An approach to understanding Gulf architecture

Compared with other areas of the Islamic world, there appears to be very little written about the traditional architecture of the Gulf, and even less about Qatar. It can be argued that Qatar’s architecture is not representative of the whole of the Gulf, but I believe it a reasonable place to look at if for no other reason than that it might be later compared with the architecture of other areas of the Gulf. It is also important to document what is there – and what can be remembered – as there is now very little left in Qatar which is truly original.

The first of these photographs was taken, I believe, some time around the end of the nineteen-forties, and shows the centre of Doha focussing on the creek which flowed through its centre into the bay. You can see that the creek was, at the time the photo was taken, dry with the wadi clearly seen acting as a road. Although dry at the time the photograph was taken, this thoroughfare was often wet during the winter months as it drained the higher ground of the hinterland. Housing established itself alongside it as a natural boundary and, in common with many other natural drainage systems, it was developed into a road in the sixties when it was first paved.

In the bay to the west (left) of the creek can be seen the old jetty – min’a – with some small craft moored to it. Behind the jetty, and backing up to the main graveyard – maqbara – can be seen the suq, illustrating graphically the strong link between the jetty where goods would be brought in and the area where they would be sold. It is also possible to see the general grain of the housing to its south-east (the bottom right quadrant of the photograph) feeding to this central facility of the town.

The next three photographs are interesting. This aerial photograph, taken in 1947 from the north-west, shows the littoral edge of the centre of Doha. There are a number of interesting things to see here. Two of the main merchant families had their properties right on the sea edge. The Darwish and Ali bin Ali compounds can be seen here with the capability of landing goods directly into their properties and into their warehouses. The main suq stretches away to the south-east of their properties and the main maqbara constrains development to the south. Wadi Sail can be seen in the top left corner of the photograph as a dark line.

Looking at the photograph in a little more detail you can see that the majority of development is two-storey and that the ground floors are relatively high. The sikkat system is both narrow and uneven and generally feeds south towards the maqbara where there was a road which fed east to the Wadi Sail and west to the Kut or Turkish fort and, thence to the Diwan al Amiri, and road to Rayyan. Note there are no wind towers to be seen but that the buildings have first floor rooms facing the sea in order to benefit from the morning on-shore breezes.

And, here in the top left corner of the first photo are a couple of very interesting features. This is the Wadi Sail, the main thoroughfare as well as the natural drainage channel for winter rainwater falling to the south of the town. It was obviously still being used as a wadi in 1947 as you can see a small bridge across it and, to the east of it, a small boat indicating that boats were pulled up this far inland in those days. The main masjid in the suq is the large building on the top left corner and, on the right, the barasti roof on the covered suq can be clearly seen running from top to bottom of the photograph.

These next three aerial photographs show Doha in 1953, 1959 and 1971 respectively, and illustrate the relatively rapid growth of the capital during that period.

The first photograph shows the relatively small size Doha was in the early nineteen fifties. Feriq al Salata is on the right of the photo, the two jetties can be seen clearly, and Feriq al Bida and Rumailah are on the left. The roads leading west to al Rayyan and south-west to the border with Saudi Arabia can be clearly seen. The latter is known as the Salwa road.

The Wadi Sail, the wadi that flowed through the centre of the suq, can be seen as a white line through the suq, almost joining the dark line of the Salwa Road. Near where these two lines meet on the photograph was a dam erected in order to control the flood of water which periodically drove through the suq on its way to Doha’s bay. The dam was generally effective in preventing the inundation of the suq, but water still flowed along the road system when the winter rains brought excessive water into Doha that could not be cleared by the drainage system. This produced a very muddy road which certainly reduced the attraction of the suq for many during these periods.

You can see in the upper photograph that there is no structure to the town other than the natural agglomeration of housing as the town expanded, though the roads leading to the west and Rayyan, and the south-west and the Saudi border can be plainly seen.

Six years later there can be seen to be the consolidation of development, particularly to the west in the quadrant between the Rayyan Road and the coast. This photo shows a very different urban structure from the tighter development in the centre of the town as this area had a number of villas constructed for the oil industry, the Rumaillah hospital, the Guest Palace for visiting Heads of State, and the fort which is the small square structure at the furthest north extent of the development.

Perhaps the most significant thing to be seen in this photograph is the coastline. The three small reefs north of the jetty can be clearly seen but so too can the shallow water which stretched over much of Doha’s bay, or West Bay as it came to be called. Boats were dragged up onto the shallows though the larger craft had to stand out even with their relatively shallow draughts. With the lack of a proper sewerage system the area showed evidence of pollution witnessed by the plants which flourished there. The need to clear this area and allow the sea to wash and clean the coast line was one of the reasons that the West Bay was dredged and the New District of Doha created.

By the beginning of the seventies, the bay had not yet been cleaned up but significant changes had been initiated on land. With increasing pressure developing from the world-wide demand for oil, the beginnings of a clear, hierarchical road structure had been put in place. The ‘A’ and ‘B’ ring roads can be clearly seen with the latter close to the western edge of the photograph. This can be compared with the next photograph where the ‘D’ ring road can be seen as dark grey, joining to the road serving the north of the country, the North Road. At the top right of the photograph the new port can be seen with its jetty stretching east north-east, and with a parallel and public jetty below it, but with the Corniche in this part of the town, al Salata, not yet started. The Corniche on the west side of the photo can be seen with the areas between the old coast and the new Corniche in the process of being filled. Note in both photographs the marine reefs which restricted movement around the port area, but which were later taken out in order to resolve this problem.

This photograph shows Doha round about the turn of the millenium. I have drawn a small grey square on the coastline of the bay approximately covering the area shown in the first photograph to give some idea of the area to which Doha had expanded in fifty or so years. The purpose of including these photographs is to give a very quick illustration of what the urban structure was like only fifty years or so ago, how small the capital was, and how dramatic the change in that time. I’ll deal with the history of the capital elsewhere, but briefly.

Note how the road structure now includes not only the road west to Rayyan and that south-west to Salwa and Saudi, but a road to the north and one to the south via Wakra to the industrial town of Umm Said. Also note that the marine reefs have been taken out to facilitate movement around the old port area as well as Doha’s bay.

This coloured aerial photograph shows Doha in May 2005. It illustrates the rapid rate of development, particularly in the northern area of the city, known as the New District of Doha or, by some, al dafnah. The project, which incorporates canals with links to jazeerat al-Safliyah, is known as The Pearl and has been formed by dredging the shallow sea and pumping the spoil to form new land similar to the mixed residential and commercial developments seen on the Dubai littoral. It is also possible to see in the photo the extension to the port to facilitate the movement of the increasing requirement for goods and, on the right hand edge of the photo, the beginnings of a bund in which the new airport is now constructed east of the existing airport which can be seen at the bottom of the photograph.

