Issue 141 (May - June)

p. 13 A s a youngster, our tiny barasti dwelling close to the coastline seemed vast. Our sole furnishings were thin mattresses, blankets, cushions and a handmade rug. We had a solitary bed which no one slept in. At times of the year, huge waves would drench our bedding. At others, there was no escape from unforgiving heat, humidity, sandstorms and malaria-carrying mosquitoes. Electricity was the stuff of dreams. We ate with our hands from a communal tray on the ground. Our toilet was a hole in the ground some distance away. Yet, despite discomforts, we were grateful for the little we had. We were happy. I learned never to judge a man by his possessions but rather the gold enwrapped in his heart. HOME SWEET HOME WIND TOWER HOUSES Around the 1960s, the houses that were built with palm leaves were replaced, with more space, bigger rooms and more solid walls M embers of the ruling family, wealthy merchants, pearl traders and foreign officials lived in imposing multi-storied coral and limestone wind tower houses (known as Beit Morjan) constructed around a courtyard. They often boasted extensive women’s quarters and majlises (meeting rooms) where guests would be received. Some of the more elaborate barasti homes were also cooled by simple wind towers.