Rub al-Khali, an area of 250,000 squares miles of sand dunes. It is the size of France, Belgium and Holland with sand dunes as high as 925 feet. We continued on the road for a few miles, passed a small collection of derelict buildings, then onto drifting sand where the road disappeared. For about 50 yards. Then the car (did I mention it was NOT a Land Rover?) got stuck. It took us about twenty minutes to get unstuck, then the driver turned right around and we were back on the road, headed back to the hotel.

Perhaps aware that the day was not quite the happy culmination of a year’s hope and expectation, after an hour or so, he pulled off the road, navigating between rock outcroppings until he stopped in front of a small group of stubby, scraggily trees with peeling bark.

“Frankincense!” he exclaimed proudly.

Now this indeed was something. Unexpected and marvelous – to actually see the trees close up, especially since the lore is that they are rigorously guarded. Perhaps the driver took every single tourist to this stand of trees. But it was hidden from the road, without other tire tracks, desolate. A quest fulfilled and an extra, unexpected adventure: it was time to go home. Then I was home and what is there to do at home, except plan the next travel?

Verstehen/ Einfühlen in Arabian Sands (1959): Wilfred Thesiger as Traveler and Anthropologist – 2013

Cultural Refraction: Using Travel Writing, Anthropology and Fiction to Understand the Culture of Southern Arabia – 2009

Research on Travelers and Tourists in Dhofar

“Yemen with Yul,” travel essay published

MIT – “the nicest of geniuses” – knowing the world

MIT – “the nicest of geniuses” – being pleasant and helpful

MIT – “the nicest of geniuses” – explaining

In my book, Researching and Working on the Arabian Peninsula: Creating Effective Interactions (Palgrave Macmillan 2025), I have a section about being “close-to-local” on the Arabian Peninsula if you have managed to do one of several actions, the last of which is: mastered the art of listening politely to people who are making statements that you don’t think are true.

When I wrote that I thought, I need to explain that point further as it could be misinterpreted. I don’t mean: have the ability to listen to liars without reacting. I mean: have the ability to understand that people don’t believe what you believe, and it is not your purpose in life to change their mind. This is a skill I call expat veneer.

If you spend a lot of time living overseas and gaining an understanding of how people see the world differently than you and make different choices that you, you often give up the need to make everyone conform to your expectations. You don’t need to talk (much less argue) about everything; you stay in the safe havens of discussing recipes, interesting places to visit, nice hotels and where to buy mouse traps.

When I left Oman and moved back to the States, I decided to live in Cambridge and try to get a job again at MIT. This seemed like merely prudence, go back to a place I knew and job I had experience in, but when I stated at MIT I felt instantly at home.

It wasn’t just that I was reliving my history – it was that my co-workers had the same kind of expat veneer as my friends in Oman. In thinking this through, I realized that many expats and MIT employees come to the same realization along different paths.

For people who have lived in several different countries, there is no reason to get upset if someone eats X for breakfast or has Y religious creed or wears Z type of clothing. Long-term expats have seen people make all sorts of choices that are antithetical to their beliefs, and they are not interested in fighting over every detail of daily life.

MIT employees, especially academics and administrators who are leaders in their field, know how much time and effort it took them to become an expert and don’t expect others to know the same amount. Further, they are aware that their great knowledge about X is predicated on a great lack of knowledge about Y. You can’t be a leading authority on everything.

Both expats and people who work at MIT have a sense of how large the world is and how many multiples it contains.

Practicalities of Moving to the Arabian Peninsula: How to Sit, Not Wear Shoes and Use Your Hands

Practicalities of Moving to the Arabian Peninsula: Cultural Understandings of Water and Food

Outline and Chapter Abstracts for ‘Researching, Teaching and Working on the Arabian Peninsula: Creating Effective Interactions’

Ethnography – Finding the Middle Ground, part 1 of Discussing Photographs

Steve Cass

Some types of sadness lessen in time, while some submerge, then come back full-strength. Today is three years since Steve Cass passed away. I still miss him terribly – he was so cheerful that he pulled people along with his happy magic. For Steve, every morning was a fresh start, a new chance for good things to happen. The motto he taught students was ‘where there’s a will, there’s a way’ which aptly sums up his philosophy: there is always hope, always a way forward. His joie de vivre was a much-needed tonic for me and many others.

Yet with all his positivity he didn’t ignore, overlook or accept corrupt behavior. He was a gentleman, but also a warrior for better teaching and he continually fought on behalf of our students. His insistence on speaking truth to power gave a jolt of honesty for those who only heard a chorus of approval for their policies, regardless of those policies’ effectiveness or usefulness.

Now that I have moved back to the States, I often wish I could talk over with him all of my culture shock and how much I miss Oman. I know he would have exactly the right words to make this transition easier. He made life brighter for everyone he met.