Two-and-a-half years later, in January 2008, this photograph shows continuing development, though the photograph covers a slightly larger area from that above. In particular it shows the development associated with the enlarged airport on the east side of town which is constructed on reclaimed land from the relatively shallow sea there, and a large amount of residential development on the extreme west side of the photograph running south from al-Rayyan. The Pearl development can be seen to have developed considerably between the two islands of jazeerat al-’Aliyah to its north, and jazeerat al-Safliyah to its south. Another significant point of note is the large area of relatively undeveloped land between the housing in the west and the ‘D’ Ring Road in the east, the Rayyan Road in the north and the Salwa Road in the south. Bear in mind that there are significant areas of relatively undeveloped land all over the city.

The recent rapid rate of development had a lot to do with the Asian Games which were held in Doha in November 2006. By any terms the pace of this work was and is considerable. The photograph of the Pearl sign and these three photographs illustrate progress on a part of the New District development, the 400 hectare Pearl project, and were taken in July 2005, July 2006 and July 2007 respectively, with completion planned for 2009.

Much of the reclamation can be seen to be in place with work proceeding on the installation of utilities in preparation for building construction. Reclamation is in many ways a relatively simple process, but it introduces a number of significant problems relating not just to the physical character of the landfill and its servicing but, particularly, to changes in the flows of water around the new development. Any alteration to the natural littoral profiles, both in depth and configuration, will affect the manner in which water flows. This in turn affects marine life and silting, the latter sometimes at considerable distances from the landfill and often in a manner which creates problems for others. In addition to this longer distance problem, there are usually more detailed but similar problems within areas where water is unable to flow through and wash out in a natural manner. It will be interesting to see how water flows will change in Doha bay as a result of the joining of this development with the island of al-Safliya.

This photograph illustrates the intended plan of the completed project. You can see that there is a small lagoon facing north and two small lagoons facing away from the southward-moving littoral drift. These three lagoons each have a small island in the centre with bridged access to them from the main island. Provision appears to be made for boats in at least two of them which means that there may be traffic problems as well as cleaning problems associated with waste.

I don’t know what studies have been made for the project but note that it has a very heavily articulated outline. This, the proximity to the coast and the enclosed nature of the lagoons suggest there may be difficulties with time in the silting of the coastline in an unforeseen manner. This is a problem experienced in Dubai as the littoral drift caused both the scouring away of the shoreline and the depositing of sand some distance away by the natural action of the water. Although studies are usually made for projects of this nature, it is not always possible to model them accurately.

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Traditional structures

There are some notes on the settlement of Qatar on the history addendum which might be read in conjunction with the notes here. Because of the relatively brief time in which there have been permanent structures in the peninsula it is difficult to describe a process of development. There has, of course, been development in the peninsula stretching back over a thousand years but the structural systems that might have been used have not been fully determined.

The Arabian peninsula has a strong history of architectural development even though many believe that the structures and styles varied little due to the relatively small variety of materials available for development and the known character of environmental constraints. While this may be true in many respects it has been argued that there have been changes in styles within the last thousand years and, particularly, due to the introduction of Turkish and Syrian styles in the nineteenth century. But it is also recognised that the coastal areas were far more likely to have been influenced by a number of sources such as the:

• Mesepotamian basin along with Syria and Turkey,
• Persia,
• the Indian sub-continent,
• the East African coast together with the coastal and island developments between it and the Gulf, as well as the
• Red Sea.

It is suggested that coastal urbanisation of the Qatar peninsula took its styles and constructional techniques from these areas, whereas the interior of the peninsula was more influenced by the architecture of the Arabian hinterland. Certainly there was continuous trading by traditional craft moving along the coasts of the region as well as crossing to Persia. The crews of these craft were of as wide a variety as the areas they visited. Arabs, Africans, Persians and Indians made up these crews and would have been likely to settle in the peninsula as we know that early travellers to Qatar noted the presence of twenty-five groupings.

Both on the coast as well as within the interior, courtyard houses appear to have been developed as a natural preference. Elsewhere I have suggested that this would have both in response to the environmental conditions obtaining in the peninsula as well as the need to provide privacy and security for the family.

The tall buildings of Umm Salal Muhammad are markedly different from other buildings in the peninsula and represent a second form of architecture. There are two structures near the North Road which are thought to be watch towers though the proximity of two such towers seems to militate against their usefulness as being only watch towers. But in the village itself, there are a small number of multi-storey structures which I have been told were residential but obviously had a defensive character while retaining internal courtyards. Set in a declivity of the contours, the buildings are associated with a water source and agricultural area, prime resources for the development of urbanisation.

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The household

Whatever the architectural characteristics are in the region, the key to an understanding of Gulf architecture is to begin with the basic unit: the household. The illustration below is of the refurbished house of one of the better-off merchants in the centre of the capital of Qatar, Doha. It was the only house in the centre which had a wind tower, a device to bring down the winds within compact urban development, though you can see that a replica has been recently constructed to its side.

Now rehabilitated as a museum, the old building sits surrounded by open space, a travesty of its original design. You must try to imagine it surrounded on all sides by narrow pedestrian thoroughfares, their floors covered in clean suban, shell sand, and with similar buildings – though, in this case, no wind towers – surrounding it. Occasionally the passageway system was relieved by covered or high-walled walkways at first floor level crossing the pedestrian paths where they connected buildings in the same or joint ownership.

Although this was the house of a prosperous merchant and was larger than many of its neighbours, it can be seen to encapsulate the basic requirements of a relatively sophisticated residence in a tight urban setting.

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Privacy

From an urban design point of view the household is private and should not display itself to the street outside. Only one or some of its external walls will face the street and that is maintained in as unassuming manner as possible. If there are openings other than a door, then they must be screened and it should be impossible to see into the area occupied or used by the household. This is also true for door or gate openings which usually have screen walls behind them guarding the privacy of the household.

In the example above you can see windows at ground floor level guarded by vertical iron bars and internal wooden shutters. These are the windows to the majlis, that area of the house which is open to male visitors. Other openings which are visible are screened by mushrabiyat, perforated plaster panels, or by badgheer – recessed planes which help channel and direct air movements into the building and onto the roof where, in the old days, many used to sleep at night.

Privacy is paramount in Islamic households. The key point to understand about the manner in which Qatari houses are used, is that there is a significant separation of the male and female areas of the house and its plot. Certainly a difference in scale of the house can make the layout less or more complicated, but all houses should fulfill the illustrative privacy diagram set out below.

In a sense it is a development of the badu tent, though the latter is far more open. In use, visitors are required to maintain a code of behaviour which was developed over centuries and of which the Arabs are rightly proud. Traditions of hospitality, generosity and kindness to strangers abound in Arab history and folklore and are typified by men such Hatim Tai, a contemporary of the Prophet. But I digress...

