FRIDAY, June 19, 2009
The beekeepers are braving seasonal changes due to global warming and air pollution as well as fighting predators to keep the centuries-old sweet tradition buzzing. Salim Joseph takes a weekend break at Wadi Bani Awf to meet the Aufis — and their beloved nahels and abutuwaiqs
The Lord taught the Bee to build its cells in hills, in trees, and in men’s habitats; then to eat of all the produce and find with the skill the precious paths of its Lord: there issues from within their bodies a drink of varying colours, wherein is healing for men; verily this is a sign for those who give thought
– The Holy Quran
AND the Lord chose some men to protect them from the predators,
preserve them for the mankind forever and sustain the purity that
could again and again rekindle in men the love for nature. Verily, the Aufis know their mission, an endless one, which has to deliberately remain oblivious to the modern ways of life. For them, beekeeping is something more than wringing out honey from the hives. It’s upholding the tradition, living in the very lap of nature
and…it’s life itself.
The power of nature, in fact, is felt at the very moment we enter Wadi Bani Awf off the road to Rustaq from Barka. Nestling beneath the towering hills of Western Hajar mountains, this gorge cannot but have its name after the Aufis, one among the tribes who keep bees in the wilayat of Rustaq in Al Batinah region, where beekeeping in the fertile wadis remains a major occupation.
We move in a 4WD on the rough road winding through awesome rock formations and cross many streams that showed signs of plentiful underneath even in the hot summer months. pass a string of villages on both sides of the looking so cool and inviting. But we are headed for the ‘honeyman’ and will stop only at Al Jafr.
And, round another bend after a small climbdown to bypass a narrow stream of big boulders and undergrowth, the honeyman, along with his family of eight sons, four daughters and more than 150 queen bees and their congregation, welcomes us.
Sustaining tradition & purity
“My father handed over this to me when he died and, when I die, I will hand over this to my children. I may perish, but not the honeybees, not the tradition…” the low but vibrant voice of
Nasser Khalfan Salim Al Aufi is to haunt us for days. The honeyman is an embodiment of pure loyalty and commitment to an occupation practised since ancient times in Oman and an aura of
determination brightens up his visage.
The man is around 75 years of age, maybe, as he or his sons cannot say for sure. But he has been into beekeeping since he was a small kid. "It is just our father’s and his two brothers’ family here, running this farm. He is the chief and we all support him,” says Humaid Al Aufi , one of Nasser’s sons. Humaid, though a life science teacher in a school in the wilayat, has not turned indifferent or strayed away from the family occupation.
“I am more than enthusiastic to carry forward the tradition. And this is also our livelihood and a profitable activity,” Humaid says as he leads us through the shed stacked with horizontal drums ‘tubls’ (hollowed out trunk of date palms) on either side of open walkways. “In the early days we had to transport honey to markets in the wilayat to auction it off. But now people, including tourists,
come here to buy,” he says and stops by a tubl (hive) to show us the small cavity at the lower side through which bees fly in and out. We immediately sense the bustle around – tens of thousands of bees have their sleeves rolled up working for more than 150 queens.
Nahels and abutuwaiqs
Nasser, who tends to the bees twice a day without fail, joins us and makes a small fire on the ground to burn some brushwood. Shrouded by the smoke from the burning twigs he pokes his knife through tubl to remove the rock piece, with which the drum is kept sealed. There’s a gush of bees and we back out quickly. “No. No need to worry. Here the bees rarely sting you,” Humaid says.
“And meet our nahels, the larger bees we have here in Oman, which sip nectar from the flowering trees around,” he smiles. They have around 10 to 12 honeycombs in a single drum and the bees
will spread out to nearby trees once the family size swells and when a single drum cannot hold more. But the nests on the trees are retrieved soon to be placed in clean drums. Nasser carefully removes the bees from a honeycomb and holds it for us for a closer examination.
The bees found in Oman belong to the Apis millifera and Apis florae species. Humaid ushers us out of the shed and wants
us to climb the steep slate hill nearby. And there almost 30 metres up the hill we come across a crevice which homes the wilder species – the abutuwaiqs, the bees in the jabals. The bees are
smaller in size and the honey has more medicinal value. “This is more rustic, natural and sweet and people prefer this,” Humaid explains. The Aufis have around a dozen of such beehives in the area, which earn them substantial money.