Remembering Steve Cass

Steve Cass, teacher and friend

Research: Article on Theodore and Mabel Bent Has Been Published

I am happy to announce that my article on Theodore and Mabel Bent has been published at: http://tambent.com/2025/08/07/ya-mabel-and-the-duchess-by-marielle-risse/

Abstract: What are the conditions in which ‘imagination and humility necessary to climb into the head of people who live by a very different set of assumptions’ is created? Later travellers to southern Oman have seen and reported only what was most unusual, most foreign and more recent books about the Dhofar region show less understanding of the culture than articles and books written in the 1800s. We will discuss two specific examples of this odd juxtaposition: a Victorian, female traveller who is more accurate about Dhofaris than a modern, female traveller.

Keywords: Dhofar, Mabel Bent, Oman, Qara Mountains, Theodore Bent, travel writing; Jan Morris, Suzanna St. Albans, Wilfred Thesiger

The homepage of the Bent Archive : http://tambent.com/

How NOT to Describe People Who Are Foreign to You: Exoticizing Omanis

Annotated Bibliography of Texts Pertaining to the Dhofar Region of Oman

Cultural Refraction: Using Travel Writing, Anthropology and Fiction to Understand the Culture of Southern Arabia – 2009

Verstehen/ Einfühlen in Arabian Sands (1959): Wilfred Thesiger as Traveler and Anthropologist – 2013

Reflections – Dhofari Conversations

A few months ago, I joined a conversation group which discusses Middle East issues and at the start of each meeting, each person introduces themselves. Usually people simply say their first name and where they work, but I always add that I lived in Oman for 19 years. At the last meeting, someone asked me about my time in Oman and as I was answering, I realized that I always mention Oman because I am hoping that one day someone will say, “Oh, I work with an Omani” or “My neighbor is Omani!” and I might be able to meet someone from Oman.

And in thinking through that, I realized this will probably not happen, and I might never have another face-to face conversation with someone from the qara tribes. That’s devastating for several reasons; one is that it took years to learn how to have a proper Omani conversation and now I might not have one again.

To me, the hallmarks of Dhofari conversations are issues pertaining to time.

First of all, conversations are rarely arranged ahead of time – perhaps you might make a plan in the morning to meet in the evening, but usually you plan between 5 minutes and 1 hour ahead. I would get a message from the research guys, “are you free?” and if I said “yes,” the answer was usually “I am in the parking lot” or “I will come in 10 minutes.”

The second issue is that meeting friends usually involves more than 5 hours of talking. In the States, meeting up with friends for coffee is usually 1-2 hours. Longer meetings often involves alcohol (going out for the night), computer games, sports or artistic events, etc.; these are fun activities but are not set up for long, sustained story-telling.

Third, Dhofaris can banter but they can also launch into a 45-minute monolog, and everyone will listen carefully without interruption. Dhofaris pay attention and remember what is said as they are accustomed to learning through hearing stories. When you lay out the background of an topic, they will remember so if, two months or two years later, you want to talk about the same topic, you can just mention it and they will mentally pull up all the data. There is no need to repeat anything you have said about your family tree, previous jobs, neighbors, food preferences, where you live(d), etc.; that information is safely stored.

I take advantage of this trait when I am doing research. A story I heard years ago from one of the research guys is pertinent to the project I am working on now, so I left him a message and asked him if he remembered it. Of course he did, as well as where we were when he told me and who else was in the car. Then he retold me the same story.

Lastly, conversations with the research guys and female friends followed pretty clear conventions:

  • no complaining (I violate this one, the research guys never do)
  • no looking at your phone (unless you get a message, need to check to make sure it is not your mom who needs something)
  • no talking about yourself unless it is an amusing story in which you did something stupid or you were in a funny situation
  • no bragging in any form, e.g., you can’t mention all the things that you have to do (i.e. how “busy” you are) or anything positive you have done
  • no discussing
    • people you know who aren’t with you
    • work/ people at work (I violate this one, the research guys never do)
    • your immediate family or relatives (except you MUST ask about everyone’s parents!)
    • national politics (local elections and world events are ok)
    • sports
    • tv shows or movies
    • celebrities

This leaves you with:

  • weather
  • religion
  • dumb things that you have done
  • fishing
  • humorous stories
  • interesting stories from the past

The result is a group of people who are actively trying to be entertaining and who are used to listening/ taking turns telling stories for many hours. Specifically, the emphasis is always, always on good behavior. If I complained (usually about work) the advice was always to improve myself. When pushed, the research guys might admit that I was in the right or that X person was a twit, but the correct behavior was for me to be patient and to “hold myself.

No Omani ever told me, “Wow – what a jerk! Slap him!” It was always “be strong” and “don’t let someone think that they can bother you.” This could be really annoying, but it in the long term, it made me infinitesimally more like them – calmer, quieter, more watchful.

I miss stories.