The diagram to the side illustrates the basic requirements of the house on its plot. In order to make it more understandable I have set it out for a well-off family with servants and animals. Having said that, bear in mind that many less affluent families are large and will have a servant and, certainly, animals. In addition it should be borne in mind that many residential developments have considerably more spaces, both internally and externally, associated with them. For instance there will be a dairy in many residential developments where milk and yoghurts are produced for the family. And, in the men’s area of the house, there will be accommodation where guests can live when visiting. Sometimes a guest will sleep overnight on the floor of the majlis, but at least one room with associated bathroom facilities would be a preferred solution.

You can see from the diagram how the site is organised to provide privacy. Essentially there are four kinds of space, both internal and external:

• private,
• semi-private,
• semi-public, and
• public.

I won’t go into the relationships here as I will deal with them elsewhere and explain what can and what can’t be altered. The reason why the diagram is important here is that it demonstrates, or should demonstrate, the manner in which the house and its site are laid out in order to provide for the the privacy essential to living in a Gulf house.

What disappoints me is that nowadays so few houses conform to the basic requirements of this diagram, and that privacy is compromised to the disadvantage of the household and, particularly, of the women of the household.

Of particular note is that I have set out the rooms with Western names associated with them – the manner in which Qataris now expect to use their houses. In the past rooms were just rooms and might have a number of alternative uses both within a day or with seasons and special events, or just over time as the family grew or changed. The essential difference between the past and its traditions is that, in the past, the spaces were related to degrees of privacy, but now, they are specific. Part of the reason for this is the growth of affluence and the concomitant ability – and desire – to purchase the wide range of goods which line the showrooms.

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Access

By access, we in the West understand this to mean access to a house or its site. However, I am taking this to mean access from the house and its site to the spaces and their functions outside.

Elsewhere I have written about the hierarchy of spaces and the sequence of private; semi-private; semi-public; and public. In different parts of the Islamic world the architecture and planning of the sequence was handled differently, perhaps as a

• reflection of the degree of importance the different societies held this hierarchy, but also as a
• consequence of the amount of land available, and the
• degree of safety against attack; to this might be added
• the degree of comfort in terms of noise and nuisance.

In some parts of the Islamic world, for instance in the medina of Fez, Morocco, there is a sequence of four steps to access the public street:

• first, there is a bent exit from the courtyard,
• this leads to a private corridor, which, in turn
• gives out onto a blind alley that
• leads you to the public street.

In Tunis and other cities, at the entrance to the house there would be a small room off the main thoroughfare or blind alley which served both as a semi-public space as well as a majlis, privacy to the rest of the house being maintained by further turns or screens.

In Qatar there were both blind alleys and public thoroughfares onto which houses opened. In each case there was usually a space incorporating either a dog-leg or right-angled turn in order to provide privacy.

Two further points are worth bearing in mind here, firstly that the positioning of the doorway to a house was often a concern. Generally it was felt that there should be no opening of one door directly across from another, even on large streets as there was an argument that harm would result. By this they appear to have been thinking primarily of privacy, but there were also arguments relating to the uses that might develop adjacent to the opposite entrance. Sometimes a complicating issue was provided by the rights or duties incumbent upon the owners of properties, as these varied with the owners’ position with respect to the entrance of an alley.

The second point to make is that, in writing about the entrance to a property, I am essentially referring to the men’s entrance. In the majority of cases, certainly in Qatar, the main entrance was the only entrance, however in many parts of the Islamic world there would be a family entrance used solely by the women of the family. I should also add that, in some countries, there might be internal connections between neighbouring houses for the use, again solely, by the women of both houses, this arrangment not being made only within extended families, though this would be the main case.

It is interesting to wander around housing areas and see how entrances are designed and positioned as well as used. Generally speaking, gates are kept closed, the wall and gates both protecting the property and enabling the occupants to use the whole of their site in privacy – at least with regard to visual privacy from the adjacent street. This is particularly so with regard to properties on main roads, a position which was often sought in order to give prominence to the owner; this even though it brings with it at least attendant privacy and traffic noise problems. But the sense of privacy or, from a Western point of view, exclusion from the outside world is true whatever the financial outlay as can be seen with these two examples. Note, particularly, the architecture of the first of the two photographs with its over-heavy pediment topped, by the look of it, with a corrugated iron roof…

I mentioned the importance of having a property fronting onto a main road as in this photograph. Here the opportunity has been taken to make a classically symmetrical arrangement of central, vehicular, gates with adjoining covered pedestrian gates flanked by windows, notionally allowing a degree of observation or security over the entrance. What I find interesting here, though, is the style of architecture which lends a Mughal influence to the street.

However, times change and, with an increasing choice of materials, sometimes there is a hint of mystery as with this photograph where children could be seen playing behind the gate, and sometimes there is an apparent lack of concern in absolute security as can be seen in the illustrations below. This has much to do with the overall security felt by the residents of areas in which they have had a say in the layout of the area.

What is noticeable is that in areas that seem to be considered safe, the vehicular or service gate to the property is often left open and a part of the garden or site is visible. This area is usually the semi-public or even semi-private part of the site, particularly so when access is gained through it to a majlis within the property. But, in leaving the gate open there is a significant change in the character in the area. There is now a more sociable link with the community with the introduction of more visual elements within the site. Even when there are no lights welcoming visitors to the site, leaving the front gate open – as in the lowest photograph – still softens the transition between public and private areas, even when there is nothing but hard surfaces to see.

In this and similar areas, there is a joining of the site and the adjacent road, reinforcing the owner’s relationship with the space outside not only in terms of access but in use. Children move in and out of the property, women visit family, servants move between houses taking food or can be seen watering, cleaning or maintaining elements of the site; men move to and from the mosque and there is a settled sense of ownership by the community of ‘their’ neighbourhood.

The only negative thing I can see in all this is that there is now a reliance on the Municipality to maintain the area outside the house rather than have the owners deal with it themselves as would have been the case a generation ago. Perhaps this is a reflection of the lower density and, therefore, the greater costs of maintaining such spaces; but it also illustrates a different attitude to the area adjacent to the house by the owners or, at least, a sort of political pressure they seem happy to make upon the Municipality.

The cats, incidentally, are found all over Doha, and help to keep vermin down though lead an ambiguous existence. Loved by the Prophet who had a cat named Mu’izza, they are not well treated but, because of the link with the Prophet, can not be put down as have been dogs which used to roam in large and dangerous packs.

Sometimes there is confusion in that the main entrance to the property is the entrance to the majlis and the women’s entrance is through the service entrance – usually the vehicular access to the site. In this case there is definitely a conflict between the private and public aspects of the site to the disadvantage of the women of the household.

