Weaving Tapestries, Painting Pictures, Dreaming Dreams

It began as a cloudy day, the colours were dull and we were on our way to Wafra, about 100 km from our home.
My daughter had applied as a volunteer to an animal shelter and we were going there for her orientation. It was already late and we didn’t have much chance of making it, but we had planned the day’s outing so we decided to go anyway. The road to Wafra goes via the highway to Saudi. Many seas-side resorts and holiday chalets lie close to this road and it is often taken during holidays and the week-ends. We stopped at a fuel station to fill up, at the exit to the station stood a vanette and three men, selling kites. Some tied up kites were flying gaily in the sky, among them there was a black shark. I suddenly got an urge to go into the desert and fly a shark, sadly the idea was scoffed at, a sad fate many of my more exciting ideas meet.

One of the men selling the kites was an old, bearded bedouin, sitting on a chair, smoking a sheesha. He was perfect portrait material, the kind of portrait that one can always be proud of. Unfortunately I missed the opportunity and now I carry his picture in my head and hope to see him again in the same position. After we left the petrol station, the back seat voices started singing “Lets go fly a kite, up to the high of heights, lets go fly a kite and send it soaring, up to the atmosphere, up where the air is clear….” Mary Poppins had always been a great favourite with us as the kids were growing up, not just Mary Poppins but Disney as a whole and even now my elder daughter can quote from a Disney movie to suit many an occasion.

Soon we took the right turn off the highway, to Wafra. Once Wafra must have been all desert, unending plains that touched the horizon. Even now many part of it are just stretches of sand. The acacia trees, which had been planted at the side of the road a few years back, had grown. Parts of the desert was covered with tents, as the Kuwaiti’s revive their traditions of living in the desert during the winter, when on week ends many families live in tents in the desert. Camping is very popular here. Far in the desert to the right, I spotted the lone tree that I had claimed as mine a long time ago. It is too far off to photograph and going closer would take away some of its mystic, so there it stands undisturbed, a proud and solitary testimony of survival under harsh conditions.

Further down the tents thinned out, then disappeared completely and the desert was dotted in some parts by grazing camels and sheep. After we turned left, we came upon triangular pigeon coops standing like remnants of some ancient Inca civilisation.

Some time back, farms were developed artificially in this area, and each farm is bordered by tall Casuarina or Florida Buttonwood trees, which act as a windbreak as well as provide privacy. Normally the Casuarinas turn dull grey green, due to the many dust and sand storms but the Florida buttonwoods continue to gleam. Thousands of sparrows and other birds live in these trees and in the early mornings and late evening one can be entertained by their sweet choir.

Rains usually begin in November and go on till late April. The rains bring the desert alive with wildflowers and grasses and there is little brown and much yellow and green to be seen.

The landscape is dotted with grazing sheep, goats and camels. The vast skies are a riot of colours during sunset and the trees have a washed clean look.

This year though it has been different. It is February now, yet the rains have not really made their presence felt. We have had a number of dull cloudy days but the clouds seem reluctant to lose any of their moisture, and roll away with all the precipitation contained in them, intact. The trees in Wafra were showing signs of the lack of rain. Many were stark, even the gleaming buttonwoods looked bare in places, while in others they continued to thrive only due to artificial irrigation. The sheep and camels were still there but they were given feed as there was barely any grass.

The trees bore a look of neglect but the farms were green and lush, many with fresh vegetables, which are supplied to the many markets from here, including the Central Vegetable market and also the small local farmers market in Wafra itself. The farms assure a constant supply of fresh local vegetables at unbelievably cheap prices. I found an old picture of the farmer’s market.

We visited a spot we usually visit. It has a long column of trees growing close together and had once inspired me to write a poem. Now many of the trees had fallen down but two long rows of trees intertwined together still held a charm

This spot is a microcosm of Wafra, for it has a stretch of desert,

tall casuarinas, and beyond them the lush verdure of a farm. Vegetables growing, date palms and farmhands from Bangla Desh working in the fields

and Arab boys on a week-end stay in their thick brown winter wear, out exploring with their friends and their dog

On the way back we stopped at the side of a road opposite a farm with a green farmhouse and a red gate. Once there were two ponds with grasses and reeds growing on the side of the short drive to the gate. the lamp post at the gate used to glow honey in the evenings. It was another favourite spot. I had taken many pictures of the ponds and the gate and house, which were now only on webshots.

The changes were stark but though the ponds have dried up and it all had a rather neglected and desolate look, the gate still held fascination for my daughters as it had for me once, and they immediately took pictures of it.