laban, guruz al gamar and the villagers of Sahami

A tale of laban, guruz al gamar and the villagers of Sahami
Feb 1 2010 B and W

Some 240 kms away from the bustling city of Muscat, a 40-plus-year old Omani woman is sitting on the ground, in the village of Sahami (in Saham) and gently shaking a dark sack-like bag mounted on some sticks.
A soft Arabic song escapes Dhahiwa Hamad’s lips as she rocks the bag. At a distance you would think she was singing a lullaby and gently rocking a baby to sleep. A closer look will actually reveal her shaking a traditional Omani sheepskin bag. As you sit silently on her side and watch, you will find her shaking the bag with increasing tempo.

Dhahiwa is a resident of Sahami. Modernity has, of course, crept into the lives of the villagers in Sahami, but Dhahiwa prefers to sit on the side of tradition. Every single day, Dhahiwa, like many women in Sahami, would be engaged in this traditional method of making laban. This cold, refreshing laban is part of the daily diet of almost all Sahami residents.

In Oman, when we may go chasing after the expected, we may often bump into the unexpected. The unusual, unexpected, the extraordinary is always waiting around the corner…waiting to be discovered.
So, the other day, when we went chasing after an enthusiastic young Omani from Saham who said he knew people who made laban every day, we stumbled on to a mini-traditional Omani set up, apparently arranged for our benefit. Our mission was to find out how some families made laban in their homes, instead, we were given everything we wanted to know about laban and MORE (all the other things that went along with it).
So, it was not just about laban. If they made, drank and relished laban, the Omanis in Sahami detailed to us how there were more things to laban and how other food; how their travel in Oman was all related. So, in short, they linked the laban with food, with families, with travelling (across the desert and from village to village on camels under a sweltering sky) were all interlinked and how laban played a role in this mix.
This mini village, in Sahami, gave us a glimpse of a unique slice of Omani life that blended with culture and tradition and also gave us an idea of how Omanis (as well as Arabs) have been facing the harsh desert-like elements for millennia.
The setting was replete with Omani men making Omani bread in the most traditional manner possible (on aluminum sheets from a fire on the ground); Omani women in traditional garb making various camel wear accessories, children flitting around the scene with their pet dogs, Omani men and women engaged in various other daily work, camels decked in finery, displays of colourful camel gear in a small makeshift tent…
And amidst all of them was a cheerful Dhahiwa(who incidentally is a school bus driver) making laban in the midst of nowhere.
Dhahiwa broke away from her intense shaking to give us an idea into her life and how laban was an integral part of their existence. Newfangled methods of making laban were introduced (which included churning milk in a small ‘laban-only’ washing machine). “There are other methods now, but I prefer the traditional method,” Dhahiwa said, vigorously shaking her sheepskin bag. Her cows have been providing a good supply of milk. Laban and milk has therefore become their staple diet.
Going with tradition, she ferments the milk, and once it curdles, she puts into the sheepskin bag to churn the butter out, leaving the buttermilk (laban) behind.
Laban a must
“Originally laban or buttermilk is the liquid left behind after churning butter out of cream.I grew up drinking laban and I learnt how to make it from my mother. For an Omani, especially from our region, laban and guruz al gamar (handmade flat bread) are two items, we cannot live without. It is a tradition we grew up with, especially when we travel. When you grow with certain traditions, you pass it on,” Dhahiwa said. The younger generations are now following the same tradition. “Buttermilk is a term that was originally used for the leftover liquid after churning butter out from the milk cream. It also refers to various fermented drinks of milk that are more a part of the warmer climates than the cold regions.
There are many uses and benefits of the buttermilk. Buttermilk is low fat and rich with calcium, protein and carbohydrates. The cultured buttermilk is very low in fat and calories. Many traditional recipes like pancakes and cakes are incomplete without buttermilk,” Dhahiwa said.