Front gates are an important element of design in the urban landscape. Originally gates were made of teak and were narrow and pedestrian oriented. The first large gates were associated with shops in the suq and, again, were made from timber. With time it became necessary for large items to be brought onto household sites, and this was effected with wood or steel gates as that material became more common and affordable. Cars, which you would anticipate being brought onto the household site, were generally left outside the property, this from a mixture of pride and the lack of space in the tight urban grain of the old town. It was only as households moved onto more spacious sites that large gates became necessary and, in these cases, they were invariably fabricated from flat steel with welded bars for structural rigidity.

This photograph shows the typical construction of the old steel gates. They were used on both the main, vehicular, entrance gates as well as the pedestrian entrance gates on the front boundaries of properties. They were also sometimes used on the doors of buildings where there was considered to be a more functional requirement, such as the door which commonly gave access to staircases. This particular curvilinear pattern was very common, particularly on pedestrian gates.

It was common with the early buildings to provide steel grilles over the windows for security, a recurrent concern of Qataris despite the relatively crime-free character of the country. This photograph shows the typical pattern constructed from steel in the burgeoning steel fabricating workshops that sprang up all over the outskirts to Doha and other towns. The pattern, together with that shown on the gate in the photo above it, are both derived from and typical of the traditional naqsh designs found in the peninsula.

These two photos are of houses for Qataris, and illustrate the character of development in the eighties and nineties, the lower design being more up-market than the upper one. There has been a tendency to cover gates with a notional structure to enhance their importance. There is rarely any functional need for such a covering as they are rarely large enough to protect from either the sun or rain. However, sometimes an entrance structure is introduced for security purposes when a vehicle might sit under it for some time, but this is only seen on large developments where there is a real need for security. In these circumstances it it not unusual for there to be a dikka associated with the entrance way.

This pair of photos illustrate an apparently rising trend, that of glazed doors. It is a strange arrangement in some ways. Traditionally, timber doors incorporated a wicket gate for normal, everyday access, but the door in which the wicket gate was set could be opened if there was a need to move a large object through it which was too large for the wicket gate. The principle might be the same here, though I suspect that it has more to do with the opening being thought, later, too large to hang a single, heavy door. There is also the design decision relating to scale of single or double doors, but I suspect, perhaps uncharitably, this was not an issue here.

Neither the door above nor these two bear any resemblance to Islamic design in the Gulf. The upper of this pair is poorly considered in design terms with its curvilinear elements unrelated in scale or positioning to the orthogonal elements of the gate. However, I have to admit to a sneaking admiration for its eccentric exuberance, unrelated as it is to Islamic design. Regrettably, I don’t know whether it was the architect, client or a workman who was responsible for the design. Sometimes works such as this are purely the realm of the craftsman carrying out the contract. The second detail is equally impressive but of a different artistic order. Its fine workmanship, backed by obscured glass forms a very attractive pattern, albeit one based again on foreign influence rather than being locally inspired.

This pair of vehicle entrances show the kind of structures provided in the nineteen seventies for ex-patriate housing. There is little or no privacy and substantial savings could be made by keeping the walls and gates relatively low. Compare them with the gates for Qatari houses above and notice that the owners have added steel sheet behind the railings to maintain a little more privacy for their gardens.

Gates are one of the areas in which owners have been able to show some individuality. In areas such as Medinat Khalifa where the gates were provided by the Government, owners were able to show individuality by the patterning and colour of the gates. Nowadays there is a wide variety of decorative treatment available, and used. Here, for instance, a lion boss and two profiled lions with a hint of Assyria about them, mark the individuality of this house – which is not, of course, a Government house.

more to be written…

Finally, I’d like to note one issue that has been mentioned to me a number of times but for which I have found no documentation: that is the direction taken on entering a house.

A number of people have told me that, on entering a house, you must turn to the right – usually, in modern houses, the entrance to the majlis. They have not been able to rationalise it for me, saying only that it has always been that way and implying bad luck if you don’t. The only rationale for this that I can think of is that it reflects the arrangement that fortified buildings had in the past. In those buildings the defender would be right-handed and have his sword swinging on that side of his body; a right-handed turn would give him advantage over a similarly right-handed swordsman advancing on him. This arrangement is well known, even to the extent that the Scottish Kerr family, who were all left-handed, arranged their defensive buildings to suit their left hands and constructed their building turns to the left.

I know of a small number of majalis where the entrance to the majlis is to the left but certainly, in my experience, the majority are to the right. This also applies when the majlis is a separate structure and not part of a house. I have also noticed that the owner of the majlis tends to sit either at the middle of the far end or on the right. I don’t know if it’s worth mentioning in this context but, in the blind alleys of the medina at Fez, where there would be a number of families living around each alley and related by kinship, the hierarchy of the families would locate the most important one at the head of the alley, that is at the farthest from the entrance to the alley from the public thoroughfare. This is precisely how the Sulaiti qabila arranged themselves when they moved from Feriq al-Salata to their new lands outside the ‘C’ ring road in Doha.

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The Majlis

Strangers are allowed onto housing properties as is usual in Gulf houses, but it is only to use the enclosed majlis – that part of the house where the males of the house entertain male friends and guests, and from which it should be impossible to see the family of the house. This photograph shows a refurbished majlis and, while it has obviously been designed to reflect the site’s past and up-market status, it illustrates most of the features of the traditional majlis. These include, but may not be limited to:

structure

solid floor,

trabeated construction with the structure expressed vertically and horizontally,

window openings at a low level, and

danjal, timber beams spanning up to about 3.50 metres,

fittings

timber panelled ceiling

naqsh carved plasterwork – this requires that the decoration on all panels along one side are different, although those opposite each other would be the same design and, sometimes, a single panel in the room would have a small featured pattern break to make it different from its partner,

external, vertical hadid ash shubeck, iron bars to the windows,

internal, panelled safaqa, timber shutters on the windows, and

planked and ledged, fixed with wrought iron nails, inward opening, double teak abwab, doors swung on pintle hinges, with decorated enf, central post and external timber qifl, lock or lockable iron bolt,

decoration

decorative paintwork to the ceiling, often of the form shown here and unrepresentative of traditional, geometric decoration, and

white painted walls,

furnishings

kelim or, sometimes, tufted carpets on the floor, and

seating on the floor comprising dowshek, cotton-filled matress and misnad, cushions to lean on.

