Hajja in the mountains of Yemen

Article

Of late it is increasingly difficult to live in this world without realizing it’s becoming a real mess. I just returned from a trip to the mountains here. While intending to write about the experience I find my thoughts repeatedly returning to the plight of the poor victims in Chengdu, China and Myanmar (or Burma…whatever) along with the turmoil in Beirut, along with world–wide food shortages and so on. So I’m making a somewhat half–hearted attempt of an article.

Yemeni Villages

Paul is surrounded by friendly Yemenis in the village of Bayt Hambus. Most Yemenis are quite hospitable toward outsiders and treat them as honored guests.

For awhile now I have been wanting to visit some rural Yemeni villages and get out to some mountainous regions. I took a few day hikes on the edge of Sana’a, were me met some villagers and I was hooked. One in particular that was memorable was Bayt Hambus, where we met lots of friendly villagers.

So I decided to take a multi–day trip to Hajja to see my German friend, Berno. I met Berno at the Atelier, a gathering of artists in the Old City of Sana’a each week. He is a development worker, but has exhibited his art in Yemen. Hearing that he has lived in Hajja for the past three years, I was excited when he told me that I would be welcome to visit him in Hajja.

Hajja is located about 2.5 hours north of Sana’a in a very mountainous region. Originally I thought I would spend the time camping, but knowing the locals would find it strange I decided to meet some people first. In the future it would be nice to do some camping.

Berno was quite the gracious host and arranged for a strenuous hike to a mountaintop village. Leaving his home at 9am, we hiked from the city of Hajja down to a wadi, or dry river bed. During the rainy season these fill will water quickly and can become torrential rivers. When this happens, the name changes from “wadi” to “sa–il”. While I was visiting Hajja during the early rainy season and witnessed some strong storms in the ride from Sana’a, I never had the chance to see the sa–il in Hajja.

After entering the wadi, we hiked up a tall mountain and reached the village of Harba around 12:30pm. We had to wait a couple hours until our host arrived. In the mean time, we sat in the mufraaj and took pictures of curious kids. Afterward, our host arrived and served us traditional Yemeni food. We ate Shafoot with vegetables, bread with honey, salta, peaches and a few other items.

Due to the unexpected wait for our host, we were concerned about returning to Hajja before the rains. So we left around 3:15pm and stopped in a couple villages on the way back. In the second home, we spent the night with a family who were Berno’s friends. It was the first time I spent the night with Yemeni’s besides a hotel or college.

Back to the Wadi

On Saturday Berno had some work to do, so I returned to the wadi wanting to follow it as far as possible. During a rest break, I just had time to pull out a banana when a whole school of children arrived on their way home from classes. They all surrounded me with giggles, not saying anything. I tried to engage them in conversation, but what does one do with about 40 kids that don’t respond to questions? So, we walked for awhile together down the wadi while the kids, one–by–one, began to vanish up the mountainsides. A few stayed with me for a long time while we discussed some things, but they eventually returned home.

A trickle of water still flows in a wadi near Hajja.

Further down the wadi I found water! Or, I should say a trickle of a stream. But I was still happy to hear the sound of running water. I stopped under a tree to eat lunch when several boys ran up to me and sat with me on the rock. Interestingly, they all refused when I tried to share my food with them. It took several insistent attempts before they finally relented. Even the little one’s were trained in the local interpretation of appropriate manners.

I told them I liked this spot because there was water and nice trees. Hearing this, they explained that I should come with them to a better spot. And better it was! Surrounded by mango, coffee and birch–like trees (among others), it was a beautiful sight. From a house above us, a man insisted that I come up to their home. Knowing this meant they would put on an enormous meal for me, I declined, and we all just sat under the trees. One of them ran to pick a nice mango for me, which I happily ate. We sat and talked for awhile about our lives and the differences between English and Arabic.

On my return I received a call from Berno mentioning a possible ride for both of us back to Sana’a, but it would be leaving soon. Picking up the pace, I found myself almost nauseous by the time I reached the main road. Fortunately, I found some alternative transportation on the way back to Hajja. The locals didn’t find it quite as amusing as I did.

There are some things that happened during the trip on which I can’t really elaborate now. But in some ways I’ve come to lose my romantic view of the people of the mountains. Their bigoted attitudes about religion and the way they treat women are probably the primary reason for this. I felt myself thinking it would be good for them to learn English and modernize so they could learn new ideas. (Typically I have opposed the spread of English.) As much as I feel it a privilege to visit a society so completely removed from the rest of the modern world, for their sake I wish they’d get out a little.