Taking photos of places and then returning to document changes is one of the activities I enjoy. I drive across the country looking for new roads, buildings, and community growth. It is like throwing light on ‘then and now’.
More than ten years have passed since I first recorded an image of a tree in the middle of the stairs leading to the Bimmah Sinkhole. Upon my return to register the changes at this tourist destination, the tree was gone. I compared this experience to one I had in Croatia, where the authorities built a walking path around a tree in the middle of the track.
I also have photographs of the old Qantab beach, where fishermen kept their boats and boys played football in a picturesque spot. After years, I returned to find a gated community with no free public access to the gorgeous beaches.
Driving on the inside roads of Al Jebal Al Akhadar is a different reality. Everything has changed. The picturesque Al Ayn freshwater spring has been piped and encircled by an unclean pool. The wonderful backdrops that offered breathtaking photographs have been disappearing. The culturally vibrant villages are now abandoned locations.
Little, delicate yellow flowers sprouting from a split massif of black rocks where Lady Di, the former Princess of Wales, previously enjoyed the views, have been incorporated into new constructions. Even a space dedicated to past loved ones seems to have shrunk.
Among the interesting old settlements that I have photographed is Tanuf. It drew my attention to the arrangement of the buildings. The design of this disintegrating historical site reveals symmetry in buildings, safe zones, and easy access to food and water. The ruins are now almost completely destroyed.
I have been visiting villages, mountains, dunes, and the desert and have discovered that I have been recording a pictorial narrative of Oman. Places such as Hart Al Ain, Falaj Al Sawad, Harat Al Yemen, Taq, Ubar, Jalan Bani Buali, Ashkharah, Birkat Al Mouz, the Rock Garden, and Khasab, among many others, have all been documented and lessons learned.
The historic mud city of Sinaw, which I visited a decade ago and again recently, confirms that, while we may learn from the people who lived there and how they integrated their houses around narrow paths and towers, it is a testimony to architecture, society, culture, and economy. These elements enabled me to sort of understand the world of those who lived within the mud walls hundreds of years ago.
Recent residential and commercial activities are inserted into many ruins to accommodate dwellings and businesses, changing the appearance of historical and cultural bridges. It is part of an entangled social and political buildup.
The tomb of Bib Mariam in the ancient city of Qalhat also tells the story of abandonment and stone wall degradation. It is a spectacular connection across cultures and architectural structures. The photos taken more than a decade ago compared to just one year ago raise questions about why such an important historical site is allowed to collapse before our eyes.
The power of a photograph captures cultures, stories, and details that are hidden from the casual observer. It is an open book of rituals, traditions, and resilience. Dominic Lopes, in the chapter Pictorial Meaning in his book Understanding Pictures, writes, “Pictures are representations that embody information derived from scenes or objects... Just as pictures can be put to many representational uses, so they can be understood in many ways.”
This casual, thought-provoking, and non-linear connection between photography, ethnography, and anthropology offers views on social progress. The pictures I have taken enrich my understanding of Oman and its people. Every photo tells a unique narrative; some are intriguing, while others highlight concerns about preserving a rich past.
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