Road to Ubar Pa - Nicholas Clapp [44]
Our intent, on both this reconnaissance and the larger expedition we hoped would follow, was to sneak up on Ubar by first learning what we could about the frankincense trade and the People of 'Ad. Only then would we focus exclusively on the fabled lost city. There was good reason for this approach. If we didn't find Ubar, we could at least contribute something to the understanding of the region's history—and not completely disappoint our sponsors and the Omanis.
It was gloomy on the beach. In the season of the monsoon, the Arabian Sea was an expanse of dark, churning water. Palm trees shuddered and thrashed in the wind. We approached and entered the fallen gates of Sumhuram, a ruined city that had been partially excavated by Wendell Phillips's team in the early 1950s. The city was perched on a bluff overlooking a sheltered lagoon where, long ago, ships anchored to take on cargoes of frankincense. We spread out and explored Sumhuram's ramparts, dwellings, shops, storerooms, and a temple complex. We admired an elegantly chiseled inscription dating to the time of our People of'Ad.
Inscription at Sumhuram
Years ago this inscription had been studied by Father Albert Jamme and the French epigrapher Jacqueline Pirenne. What we were looking at was a plaque commemorating the founding of Sumhuram, whose name is a composite word meaning either "the plan is great" or (more to the point) "the great scheme." Its six lines stated:
'Asadum Tal'an, son of Qawmum, servant of'Il'ad Yalut, king
of Hadramaut, of the inhabitants of the town of Shabwa,
undertook according to the plan the town of
Sumhuram, its siting and the leveling of the ground and its
flow [of water] from
virgin soil to its putting in order. The creation and realization
were on the initiative
and by the order of its master 'Abyata' Salhin, son of
Damar'alay,
who is commander of the army of Hadramaut, in the country
of Sakalan.
Nearby, three one-liners of scratched graffiti said: "The one-eyed [was here]," "Aywar and Hudail are dissatisfied," and "DETESTABLE!"1 What was this about? A good guess would be that whoever hauled and chiseled the stones to build this place—namely Aywar and Hudail and a one-eyed chap—weren't all that happy to be here, which is understandable, as they were probably conscripted or even slave laborers.
Considering the formal inscription, it was evident that Sumhuram was not built by the People of'Ad, the builders of Ubar. Rather, it was a colonial outpost of the Hadramaut, a kingdom whose capital "town of Shabwa" lay some five hundred miles to the west. Since Sumhuram was built "by the order of its master 'Abyata' Salhin ... who is commander of the army of Hadramaut," its construction was likely a military operation, "a great scheme" designed to corner and control a lucrative sea trade in frankincense.
As we pondered this, the air was suddenly rent by a cry of "Kullu wahad fi haytan min shan aflan!" It was Ran Fiennes, proclaiming, in his best Arabic, "Time for a picture!" We gathered, and the camera took in a mixed, verging on motley, crew of several amateurs and a few professionals, none of whom had worked together before. And only Ran had been in this part of Arabia. Yet we had a shared enthusiasm, even as we posed for a group shot in a place whose stones said nothing of the existence of the People of 'Ad, or of their lost city of Ubar.
As the camera's self-timer buzzed, Ron Blom wondered aloud, "How, I wonder, do you say 'cheese' in Arabic?"
"Ghumda!" answered Jumma al-Mashayki, one of our Omani police escorts.
"Ghumda!" we all shouted, as the camera buzzed and blinked.
The gloom of the monsoon's overcast faded into darkness, but we lingered at Sumhuram. We were heartened to see that this had once been a splendid site, with finely finished masonry, clearly the work of an advanced civilization. We were disheartened, of course, to realize that its