The honey is ‘asli’ (original), the Aufis are bent on sustaining the purity and it comes at a price. “A bottle of nahel honey weighing around 1kg will cost you RO40, while that of abutuwaiq will cost RO45 to RO50,” Humaid says. With bees feeding on the flowers of
samr, sidr and ghaaf trees besides date palms, prickly pear and papaya trees, the Aufis get a regular income through three harvesting seasons. “The bees here depend mainly on sidr from September to December, while they have a variety of flowers to nourish on from January to March. The honey harvested in these seasons will have a whitish colour, while we get ‘red honey’ in summer (from April to July),” Humaid elaborates.
Fighting pollution and bee predators
The Sultanate produced nearly 100 tonnes of honey in 2004 against the 60,000kg in 2002, the statistics reveal. But has the production come down? The Aufis, who are oblivious of the official figures know one thing: There are fewer flowers and fewer honeybees. “We use to get 60-70 bottles of honey each in all the three seasons. Now we get just 5-10 bottles in the sidr season and 35-40 bottles in the mixed season,” Humaid says.
The yield in the summer season, however, has not been affected.
They had been fighting for centuries the bee predators, which include insects like red hornets and dragonflies and migratory
birds from the species of flycatchers and bee-eaters. The government, which has vowed to promote and sustain the occupation, has been providing them specific aromatic bands that will keep the ‘strange red insects’ away from bees.
The production, however, has come down and the major reason could be the air pollution, Humaid points out. Use of pesticides for date palms, usually sprinkled from helicopters above, has made an adverse impact on other trees, including the sidrs and samrs.
“There’s definitely a lot of changes in the climate either due to global warming or due to air pollution. The seasonal changes have badly affected the production of honey,” he asserts.
Khamis Khalfan Al Aufi , Nasser’s brother, has carefully removed a honeycomb from a tubl for us to experience the rustic taste of nahel honey. It’s so sweet, but much more sweet is the hospitality of the Aufis, we thought.
The beekeepers are braving seasonal changes due to global warming and air pollution as well as fighting predators to keep the centuries-old sweet tradition buzzing. Salim Joseph takes a weekend break at Wadi Bani Awf to meet the Aufis — and their beloved nahels and abutuwaiqs
The Lord taught the Bee to build its cells in hills, in trees, and in men’s habitats; then to eat of all the produce and find with the skill the precious paths of its Lord: there issues from within their bodies a drink of varying colours, wherein is healing for men; verily this is a sign for those who give thought
– The Holy Quran
AND the Lord chose some men to protect them from the predators,
preserve them for the mankind forever and sustain the purity that
could again and again rekindle in men the love for nature. Verily, the Aufis know their mission, an endless one, which has to deliberately remain oblivious to the modern ways of life. For them, beekeeping is something more than wringing out honey from the hives. It’s upholding the tradition, living in the very lap of nature
and…it’s life itself.
The power of nature, in fact, is felt at the very moment we enter Wadi Bani Awf off the road to Rustaq from Barka. Nestling beneath the towering hills of Western Hajar mountains, this gorge cannot but have its name after the Aufis, one among the tribes who keep bees in the wilayat of Rustaq in Al Batinah region, where beekeeping in the fertile wadis remains a major occupation.We move in a 4WD on the rough road winding through awesome rock formations and cross many streams that showed signs of plentiful underneath even in the hot summer months. pass a string of villages on both sides of the looking so cool and inviting. But we are headed for the ‘honeyman’ and will stop only at Al Jafr.
And, round another bend after a small climbdown to bypass a narrow stream of big boulders and undergrowth, the honeyman, along with his family of eight sons, four daughters and more than 150 queen bees and their congregation, welcomes us.
Sustaining tradition & purity
“My father handed over this to me when he died and, when I die, I will hand over this to my children. I may perish, but not the honeybees, not the tradition…” the low but vibrant voice of
Nasser Khalfan Salim Al Aufi is to haunt us for days. The honeyman is an embodiment of pure loyalty and commitment to an occupation practised since ancient times in Oman and an aura of
determination brightens up his visage.