In order to have a more rounded understanding of the way in which the traditional majlis works, it is necessary to add a few items to what can be seen in the above photograph. There seem to be three things which I think are obviously missing from this majlis but, bearing in mind that this is part of the Qatar National Museum site, that some items may be difficult to display, and that one majlis is likely to differ from another, this can’t be considered unusual. However, I think they are worth mentioning as they are important elements of the operation of a traditional majlis and although their exclusion may be purely accidental a better understanding may be obtained with a brief description. So, for what it’s worth, they are:

coffee

A major part of the hospitality of a majlis is the provision of qahwa, coffee and shy, tea. Although coffee was and is often prepared in a separate room, many a majlis had a place within it set aside for the preparation of coffee. Arabic coffee consists of coffee with an admixture of cardamon which gives it its unusual flavour. Sometimes ginger is also or alternatively added. The coffee area would comprise:

a small area for the raised brass or steel brazier and its hot charcoal,

bellows to help the charcoal burn,

a mihma, roasting spoon, on which the coffee beans would be prepared before being placed in

a mubarrad, wooden cooling box when, after returning to room temperature, they would be placed in

a hawan, pestle and mortar for the crushing of the beans, following which they would be put, with water, into

a cooking della, one of a set, a polished one of which would be used to pour the coffee into

a number of small finajil, cups, similar in size to a small European egg cup and, after use, placed in

a bowl of warm water where they would be rinsed.

An ibriq, kettle, and

small glasses for the production and presentation of tea.

lighting

Lighting originally would have been by kerosene lamp which would have marked the walls and ceilings with soot. Later, tungsten light bulbs were face-fixed to the walls or very unusually, suspended from the ceiling.

In this majlis you will see that fluorescent lighting has been added for exhibition purposes. This is unusual in this relatively integrated example, as is the fact that you can’t see the cabling which, in reconstructions, would usually be orange pyro, face-mounted. Originally the flex would have been grey or black, but modern regulations…

storage

Most majalis made provision for the hanging of coats on pegs or awtad set directly into the columns. These were made of turned wood and decorated with bands of paintwork. Usually, one or more of the spaces between columns would be set aside for storage of coffee equipment, mabkhar, midakhn – incense burners and the like. In those cases it is likely that the recess would have a solid back and there would be no window.

In accordance with tradition there is also an area ouside the boundary of the site where guests can be entertained. The reasons for this are dealt with elsewhere but it is as important an area to the operation of the society as the enclosed majlis. They can be thought of in socio-anthropological terms as the same space.

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The standard majlis

Here are two photographs of an ordinary majlis and, lower down, a dining room. The first photograph is typical of many Qatari majalis. It is lined with peripheral sofas and armchairs, their heavy style being representative of the furniture in most majalis as is the patterning. Plain designs are very rarely seen.

Next to the seats there is the standard requirement of a series of small tables to take tea cups and glasses of water, fruit juice or soft drinks through the evening. Sometimes you will see there a Quran and prayer beads, and newspapers and the occasional magazine are not uncommon.

You can also see at the rear left of the photo a calendar. This is an Islamic calendar and is a feature of many majalis. I understand they are there to ensure that the owner and his guests know the times of prayers.

There is a television to keep up with the news and I think there was also a radio/cassette player out of sight. A telephone was located in the corner where the owner habitually sits.

Incidentally, in larger majalis there are often more than one telephone but they will all be on the same line so that there is no breach of privacy by somebody picking up a telephone out of sight.

In the wall there is a standard air-conditioning unit with its timber surround and trailing wire to the wall mounted socket outlet. Where possible owners now prefer split units or, better, a proper air-conditioning system with ceiling mounted grilles preferably integrated into the design of the ceiling.

The lighting is fluorescent from ceiling mounted fittings, and sometimes there is fluorescent from behind a suspended acoustic or plaster ceiling but, where possible there seems to be a predeliction for chandeliers in gold and crystal.

You should also take note of the omni-present tissue boxes, a feature not only of every majlis you enter, but of every room in a house. These tissue boxes appear to be as they were bought but the majority I’ve seen are inserted into elaborate containers with a variety of artistic treatments.

The floor has a fully fitted carpet with a long pile and in the preferred colour, beige, on top of which there is an mechanically woven Persian carpet.

One of the features missing from this majlis are wall pictures. They are not always found in majalis – as they are not always found in houses – but they do sometimes appear. Where they do they tend to be romanticised landscapes, often of trees and hills but I have seen original oil paintings of ancestors, taken from photographs, both portraits and composed in a traditional setting.

This photograph shows the dining area associated with the majlis above. In many ways it resembles the traditional majlis lined as it is with masaanid in the traditional style. It is the way in which majalis were organised in the past and is still liked by many. In fact, when people use armchairs and sofas in modern majalis they often end up sitting on the floor, using the front and seat of the sofas and armchairs as masaanid.

I have seen a number of majalis furnished like this, but it is a dining room. In the background you can see a wash area where guests can wash after their meal. Commonly this will have a tiled floor and the water in the sink may be left running so that guests can more easily wash themselves after a meal eaten with their hands.

When it is time to eat a sufra will be placed on the ground and the meal set out. Guests will come through from the majlis and the host will begin the process of making sure his guests are well provided for.

At the end of the meal the diners will wash and retire to the majlis where coffee and then tea will be brought to them.

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Operation of the majlis

The majlis is the space where the male members of the household entertain their male friends and guests. In fact the majlis is really the space which represents the head of the household. It is his window on the world; it is where he can demonstrate his character and be judged by his peers. As such it is imperative to him that it is organised and decorated in a manner which represents him – without being too ostentatious, and without embarrassing his guests and friends.

The first thing to understand is that majalis differ the higher up the social scale they represent. It may seem obvious, but it doesn’t mean that they are more ostentatious, only that there is an increased formality to them both in their furnishings and in their use and operation.

At the highest levels of society the majlis is the space where anybody may go to meet the Ruler, members of the Royal Family, the head of their qabila, an important businessman or other influential member of the society. These more formal majalis are there for people to have access to those who run the country in their different ways; business is done there in the sense that requests can be made, advice given and, of course, those attending can see each other. The majlis reflects the way society operates and is, in itself, one of its chief mechanisms.

The majlis is begun following the five daily prayers. Following prayers at the local mosque the owner of the majlis will go to it and make himself available to those who wish to see him. The pattern is that the same people tend to be there every day – friends and relations – supplemented by those with business of some sort or other and guests who might be passing through the country.

The general air is unhurried though the majlis will not last all that long except for the early morning one and, particularly, the evening one which might last all evening as it is, in many ways, the living room of its owner who will sometimes spend more time here than with his family.

At the highest levels this is not the case. They might be characterised more as places where formal meetings take place and some business accomplished, perhaps more in the sense of requests being made for assistance at a variety of levels. Following these majalis the members will move on to another majlis following a virtual social pecking order, and ending the night with their closest friends in the most informal majalis.

