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"I will be diving Ghais," he explained emphatically. "It is good for
me; it makes my body stronger." He smiled. His teeth were not
only white, but also slightly shiny, perfectly clean because of the
"siwak," a natural toothbrush, he was continually putting in his
mouth. For a minute, I thought about what he had said earlier about
losing his health. This was hard to imagine. We stood up and
began walking along the beach, making for the shallow banks of the
sea. Along the shore, half a dozen horses hauled carts from the
customs quay to the various stores. I was surprised, knowing that
Arabs were literally in love with their horses and rarely made them
work or lay hands on them. Along the haven we also met camel
and sheep hordes. I licked my upper lip where salt had deposited a
thin layer. I stopped so I could grasp my goatskin bottle I was
carrying over my shoulder. After offering some water to my
companion, I drank heavily. It was refreshing to walk along the
almost sea, pure and natural, like a crystal. And it was relaxing to
be here with a stranger who had the gaze of a dove. It felt almost
like home. It was like belonging.
"I feel groovy," I thought cutely.
There were lots of activities performed along this coast.
Near a sculpture showing the diversity of the thousand of varieties
of fish in the Red Sea, men built boats and repaired nets.
Djaliil already greeted friends, introducing me to elders.
Afterwards, he put his hand on my shoulder, instructing:
"Baab will show you how we build ships in Jiddah." He looked
triumphant, proud of me somehow. Baab and I shared some
greetings and words about the weather. He inquired about my
family's health, then he praised Allah profusely. Finally, he signaled
me to seat near the framework of a boat in construction. The noble
man was easy to understand because he was very expressive. His
face quite tanned was welcoming and showed the marks of many
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laughers at the corner of his eyes. He wore a white knit cap on the
top of his head and skirt typical of the Red Sea.
He explained:
"We have finished with building the skeleton of the ship. See,
there is no streaming or artificial bending of the wood. We take the
natural curves of the tree trunk, its limbs and crotches, into account
to fit it into the frame. The ribs of wood are like a woman's spirit; it
is curved, but if you bend it, it breaks. Therefore it is important to
treat her kindly." He laughed.
I looked at the construction, now not only interested but also
amused. The frame really appeared like a rib cage, but there was
something comforting in its shape, something round, warm and
peaceful. Watching the men working, I felt once more at home,
maybe because of the simplicity of the whole situation.
The scene I witnessed was as if part of a dream. I mused about
how the human contact was easy on this beach. "Nobody takes
your hand and walks with you part of the way, but here you are,
and this is truly happening to you." I also thought about how real
people these carpenters were. And Djaliil was genuine as well. I
was more and more amazed at this country where people actually
loved others. The skillful artisan was driving large and flat headed
iron spikes into drilled holes, which were then made watertight by
twisting collars of raw cotton about them.
The spikes and the cotton looked local, not of industrial
manufacture. All looked so true, as if taken from a traveler's book.
The picture of the ribs could stay there indefinitely. However, jars
of sesame oil waiting about the area gave a tangible touch to the
scene. They would stay there, immobile, waiting the finishing of the
side planking and the caulking to be mixed with paints. I turned
slightly towards the sea, suddenly aware that my host had
disappeared. I looked around. There he was, the scum of the sea
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