WE, IN THE WESTERN WORLD, have plenty of doors.
Front doors for who really matters to us: us.
Screen doors for annoyance.
Back doors for convenience.
Doggie doors for independent friends.
Garage doors for “precious metal and plastic.”
Sliding doors for muscle training.
Revolving doors for a pinch of confusion and swift punishment.
French doors for elegance and fancy.
Dutch doors for—I don’t know, heritage?
Enough!
Doors, checked.
Beautiful doors? Missing.
Is that important? Does “door beauty” matter?
Of course it does!
Because what is a door? Is it just a barrier to keep the elements out?
That’s like saying that your eyes are a couple of balls to let the light in. No, eyes are the windows to your soul.
And doors too can be way more than just points of entry and exit.
They can be silent statements of who you are, or perhaps who you’d like to be. They can tell stories, be portals carrying you into a different universe, that of your own making.
As Jim Morrison once said, “There are things known and things unknown and in between are the doors.”
If, beyond the means, you give them meaning, doors can be just as unique as you are. They can be transformed into true pieces of art. And this is exactly what the traditional carved wooden doors of Oman are. Remnants of the past piercing the present that might belong to a bygone era, yet they still hold value and significance. And they are beautiful.
Walking around historical villages like Birkat Al Mouz, Harat al Yemeni or Majzi is like walking into a fairy tale land of magic, wonders and secrets.
Along empty, dusty streets, the crumbling mud brick houses are still guarded by doors of such intricate beauty that one can’t help but gaze at them, almost scared that if touched, they would disappear. Like magic.
Why shouldn’t they? After centuries of silently standing up to the elements, they might very well be gone. But no. The doors of Oman mirror the strength and resilience of the people of this arid land. Made of local ghaf wood, a tree indigenous to Oman, UAE and Saudi Arabia, they are strong and tolerant to the harsh weather conditions. And they are still standing, entrancing, bewitching, feeding each passing soul with love and wonder.
From rosette flower designs, a motif that can be found in all the ancient world—Mesopotamia, Egypt, Greece—to geometrics and abstract designs, the decoration possibilities are infinite. Sometimes you can see pineapples, fish scales, or ropes. Other times, beads or verses from the Qur’an, greetings, poems, even the name of the owner, carved in attractive Arabic script.
Following the Islamic tradition, perfect symmetry is avoided and imperfections are deliberately included in any design.
Usually, the type of decorations speak of the profession of the owner of the house or tell you about the place where he was born. And the amount and quality of the carvings reveals the economic status of the family. Wealthy families have doors with elaborate designs, sometimes decorative metal studs or spikes on them, while less economically fortunate families can be recognised by a more minimalistic design.
In contrast, the reverse of the doors or their inside is never decorated. It is entirely plain, even roughly finished.
Now, the original charm of each door is enhanced by fissures and cracks, a reminder that time can rob us of youth, but it can never rob us of true beauty that shines through our actions from the day we are born and stays behind even when we’re gone.
All are short and small, a characteristic of many Arab doors, forcing you to bow when you enter, a symbolic gesture showing humility and respect to the place and its owner.
To praise Allah and its teachers, the ones at mosques and schools are even smaller.
Sometimes, within the main door, there is a super “mini” door, known as al farkha. In the old days, the al farkha used to protect the privacy of the family. When strangers would knock, residents would open only this one so that a single person could squeeze through it and pass things without being intrusive.
This mini door was also an effective burglar deterrent. A thief could not carry too many things through the al farkha. He had to struggle to open the much bigger and heavier door.
The al farkha can be found in many Omani forts too. Behind the massive, ornately-carved doors, you can still see this small cut-out door that, back in the days, allowed only one stooping visitor at a time.
To talk about Oman and not talk about doors is like saying half a story. In Oman, you don’t just look at a door, you read a door. Because….What is a door than a hope you’ll open,
What is a door than denial soft spoken,
What is a door than your beauty well-hidden,
What is a door than punishment for the things I wish I didn’t.
Excerpt from Carol’s latest book, “OMSARUZ, Humorous tales from Oman, Saudi Arabia and Uzbekistan”
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