When a visitor enters the majlis he will go to the owner and greet him. If he is important to the owner, or is a guest, or has business he will be invited to sit next to him. Arabic qahwa will be served to him followed by shy ahmar, red tea – more of these later. If he is asking for something then that business will be conducted relatively quickly, perhaps even before the coffee and tea, and he will move away to sit somewhere else in the majlis after also greeting other guests in the majlis. If he is an important guest he may remain with the host for the rest of the majlis though at some time in the evening he will greet other important people in the majlis.

If the majlis is physically large, there will be some movement not only as people come and go but also as people move to sit next to and talk with others attending it. At the highest levels the majlis is a place to see and be seen so has more of a socio-political relevance to the community, though that might be said of all majalis.

When the majlis is formal as, for example, that of the Head of State, then visitors will go straight to the host, shake his hand – and with older Arabs, perhaps kiss his shoulder or touch noses – then move down the line similarly shaking hands then sitting on one of the available seats where he will wait a short time and then leave, permitting his seat to be taken by others.

When the majlis is informal then the visitor will arrive and may find the television on, soft drinks, newspapers and the like around, and a very relaxed air, ghutras are likely to be taken off and everybody will make themselves at home.

I should have mentioned earlier that nearly all formal majalis are, nowadays, arranged on Western seating – armchairs and sofas – but many people still prefer the older form of dowshek. Where the majlis has Western armchairs and sofas, it is not unusual for guests to sit on the floor, using it as a dowshek and the chair as a misnad.

Not all majalis are the same, of course. This photograph shows an interesting example of a modern style of majlis. The windows show that it is a relatively new building. There is an air-conditioning unit at a high level adjacent to a Persian carpet with a calligraphic theme, a lovely way to display and appreciate a carpet. A modern, large-screened television sits in the corner with feature lighting behind it and surrounded by planting and, to the right, are dowashek and misaanid, the favourite way of sitting in a majlis.

A final note on the operation of the majlis is on the use of a’oud to perfume the room. It is customary, following the serving of qahwa and shy for a midkhan to be brought into the room and taken round all the guests who will waft the smoke towards them, lifting their qutra so that the smoke will be trapped and last longer. The smell of a’oud and flavour of qahwa are very much evocative of the majlis and the mark of a good and generous host.

I mentioned the smell of a’oud above as this is one of the most distinctive aromas associated with Arabic life, particularly with majaalis. Approaching a majlis this is one of the first clues that the majlis is in operation. Pieces of a’oud are placed on a small amount of charcoal in a midkhan – or incense burner, and allowed to smoke and not catch alight. The a’oud comes in different qualities which guests will be able to appreciate better than a Westerner. The midkhan itself is usually made of tin on the inside and different metals on the outside, commonly decorated with brass studs and mirrorwork. The plasterwork midkhan shown here is more for decorative effect, but I have seen them in use. They are heavier than the metalwork midakhn but of a similar size and shape. Originally they were fabricated by the same craftsmen who were carrying out the first naqsh restoration work on buildings in the country.

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Coffee and tea

At all majalis it is the custom to serve qahwa and shy. The qahwa is served from a della held in the left hand, the right hand holding a set of small finajil into which is poured a small amount of hot Arabic coffee – made from roasted green beans and cardamon – and usually with a flourish. The finjaan is taken with the right hand and sipped while the servant or host will wait. It is customary to accept three cups of qahwa before giving the finjaan back, shaking the hand to indicate you don’t want another. If you don’t shake your hand the cup will be re-filled and returned to you. It is impolite to refuse it. The servant or host will then move on to another guest or, as is more usual, he will serve the number of people for whom he has finajil at the same time, moving backwards and forwards between them.

Following the qahwa it is usual to serve shy ahmar. This is usually brought on a tray and is hot tea, served without milk but with quite a bit of sugar. It is usual to take only a single cup of this tea which, again, is served in a small glass cup of tall proportions, often on its own small saucer with spoon and additional sugar lumps in it.

In summer, shy na’na is usually served. Essentially it is shy ahmar with the addition of fresh mint leaves and sugar and is very refreshing.

In winter, zanjabil is sometimes served. It is a warming drink made with ginger and condensed milk, again with sugar.

Soft drinks are now very much a feature of majlis life, particularly in summer. Bottled water is commonly available but glass bottles of soft drinks are often served from a tray and drunk either from the bottle or a glass, depending on the formality of the particular majlis.

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Arabic room or majlis

Before I leave the subject of majalis, I should mention one other type of majlis, that is the Arabic room or majlis. A number of Qataris have created a room in their house which has, to them, the character of an Arabic majlis. They are curious rooms in that they contain a number of elements that are not typical to the region but perhaps are more derived from northern Arabic countries.

Typically they have seating provided by a peripheral dowshek, complete with misaanid. The walls will have mushrabiyah with, perhaps, coloured glass and brass. Unusually there may also be pictures, usually of wooded mountains with flowing streams. The floor will be covered heavily with sijaad and, perhaps, kilim, though these are not thought of so highly. Lighting will be by perforated brass lanterns of a type found from Morocco to Syria. They are rooms for relaxation with close friends and guests.

Informal majalis

Finally, I should add that although I have talked about majalis as being discrete, designed rooms, there is a tendency for them to be created in odd areas on both a temporary or permanent basis, particularly by the women of the household. A favourite place is in a suitably sized corridor from which the whole of the operation of the interior of the house can be viewed and governed.

Generally this will be a space on the ground floor to which there is reasonable access from an external door. Lighting seems not to be a key issue, but a telephone is as is the ability to see what is happening in the kitchen and with children.

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Operation of the household

Let’s begin with the way in which the household works. The family is the focal point in Islam. At its simplest, women run the household and have to be able to operate within the house in complete privacy, with no possiblity of being seen from outside – or even by visitors to the house and its plot. This principle is of paramount importance, though is often ignored by designers.

Most of the time the women of the household will remain within the walls of the house and will have a literally limited perspective. Though women used to visit other members of the family or go to the suq occasionally, customarily this exercise would be carried out by the men of the house, or by a servant. This is now changing, however and, depending on perceived status and education, many more women are moving into public areas.

Complicating the way in which the interior of the house is used by the family is the relationship between different elements of the household functions. The following diagram shows the relationships between these different areas characterised by a simplistic degree of requirement.

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Inter-relationship of household functions

This diagram is important only to the extent to which the different functions on and connected to the site are related to each other. The assessments are my own but are based on considerable experience of the manner in which Gulf Arabs live and, particularly, by my observation of the problems caused by poor design and its impact on those having to live in less than satisfactory arrangements.

The diagram sets out internal and external spaces using a standard Western architectural vocabulary.