Buttermilk recipe
She then gave us an on-the-spot lesson on how to make butter and buttermilk: “I am about to reveal to you an ancient and traditional butter making secret from milk and curds; to make butter it requires nearly non-stop shaking and more. But, the end result is butter and buttermilk. Homemade butter can be fun to make (if you are a butter enthusiast).And cleaning up is very easy as you only need a few things.
You need to shake the cream until the butter starts to form. Once you notice those little yellow globules forming, shake some more until they start to congeal together.
Next, pour the laban out in to a pot, pour cold water in to bring out butter embedded in the sheepskin. You can scoop out the butter into a bowl of ice water and squeeze/mash. This is necessary to wash the remaining buttermilk out of the butter. Otherwise, the butter will spoil very quickly.
You can either keep it in the refrigerator (make sure you use it within a week or add salt to make it last a little longer) or freeze it and thaw it out when you need it.

“It is easy to churn butter out and make laban the traditional way, we still follow it. Milk is a staple diet and because of the warm climate laban soothes the heat down. Every day after the milk is used for daily consumption, we ferment it to make curds. The curds are then churned by shaking in the sheepskin (saqah) and laban ideal for drinking is made. We use the butter for other dishes. Most of our womenfolk make laban and butter this way and for the younger generation it is fun watching us do it. I don’t believe it is hard or crude, it is a way our ancestors lived and these traditional ways kept them healthy and sane.”

Traditions don’t fade away
Memories fade, but traditions won’t fade away, unless you are dying yourself, says Dhahiwa. “It is our duty to hold on to our traditions and pass it on to the younger generation. Modernity is not to destroy tradition, it is for easy living. Our youth go away to the cities, but, they still come back home during the weekends.
Our family is a prime example: we are four brothers and families living together. We are closely knitted by our traditions. We have camels, donkeys and even dogs with us…”

Bread over fire
While Dhahiwa was detailing the finer points of laban to us, Said Hamad Al Ba’adi, who many in the group said was almost 100 years (but he looked only late 70s or early 80s), was busy making a fire. As we watched him, he placed some aluminum sheets on the fire. From an earthen pot, he took a thick white wheat bread mix and then plastered the same on the sheets.

Because of the mystery behind his age, Said Hamad is quite revered within their lot and although he seemed to suffer from partial blindness, he squinted away to making some tasty coal-flamed Omani bread.


Guruz Al Gamar and laban
The link between Guruz Al Gamar (the Omani bread) and laban was that they both complemented each other. The other Omanis present there explained their passion for holding on to such traditions and said that Said Hamad was the best example of those who linked themselves with the past without falling to the temptations of modernity. “We believe in our traditions. Like Said Hamad, who is an expert at making the Guruz Al Gamar, there are others too.”
There are different types of bread, thick, thin and in different shapes and sizes. The beauty of the Guruz was that it can be made literally from the elements, sans cooking utensils.
“The thick bread is put over the fire, actually hot coal and cooked; this method of cooking gives a grilling effect to Omani bread which can be kept without being spoilt for many days. We use some butter taken out of the laban too. The thick variety has more life compared to the thin variety. The bread making skills are imparted to a number of women and men in family, some of them today are engaged in bread-making, making a living out of it,” Said Hamad said.
Guruz is mostly made while travelling; the kneaded wheat dough is taken along with fresh laban in a pot of sheepskin, some dried fish during travel. Since many years this has been the tradition. The thick variety of Omani bread can be preserved for nearly a month, if required, but it is mostly made fresh and hot and consumed immediately. Ideal combination is the Guruz, dried fish and laban.

