The farmlands of Yahmadi
By Ismael D Mujahid -
THE farmlands of Yahmadi are as old as some of the forts and castles the nation is famous for. Their lush, evergreen palms poke out all over, and can easily be seen from the main highway. A quick walk through the dirt road and farms that call this place home is a must for the would be traveller.
Located not 20 minutes from the main roundabout, you will have to pass the large and towering Bait al Yahmadi fort to get here. The tale of the fort itself is connected to those farmlands. It was built as a safe haven for farmers in times of war, during the internecine tribal conflicts that once plagued the region. Attackers and even scouts were on the constant move between one city and another. For them the quick Arabian stallion was the preferred mode of travel. Without warning, they could swoop down with speed and power on any unsuspecting farmers. The only sign of an enemy invasion was that of a large dust cloud, left behind by the stamping horses, and to that end large defensive structures like these were built.
In the shade of their own palms and knowing a good watch was kept, the farmers of old would come time and again working from 4-12:30 and then again from 4 pm-7. Many of them still remember those times.
“It rains so little here, back then we could hardly grow anything” Khalid, a village elder, told me.
“We only grew dates back then. We did not have the luxury of water trucks, the only crop that ever lasted was dates. We made everything from them.”
For me, I found it interesting how the relative calm of the farms belied the history behind them.
“It wasn’t safe. If someone was killed in a quarrel their tribe would go looking for revenge. They would take whoever they found, even if you had nothing to do with it.”
Times were rough, to say the least. But as long as they could farm, they somehow survived. It was in times of drought, that the lives of these farmers truly took a turn for the worst.
“We could not afford rice. We just ate dates and sometimes we could go to Sur, buy fish, salt them and then come back. That was when we could afford it. Sometimes it would not rain for 2-3 years.”
Droughts like those were harsh. With little to no outside assistance, they did what they could to survive. Most ran wherever they could go.
“A lot of my friends ran to Zanzibar, some went to Sohar” another elder said.
“I myself went to Bahrain. Truthfully, we went wherever we could. When I got to Manama, I was stunned. They had roads, schools, hospitals-they had everything. I couldn’t understand how they had it, but we did not. Now, Alhamdillah, under His Majesty the Sultan’s leadership things are different, but back then life was far from easy.”
Times would get so difficult, that eventually, whole villages would be depopulated. People were forced to run where they could and those that didn’t died.
“Here in Yahmadi, there was no one. We all ran, left our houses, our farms, everything.”
Now, many of those farmers have returned, although there are still many with family all over the place. Some stayed behind in Manama or Abu Dhabi, whilst others are stuck in other continents with no hope of ever coming back.
For those that returned, life could not be better. The farms are as green as they’ve ever been and the peace of the late 70’s has held till today. Many appreciate the tranquility of the farmlands and prefer it over any other place. Most of these old farmers still rise after the morning prayer and make their way down the dirt road, passed Bait al Yahmadi just as they have for the past few decades.
An old falaj services the main network of farms and has been doing just that for four-hundred years. Here is where you’ll find most of them after long day of work before heading home for coffee.
Each and every one of these elders is just happy to be alive but hope the lessons of the past are not lost on the youth today.
“Now we have everything, but I just hope the youth do not forget how hard things were and become lazy. We can’t have that.”
I could not have said it any better myself.
Tuesday 20th, May 2014 / 21:45 Written by
THE farmlands of Yahmadi are as old as some of the forts and castles the nation is famous for. Their lush, evergreen palms poke out all over, and can easily be seen from the main highway. A quick walk through the dirt road and farms that call this place home is a must for the would be traveller.
Located not 20 minutes from the main roundabout, you will have to pass the large and towering Bait al Yahmadi fort to get here. The tale of the fort itself is connected to those farmlands. It was built as a safe haven for farmers in times of war, during the internecine tribal conflicts that once plagued the region. Attackers and even scouts were on the constant move between one city and another. For them the quick Arabian stallion was the preferred mode of travel. Without warning, they could swoop down with speed and power on any unsuspecting farmers. The only sign of an enemy invasion was that of a large dust cloud, left behind by the stamping horses, and to that end large defensive structures like these were built.
In the shade of their own palms and knowing a good watch was kept, the farmers of old would come time and again working from 4-12:30 and then again from 4 pm-7. Many of them still remember those times.
“It rains so little here, back then we could hardly grow anything” Khalid, a village elder, told me.
“We only grew dates back then. We did not have the luxury of water trucks, the only crop that ever lasted was dates. We made everything from them.”
For me, I found it interesting how the relative calm of the farms belied the history behind them.
“It wasn’t safe. If someone was killed in a quarrel their tribe would go looking for revenge. They would take whoever they found, even if you had nothing to do with it.”
Times were rough, to say the least. But as long as they could farm, they somehow survived. It was in times of drought, that the lives of these farmers truly took a turn for the worst.
“We could not afford rice. We just ate dates and sometimes we could go to Sur, buy fish, salt them and then come back. That was when we could afford it. Sometimes it would not rain for 2-3 years.”
Droughts like those were harsh. With little to no outside assistance, they did what they could to survive. Most ran wherever they could go.
“A lot of my friends ran to Zanzibar, some went to Sohar” another elder said.
“I myself went to Bahrain. Truthfully, we went wherever we could. When I got to Manama, I was stunned. They had roads, schools, hospitals-they had everything. I couldn’t understand how they had it, but we did not. Now, Alhamdillah, under His Majesty the Sultan’s leadership things are different, but back then life was far from easy.”
Times would get so difficult, that eventually, whole villages would be depopulated. People were forced to run where they could and those that didn’t died.
“Here in Yahmadi, there was no one. We all ran, left our houses, our farms, everything.”
Now, many of those farmers have returned, although there are still many with family all over the place. Some stayed behind in Manama or Abu Dhabi, whilst others are stuck in other continents with no hope of ever coming back.
For those that returned, life could not be better. The farms are as green as they’ve ever been and the peace of the late 70’s has held till today. Many appreciate the tranquility of the farmlands and prefer it over any other place. Most of these old farmers still rise after the morning prayer and make their way down the dirt road, passed Bait al Yahmadi just as they have for the past few decades.
An old falaj services the main network of farms and has been doing just that for four-hundred years. Here is where you’ll find most of them after long day of work before heading home for coffee.
Each and every one of these elders is just happy to be alive but hope the lessons of the past are not lost on the youth today.
“Now we have everything, but I just hope the youth do not forget how hard things were and become lazy. We can’t have that.”
I could not have said it any better myself.
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