I meant to blog about this quite awhile ago but forgot, and then the last two times I tried, the "box" that you write your blog in wasn't loading for me. My poor blog. Either it's the pictures or something else that seems to get wonky for awhile.
But it's working tonight! Here I am.
Back at the beginning of January when we took Andrew to Nizwa, we noticed this weird area of stones just off the highway. It was quite an expanse of rocks that were clearly placed all over the ground, but there was no noticeable patter or organization to it. We fathomed the guess to each other of a cemetery, but the stones were way to close together to be that many grave markers. On we drove for a few miles and I scanned through our Lonely Planet guide book for tidbits of information on the city we were headed to. After the part on Nizwa, I read through a short section on an area outside of Nizwa where you could go see the Beehive stone tombs (round stacked stone above ground graves). It talked about how they were an odd archeological find since traditional Omani graves were simply two stones marking the head and foot of the grave. Well, thank you God for that answer! We hadn't even asked! Since Aberly was konked out napping on the way home, we weren't able to try to get to it on the way home for a quick adventure, so I decided to go find the way to it another time if we headed that way.
Along came Skip a week later for his visit and he was interested in going to Nizwa as well. Perfect. Aberly was with one of the nannies for the day so I knew we would not be hindered by a two-year old passenger. I pointed it out to him on the way out to Nizwa that day and told him about what we had figured out on our last trip with Andrew. Then I said, "Wanna try to get to it on the way back?", which was really a statement that meant, "Hey, we're going to try to get to it on our way home, so I hope you are ready!". Poor guy, he got the pleasure of coming along on my morbid adventure.
We knew the exit we needed, it was just figuring out the road that would lead to it once we got across the highway. We took a few wrong turns the first time and then finally figured it out on the third try. It was down a long, gravel road. No formal markers to get there, no name, no nothing.
When you get to the graveyard itself, you can see much more easily all the plots, but they are not in any order. Where people can find an open space, that is where they bury. They don't bury deep due to the hard, rocky soil, so fresh graves, which were quite numerous, were raised mounds above the ground. Some recent graves were also encircled by stones. Old graves were weathered, and I tripped once on a low rock at one point, realizing when looking down that it was a head or foot marker, barely sticking out of the ground after years of wear and shifting earth.
There were many child and baby graves, a solemn reminder of the harsher life many Omani's experience outside of the big cities. Although health care here is quite good, those on the outskirts may not always be able to access it. There were also many fresh child graves as well.
Skip was the one who noticed the bones a few minutes into our trip. It was just two. Both were old and probably exposed from the weather or wild dogs. One appeared to be a leg/knee bone and the other a rib.
It was a surreal experience being there. It was clear that this was a highly used, and old cemetery. You always wondered if someone was buried under foot since some areas were so dense with plots that it was hard to tell where you stepped if you were on or between graves. The area was quite large so you were surrounded by markers everywhere. The fresh graves made you sad for the ones most recently lost. The lack of any kind of reference to the dead was odd.
Based on the little information I've been able to gather, Islam believes in simple burials for the dead, so therefore the tombs/graves are very simple. I also suspect that based on their long history and way of life for so many years, that death in itself is viewed as just another part of the life cycle and with their belief of Insha Allah (God willing), death is God willed, so you accept what has happened as a part of God's plan. No doubt there is mourning, but once that has happened, you bury the body, the soul is in heaven with God, and you move on with your life. This may be wrong hypothesis and I hope to find out. It is a subject I hope to broach at some point with a local when I have the chance.
But it's working tonight! Here I am.
Back at the beginning of January when we took Andrew to Nizwa, we noticed this weird area of stones just off the highway. It was quite an expanse of rocks that were clearly placed all over the ground, but there was no noticeable patter or organization to it. We fathomed the guess to each other of a cemetery, but the stones were way to close together to be that many grave markers. On we drove for a few miles and I scanned through our Lonely Planet guide book for tidbits of information on the city we were headed to. After the part on Nizwa, I read through a short section on an area outside of Nizwa where you could go see the Beehive stone tombs (round stacked stone above ground graves). It talked about how they were an odd archeological find since traditional Omani graves were simply two stones marking the head and foot of the grave. Well, thank you God for that answer! We hadn't even asked! Since Aberly was konked out napping on the way home, we weren't able to try to get to it on the way home for a quick adventure, so I decided to go find the way to it another time if we headed that way.
Along came Skip a week later for his visit and he was interested in going to Nizwa as well. Perfect. Aberly was with one of the nannies for the day so I knew we would not be hindered by a two-year old passenger. I pointed it out to him on the way out to Nizwa that day and told him about what we had figured out on our last trip with Andrew. Then I said, "Wanna try to get to it on the way back?", which was really a statement that meant, "Hey, we're going to try to get to it on our way home, so I hope you are ready!". Poor guy, he got the pleasure of coming along on my morbid adventure.
We knew the exit we needed, it was just figuring out the road that would lead to it once we got across the highway. We took a few wrong turns the first time and then finally figured it out on the third try. It was down a long, gravel road. No formal markers to get there, no name, no nothing.
When you get to the graveyard itself, you can see much more easily all the plots, but they are not in any order. Where people can find an open space, that is where they bury. They don't bury deep due to the hard, rocky soil, so fresh graves, which were quite numerous, were raised mounds above the ground. Some recent graves were also encircled by stones. Old graves were weathered, and I tripped once on a low rock at one point, realizing when looking down that it was a head or foot marker, barely sticking out of the ground after years of wear and shifting earth.
There were many child and baby graves, a solemn reminder of the harsher life many Omani's experience outside of the big cities. Although health care here is quite good, those on the outskirts may not always be able to access it. There were also many fresh child graves as well.
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