Kahwa, anyone?

June 21, 2010
Clink-clink-clang, clink-clink-clang, clink-clang…
We heard that clink clang sound one mid afternoon; a sound that was still audible amidst the bazaar din. We could not see who was making that sound, and so we followed the waves, through the winding lanes of the Muttrah Souq (located behind the Corniche of Muttrah), the oldest and by far the most popular traditional market in Oman, which even today is somewhat immune to the ravages of time or unsullied by modernisation.
And suddenly just smack around the corner, a wizened old character, who seemed to have walked straight out of a storybook, came into our vision. He was making that sweet musical clinking sound as he played with two fenjans (small porcelain cups that serves traditional Omani kahwa).
We watched him as he stopped playing with the fenjans and then started pouring hot, darkish brown liquid into those little cups from a brass kettle.
Some eager-looking buyers crowded around this old Omani, who seemed to be as old as the hills. After he finished serving them hot Omani kahwa and taking 50 baisas per cup, he waddled towards us. Some areas of the souq can be a bit dark and this kahwa seller seemed to move in from the darkness and then suddenly he grinned at us and asked “kahwa?”.
Yes, we chorused as the old man took us to his favourite corner, near the entrance of the souq (Corniche side). We all sat next to him as he poured piping hot kahwa from his kettle. It had a fire container which had live coals that kept the kahwa perpetually hot.
We drank the hot liquid and then some of us asked him for more. It was an unusual setting. There were people moving around us, some barely noticed; others walked around stopped, stared and even participated in our little tete-a-tete with one of the most interesting and colourful personalities at the Muttrah souq --- Salim bin Shunoon bin Salim bin Obaid bin Salim Al Akhzami, 65.
Part of Muttrah souq lore
Somehow, Salim has become part of the Muttrah souq lore. And anyone who visits the bazaar can only leave it without meeting this legendary kahwa maker, who has been selling Omani coffee in the souq since the last 50 years or so.
Amidst clinking of the cups, kahwa and more kahwa and the unmistakable smell of Bukhoor wafting into our nostrils, Salim unveiled his unusual coffee tale. How many years has he been doing this, we asked indicating his kettle. “Many years back,” he tells Black & White. “Maybe more than 50 years.” Other Omanis who had gathered around told us that they have been seeing him since many decades. “We always thought that someone should write about him and let the world know about our beloved kahwa maker. He has been part of this souq as long as I can remember,” Essa Saleh Ali Al Balushi, who ran an audio cassette shop in Muttrah and a regular customer of Salim added.
We wanted to get up and buy some Omani halwa to go along with this hot kahwa, but Salim was sweetly unveiling his kahwa story. “It was different,” he tells us as his eyes sparkled in the dim lit souq area. “The souq, the people, the buying and selling, everything was different then…there was no life beyond the souq for many of us. Today, it has all changed…except,” Salim twinkled, “Except for my kahwa!”
Neither has his Kahwa, nor has the kahwa maker changed. The kahwa making tradition is something that has been passed on to him by his father, to his father, by his grandfather and so on. “It has been a tradition in my family.”
That was alright, but, why was had he taken to selling it to the people and the visitors in the souq? “Well, that just happened. Kahwa used to be made in big quantity in my home in those days. The surplus was taken out and sold. But, although all of them in my family made great kahwa, I was entrusted with the task of selling it.”
From masonry to kahwa
Salim’s dad was into handlooms, mainly into making wisars. “I was a professional mason, but, soon my legs gave away and I decided to take up my hobby into a fulltime job,” Salim said, explaining how he got to being a fulltime kahwa maker.
A fulltime kahwa maker’s job is hardly a cakewalk. “I am up by 3am everyday and start making my kahwa,” Salim tells us. He makes kahwa in the traditional Omani way. “It is almost like an art. I use the traditional Silani coffee beans, rosewater, spices and herbs. I let it simmer and cool as I finish my morning prayers.
