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Thursday 2007-04-12 - Al Mukalla, Yemen
“Mumkin?”
I’m getting up early today: after visiting the old town of Al Mukalla yesterday, I want to see some more of the new town today before we leave - we only had a glimpse yesterday when we arrived. As soon as it gets light I go out and walk along the sea-side boulevard in the direction of the new town. Sooner than expected, I see the old Sultan’s Palace which marks the end of the old town. A little farther on, the road goes over a bridge across a sea arm that goes right into the town; a nice boulevard is on each side, and there are several pedestrian bridges across it. There is even a fountain (spouting sea water!) in the middle. I go and sit on one of the benches that for now are still in the shade, and just watch — it’s a very pleasant area — enjoying one of the few moments of relaxation during this trip.
I’ve been picking up some useful phrases of Yemeni Arabic (partly with the help of my little language guide) — simple things like la (no), aiwa (yes), shukran (thank you), some greetings. Another useful phrase is mumkin sura? (may I take a picture?) — sura means picture, mumkin? a general “may I…?”: one doesn’t just take a picture of people here in Yemen — especially not of women — but asking politely often gets permission, at least from men and small children. With women it’s more complicated: even if they give permission (rarely), the husband may not allow it and you can’t take the picture anyway or the woman may get into trouble with her husband; the other way round happens, too: a woman saying no while her husband say yes — in which case of course you respect the woman’s wishes.
Now, while I sit on the bench watching the fountain and the pedestrian bridge a little farther away, in the sun by now, as the sun slowly rises above the mountain, two women come walking along the boulevard, cheerfully saying “Hello!” to me (in English). When they’re 30m past me, they suddenly stop; one of them makes a “photo” gesture in front of her eyes and asks: “Mumkin?” It takes a second or two before it sinks in that she is asking me to have her picture taken. But of course! Quickly, they come walking back, and the woman crouches half in front of me and quickly takes off her niqab, revealing a friendly face with very beautiful brown eyes. The light on her face is just right. When I show her the portrait, she’s quite happy, and thanks me with her hand on her heart — quickly flipping her niqab back again: a man is approaching us.
Sometimes I wonder: why are people asking to have their picture taken while not asking to have it sent to them? With children, it must be the excitement of the procedure and of seeing their own face on the magic little box. But grown-ups — just so they’ll know they’ll be remembered? I’ll certainly remember this friendly young woman with the beautiful eyes in Al Mukalla. Such a pity we can’t chat.