Rooms and spaces

In most of my notes on these pages I have, and will, talk about rooms and spaces as having the naming with which we are very familiar. So familiar, in fact, that we tend not to think much about them and their meaning. To some extent this is laziness on my part but it is useful to give these names as shorthand for a general understanding of how rooms and spaces might be dressed and used.

Yet not only has there been a significant change in use and, therefore, of naming over the past generation in the West but – as should be borne in the minds of all designers in the Gulf – modern Gulf houses are novel in many of their aspects. In particular, houses are not used in the same manner in which Westerners live in their houses and, of course, there are significant differences in the ways in which Westerners operate in their own houses.

The reasons for this are many and, reading through the following notes, I hope a better understanding of this will be gained. There are significant cultural reasons, of course, but two which designers should be aware of are the freedom obtained by the provision of large spaces, and the resulting capability of people to use those spaces in a manner in which the designer may not have originally foreseen. Here a young boy enjoys himself playing on a set of swings which is normally considered as a play frame located outdoors.

Changes with time and cultural traditions

In Britain, for example, there has been a significant change in the manner in which houses have been used over the last two generations. This has been noted and remarked on by a number of authorities who have described the effects of kinship and its relationship with proximity, disposable income and other issues.

At its simplest there has been a change in layout in the West where a parlour was set aside at the front of the house in which guests would be entertained in a setting where the family mementoes and best furniture would be arranged, but which the family would not normally occupy, thus reducing the amount of usable space available to them at the expense of having a room where they could display themselves to the outside world. Day to day living would be in a room at the back of the house, relating both to the kitchen and the outside lavatory facilities.

Naming of rooms

Again, in the West, the rooms of the house were named in accordance with their main functions and were compartmented, access to them being gained from corridors and, usually, stairs due to the density at which they were built and the need for more than a single storey. Compartmenting was necessary not only for privacy but also in order to be able to keep rooms relatively warm. In houses large and small there would be a significant temperature difference between usable rooms and circulation spaces, particularly in winter.

In the Gulf, as I have written about elsewhere, houses consisted of a series of rooms which were multi-functional and generally having their access gained from a veranda open on one side. When the Ministry of Public Works began its programme of housing development it was noticeable that the rooms of the new houses were at first labelled in Arabic: ‘majlis’, ‘kitchen’, ‘bathroom’ and ‘room’ though this was later amended to ‘majlis’, ‘dining’, ‘kitchen’, ‘bathroom’ and ‘bedroom’. The significance of this is two-fold. Firstly, the concept of having rooms set aside for a specific purpose was novel and, secondly, the naming of the rooms followed Western practice with the obvious exception of the majlis.

Significantly, the designers of those first houses were northern Arabs who brought to their work the understanding of the housing they had first experienced a generation or two earlier. This seems to have been very similar to what might have laid out by a Western designer, having similar spatial relationships in terms of the disposition of uses, the use of corridors for access and isolation, and the poor internal layout of bathrooms and kitchens.

Bathrooms

These first two paragraphs have been left in place here. The rest of the notes on bathrooms have been moved and can now be found on the addendum page dealing with elements of buildings.

Bathrooms were bought in as suites from the large number of agents who sprang up to supply the nascent housing industry. Bath, wash hand basin and toilet bowl were the standard items, all located in the bathrooms though some of the earlier housing had Asian toilets supplied. Where the house plans had a separate lavatory, that was usually Asian. However, there was no consideration given to the orientation of the toilet or lavatory, this reflecting the direction in which the housing layout dictated the house to be placed.

Each bathroom was laid out in the same way with the bath along one wall with a filling piece at the end to make up the difference – usually up to about 750mm – between the length of the bath and the width of the room. A pedestal wash hand basin and toilet completed the set with an uncovered hot water heater situated above the bath.

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Kitchens

Again, the first three paragraphs on kitchens have been left here for reference, but the notes have been moved to the addendum page dealing with elements of buildings.

As with bathrooms, kitchens in the first Qatari houses were laid out little differently from Western kitchens. The units were arranged peripherally with a standard single sink basin and draining board arrangement, the hot water cylinder supplying it being located in the nearest corner of the room, and a space being left for the gas cylinder operated cooker and electric feed for a free-standing refrigerator. A small number of socket outlets were supplied for electrical equipment, often a solitary double outlet supplied this need and the refrigerator. There was no consideration for the principle of work flow and often electric outlets, sink and cooker were dangerously close to each other.

A single light was provided in the centre of the room, patently insufficient to give good lighting to the tasks carried out in the kitchen and, of course, located in the worst position for carrying out tasks on the peripheral work surfaces.

The kitchen was large enough to accommodate a small table and four chairs and, usually, there was a single window and a standard door giving access to the outside. As the house was always raised above the ground in order to give some protection against flooding as well as taking consideration for the importing of sweet soil to form a garden, the area immediately outside the kitchen door was usually a small quarter landing with a number of steps leading down to the garden level.

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Laundry

The notes on laundry have been moved to the addendum page dealing with elements of buildings.

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Qatar in the region

Qatar is a part of the Arabian peninsula, mostly comprised of Saudi Arabia. The small Qatar peninsula was settled from two areas of the region. badu moved into the country with their animals from the hinterland while, from the surrounding areas and Persia, fishers and pearlers settled mainly on the littoral strip. It is debatable which of these groups can claim to have settled first although it is likely that it is the presence of the badu which precipitated the need for trade and consequent settlement on the coast.

Qatar is a relatively small peninsula and, because of this, its settlement was effected differently from the settlements further south along the coast such as Abu Dhabi and Dubai which were more heavily developed. Some believe its character can be thought to compare with the nearby islands of Bahrein, but that also is wrong as there is a long history of settlement there going back thousands of years to the prehistoric settlements known as Dilmun. While there is some evidence of ancient settlement and older rock carvings in Qatar, its settlement appears to be relatively modern. What is certain is that this area of the Gulf was inhabited by pirates raiding settlements and the trade routes to Persia and the Indian sub-continent, and this was one of the determinants in settlement development.

I will talk about the climate of Qatar elsewhere, but it is important to understand that Qatar certainly has a hot climate and, more particularly, that it is is a hot maritime climate. The way in which this determines architectural responses will be dealt with elsewhere.

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The population of Qatar

Archaeological investigations within the peninsula have demonstrated that the settlement of Qatar can be traced back six thousand years or more. It is likely that the federation of Dilmun, centred on Bahrain, included Qatar three thousand years ago. Herodotus referred to the sea-going Canaanites as being inhabitants of Qatar in the fifth century BC, and Ptolemy noted ‘gatara’ on his first century AD maps, a reference, it is believed, to al-Zubara which had established itself by that time as a significant trading post within the Gulf.