By Adarsh madhavan and Priya Arunkumar, photos Najib Al balushi

Zampth: A Race of wells

When the ancestors sing
“Shhh, listen,” says Salem Piro Ahmed Al Balushi, as we all pulled a thick rope that was attached to a big rubber water container (filled with water). The rope went over a large (the size of a wheel of a huge truck), man-carved pulley above a deep well.
We stopped our mindless chatter. And as the darkness and silence swirled around us we listened.
A creaking sound, first slow, then in a swifter form, sliced through the otherwise silent night. The creak of the main shaft (hatbat manjur) against the pulley (manjur) was quite audible and the more we pulled in rhythm, the strange creaking and semi-guttural sound, gained momentum in the darkness.
For the uninitiated, it sounded like the creaking of wood; for the dramatic, it sounded like the plaintive wail of a dying beast. For Salem Al Balushi and the rest of the Omanis gathered around the pulley in Al Muraisy, a village in Barka, it was sweet music.
And for some others who were gathered around, it was the murmuring of their venerable ancestors, who had risen from the dead in the dark of night, only to whisper some words of wisdom to their successors. Colourful, musical words scripted the night air with a rhythmic beat and it all seemed to be churning out of the well as we (around eight of us) diligently pulled the rope over this pulley.
As we silently pulled, the creaking sound and our pulling got into a rhythmic pattern. Soon the silent night gave way to a strange musical beat – yes even normal sound when it gets into a rhythm, a beat, it transforms itself into music. And, for some listeners, this lilting tone seemed to sound like the ancestors were actually singing to their successors; a kind of spiritual chant to the men gathered there; a type of musical verse that could be just an ode to the present or perhaps an elegy to the past.
“This is Zampth,” declares Salem Balushi, a veteran at this task, as he effortlessly pulled the rope.
Zampth is a game/sport played with a rope and a pulley over an unused (mostly) well, he explained. Around 10 people played the game. Two are on top of the well, handling the pulley, while the remaining eight would pull a thick rope from down. The wooden pulley would mostly be a large-sized one.
When the rope is pulled, the friction of the hatbat manjur (main shaft) against the manjur (pulley) emanates the sound, around which the whole game of Zampth is played.
Zampth (literally means, race of the sounds), is played between two neighbouring wells, and both would compete to produce the loudest sounds. There is an umpire to judge the Zampth and his task is to discern the loudest or most significant sound made. There is no prize money for the winner of Zampth, but, apparently, the umpire is paid. The players hold the umpire in very high esteem.
“Traditionally, Omanis resorted to wells for water. And pulleys made out of wood were used to draw water. We resorted to bulls then.
But, as time passed, the wells were naturally abandoned in the wake of taps and mineral water. So, the wells were transformed into a semi-playground for the game of Zampth,” Ibrahim Said Abdullah Al Balushi, a resident of Barka, tells Black & White.
“We could say that this game originated from Al Muraisy,” he adds. And this could be true in a way. Sources at the Ministry of Sports Affairs note that this game has been played for centuries, and is a sport endemic to Oman, particularly the Batinah coast.
Zampth is an expensive sport. Price of high quality wooden pulleys ranged between RO2500 to RO5000. “And it takes about two to three months to carve them. These pulleys have around 16 supportive wooden pieces on either side,” Ibrahim explained.
Sometimes these games are sponsored by a family, sometimes by a company, but, mostly by the village itself. At Barka and especially at Al Muraisy, this is a favoured weekend game of the villagers.

Every Wednesday the game well is set up and the pulleys are warmed and readied for the game on the following night. “The whole of Thursday night we indulge in this game. There is a supervising team that will see that the pulley is tuned and ready, the food, Kahwa and dates, snacks are arranged for and in the darkness of the night, under the moonlit sky, we play Zampth throughout the night. There are few who believe the noise that the pulleys create are of the ancestors or keeps us in touch with the ancestors… It is all a belief, nothing scientific. The sounds seem like Arabic musical notes. But we believe in it and this game is a platform to meet and greet families and friends. It is sort of a night out together, a party,” Ibrahim enthused.
But, it is not as easy it sounds. Only those who master this art can actually play the game. The rope is pulled according to a certain technique, and it requires mastery of the art and not just brawn, Zampth aficionados say.
The surrounding areas of the well are cleaned and those pulling the rope actually launch themselves into a wide semi-ditch in the process of pulling it.
When the going gets right, the cry of the hatbat manjur against the manjur is sometimes heard some 500 metres to a kilometer away.

