Mirbat

Mirbat is an old port on the Dhofar coast, and for centuries one of its most important. Frankincense from the valleys behind the mountains was brought down to its anchorage and shipped across the Indian Ocean, reaching in ancient times markets as distant as China; the town was known to the classical world as Moscha. Merchants from across the Indian Ocean called here, and the coral-stone houses of the old quarter, with their carved doors and decorated plasterwork, were built on that trade.

In the medieval period Mirbat was one of the main settlements of Dhofar, and its anchorage was one of the few usable ones on a coast without large harbours. Its decline came as trade shifted to Zafar, the port whose ruins stand at Al Baleed in Salalah, and later to steamships and modern harbours; by the 20th century the town lived mainly from fishing.

Mirbat is best known internationally for a battle of the Dhofar war. On 19 July 1972 a large force of rebels attacked the town's fort and the positions around it; the small garrison, which included a detachment of British soldiers serving with the Sultan's forces, held out until reinforcements and air support arrived, and the attackers withdrew around midday. The rebellion was declared defeated in January 1976. Since then Mirbat has had roads, electricity, schools and a new harbour, and diving and coastal tourism have brought a modest new source of income.

Mirbat belongs to Dhofar rather than to northern Oman, and the difference is audible. Arabic is the common language, but Jibbali, also called Shehri, is spoken in the mountains immediately behind the town, and families move between the coast and the highland pastures. Kinship ties run east to Yemen and across the sea to East Africa and India, a legacy of the centuries when the town's living came from the water.

Religious life is central. The mausoleum on the edge of town, associated with Bin Ali, has long drawn visitors, and the cemetery around it, with its upright carved headstones, is treated with care. Frankincense is burned at home and offered to guests, and the daily round is marked by the calls to prayer and by the quiet of the early afternoon.

Hospitality is practised strictly: a visitor who stops is offered coffee before any business is discussed, and refusing outright is avoided. Dress is modest, and the abaya is usual for women in the town. The old skills — building boats, reading weather, diving for abalone, handling camels — are still respected, and the wreck of the town's trading past is regarded with some pride: the ruined merchant houses are not simply neglected buildings but the evidence of a place that once mattered far beyond its size.

Mirbat is small, with a population of close to ten thousand, and its life runs on fishing and government employment. Boats leave before dawn and come back through the morning to the harbour, where the catch is sorted, iced and mostly trucked west to Salalah; kingfish, tuna, sardines, lobster and abalone are the mainstays, and the sardine catch is dried on the shore. The wilayat around the town also keeps cattle and camels on the mountain pastures, which are grazed hard after the monsoon rains.

The modern town of villas, shops, a school, a health centre and mosques has grown inland and along the road, while the old quarter has largely emptied: families moved into concrete houses with water and electricity, and the coral houses were left to fall in. A small tourist economy — divers, birdwatchers, day visitors from Salalah and the khareef crowds — supports a few hotels, boat operators and restaurants.

The rhythm of the day follows the heat and the prayer times: early work, a long quiet middle of the day, then a second opening of shops in the late afternoon and a busy, sociable evening on the seafront. Many younger people leave for Salalah or the Gulf for work, and the town's questions are those of small coastal places everywhere — jobs, fish stocks, and how much to rebuild of what is left of the old houses.

The sea provides almost everything. Kingfish, locally the most prized, is grilled whole or cut into steaks; tuna, grouper, emperor and sardines are fried or curried, and lobster and abalone are gathered off this coast, the latter in a short season. Mashuai, a whole kingfish roasted on a spit and served on rice cooked with lemon, is the dish for guests, and salted, sun-dried fish is a long-standing way of preserving a catch in the heat.

Everyday eating is plain and shared: rice with fish or goat, flat khubz bread torn and used to scoop, dates before and after. Majboos, spiced rice with meat or fish, marks festive days, and shuwa, meat spiced, wrapped and cooked for a day in a pit dug in the ground, belongs to Eid. Mountain families supply ghee, milk and meat from cattle and camels, and camel meat is eaten more here than in most of Arabia.

Drinks and sweets follow the Omani pattern. Kahwa, pale coffee with cardamom and sometimes rosewater, is poured in small cups and refilled until the cup is shaken; halwa, the dense sweet of sugar, starch, rosewater, saffron and nuts, is eaten with the fingers alongside it. Karak-style milky tea and fresh lime juice are the usual drinks in the town's cafés, and bananas, papayas and coconuts come in from the Salalah plain.