Recreating Culture – Lessons from Bakeries and Cafeterias

Me Talk Pretty Never: Learning Arabic, part 1

Practicalities: Managing a Short Research Trip to the Arabian Peninsula

Ethnography – Finding the Middle Ground, part 1 of Discussing Photographs

Crafting a Home: Interior Home Design in Southern Oman

This essay is based on the presentation given at the Home/Making Symposium, Concordia University, Montreal on May 12, 2023, with editing suggestions from Elaine Cheasley Paterson and Molly-Claire Gillett

  • Introduction
  • My Positionality
  • Designing a house
  • Rooms
  • Foyer/ main hallway
  • Majlis
  • Salle     
  • Kitchen/ Dining Room
  • Bedrooms
  • Bathrooms
  • Who decorates
  • Decorating a house
  • Generating Ideas       
  • Handmade objects
  • Conclusion
  • Related bibliographies, books, publications and conference presentations

Introduction

Most of the writing about architecture and design on the Arabian Peninsula focuses on either ancient, archeological finds or huge modern edifices. This essay concentrates on the domestic sphere, specifically common practices in decorating a middle-class family house in Dhofar, the southernmost of the 11 governorates in Oman. Dhofar is 99,300 square km and the southern border is the coast of the Indian Ocean. Yemen lies to the west, Saudi Arabia is north, and the other Omani governates are to the east/ north-east.

This paper begins with an overview of how houses are designed, then gives a description of the types of rooms. There is then is a discussion of who decorates the house and how decorations are decided/ agreed on. At the end are several bibliographies on various aspects related to housing on the Arabian Peninsula and links to images of houses.

My Positionality

I lived in Salalah for 19 years, teaching at a small, local university. I taught education, literature and cultural studies classes; my research circled around the question: how do middle-class, Arab, Muslim, tribal, Dhofari people live day to day?

I started research on houses in the summer of 2019 as I was working on my book about foodways. I had to write about how kitchens are situated, designed, decorated and used in Dhofari houses and I found this work so interesting, I started taking notes and asking questions about other rooms in houses, as well as collecting photographs. When the food book was sent to the publisher, I began working on houses full-time by finding and reading texts about houses on the Arabian Peninsula. Between 2020-22, I did targeted interviews and went back through my research notes to compile charts about which houses I had been in and for what reason.

The information presented here is the result of academic research and interviews, as well as simply being friends with Dhofaris and thus being invited by women into their homes for social visits, birthday parties, wedding parties and condolence visits. There are Dhofari houses I have been in more than 30 times and “social visits” include Eid visits, iftar meals at sunset during Ramadan, to meet a new baby, a formal dinner party and to be given a tour of a new house.

With the men in my research group I have been on almost 400 picnics, more than 30 camping trips and over a dozen boat trips. As it is less common for an American woman to be friends with a Dhofari man, I have only been in a few of their houses, for a meal with other men, but eight of the men have sent me photos of their houses and explained the layout.

I also have been invited to see several houses that were being built by Dhofari friends and snuck into more than a dozen houses that were being built in the neighborhoods where I have lived. In addition, I lived in two Dhofari-designed houses within Dhofari neighborhoods for a total of 17 of the 19 years I lived in Oman.

There are no texts which deal with interior design/ room layout in the Dhofar region. As houses are predominately a space for family, the way people know what the inside of other houses look like are ads for rental houses and photos taken on special occasions which circulate through social media. So while I was focusing on houses, I spent a lot of time reviewing what Dhofari friends were posting about houses.

I would like to make clear two limitations of my knowledge. First, all the houses I was in/ saw photos of belonged to middle-class families. Extreme poverty is very rare among Omanis; the government gives subsidies for electricity, water and gas as well as monthly pensions for people in need. There is no homelessness, healthcare is free or with a minimal fee and students with high grades are given free university tuition. I do not know anyone with food scarcity or who could not afford the basics of shelter, clothing, transportation and the ability to host friends, celebrate religious days, hold weddings, etc. On the other side of the scale, I don’t know anyone with extreme wealth, e.g. multiple houses, several cars, ability to pay thousands of dollars for non-essentials such as vacations or jewelry.

Secondly, the houses I describe are Dhofari-designed and decorated. Most of the houses I visited belonged to people who were part of the hakli (Gibali-speaking) tribes. I visited many houses which are rented by expats, but have only included descriptions of the layout if the structures were Dhofari-designed. I have not included descriptions of interior decoration of houses which were lived in by expats or non-Dhofari Omanis.

I have aggregated the evidence I collected into the data presented below, with caveats about personal choices.

Finally, I would also like to be clear that I was visiting houses for many years before I approached design as an academic topic. When I decided to start research on houses, I let my Dhofari friends and informants know this. I asked permission to use descriptions of their houses and did over a dozen interviews. I asked them to please send me photos of their houses (as this was during Covid) if they wanted to. Thus for several houses, I first saw the space as a guest, then as a researcher, then again as a regular guest.

