A shellfish worth its weight in gold

A shellfish worth its weight in gold.(MOSAIC)
Highet, Juliet
1305 words
1 July 2008
The Middle East
60
ISSN: 0305-0734; Issue 391
English


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WELL ALMOST. NETTING an approximate annual revenue of $60m, nowadays abalone far outstrips Oman's age-old export, frankincense, in commercial value. By the time that this prized seafood reaches the dealers of South East Asia--its principal market--its worth has multiplied by an eye-watering amount. A diver on the southern Omani coast of Dhofar is paid around $240 per fresh kilo dredged from the Arabian Sea. In Hong Kong, centre of the eastern trade, the dried version fetches about $800 a kilo. Considered a gastronomic tour de force, this delicately flavoured shellfish is savoured simply, rather like oysters, or subtly cooked in soups.

Leaving the Dhofari capital of Salalah, we took the coastal road snaking eastwards to the town of Hadbeen, near which, right on the seashore, every year a large temporary camp is set up for two months, to accommodate the harvesters of abalone. At first we passed massive archaeological sites connected with frankincense, and then verdant oases, watered by the traditionalfalaj channel system, and shaded by coconut palms and banana trees, beneath which grows a rich variety of crops, all the grain, vegetables and cattle fodder required by the ever enlarging city of Salalah--and beyond. Past that agricultural abundance, came tranquil khawrs, the fresh and salt water lagoons in which camels bathe and flocks of migrating flamingos nest among the tall bending grasses.

The road began to plunge up and down dramatically, revealing Mirbat in a picturesque bay far below us, one of a series of atmospheric fishing villages, now, somnolent in the sunshine, but once bustling harbours for the export of frankincense and Arab horses. Mirbat means 'horse market'. From the cliff tops we glimpsed glorious beaches, white, silver and gold, according to the time of day and usually deserted. But tourism is coming, with a tourist village to be developed by an Egyptian company between Salalah and the first of the sequence of fishing ports, Taqa. Visitors come to see the seasonal catch being landed--tuna and shark, kingfish, grouper and bream, hamour and sardines by the shoal, as well as the high value ones like lobster, and beyond the town of Sad'h, abalone itself. Between Sad'h and Hasik, at the extreme eastern end of Dhofar, the landscape is almost oppressive, the road crushed between the jebels, the mountains and the sheer drop down to the sea. It has recently been extended, pickup trucks rapidly dispatching the seafood from the series of beautiful bays and coves, to Salalah's middlemen and its airport.

On the rocky shores of Hadbeen we stopped to watch the divers, or rather an occasional glimpse of a flipper, then later, much later, a goggled head. In fact divers appeared to stay underwater for an alarming amount of time, and an equally perturbing number of them smoked cigarettes on dry land, perhaps to relieve the stress of their occupation, which is arduous and dangerous. I teased one diver, who was puffing away, about what he was doing to his diver's lungs. He replied that he keeps air in his stomach, which was certainly well endowed.

Suddenly, a diver emerged from the sea beside us, removing his mask, and inspecting the net bag tied around his waist. It contained only four abalone, and he had been diving for three hours. Salem Al Balushi was despondent about the situation. Due to decreasing stocks of abalone, the Omani government has restricted the diving season to the months of November and December, though it is rumoured that further illegal diving is taking place in the shoulder months. Culling is restricted to a minimum size to conserve supplies. Furthermore, divers are not permitted any scuba diving equipment. They carry a simple chisel-like tool with which to prize offthe molluscs from rocks to which they cling tenaciously, their shells sometimes snapping shut on the fingers of divers, trapping them beneath the waves. Another hazard is the poisonous sea-snakes and moray eels that lurk in the nooks and crannies of the rocky seabed, into which divers must plunge bare hands to locate the abalone.

On the other hand, I also talked to two much younger divers, who viewed the season as a modern gold rush, thrilled at the amount of money they would be taking home to Salalah after just two months' exertions. Ali and Hassan expected to earn about $15,700 to $19,600, though in the past divers were bringing up five to six kilos a day. At the beginning of this season, divers were netting two kilos a day. By mid-December, it was only half a kilo. Nevertheless, these exuberant young men confided that their earnings in two months would enable them "to have fun the rest of the year".

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The shellfish that through its increasing rarity is obviously accruing in value is Haliotis rnariae, a gastropod marine mollusc, with a single flattened foot, containing the prized flesh. Abalone graze on plant-food, the divers on quantities of fatty camel meat, as I discovered when invited to share a meal of mudhbi, meat grilled on stones, back at the Hadbeen camp. This is a large, ramshackle collection of sheds and immense wire mesh 'cages' in which on long trestle tables nuggets of golden abalone were drying. Other cages contain goats and sheep--tomorrow's dinner--or are lockable dormitories for the divers, through which I noticed a refreshing sea breeze stirring the mosquito nets and wetsuits drying above the camp beds, beneath which they store their valuables.

As I sat down for mint tea with one of the traders, a slow but steady stream of divers came in with their net bags. First the abalone are inspected, then prized carefully from their shells with a knife, and briefly placed on racks to drain off seawater. After this comes the tense business of weighing and recording yields. Should a diver need cash, say for a quick spin to Salalah in his four-wheel drive, he is paid 55 Omani Riyals (OR) per kilo, about $430. But if he is prepared to build up credit with the trader, he earns 60 OR.

A strict camp pecking order was evident, the traders wielding laptops and mobiles at the top of the pile; Omani and only Omani, divers next. Then, to do the manual work around the camp, Asians are hired, who briefly boil the abalone in salt water to preserve them, and then lay them out to dry. They also staff the various 'restaurants', clean the valuable abalone shells in boiling water and bag them up for despatch to Hong Kong. Abalone shells are exquisite, their soft pastel iridescent interiors a source of Mother of Pearl. This is known as nacre to furniture makers, who set it into dark wood. Almost a semi-precious 'stone', the shells are creatively used in contemporary jewellery, as impressive belt-buckles and for bijou evening bags.

Down by the jetty, where boats had transferred the precious cargoes to oceangoing vessels, I met an old man. Ahmed Al Shanfari had fallen on hard times. Now he scavenges shells around the camp, earning about $40 to $60 a day, which in many countries, would not be bad pickings. He proudly showed me his shirt buttons, made of course, from Mother of Pearl.

On our journey back to Salalah, we stopped at a roadside cafe in the lively town of Sad'h, which still has a fort and magnificent merchants" homes. These belonged to traders in frankincense, whose silver crystals were valued as highly as gold. We wolfed down delicious goat kebabs and chicken wraps. I noticed that abalone had not been on the menu back at Hadbeen camp. Far too valuable!