Mohammed Al-Mekhalfi
My son Ayham, eleven years old, possesses a remarkable passion for everything related to browsing and exploring social media, particularly YouTube. His imagination is vast, and his curiosity knows no rest; he asks about everything and searches for answers to whatever crosses his mind.
Some time ago, he decided on his own to create a YouTube channel. He worked diligently until he succeeded, and began capturing images of rainy scenes in Sana’a, sharing them on his channel and trying to describe the moments with innocent words.
Despite the charm of his endeavor, I tried to persuade him to step away from YouTube, which was consuming most of his time, and to focus on his studies for now. Hobbies, I explained, could be nurtured later when he grows older and becomes better able to manage his time.
After several attempts, he was convinced and stopped, but his curiosity remained undiminished. From time to time, he returned to exploring pictures of historical sites, questioning me about them with persistent eagerness.
A week ago, Dar Al-Hajar captured his attention. He kept asking me about it, showing me pictures, and insisting that I take him to see it up close. I tried to postpone the trip more than once, but he remained adamant.
Finally, this morning, I yielded to his wish. I took him along with his six-year-old brother Kenan, a naturally quiet child, perpetually smiling, who loves play and discovery. He possesses a mind beyond his years, noticing details with remarkable alertness and becoming deeply attached to things that stir his young wonder. And so we headed to Dar Al-Hajar, located about fifteen kilometers northwest of Sana’a.
Dar Al-Hajar is a majestic historic palace in the middle of Wadi Dhahr, built upon a massive granite rock. It was constructed in the late eighteenth century, but it rests upon a deeper history tracing back to the ruins of an ancient Sabaean palace known as the Fortress of Dhi Saydan, built by the Himyarites thousands of years ago. Today, Dar Al-Hajar is considered one of the most famous tourist landmarks in Yemen.
We left the house at eight in the morning. The weather was cold, so the boys put on their winter clothes and got ready enthusiastically. We headed to Shamlan stop near the new university and took a taxi. We were crammed inside like boxes stacked on top of each other, me, my children, and two other large passengers pressed against us in the cramped space. By the time we reached the end of the line in Shamlan, at the entrance leading to Wadi Dhahr road, Ayham felt nauseous.
From there, we took a motorcycle and entered the dirt road leading into the wadi. The road was crowded with everything imaginable: cars, trucks, motorcycles, all moving chaotically, while dust filled the air and covered our faces and clothes.
Finally, we arrived at Dar Al-Hajar. It stood majestically before us, crowning the rock as if it were part of it, as though it had grown from the rock rather than being built upon it. I took the boys aside under the shade of a large tree at the entrance.
They sat down exhausted; I left them for a while to catch their breath and drink some juice until energy returned to their small bodies. Ayham was the first to rise, his eyes shining with wonder, followed by Kenan, who pointed at the palace as if he were seeing a castle from a fairytale. They stood before it, mesmerized.
We bought tickets and passed through the gate. The moment we crossed the first threshold, they dashed off, running in every direction, and I found myself running after them, trying to stop them so I could take their pictures.
We moved through the palace, passing through the small rooms with their narrow windows, and climbed the stairs until we reached the upper floor where the Imam’s council chamber was.
Then we headed to the well carved deep into the rock in a conical shape that descended to a great depth, which amazed them in a way I had not anticipated. Ayham cautiously approached, peering inside and asking in a hushed voice, “How did they manage to dig this?” Meanwhile, Kenan leaned his head in a little too far, so I grabbed him by the shoulder, laughing as I prevented him from falling.
Then we moved to the caves carved into the heart of the rock, and I told them that these were used long ago as tombs, where the dead were mummified thousands of years ago.
As I wandered through the passages, my imagination drifted back twenty years to when I worked as a tour guide for the Universal Touring Company. I had been here, in this very place, but the scene was entirely different.
In those years, Dar Al-Hajar was bustling with activity from early morning until sunset. Groups of tourists from all over the world arrived in succession, their languages intertwining until you felt you were in an international airport, not a quiet wadi on the outskirts of Sana’a.
Life filled the place to the point where you felt you were at a perpetual festival, not just on a tourist visit. The small shops opposite the entrance were open all the time. Silver crafts, traditional clothes, and souvenirs were sold for hard currency.
Some of the village residents, young and old, spoke multiple languages due to their constant interaction with tourists. They would greet you in English, bargain with you in Italian, and laugh with German tourists without hesitation.