Zampth between Arish and Kaima
On the day we visited the Zampth playground, the game was being played between teams Arish and Kaima, the two neighbouring wells at Al Muraisy.
The 10-a-side team of Arish was totally engrossed in tuning up the pulley, warming up the wood. Hundred metres away was the well of the Kaima team.
But, despite the competitive nature of the sport, there was a warm air of camaraderie between the two team members, and both were seen helping each other in tuning and warming up of the pulley.
Shaban Mohammed Ali Al Farsi, who is 70-plus, has been playing Zampth for over 40 years. Although a team member of the Kaima team, he was seen helping the Arish team members.
“Sometimes players come in to join teams from Suwaiq, Kabourah, Sohar etc. This game is played in these regions too and only by men and children. Ladies are normally not involved. We assemble here well in advance and cook at this ground. It is like being part of a camping trip, a family get-together cum sporting contest mixed event,” Shaban Al Farsi said, adding that one night of Zampth would cost them around RO200.
Hamdan Ali bin Hamad Al Fileti, who is also around 70, and part of the Kaima team, says he has been playing Zampth for around 35 years. “Zampth keeps us together during the weekends; we update ourselves and enjoy the weekend together. We start every Thursday at 4pm and continue playing till 6am, next morning.
“Our week is not complete, if we don’t play Zampth.”
Salem Al Balushi does not remember his age, but he remembers making pulleys as far back in 1970
But neither age, nor ill health has withered his desire for the sport or dimmed his talent to make pulleys. Today, he is one of the few remaining unsung master craftsmen of the manjur. Salem loves to carve them out and says he will continue to do so as long as he lives. He religiously takes part in the game too. “My father was also a manjur maker. Probably Oman is the only country that uses traditional wooden pulleys on their wells. I learned it from my father and used to assist him in the 60s.
Wells were used to draw water for living purposes, now it is only a showpiece. But, for the love of Zampth, we still create the wooden pulleys and will preserve it for posterity. This will help future generations to get to know what a pulley is.”

But at Al Muraisy, the younger generation was not only aware of the manjurs, but, some of them were also active participants in the game of Zampth. “My son Yusuf helps me carve the pulleys,” Salem said.
Ahmed Hassan Saud Al Balushi is another example of the younger Omani generation who is besotted with Zampth. “I am young, but, Zampth has become part of my culture and tradition. It is both addictive and relaxing. Sometimes the sound that is produced resembles that of an old man, sometimes of an Arabic musical tone. It is part of our childhood. It is a game played in the dark, but it lightens up our life and mind. I never get bored. It is a physically stimulating game too, keeps me active, so sleep or boredom doesn’t creep in,” he said.
According to Salem, Zampth is a game that has been part of Oman for several scores of years.
But, there are no records of the game anywhere, which is why the passionate, dedicated and the spirited manner in which the residents of Al Muraisy were playing this game, we are not only going to hear it for a long time to come, but will also hopefully see it go down the record books as a unique Omani sport that hinges on sound.

Zampth will never die
“Zampth is a sport that is part of the Omani life and tradition. It will never die. If it dies, so will the Khanjar, the Musr etc.,” declares Ahmed Mohd Alyahmadi, director of private sports, ministry of sports affairs.
“This is a sport that has been alive for the last several centuries, and so will it be for many more centuries, Ahmed Alyahmadi, who is known for his passion for promoting and preserving Omani tradition and culture, added to Black & White.
“Oman is modern, yet steeped in tradition. It is this unique aspect that has kept alive a sport like Zampth.”
Although Ahmed recalls his grandfather using bulls to pull water from the wells many years ago, and also having viewed the game from close quarters in Barka (he hails from Barka), he has never had the chance to play the game.
Ahmed’s brother-in-law, Abdullah Ahmed Al Balushi, however, is an expert on the game and the former has managed to glean enough technical information on the sport from the latter.
“Zampth actually means a race of sounds. A musical contest in a way.
The main component of the game is the hathbat manjur, the shaft of the pulley. The pulley is called the manjur.
The sound is produced by the shaft, which is very expensive to carve out. It takes nearly two to three months to make one. During the game, these shafts are tested for best performance. The team will climb up the poles and keep changing shafts and testing. It is a long process. If they shortlist a shaft, they will keep it aside for use at the last minute as a surprise introduction.
When the manjur is set up, the rope actually pulls up a 20-25 kgs rubber water carrier every time. So it is not an easy game. It needs arm power, stamina and loads of patience.
“Zampth is played in the dark to maintain the serenity in the area and that it does not disturb the neighbourhood in anyway. It is a game that can be played only at night because the wooden shaft requires moisture to help produce the best sounds. The heat and light of the sun in day time will cause the wood to dry up and will not produce sounds. Plus the hot climate will drain us all physically. Nights are cooler for the sport.”
By Adarsh Madhavan, Priya Arunkumar, Najib Al Balushi