Eid Al Fitr Snippets (Part 2)

It's the third day of Eid Al Fitr, and I'm sitting in the guest/female majlis at M's brother's house in Wadi Bani Awf, a place in which I have no idea where it is, but I think is located within the red circle on this Google Map.  The reason I'm not quite sure where it is is due to the fact that there really is no road.  Well yes, there is a road, but you need a four-wheel drive vehicle to navigate narrow (at times one lane) dirt and rocky roads up through the mountains and down through the wadis.  As depicted in the map, the roads in yellow are established routes.  The roads in grey are not-so established.  The ladies and I finished lunch an hour ago, I've just woken up from a nap (see Snippets 3), and I have a captive audience of six young ladies (high school and college-aged) and an eight year-old boy.  His sister, who is about six, is having a cry because she wants to sit next to me like her brother, but there isn't room, so we make room.

There is a shout from the main door to the part of the house that we're sitting in.  The message is interpreted for me: "The men wish to have coffee with you now."  I get up from the floor, find my shoes at the main entrance, leave the family part of the house, walk 10 meters to the men's majlis, leave my shoes on the stairs, then enter the majlis.  M, his 18 month-old boy twins, his older brother, and five nephews sit on the floor, waiting for me.  A tray of grapes, oranges, apples, and dates sits on the floor.  The youngest nephew is asked to get a thermos of Omani coffee from the kitchen.  Over the next 25 minutes, they feed me fruit, coffee, and pieces of mushkak (kebab meat) from the previous days' slaughter.  Our topics of conversation transition from which part of the States I come from, what's my occupation, a guess at how old I am (the nephews think 25, the uncle thinks 29), inquiry as to why I'm not married (of which a consensus of "It's good to be free!" is made), and what my plans for the future are.  I share with them my goal of doing the Camino de Santiago next September.  Y, the oldest nephew, says, "Let's do a training now.  We can climb the rocks over there."  Once it is established that it is only a 400-meter climb (a hike, really), I say that I'm game, and we go down the hill in which the family house sits, crossing the flat valley area, and reach a gorge in the mountain that leads through what used to be, more than likely, a water way through the mountains eons ago.  With Y leading, we climb up and down the rocks.  I'm grateful that the loafer style Crocs that I wore stay on my feet and are supportive throughout the whole climb.  I'm also grateful that I don't have to hike my skirt up past my knees on the inclines.  They show me spots on the rocky wall where names in Arabic have unexplainably been written (no evidence of a chiseling method).

We declare the impromptu excursion a success (Y: "You are a good climber!"), and head back to the house.  By this time, the male neighbors are seated in the flat valley area, having coffee in the shade of a tree with goats bantering back and forth to each other.  S, the patriarch from that neighbor faction, shouts to us, "Tal! Kahawa! [Come! Coffee!]".  M agrees, and we walk to where they are sitting.  All the men rise, standing in a U-shape formation.  One-by-one, we start at the end of the U and work our way around, shaking hands with each male, saying "Peace be upon you.  How are you?  Good? God be with you!" After everyone has shaken hands (not one objected to shaking hands with me), we sit in the U-shape with me in the middle of the U.  Again, the men are curious about my age, my profession, and inquire the circumstances as to why I'm not married.  Again, I'm served grapes, apples, pomegranate halves, oranges, dates, and more coffee.  It's nearing 5.30pm, and it's my fourth round of "coffee" of the day, in addition to lunch, and I'm starting to feel a little force fed ;)