The man is around 75 years of age, maybe, as he or his sons cannot say for sure. But he has been into beekeeping since he was a small kid. "It is just our father’s and his two brothers’ family here, running this farm. He is the chief and we all support him,” says Humaid Al Aufi , one of Nasser’s sons. Humaid, though a life science teacher in a school in the wilayat, has not turned indifferent or strayed away from the family occupation.
“I am more than enthusiastic to carry forward the tradition. And this is also our livelihood and a profitable activity,” Humaid says as he leads us through the shed stacked with horizontal drums ‘tubls’ (hollowed out trunk of date palms) on either side of open walkways. “In the early days we had to transport honey to markets in the wilayat to auction it off. But now people, including tourists,come here to buy,” he says and stops by a tubl (hive) to show us the small cavity at the lower side through which bees fly in and out. We immediately sense the bustle around – tens of thousands of bees have their sleeves rolled up working for more than 150 queens.
Nahels and abutuwaiqs
Nasser, who tends to the bees twice a day without fail, joins us and makes a small fire on the ground to burn some brushwood. Shrouded by the smoke from the burning twigs he pokes his knife through tubl to remove the rock piece, with which the drum is kept sealed. There’s a gush of bees and we back out quickly. “No. No need to worry. Here the bees rarely sting you,” Humaid says.
“And meet our nahels, the larger bees we have here in Oman, which sip nectar from the flowering trees around,” he smiles. They have around 10 to 12 honeycombs in a single drum and the bees
will spread out to nearby trees once the family size swells and when a single drum cannot hold more. But the nests on the trees are retrieved soon to be placed in clean drums. Nasser carefully removes the bees from a honeycomb and holds it for us for a closer examination.
The bees found in Oman belong to the Apis millifera and Apis florae species. Humaid ushers us out of the shed and wants
us to climb the steep slate hill nearby. And there almost 30 metres up the hill we come across a crevice which homes the wilder species – the abutuwaiqs, the bees in the jabals. The bees are
smaller in size and the honey has more medicinal value. “This is more rustic, natural and sweet and people prefer this,” Humaid explains. The Aufis have around a dozen of such beehives in the area, which earn them substantial money.
The honey is ‘asli’ (original), the Aufis are bent on sustaining the purity and it comes at a price. “A bottle of nahel honey weighing around 1kg will cost you RO40, while that of abutuwaiq will cost RO45 to RO50,” Humaid says. With bees feeding on the flowers ofsamr, sidr and ghaaf trees besides date palms, prickly pear and papaya trees, the Aufis get a regular income through three harvesting seasons. “The bees here depend mainly on sidr from September to December, while they have a variety of flowers to nourish on from January to March. The honey harvested in these seasons will have a whitish colour, while we get ‘red honey’ in summer (from April to July),” Humaid elaborates.
Fighting pollution and bee predators
The Sultanate produced nearly 100 tonnes of honey in 2004 against the 60,000kg in 2002, the statistics reveal. But has the production come down? The Aufis, who are oblivious of the official figures know one thing: There are fewer flowers and fewer honeybees. “We use to get 60-70 bottles of honey each in all the three seasons. Now we get just 5-10 bottles in the sidr season and 35-40 bottles in the mixed season,” Humaid says.
The yield in the summer season, however, has not been affected.
They had been fighting for centuries the bee predators, which include insects like red hornets and dragonflies and migratory
birds from the species of flycatchers and bee-eaters. The government, which has vowed to promote and sustain the occupation, has been providing them specific aromatic bands that will keep the ‘strange red insects’ away from bees.
The production, however, has come down and the major reason could be the air pollution, Humaid points out. Use of pesticides for date palms, usually sprinkled from helicopters above, has made an adverse impact on other trees, including the sidrs and samrs.“There’s definitely a lot of changes in the climate either due to global warming or due to air pollution. The seasonal changes have badly affected the production of honey,” he asserts.
Khamis Khalfan Al Aufi , Nasser’s brother, has carefully removed a honeycomb from a tubl for us to experience the rustic taste of nahel honey. It’s so sweet, but much more sweet is the hospitality of the Aufis, we thought.
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