A small room in Rustaq becomes an archive of Omani life

In Rustaq, heritage is not confined to forts, museums, or formally restored sites. It appears in smaller, quieter ways, in neighbourhoods where people still know one another, in farms worked patiently over generations, and in houses that continue to carry stories even as their original functions evolve. Increasingly, these everyday traces of the past are finding new relevance, driven by individuals who see value in documenting and sharing what still exists around them.
One of those individuals is Saeed al Abri, a Rustaq resident whose social media presence has gradually become a record of Omani life as it is lived, not curated. Through short videos and photographs, Saeed offers glimpses into routines and traditions that many recognise instinctively, yet rarely stop to observe closely.
“I love heritage in general and have a passion for this field,” Saeed shared.
That passion is reflected in the range of moments he chooses to document. On one day, he shows the traditional process of making sugar from sugarcane, handpicked from his own farm, pressed through trusted machines, then slowly cooked until it thickens. It is a process that demands time and attention, and one that quietly mirrors the pace of life he records elsewhere.
On another day, Saeed walks through his neighbourhood, greeting neighbours, exchanging brief conversations, and introducing viewers to Rustaq through people rather than landmarks. His lens lingers on faces, courtyards, shaded walkways and small gestures of hospitality that define community life. The effect is subtle but deliberate: Rustaq is presented not as a destination, but as a lived place.
Much of his content shifts naturally between agriculture, people and place. There are visits to the local souq, where Saeed highlights unexpected finds: objects that may appear ordinary but carry decades of use and memory. He often visits uncles and neighbours, each with their own collections built over a lifetime. These are not collections assembled with an audience in mind, but personal accumulations: old radios, utensils, tools and household items kept because they were useful, meaningful, or simply familiar.
Saeed also uses his platform to document craftsmanship that still survives in the area. He spends time with local artisans who demonstrate how khanjars are repaired and maintained properly, explaining techniques passed down through practice rather than instruction. Frankincense appears frequently as well—not as a symbolic element, but as a material still actively used, prepared and stored in different ways. Music, too, finds its place, integrated into gatherings and daily routines rather than staged performances.
What is particularly striking is how naturally culture is passed on. In Saeed’s videos, children observe and participate watching elders work, listening to music, engaging with art and craft without formal teaching. Tradition, in this context, is not something preserved deliberately; it continues because it remains present and relevant in daily life.

Alongside this digital documentation, Saeed has created a small heritage space of his own. “It’s a small room, only 4 by 4 meters,” he explained, “built to resemble the architecture of the 70s and 80s, down to the smallest details—from the doors and windows to the wooden ceiling.” Inside are antique pieces from the 1980s and 1990s: appliances, utensils, cushions, floor seating, old soda bottles, sewing tools, mirrors, blankets, and traditional Omani daggers and knives.
“These pieces are not for use; they’re for display only,” Saeed said. “The place is for photography.” The room functions as a visual archive rather than a living space, reflecting the same intent behind his social media work, to document rather than recreate.
Visitors are welcome. “You can visit and take photos,” he added.
He also offered a personal invitation, “And if you want, I can also take you to a large historical house belonging to one of my neighbours. It’s very beautiful and full of history.” In that offer lies a quiet generosity, an openness that mirrors the wider character of the area.
Saeed’s work sits within a broader grassroots movement across Oman, where individuals are increasingly recognising the value of nostalgia not as sentimentality, but as cultural awareness. Old houses are being revisited, family collections re-examined, and everyday practices documented before they quietly disappear. Across the country, there is a growing understanding that heritage is not only about distant history, but about recognising the value of recent memory.
For those interested in Rustaq, its traditional way of life, its people, and the quieter details that shape identity but unsure where to begin, Saeed’s home offers a natural entry point. It is not formal, staged or commercial. It simply reflects a way of life that still exists, and a belief that it is worth paying attention to. You can check out his Instagram @saidoooo87 to follow his personal journey.
Saeed al Abri has created a small heritage space of his own. A small room, only 4 by 4 meters, built to resemble the architecture of the 70s and 80s, down to the smallest details—from the doors and windows to the wooden ceiling and antique pieces.