“I start the day selling kahwa in the early hours itself before I get on my souq coffee trail. I have a regular route along the Corniche area. I actually begin my day selling on this path.”
Salim sells 600 cups of kahwas (around 200 per kettle) a day. Earlier, he was known to sell it for virtually nothing, but today, he sells a cup for 50baisa. “I used to buy kahwa from him for 10 baisas,” remembers Murtada Abdul Khaliq Al Lawati, the project manager, Ghaliya’s Museum of Modern Art, which is close to the souq. “I have been seeing the venerable old man since 1978, if I am not mistaken. He used to sell kahwa in steel kettles,” Murtada, who also owns an Omani antiquities shop in the souq, further recalled.
“My father used to own a shop here and Salim used to buy kettles from him. He was very particular that he obtained the German made kettles,” Murtada said, adding that the German ones were quite a hardy and heavy duty version of the current flimsy kettles.
“But, the one I am having is 20 years old,” Salim announces, proudly displaying his soot-stained yet ruddy kettle. We couldn’t believe it was that old and told him so, and he raised the kettle stating that it was not only old, but also sturdy, like him. “(He) is my partner for the last 20 years. Sturdy and strong. They don’t make kettles like this anymore,” he laughs.
Indeed, there are very few like Salim out here today doing what he does for a living and hardly bothered about profit or loss. “I sell three kettles (of kahwa) in a day that is approximately 200 kahwas per kettle. And today I sell it at 50 baisas. My mind is unable to make any calculations on profit and loss. I am engaged and I cannot think of a day without coming out to the souq to sell kahwa. It is my life. I also think Omani kahwa is unbeatable; no brand in the world can replace it, maybe our younger generation may feel it is not a job, but I really wish that someone should take it up as a full time profession in a big way.”
But, he does not see the modern day youngsters ever interested in selling kahwa today. “They are mostly into computers, and are always immersed on computer or TV screen. I don’t know what they find in computers!
“Education should not make anyone feel ashamed of any job, or create a mindset a job is too little or too big. Probably because I am not too educated, my life is not too complex.”
Salim also noted that his son does not want to do anything with kahwa. “He is happy with his studies and the computers. But my life is not complete without the kahwa. I cannot compel the younger generation to take up everything we believe in. but, somewhere in the corner of my mind I feel what after me? Someone will come up, I am sure. And yes, there is one young boy who is also selling here, maybe others might join too.”
Salim noted how modernisation has assaulted tradition and also changing many things around him. “But, perhaps, we belong to a different era. We grew up with certain traditions, food and routine. My life is not complete without the traditional kahwa; it is a habit; it is a part of my living.”
Is that why he continues to sell kahwa in the souq?
“Why do I do it? No, not for profit! Yes, I do eke out a living by selling kahwa, but not to make money! At my age, I have nothing else to do. Making kahwa and selling it has become my life now. Every cup I pour out to a customer is sheer happiness for me. I cannot think of a day I am doing something else. Everyone in this souk are like members of my family. There are many regulars for me, and I am a regular for many. When I started off, this souk was not a building of cement and concrete, the top portion was made of cloth or canvas. Times have changed, but I haven’t. Okay, I used to sell for one baisa, then five baisas, to 10 baisas… yes, times have changed that way!”
Secret of happiness
But, was he happy? What is his secret of happiness?
“Making and selling kahwa! What else?! And what else do I want from life? Nothing much … or maybe everything. I want everything! Now, at this moment, I want food, am hungry!” he laughed as he slowly got up to go. He had to complete his rounds, but he still offered us more kahwa.
As he turned and slowly disappeared into one of the souq lanes, one hand carrying the kettle, and in the other, carrying a bowl with the cups, we were wondering whether we were also seeing the last of a quaint old tradition.
We stood there, listening to the clink-clink-clang, clink-clink-clang, clink-clink-clang music that trailed behind him…

By Adarsh Madhavan, Priya Arunkumar, Najib Al Balushi