Yanbu

Yanbu is an old harbour rather than an old city: the name attaches to a cluster of settlements, of which Yanbu Al-Bahr on the coast is the port, Yanbu Al-Nakhl the palm oasis inland, and Yanbu Al-Sinaiyah the modern industrial city. Springs gave the place its name and its reason for being, and from early Islamic times the harbour served Medina, a little over two hundred kilometres inland, as its outlet to the Red Sea. Pilgrims from Egypt landed here, and grain, textiles and coffee moved through it.

Because it lay on the sea road between Egypt and the Hejaz, the town changed hands with the region: Fatimid, Ayyubid and Mamluk authority, then Ottoman rule from the sixteenth century, with the Sharifs of Mecca and Egyptian forces intervening in turn. During the First World War it became a supply base for the Arab Revolt, with arms and stores landed for the campaign against the Ottoman garrisons and the Hejaz Railway; the Ottoman garrison surrendered to the Arab forces in July 1916, and the British officer T. E. Lawrence lived in the town during the campaign.

The modern city dates from 1975, when the government set up the Royal Commission for Jubail and Yanbu and chose the site for a planned industrial city on the Red Sea coast. Pipelines were built across the peninsula from the eastern oilfields, and refineries, petrochemical plants and a deep-water port followed, drawing tens of thousands of workers. The old port town was restored from the 2000s, and tourism along the coast — diving, beaches and the islands to the north — has grown since the kingdom opened to visitors in 2019.

Yanbu's culture is Hejazi and maritime. Generations lived by fishing, pearling, pilot work and the pilgrim trade, and the old quarter's architecture says so: coral stone quarried from the reef, thick walls, and roshan balconies of carved wood that caught the sea breeze and screened the household. Families with Egyptian, Yemeni, Sudanese and Turkish ancestry have been part of the town for generations, and Hejazi Arabic, softer than the dialects of the interior, is spoken here.

The industrial city added a second population — engineers, technicians and their families from across Saudi Arabia and from South Asia, Egypt and the Philippines — who live to the south with their own schools, clubs and beaches. The result is a place with two rhythms: an old coastal town that keeps its market and its evening promenade, and a planned company city built to a grid.

Customs are those of the wider Hejaz. Hospitality is formal and generous, with Arabic coffee and dates offered on arrival; greetings are unhurried; modest dress is expected in public; and the day pauses at the five prayers, with Friday the quietest morning. Weddings and holidays bring drumming and the stick dances of the coast. Ramadan is the social high point of the year, when the old quarter and the corniche stay busy until dawn.

Something over three hundred thousand people live in Yanbu, counting the port town, the industrial city and the surrounding settlements. Most residents live in villas and apartment blocks spread inland from the corniche, or in the planned residential districts of Yanbu Al-Sinaiyah, and nearly every household runs a car. A substantial share of the workforce is made up of foreign workers on contracts to the refineries and construction firms.

The economy is dominated by industry and the sea. Refineries and petrochemical plants process crude piped across the peninsula, the ports handle exports and container traffic, and supporting trades — engineering, logistics, catering, maintenance — employ much of the rest. Fishing continues from the old harbour, government services and schools take up the remainder, and tourism along the coast is a growing addition.

The day starts early and pauses through the hottest hours; the corniche, the markets and the restaurants fill after sunset, when the sea breeze makes the evening comfortable. The weekend is Friday and Saturday, and much of the city spends it on the water or at the beaches north of town. Current issues include the environmental pressure that industry and shipping place on the reefs, the cost of housing, water supply in a desert coastal city, and the shifting fortunes of Red Sea shipping.

Fish is the foundation. The Red Sea supplies hammour, emperor, snapper, kingfish and squid, sold at the harbour market in the morning and cooked simply — grilled over charcoal, fried whole, or baked with spices and tamarind. Sayadiya, fish served on cumin-spiced rice with onion cooked long and dark, is the classic coastal dish, and a whole fish bought at the market can be taken to a nearby kitchen to be cooked to order.

Away from the sea the food is that of the Hejaz. Saleeg, rice simmered in broth and milk until creamy and served with chicken, is a standby; mandi and madfun, meat and rice cooked in a pit oven, came with Yemeni and Hadhrami settlers; and kabsa, spiced rice with lamb or chicken and dried lime, is the everyday family meal, eaten from a shared platter. Breakfast is ful — fava beans stewed with cumin — with flatbread baked against the wall of a clay oven, eggs and white cheese.

Street food follows the coast's mixed population: shawarma, sambusak pastries, mutabbaq folded around egg and minced meat, and balila, boiled chickpeas with cumin, sold from small counters. Dates from Medina's oases and local honey are sold in the markets. Alcohol is illegal in the kingdom, so evenings run on Arabic coffee spiced with cardamom, sweet tea, and fresh mango, guava and lemon-mint juices, with kunafa and basbousa from the sweet shops.