Designing a house

The Dhofar region is considered BWh [arid-desert-hot] in the Köppen-Geiger climate classification. But is often described in non-scientific texts, especially tourist brochures, as tropical or subtropical. From March to the beginning of June is the hot season, with temperatures often in the high 90s with high humidity. In the middle of June, temperatures drop as clouds move in for the South-East khareef (monsoon) season; there is frequent drizzle, occasional rain storms and high seas until the start of September. In the middle of September, the clouds disperse, leaving a green landscape and pleasantly warm weather with blue skies. By December, the grasses have died off, leaving the hills brown and people prepare for the frequent, strong, sand-bearing, north winds from December to March.

This weather pattern means that all houses built in the last 40 years are made of cement block which keeps the wind and drizzle out, but are not energy effective. The houses need air conditioners constantly working to keep cool and the metal and wood window frames and door frames often let in sand and rain during storms.

Dhofari houses are designed by the people who will live in the space so the rooms are built to the families’ specifications.[1] Given than most Dhofaris live in multi-generational clusters of thirty or more family members, this means consulting the wishes of many people. This also means that many people can help contribute. For example a sister might give cash from her salary for building supplies while a brother who does not have a job can do the work of finding the right equipment to rent, bringing workers to and from the job site, supervising, being on hand to answer questions, etc.

The decision to build does not rest solely with the men of a family. Mothers, wives, sisters and daughters are part of decisions relating to the home. Men may not say publicly that they are making decisions based on their relatives’ wishes, but it is expected that the women’s opinions will be consulted. I have heard complaints from Dhofari women that, for example, the kitchen is not well-designed, but among my informants in the hakli group of tribes and in the hakli houses I have visited and seen photos of, the women always had a say in how the house was set up. Several hakli men I know simply handed over the room location and decoration to the women.

Rooms

The most important rooms are the majlis, usually explained as the male or male visitor’s sitting room, and the salle, usually explained as the women’s or family’s sitting room.[2] As the majlis is used more frequently for guests, it is often more showy with a larger TV, elaborate curtains, wall hangings, and gypsum decorations on the ceiling. Care is taken that the two rooms do not have the same color scheme but the spaces are not color-coded for gender in Western terms. For example, the majlis might be light purple or peach while the salle is dark blue or brown.

I think of Dhofari houses as the antithesis of expensive Victorian-era houses in the United Kingdom with many little rooms which each have a separate purpose: the morning room, the seamstress’ room, billiard room, the music room, the library, etc.. In Dhofari houses, there are usually only four types of rooms: sitting room, bedroom, kitchen and bathroom and the first three types are furnished with the same pattern of furniture next to the walls and empty space in the middle.

Another way to think about types of rooms is to consider that many middle- and upper-class North American homes have rooms for work, relaxation and/ or exercise such as a home office, craft room, gym, yoga studio, etc. which might be the former bedroom of a child who has moved out. There is a standard trope of a child going to college and his/ her room ‘disappears’ as it has been entirely repurposed.

In Dhofar, while the people who stay in a room might change, the purpose seldom does. For example, three brothers might share a bedroom on the ground floor. In time, an additional story is added and two boys move to an upstairs bedroom while the original room is redone for the oldest boy and his bride. After this couple have a few children, they move to a suite on the first floor and the bedroom is refurbished for a grandparent who cannot manage to walk upstairs.

Foyer/ main hallway

Looking at the front of a Dhofar house, there are almost always two doors. The smaller/ less decorated door leads to the majlis, explained below, and the larger door opens into a large, wide hallway. This hallway, which runs from the front to the back of most houses, is widest by the front door. There is usually no furniture in the hallway except perhaps a tall, rectangular side table pushed against the wall near the door with a mirror above it or nearby. 

This is a staging-area that is used only for a few moments of time several times during the day but is necessary given common Dhofar behaviors. A large foyer is needed because there are usually more than five small children living in one house and they can use the space as a play area in hot weather; also, children love to run together to the door when someone knocks (or they are sent to see who it is).

As children like to move in groups, they often stand near the door to look at a person arriving or leaving; for example, younger children often gather in the entrance way when older children are going to school. With a large foyer, there is space for the mom, the children who are going to school and young children to all wait inside where it is cool. Or the space can be used by a group of sisters waiting for a car to take them shopping or visiting relatives so they don’t have to stand outside the house in view of the neighborhood.

In some large, recently-built houses, there is no hallway but a circular, open area with a salle through a wide-open archway, the door to the majlis, the door to the kitchen and the steps leading to upper floors. This space is sometimes big enough for chairs/ a sofa and is used as a play area for children, a pass-through/ staging area and an intermediate/ indeterminate location.

