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personal memories revolutionary states and indian ocean migrations

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prisons because he was in the hospital. We still, however, hadn’t<br />

found Ahmad’s brother Abdullah. Finally we tracked him down,<br />

hiding in a neighborhood mosque.<br />

Ghania <strong>and</strong> her group (her family, the neighbors, <strong>and</strong> Abdullah <strong>and</strong> his<br />

wife <strong>and</strong> daughter) decided that it would be best to go to the town, where there was<br />

a hospital <strong>and</strong> where they could go to the association house, Bayt Gam‘îya. Ahmad<br />

<strong>and</strong> his brother Abdullah went first, perhaps making sure there was room, <strong>and</strong><br />

returned the next day.<br />

When Ahmad started to cover us up, I asked what he was doing<br />

<strong>and</strong> he said: “do you want to be killed?” I said that I wasn’t going<br />

to go without our neighbors (gîrân). I said I would not leave my<br />

neighbors! Ahmad said that he wouldn’t come back the next day to<br />

get them, but would send a driver. So, the next day, a car came <strong>and</strong><br />

took me, my children, <strong>and</strong> a neighbor <strong>and</strong> then another car took<br />

the other neighbors <strong>and</strong> we went to the town, to the association<br />

house. We stayed there for a bit, but then decided to “take” [rent]<br />

our own house in town. They came <strong>and</strong> said that it was safe now,<br />

whoever wanted to return to his houses (baytû) could go, but we<br />

were afraid that we would be killed, so we stayed in town <strong>and</strong><br />

rented a house. We would get some money from someone who<br />

would come from our farms, but he wouldn’t give us everything,<br />

just a little bit, just enough to eat <strong>and</strong> drink. For three months, we<br />

took from our farms in the village.<br />

Ahmad then heard that a travel ban might be imposed from Zanzibar so it<br />

would be better if they signed up to get their papers to leave. Ghania, though,<br />

wasn’t sure about going back to Oman. “What would I have there? I didn’t have a<br />

father, or mother, or brother. I didn’t have anything. So, I said to Ahmad, give me<br />

the farms, <strong>and</strong> I will stay here with my children.”<br />

Ahmad had, several years before, married another woman, Thuraya, the<br />

woman he now lives with in Muscat <strong>and</strong> it was perhaps with her that Ahmad lived<br />

when he would go to the town, leaving Ghania to manage the store. Although her<br />

husb<strong>and</strong> hadn’t divorced her – probably due to his own devoutness <strong>and</strong> piety – she<br />

knew that she had “no one”. But, Ghania explained, she realized that in fact she<br />

would not receive enough money from the farms to provide for her children.<br />

“What could I do? I delayed. But, in the end I signed our names <strong>and</strong> we boarded<br />

the ship, the “mail”, <strong>and</strong> went to Oman.”<br />

Since Ghania’s return to Oman, she has been moving back <strong>and</strong> forth from<br />

Muscat to Bahla. She once explained that when they got to Muscat, her husb<strong>and</strong> at<br />

first wanted to return to Bahla. “I should not have gone, but what would I do? So I<br />

went. I did not have anyone there.”<br />

In the end, though, they returned to Muscat where her husb<strong>and</strong> bought<br />

apartments <strong>and</strong> started a small-scale construction company. Ghania continues to<br />

travel back <strong>and</strong> forth from Muscat to Bahla, her birth place but to which she was –<br />

since her first departure to Zanzibar – always reluctant to return.<br />

http://web.mit.edu/cis/www/mitejmes/<br />

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