The historical series Saif Bin Dhi Yazan was filmed in this palace in 2009, featuring an elite cast of Moroccan, Syrian, and Yemeni actors.
Unlike today, the place seemed completely empty of foreign tourists. The passages that once buzzed with languages were now silent, and people’s faces had now lost the smiles that used to precede their words.
Even the children who once filled the place with their vitality as they sold small silver items and souvenirs had disappeared.
Yet despite all this, Dar Al-Hajar remains majestic, resisting circumstances and the changes of time throughout history.
I remember how we used to gather in the early morning, my colleagues and I, in the courtyards of Dawood, Talha, Hiltown hotels, and others. Each of us would then head to our assigned group, according to the agreed upon tourist itinerary.
Most of our tour programs began with a visit to Old Sana’a, with its narrow alleys, ancient doors, bustling markets, and tall houses adorned with white gypsum carvings. We would stroll through them with the tourists, walking among the old shops.
From there, we would set off towards Dar Al-Hajar, and then to the historic city of Thula, walking among its ancient walls and stone built houses, as if passing through a gateway to another time. From Thula, we would head to Hababa, then to Al-Zakri Fortress, which offers a beautiful view of the vast valley.
Then we would continue on to Shibam Kawkaban, where a lunch appointment awaited us at the famous Hamida Restaurant, which served the most delicious traditional Yemeni dishes.
After lunch, we would ascend to Kawkaban to spend the night. The nights there were different. The cool weather was pleasant, the sky clear, and the stars shone brightly.
We would spend time with the tourists, listening to traditional Yemeni songs and dancing Bara with them until midnight. They would try to imitate our movements with growing enthusiasm. We would laugh and teach them how to hold the jambiya and keep the rhythm of the steps.
In the early morning, we would continue our journey towards Wadi Al-Naeem, then cross to Al-Ahjur, Al-Tawila, and Al-Rajm, until we reached Al-Mahwait (Al-Masna’ah), that quiet, ancient city that captivates its visitor with its narrow alleys and old houses, where we would spend the night.
The next day, before the sun grew too strong, we would cross the flow of Wadi Sarea, walking alongside its waters flowing between the rocks, then continue climbing towards Naqeel Al-Qadam, which revealed new vistas stretching to the horizon with every step. After a short rest, we continued our way to Manakha.
In Manakha, we visited Al-Hajarah and Al-Kahel, that village suspended above the clouds, and also stopped by Al-Haymi Fortress and other tourist sites that tell the history and spirit of the region.
At sunset, we would return to Al-Askari Hotel in Manakha, where tourist groups gathered and guides exchanged stories of their journeys before nightfall closed the chapter on another day of adventure.
From there, we would return to Sana’a to prepare for a new phase of the journey, one that stretched eastward this time. We would first set off for Baraqish, near the Al-Jawf junction, the remains of a city whose construction dates back to the fifth century BC.
From Baraqish, we would continue our journey to Mareb, the city of history and civilization. We would visit the famous Mareb Dam, the Throne of the Queen of Sheba, the Awwam Temple, and the Sun Temple, recalling amid its ruins some of the grandeur and ancient brilliance of Saba.
After Mareb, we crossed the desert of Ramlat Al-Sab’atayn towards Shabwa, then continued to Shibam Hadhramaut, the city where the first skyscrapers in history were built, often called the Manhattan of the Desert for the beauty of its mud-brick urban landscape and the magnificence of its architecture.
From there, we headed to the lush Tarim, passing by Seiyun Palace, then continued our journey towards Hadhramaut, Aden, and Lahj, exploring their cities, markets, beaches, and stories stretching across time.
After this journey that combined mountains, valleys, deserts, and sea, we would finally return to Sana’a.
What always caught my attention most was Saeed Sharyan, the most senior guide at the Universal Touring Company. I often saw him leading his groups of tourists, which sometimes numbered more than twenty, using a microphone to direct them and explain the historical landmarks with enthusiasm. He was always optimistic, carrying in his heart a dream for a better future for tourism and for Yemen.
And now, as he approaches his seventies, he stands at Al-Tahrir bus stop, a small paper in his hand, jotting down the names of bus drivers and calling out for passengers heading to Hael Street, under the scorching noon sun and during the bitter cold of winter nights, far from the mountains and historical sites where we once knew him.
By noon, we returned home carrying unforgettable memories. Ayham and Kenan returned with a mix of wonder and joy, and I returned with even greater joy for their passion and curiosity, which had brought back memories of my past.