For example, a strange man would come to the majlis through the outside door, but a new bride’s brother who wants to visit might not want to ask her to come to the majlis (where there are other men) and might not be comfortable in the salle (where there are women he doesn’t know and is not related to) but could stand with her in this open space to chat.

Majlis

In some cultures on the Arabian Peninsula, the majlis is strictly male territory but in Dhofar among the hakli tribes, a woman, for example, might sit in the majlis and speak with her uncles or male cousins who have come to visit. Further, the space might be used for children to have lessons with a tutor in the early evening. Women use it to entertain female guests or for wedding parties, during which women usually take over the whole house while men are entertained outside. A husband might sit in the majlis in his wife’s parent’s house as a place to talk to his wife when she is temporarily living at her parent’s house if she is caring for a sick member of her family.

When I visit female Dhofari friends at home, where we sit depends on several factors. If their husbands and/ or brothers are not at home, we sit in the majlis. When I visited one male Dhofari friend, we sat in the majlis, but I went to the salle to eat lunch with the women.

The majlis is usually decorated with sofas or cushions on a low wooden frame surrounding the sides of the room, a few coffee tables, a TV, and sometimes decorations such as photos of the Sultan Qaboos or Sultan Haitham. There is an AC and the walls are always painted to coordinate with the curtains and sofas. Often there is a rug in the (empty) center of the room; the color scheme might be shades of beige, pastels or dark shades of brown, blue, or green.

Majlis always have two doors; the first leads to the outside, so that guests may come and go without moving through or seeing other spaces in the interior of the house. The second door leads to the main hallway of the house and is always closed, if not locked. There is often an open sink, to wash hands before and after eating, and a small toilet/ shower room. 

In a very small house, sometimes the majlis is completely repurposed by becoming a bedroom. Then the salle functions as majlis. In one house which was arranged like this, when I was sitting with women and a man entered to meet with the husband, the women and I went to sit in the couple’s bedroom.

There can also be a majlis in the house as well as another majlis in a separate building. This is not common in Dhofar and is usually a marker of a religiously conservative and/ or wealthy family. The outside majlis is usually located close to the wall (sometimes with a doorway cut into the wall) so that visitors do not go anywhere near the house. This majlis often has a large sitting room and bathroom with sometimes a small kitchen (with its own entrance) and/ or a bedroom. When I was with some of the men in the research group visiting a man we knew, we sat in the separate majlis and lunch was brought to us, carried by our friend.

Salle

In the same way that the majlis can be used by women in Dhofar, the salle can be used by men who are not in the family, for example older men who are close, long-term neighbors might sit with women in the salle if there are no men in the house to entertain them.

The salle is always at the front of the house, close to but usually not visible from the front door. The room has three sides, often with windows to the front and side of the house, the side to the front hallway completely open, with a blank back wall. Like the majlis, it is usually decorated with sofas or cushions on a low wooden frame surrounding the sides of the room, a few coffee tables, a TV, and decorative elements such as vases. The bathroom area might be attached to the salle or further down the main hallway of the house.

Although the norm in Dhofar is for a house to have one majlis and one salle, some larger houses have a series of rooms, i.e., a formal salle at the front of the house and then a (usually less formal) salle further inside. Sometimes also a few sofas are placed upstairs in an open area at the head of the stairs (out of sight of the front door) for family members only.

A salle can be a place for siblings to watch horror movies at 1am, somber when the house is in mourning and women come to pay condolence visits, joyful for a graduation celebration, intimate when sisters come to visit and share all the family news, loud when the children are playing, and welcoming for neighbors and guests. The salle is the center of a Dhofari house.

This could be seen as valid for a North American family as well, i.e., someone in Wisconsin might say that the family room is the heart of the house, yet North Americans may also use different home spaces. They might gather in the kitchen or dining room for a meal; go to the den, basement or spare bedroom to watch TV; sit in the living room for formal visits and send children to their bedrooms to play with toys. All of those activities would take place in the salle of a Dhofari house.

Kitchen/ Dining Room

The kitchen is located to the side or back of the house; in newer houses it has its own entrance used by family members if there is parking near that entrance, as well as those who don’t live in the house, for example people bringing in supplies such as bags of groceries and/ or jugs of water for water dispensers. Like bathrooms, kitchens have tiled walls and floors, usually in shades of grey, beige or brown. There are florescent tube lights, a ceiling fan and an extractor fan, but usually not AC. If there is a window (most often over the sink) it has opaque glass.

Often there are long, high counters along one or two walls, with shelving underneath and cupboards above. The below-counter cupboards, as well as the stove, fridge and washing machine are set slightly above floor-level on platforms so that the floor can be cleaned by mopping/ sluicing. Usually the gas canisters for the stoves are located outside the house, next to the kitchen door, with a small hole drilled in the cement wall to bring the gas pipe to the stove/ oven.

