As the leaves fall in Berlin

As the leaves begin to fall in Berlin, and the wind picks up speed, I find myself standing at a new threshold — starting my fellowship at the Leibniz-Zentrum Moderner Orient (Leibniz Center for Modern Orient or ZMO). The crisp air and shifting palettes outside mirror my own process of reflection and metamorphosis. This fellowship marks not only an academic pursuit but also a personal reckoning, as I study and contemplate Omani digital practices over the years alongside my own evolving relationship with the world.

Berlin’s autumn invites introspection. Each falling leaf feels like a reminder of what must be shed to make space for new growth. My research focuses on how Omanis have navigated digital spaces — from Nokia mobile phones in the 1990s, to early online forums (Seblah and Yahoo chatrooms), and to today’s complex digital ecosystems. Through these practices, I see traces of connection, creativity and control, revealing how technology both liberates and constrains collective narratives. In examining others’ digital histories, I inevitably turn inward, confronting my own shadows: the impulsive actions, the moments of silence, the unexamined beliefs which have shaped my participation in these same networks.

The Leibniz-Zentrum Moderner Orient, located in the quiet Berlin district of Dahlem, provides an ideal setting for this kind of deep reflection. Founded in 1996, ZMO is Germany’s only research institute devoted to the interdisciplinary study of the Middle East, Africa, South and Southeast Asia, and their entanglements with Europe. It fosters critical dialogue on how societies in these regions have experienced and conceptualised modernity, mobility and transformation. Within its historic villa, the air hums with multilingual conversations — Arabic, German, English, French, Urdu, Swahili, Tagalog — each representing a different story of encounter, migration and exchange.

At ZMO, I am surrounded by scholars whose work transcends disciplinary boundaries — anthropologists tracing diasporic belonging, historians examining colonial archives, and social scientists exploring everyday moralities in the modern world. Their commitment to collaborative inquiry mirrors my own desire to situate Omani digital life within broader global conversations about change, adaptation and identity.

What excites me most about ZMO’s approach is its emphasis on connected histories — on understanding regions not in isolation but through the webs of relationships that tie them together. This perspective encourages me to consider how Omani digital practices, though rooted in local culture, are shaped by global flows of technology, capital and discourse.

In this vibrant intellectual environment, I find both grounding and inspiration. ZMO’s research themes — such as moral orders, mobility and temporality — resonate deeply with my work. The institute’s interdisciplinary ethos encourages me to bridge digital ethnography with cultural analysis, to think of technology not as an abstract system but as a lived experience intertwined with politics, memory and emotion. Every seminar, every informal conversation over coffee, opens new paths of inquiry.

There is also something quietly transformative about being in Berlin itself. The city’s layered history — of division and reunification, destruction and rebuilding — echoes the very themes I grapple with in my research: continuity and rupture, forgetting and remembering. Just as Berlin continuously reinvents itself while preserving its scars, Oman’s digital landscape tells a story of resilience, adaptation and redefinition.

As the Berlin days grow shorter, I walk through the tree-lined streets towards ZMO each morning, carrying with me questions about what it means to be modern, to be (an) Omani (woman), and to be human in an increasingly digital world. The rhythm of this city, coupled with the intellectual pulse of the institute, propels me to think critically yet compassionately about our shared digital pasts and futures.

Ultimately, this fellowship is more than a scholarly milestone — it is a moment of release. As the fallen leaves dropped on rain-drenched sidewalks multiply, I hope that this season of research and reflection at ZMO will help me see more clearly how the digital traces we leave behind are not merely artefacts of technology but echoes of our humanity, constantly reshaped by the worlds — real and virtual — we inhabit.