Coming Home to Sana'a

I left Dubai last Friday morning, boarding a plane which would take me far from the sky scrapers and orderly streets of that world financial center. Just as when I flew into Dubai, I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect of Yemen.

The flight to Sana’a lasted just over two hours and crossed over the arid desert of the Arabian Peninsula. Arid is the right word for it; I didn’t seen anything green for hundreds of miles. Desert is also the right description; totally deserted. I can count on one hand how many highways and signs of humanity I saw while crossing that stretch at 30,000 feet. The dunes went on as far as I could tell in a sea of light brown, with row after row after row of sand.

As we came within 100 miles or so of Sana’a, darker shades of brown rose from the bed of sand into dry, rocky crags void of vegetation. Scattered sparsely in the valleys between those crags, huts made from rock and mud were visible mostly due to their shadows. No roads seemed to connect any one home with another or with any common course of travel. Perhaps cars aren’t worth the trouble out here (camels don’t break down as often and also reproduce for future generations… try that, Toyota).

A little further on, deep canyons cut the earth with scattered bushes showing themselves for the first time. Disorganized dirt paths started to appear which eventually emptied into a single paved highway that was apparently bound for the capital city. The mountains that surround Sana’a began to show themselves in earnest. Signs of Yemen’s past could be seen in them. On one of the risings in the foothills I saw what looked like ruins of an old fortification or outpost. Rock walls enclosed a crumbling stone tower. A closer look revealed ancient lookout towers on rock outcroppings and peaks all around the city.

As we came over the city I couldn’t help but think of the contrasts with Dubai. Streets went zigzagging every which way, many unpaved. Even downtown, few buildings appeared to have been built in the last 50 years or so and none can be classified as a sky scraper. Excesses such as modern malls and artistic dancing fountains were not things most Yemeni people enjoyed.
Once on the ground we de-boarded and walked to the terminal where doctors pointed a gun at our heads…. which read our body temperature. (did I getcha?) Apparently worried about the H1N1 virus, they were checking everyone that came into the country. Finally past doctors, immigration, and luggage pickup (my bags made it there with me, thank goodness) I walked into the main hall of the tiny airport and found a man holding a sign that read Mr. Tyler Standage. Tareq, the PR man for APEX (the consulting firm I am working for), was there to greet me as promised.

As we walked out the front doors the two military personnel at the door startled me briefly. They sat basically right in the doorway with little room to get around them with luggage, AK-47s draped across their laps. But their warm Yemeni smiles allayed any fear as we slipped past and headed for Tareq’s car.

Tareq, a man of few words, headed out onto the freeway, reminding me to buckle my seatbelt. My general attitude on the subject is that I’ll buckle my seatbelt when and if I feel like it, thank you very much. But this advice from Tareq is probably some of the best I have received about living and surviving in Sana’a so far. I’ll write a separate post on the driving another time, but let’s just say that there is little respect for “lanes” or “lines” (if there are any), one-way off/on-ramps, etc. And the use of the horn and emergency lights is an art form to be perfected and used so as to not kill or be killed. I have been to several places with nutso driving, but this definitely tops them all.

From the outskirts of town heading into the city center, Sana’a looks a lot like other third world countries. Dilapidated buildings, beggars on every corner, etc. But as we got closer to the Old City section of Sana’a, the charm found in the pictures you find on Google images of this place began to show. Tareq pulled onto Silas Street which looks like a big canal made of stone squares. Small speed bumps are plentiful on Silas Street, and Tareq slowed down to snail pace for every one of them. Also, stone bridges allow cars to pass underneath through relatively small slots with arched ceilings. It appears that those who constructed this street were intent on slowing traffic down in any way possible. The fact that there is generally no back up traffic here (only a small percentage of Yemenis own a car) and the fact that no one seems to be enforcing any traffic laws may lend support for this hypothesis.

Finally, we pulled up an off-ramp and stopped in front of a traditional, Old City-looking house. As we got out, a stately Arab man wearing traditional Arabian garb and a Yemeni dagger approached us. Khalid Ali Alsabri owns this home and rents it out to students coming to Yemen to learn Arabic. I checked out the rooms, and picked one with a decent view on the fourth floor. My room is about 6 ½ ft. by 7 ½ ft., and is raised a foot higher than the main level. When standing in my room next to the door, the top of the door almost reaches the top of my shoulder.
Every wall in the room (and the house in general) is white. The wooden beams that support the floors above me protrude from my ceiling and are plastered in a rectangular shape from wall to wall. There are windows in every corner possible, including ornamental stained glass windows. There are also ornamental shelves made of the same plaster material as the walls coming out of one of the corners and similarly off of another wall. Simple white curtains cover the main windows.

I have a small desk with a chair, a bureau to hang my clothes in, a cushioned chair for a visitor or for reading, and a traditional Yemeni bed in the corner. The bed consists of a pad 5 inches thick laid on the floor. It is quite comfortable, actually, even though it is not quite as long as I am tall. I find the room cozy enough.

Mr. Al-Sabri said that if I would like to go with him and another student to see the famed Imam palace situated on a large outcropping to the northwest of Sana’a, I could get settled in the next 15 minutes and he would swing by. That sounded great to me, so I got started unpacking in the room that would be my home for the next while.

I have put some pictures on a picasa album: http://picasaweb.google.com/tystandage/ComingHomeToSanA?authkey=Gv1sRgCNGiuaWOsY2GswE#