As it is common to have thirty or more people (from different generations) in one house, kitchens are big enough to make large meals. Like most rooms, everything is placed around the sides of the room. Sometimes there is a table, but often you can find an empty area in the middle of the room that is five feet square or larger. This is so a lot of women can work together for parties and also because some cooking is done on the floor. For example, large pots of meat are sometimes cooked on gas rings set on the floor because it is easier to stir from a standing position than trying to reach into a pot set on the stovetop. Some kinds of bread are cooked using small gas burners set on the floor.

Kitchens are utilitarian; pretty trays might be leaned against the back-splash or there might be a vase to hold wooden spoons, etc., but kitchens are seldom decorated or set up as welcoming/ comforting spaces in which to sit and relax.

As soon as you walk in, it’s easy to visually orient yourself; often the cupboards have glass fronts so you can see inside them. Most families will have items for hosting in sight and easy to reach: several sets of teacups and saucers, tea and coffee pots, carafes, glass bowls or plates. There are usually several trays as almost all food, drinks and eating utensils, plates, cups, etc. are moved on trays, not carried by hand

Larger and newer houses may have small suites for each married son. This will usually consist of a bedroom with an attached bathroom and a sitting room which might have a galley kitchen with a small sink and microwave so they can make tea and simple meals for themselves. Thus, there will be one large kitchen for a house, with perhaps a few smaller mini-kitchens for couples.

Bedrooms

If the house has one floor, bedrooms are at the back of the house, usually behind the kitchen. In a two- or three-story house there are often one or two bedrooms on the ground floor for older and senior relatives with the rest of the bedrooms on the upper floors.

There is usually a bed with matching nightstands and large wardrobes, as well as a sofa or padded chairs and coffee table. Sometimes there is a desk and chair if the inhabitant is school-age. I have never seen a built-in closet; everything is stored on or in shelving units or cupboards.

In addition to the overhead, usually fluorescent, lights, bedrooms often have a sconce (wall light) with a low-watt or colored bulb so, if the room is shared, one person can move around and/ or parents can look in on children without turning on the bright overhead lights. There is always a fan and AC.  

It is very common for the upper stories to have a series of suites, meaning a door on the main corridor which leads to a small foyer space with three or four doors: two rooms and a bathroom, perhaps a storage room. This configuration can be easily changed as needed. For example, the two rooms might be used as a bedroom and a sitting room for a newly married couple or single older relative; a shared bedroom and a study/ play room for several children; or two shared bedrooms with a variety of configurations such as younger children in one room with an older child in the other or a married couple in one room, children in the other, etc. If the second room is used as a sitting room, there is often a small kitchen area.

If a man has more than one wife in the same house, each suite will be considered as belonging to the wife and the husband will move between the suites. If his second wife is in another house, he will move between houses as, in Islam, a man should spend equal time with each wife. In old-age or in times of sickness, an older man might sleep alone in what was a room for guests.

Sometimes a Dhofari woman will stay in her parent’s house and her husband will move in with her. This doesn’t happen often; usually it occurs when the husband works close to his wife’s family house, if she is the only daughter or her mother has no sons living with her.

Bathrooms

For some houses built in the mountains in the 1980s and before, the bathroom can be a small, separate building. In this case it is a low ceilinged, tiled space with a toilet, sink, shower and washing machine.

Since the 1980s, bathrooms are within the house, usually rectangular and built with the narrow end on an outside wall or lightwell to allow for the window and extractor fan. They usually have tiled walls and floors with an open design (e.g. no interior walls such as a low partition to screen the toilet) with a pedestal sink or sink on a counter with empty space beneath and a shelving unit next to the wall. The sink is always closest to the door.

The shower area usually does not have a curtain and is marked off with a slightly lowered floor with a drain. Some have tiled steps along one side. Bathtubs are rare; if there is one, it usually has a seat. The steps and seat are for the ritual washing before Muslim prayers during which face, hands and feet must be cleaned.

Bathrooms in the family/ private area of the house are often plainly decorated and are built open-plan for one person to use at a time, unless it is a parent helping a small child. Some North American bathrooms are set up with the toilet half-hidden behind a low wall and shower curtains so that two people might use the room at the same time but I have not heard of that in Dhofar. For unmarried inhabitants, if there is not a bathroom attached to the bedroom, there is one nearby.

The guest bathroom that is attached to or near the majlis and salle often has a space with one or more sinks, then there is an inner door which leads to a small room with a toilet, shower and sink so that guests might wash their hands while the toilet/ shower room is in use. These rooms are usually nicely appointed with fancy faucets and attractive tiles.

Who decorates

Given that most Dhofaris live in multi-generational clusters of thirty or more family members, interior design means consulting the wishes of many people. Usually older family members have a more decisive say but different people can be in control of different areas. For example, the senior woman might be in charge of decorating the kitchen, the senior man might choose the colors of the main sitting room, while a sister might design the room for her brother and his new wife. If there is one person in the family who is known for their flair, they might be given responsibility for the salle, main hallway and majlis. Adults usually decorate their own bedrooms.

