A visit to a fishing village

The tarmac road turned into a dirt road then became narrower and narrower. We descended down the little track between houses closely packed together, trying to avoid small children and goats wandering about! At last we turned the last tight corner and arrived in front of a rather impressive mosque, quite a contrast to the fishing shacks and houses of the village. I was just trying to decide where to park the car when I noticed a man waving me enthusiastically towards a space under a tin covered roof. I later discovered he was the uncle of the family we were visiting and lived next door. He, and most of the village, had been informed of our visit and were ready to be very hospitable.

The Fishing Village

Something smells a bit fishy

We were visiting some ladies that we had met previously at a friend's house in town. There was about 7 women who were all related in different ways. I had to concentrate to understand the Arabic of the grandmother of the family but she was full of smiles. After being given cold drinks, the ladies suggested that we went to the beach. It was a short walk past the fishing shacks, nets and boats to the beach. There was a strong odour of fish! Most of the men of the village were fishermen and most of the families were related in some way. Our friend pointed out her nephew's house, uncle's house and cousin's house all nearby.

The Fishing Boats

Seaside scramble

The walk along the beach turned into a scramble over rocks to walk to the head point - not the easiest thing with 2 small children! Also probably not the easiest thing for our friends wearing their baltos and head coverings, but they were used to it! When we reached the end we were surprised to see some teenage boys swimming in the waves crashing against the rocks. Most people in Yemen cannot swim but these lads had grown up by the sea and were strong swimmers.

Conservative Swimwear

We scrambled back and sat by one of the fishing shacks on some of the nets. I asked if the fishermen minded us sitting and walking on their nets but the women said it didn't matter. I wonder how many holes in the nets the fishermen have to repair! Kira and Isaiah enjoyed playing in the sand and I had to chase Isaiah a few times to stop him diving into the sea (I hadn't brought any spare clothes). The local girls went in fully clothed and enjoyed splashing around.


No fish for dinner!

After returning to the house and washing off the sand we were treated to a supper of spicy potatoes and lentils and a local dish made of bulgar wheat as well as samosas. Surprisingly, there were no fish. A plastic sheet was spread on the floor and we all ate communally from the dishes.

We said our goodbyes and I was thankful once we'd navigated the narrow track in the dark without damage! Once home, our friends called to ask if we'd arrived home safely. It was once again humbling to receive such hospitality and see their sense of responsibility for their guests.