Some Dhofari women are frustrated that they don’t have a say in designing and decorating but this is often a function of age and tribe. In the hakli families I know mothers, sisters, wives and/or daughters are always consulted or had design control over the parts of houses they lived in and used daily, i.e., salle, kitchen and bedroom.

However, unmarried women in their teens or early twenties might not be consulted, except for the color choices in their rooms, because of age and the expectation that they will not stay in the house for long given that almost all women move to their husband’s house when married.

When a man is getting married, he is either given a new room or his room is completely redone: re-painted, new furniture, new lighting and often a new dropped or decorated ceiling. This room, out of respect for whoever decorated it, should not be changed for several years, so a woman might not have power over her living space until she is in her late twenties or thirties, but from then on, the decorating is made in consultation with her or left entirely up to her.    

Decorating a house

Houses are decorated when they are new or when the family moves in. Usually, a family will bring all new furniture as the old furniture is given away. Refurbishment, new furniture and/ or painting, usually takes place before the two Eids (Muslim holidays) and/ or before a wedding.        

Generating Ideas

Getting design ideas for the exterior of houses is simple, one only has to drive around and see what other people have done. But there are not many chances to get design ideas about interior spaces beyond a few, large furnishing stores that have opened in the past few years. Dhofaris will visit relative’s houses and might stay in hotels or vacation rentals, but there are limited opportunities to see a wide variety of interior styles.

Dhofaris might post photos of a newly decorated room on social media and people who manage rental houses might post photos of interiors but there is, for example, no Omani equivalent of Zillow or Redfin with photos of the inside of millions of homes.

On the other hand, there are many carpenters, iron-mongers and tailors so that Dhofaris are not limited to furniture and curtains they find in stores. As with designing the house, people can take a photo or hand-drawn sketch to a workshop and have beds, wardrobes, sofas, chairs, drapes, etc. made to their specifications.   

Handmade objects

In North America, people often design their houses with personal items which reflect their travels, accomplishments and interests. But in a majlis or salle, there are usually few or no signs of the individuals who live in the house such as photos, books, souvenirs or knickknacks. The window might be decorated with five kinds of fabric, tassels, pull-backs, swags and ruffles, but you won’t be able to tell very much about the family.

While many Dhofaris have an interest in design per se, it is usually manifested in the design of clothes and making of perfumes, not in creating objects that would be on display such as quilts, crocheted afghans/ throws, needlepoint cushions and paintings. The one handmade object which is found is a majmar, a small clay, footed bowl which is used to hold a lit piece of charcoal with a piece of frankincense. The burning tree sap produces clouds of perfumed smoke which create a lovely fragrance in the house. 

Conclusion

Most Dhofaris follow the principle of “people, not things.” When visiting a hakli at home, the house itself is never the focus of the conversation. If it’s a new house, there will be compliments and a short discussion about where and how items were bought but that is only a few moments but the important most element of owning a house is to create a comfortable place for one’s family to gather.

 Risse – bibliographies, essays and images for Houseways

main webpages on research about houses: 

references list: Selected references related to Houseways in Southern Oman, Oct. 2022

images: 

Risse – publications – books

This book outlines strategies for current or soon-to-be business professionals, government employees, anthropologists, researchers and teachers to communicate, study and work effectively on the Arabian Peninsula. Using first-person accounts, as well as scholarly research from the fields of anthropology, history, literature, political science and travel writing, this text gives clear advice so long- and short-term visitors can create successful interactions with people from Arabian Peninsula societies. By discussing how the practicalities of work and research intersect with cultural norms, this book fills the gap between guides aimed at the casual tourists and academic texts on narrowly defined topics.

This book explains how modern, middle-class houses are sited, designed, built, decorated and lived in with an emphasis on how room-usage is determined by age, gender, time of day and the presence of guests. Dhofari houses are also compared to houses in other Arabian Peninsula countries and positioned within the theoretical frameworks of the “Islamic city” and the “Islamic house.”

This book examines the objects, practices and beliefs relating to producing, obtaining, cooking, eating and disposing of food in the Dhofar region of southern Oman. The chapters consider food preparation, who makes what kind of food, and how and when meals are eaten. Dr. Risse connects what is consumed to themes such as land usage, gender, age, purity, privacy and generosity. She also discusses how foodways are related to issues of morality, safety, religion, and tourism. The volume is a result of fourteen years of collecting data and insights in Dhofar, covering topics such as catching fish, herding camels, growing fruits, designing kitchens, cooking meals and setting leftovers out for animals.

This book explores how, in cultures which prize conformity, there is latitude for people who choose not to conform either for a short time and how the chances to assert independence change over time. The main focus is on how the traits of self-control and self-respect are manifested in the everyday actions of several groups of tribes whose first language is Gibali (Jebbali/ Jebali, also referred to as Shari/ Shahri), a non-written, Modern South Arabian language. Although no work can express the totality of a culture, this text describes how Gibalis are constantly shifting between preserving autonomy and signaling membership in family, tribal and national communities.

 Risse – publications

“Lifeways of Traditional Fishermen in Dhofar, Oman,” in Fish as Food: Lifestyle and a Sustainable Future. Helen Macbeth, ed. International Commission on the Anthropology of Food and Nutrition – Alimenta Populorum series. 2024: 155-170. https://archive.org/details/macbeth-young-and-roberts-ed-fish-as-food-anthropological-and-cross-disciplinary

“An Ethnographic Discussion of Fairy Tales from Southern Oman,” Fabula: Zeitschrift für Erzählforschung / Journal of Folktale Studies / Revue d’Etudes sur le Conte Populaire 60.3-4 (De Gruyter, Berlin) 2019: 318–335.

 “Understanding Communication in Southern Oman,” North Dakota Quarterly 84.1 (Special Issue on Transnationalism) 2017: 174-184.

“Generosity, Gift-giving and Gift-avoiding in Southern Oman,” Proceedings of the Seminar for Arabian Studies 45 (Oxford: Archeopress) 2015: 289-296. 

“Cultural Refraction: Using Travel Writing, Anthropology and Fiction to Understand the Culture of Southern Arabia,” Interdisciplinary Humanities 26:1, 2009: 63-78.

 Risse – conference presentations

“Conducting Research on the Arabian Peninsula: Creating Effective Interactions,” Middle East Studies Association Annual Conference. Upcoming, Nov. 11-15, 2024.

“Windguru and Other Gurus: Fishing off the Coast of Dhofar, Oman,” Navigating the Transcultural Indian Ocean: Texts and Practices in Contact Conference, sponsored by the Rutter Project. June 5, 2024

“Crafting a Home: Interior Home Design in Southern Oman.” Home/Making Symposium, Concordia University. Montreal. May 12, 2023. https://www.concordia.ca/finearts/events/home-making.html

“Good Governance and Open Spaces: How the State and Residents Negotiate the Use of Government Land in Dhofar, Oman.” AnthroState Talks for the European Association of Social Anthropologists Network on Anthropologies of the State. May 4, 2023. https://easaonline.org/networks/anthrostate/talks

“Private Lives in Public Spaces: Perceptions of Space-Usage in Southern Oman.” Middle East Studies Association annual conference. Montreal, Quebec. December 2, 2021.

“The Costs and Benefits of Fishing in Southern Oman.” Fish as Food: Lifestyle and a Sustainable Future, annual conference of the International Commission on the Anthropology of Food and Nutrition, hosted at the University of Liverpool. Sept. 1, 2021.

“Ethical Eating in Southern Oman.” Just Food, virtual conference of the Association for the Study of Food and Society; Agriculture, Food and Human Values Society; Canadian Association for Food Studies and the Society for the Anthropology of Food and Nutrition, hosted by the Culinary Institute of America and New York University. June 12, 2021.

“Foodways in Southern Oman,” for the session “Uncovering Truths, Building Responsibility in A Pandemic: Insights from Emerging Monographs at the Nexus of Culture, Food, and Agriculture.” American Anthropological Association. Nov. 9, 2020.

with Keye Tersmette. “Ghurba at Home – Views from Oman.” The Arab World as Ghurba: Citizenship, Identity and Belonging in Literature and Popular Culture, University of Warwick. June 21, 2019.

“Female, Femininity, Male and Masculinity in the Gibali-speaking Tribes of Southern Oman.” The Gulf Research Conference, Cambridge University. August 2, 2017.

“‘I Came to You for Good’: An Ethnographic Discussion of Folk Tales from Southern Oman.” Third Joint Seminar of The Folklore Society and the Royal Anthropological Institute, Royal Anthropological Institute, London. Oct. 26, 2017.

“‘Words Mean Nothing’: Fluency in Language and Fluency in Culture in Anthropology Fieldwork in Southern Oman.” British Society for Middle Eastern Studies, University of Wales. July 15, 2016.

 ***********

            [1] To help pay for the building costs, the house might be rented out for a few years before the owner moves in. Also, if a family moves into a new house, they may give their previous one to a relative.

            [2] Salle is pronounced ‘sall-la,’ not as the French, ‘sall.’

 

Outline and Chapter Abstracts for ‘Researching, Teaching and Working on the Arabian Peninsula: Creating Effective Interactions’

Practicalities: Managing a Short Research Trip to the Arabian Peninsula

Me Talk Pretty Never: Learning Arabic, part 1

Adjusting to Oman: My Dangerous Taxi