More settlement within the peninsula took place gradually over a period of time, but three significant waves can be definitely established. The first was a Wahhabi expansion by tribes from al-Hasa towards the end of the eighteenth century. Following this was the movement of tribes from the littoral ranging from Kuwait in the north and along the al-Hasa province of Saudi Arabia in the mid-eighteenth century; and the third was the movement by sea from other areas of the Persian/Arabian Gulf, notably from what is now Iran.

The Ottoman empire governed the area for centuries, including the period when the al Thani family became absolute rulers of the country in the late nineteenth century. This rule continued after the country became a British protectorate in 1916, and maintained as Qatar became an independent country with the British leaving the Gulf in 1971.

The population of Qatar has increased dramatically. This is dealt with elsewhere, though not in great detail. What is worth mentioning here is that in the early 1900s Qatar was estimated to have a population of about 27,000 of whom 20,000 were nationals. Although there was an increase in the intervening years, particularly from the other side of the Gulf, regional instability and economic hardship saw the population drop through the thirties and forties to about 16,000 by 1949.

In 1970 a census counted a population of 111,000 of whom 45,000 were nationals. The 1986 census showed a population of 369,000 and a 1990 estimate raised this to 371,000 of whom 70,000 were nationals. The Planning Council stated that the 1997 census enumerated a population of 522,000 and the 2004 census showed an increase to 743,000 giving an annual increase of 6% from 1997 to 2004, ascribed to the strong economic growth. I will be writing more about this in one of the addenda.

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Badu migration

Some badu used to stay in the Qatar peninsula throughout the year, though they moved around a relatively small area. Some of the badu normally spent their summers in the Arabian hinterland where they had not only access to the water of the oases at which they camped, but where they were able to trade wool and milk for the materials they needed – weaponry for hunting or war, trade goods and foods such as dates and grain. For the winter months, which comprised about two-thirds of the year, they moved into the Qatar peninsula and enjoyed the vegetation and bi’r – wells, particularly those in the north of the country. Evidence is that they first settled with their tents and that these might have developed through simple arrish structures to crude, stone and juss structures which developed with time. More will be written about the diferent groups on the population page.

I have included the photo to the side, taken south of Doha in the early seventies, as I believe it is interesting for two reasons. Firstly, it demonstrates the normal form a traditional well takes in the desert. There is a surrounding channel around the well to contain spillage and direct the raised water, and an extension leading to the area where the animals would be able to drink.

Secondly, in the background it is possible to see some relatively temporary structures. One of these was designed to take a pitched arrish roof as can be seen from its gable wall. I have only seen a couple of them in the country and was told by one of the sons of the family who used to live here that it was roofed each year with palm fronds.

Although there is some evidence of prehistoric remains in Qatar with a variety of stone shelters implying a form of permanent or semi-permanent settlement, the first modern homes within Qatar are most likely to have been the tents of the Badu, later supplemented by permanent shelters constructed of materials sourced close at hand. The tent provides five things for the Badu: mobility, shelter from the strong sun, protection from the driven dust and sand, cover against the cold and rain, and privacy. In all this it is a brilliant example of a successful design.

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Badu tent

Tents of a variety of designs have formed the homes of migrant peoples for thousands of years. These two photos illustrate traditional badu tents, photographed in Qatar. The first photo illustrates one in use, the second was taken more recently and is essentially the same as the first – except for the television in the right hand corner.

Please bear in mind while you read these notes on tents that they refer to tents used in Qatar and that, in many respects, there has been change over time. The diagrams are essentially theoretical, many of the badu tents using different forms and materials as they come to hand. For instance telephone cable and detonating cable have been recorded as being used for guy ropes, and plan forms are often adapted to daily needs. But, more important, society has moved on. Urbanisation has been encouraged, nationality issues have affected many badu and greater wealth has had an impact on both work prospects as well as recreation related to living in the desert.

The tradition of the desert and its living patterns still runs deep in Qatari culture, particularly with those of badu descent. This image in many ways epitomises the feeling for the desert; the comfort to be found sitting with friends around a fire with the camels safely tethered and the hawk alert to the conditions of the natural environment around it. The accompanying tent with its shelter, but open aspect, enables this character of lifestyle to continue. There is considerable comfort to be found in life in and around a tent, part of it perversely based on feelings of comfort and permanence in a mobile life.

Even in sedentary cultures it is known that permanent buildings may be abandoned for part of the year when their occupants will revert to their more moveable homes either for harvesting crops or, more recently, even for pleasure – perhaps a reinforcement of the psychological need to enjoy a simpler lifestyle. The advantages are obvious. Tents can be moved to any part of a country where there is something of value to the migrants. They can be struck when that commodity is no longer there in sufficient quantities – whether it is weather or fodder – and moved on to another location. In doing so the migrant benefits the land. The droppings from their grazing animals fertilize the soil and help to maintain the marginal soils of the arid areas in which many of the migrants live. Perhaps one of their greatest benefits is their impermanence: not only the length of time they stay in one place, but also the materials from which they are made deteriorate with time and must be replaced. They have little adverse effect upon the country in which they stand, and they leave little behind them.

In addition to the environmental advantages offered by tents, they also have a beauty of material and construction that is not as apparent in the more permanent buildings that developed with time. In other words they are less likely to be dependent on style and fashion, and more likely to reflect the honesty of their construction.

Nowadays the tent is used by the tourism industry and by many families, particularly in the winter months. Rarely are traditional tents used by anybody other than families that can still afford to keep and maintain them so it is the canvas variety, the bayt khiaas, that spring up in the desert in season. They are not always as large as traditional tents but their roofs tend to be higher. In this photo you can see that the arrangement is exactly the same as with traditional tents, with projecting walls and a low shelter protecting the cooking area.

As I mentioned above, nowadays tents are made of canvas, the more expensive with decorated panels lining their interiors. Little of the internal linings are traditional, many of them being the bright colours and patterns from Egypt, particularly the appliqué type. Seating is still traditional, as you can see in the lower photograph with a row of dowshek and masaanid to lean on, with carpets laid directly on the ground.

When reviewing the manner in which Qataris live nowadays it can be instructive to analyse the manner in which tents were constructed and life lived in and around them, and to contrast this with the way in which housing than developed in Qatar.

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Tent construction

Women make tents. Men may fashion the wooden elements of the tent, but it is the women who shear the goats, spin the yarn, weave the tent fabric, and assemble and decorate the tents. As a reflection of this the women’s area of the tent is often larger than the men’s as it must accommodate not only the looms, churns and utensils, but also the activities of the women as well as men when they’re entertaining or relaxing in their side of the tent. The men’s area, by contrast, contains the weapons, harnesses and saddles and is the area where guests are entertained and spend the night. These practical rôles of the badu are similar to those required by the Holy Quran with the women being given the central and focal role of looking after the home and the education of the children. In this they have an extremely powerful role that has continued to this day. I shall write about the way this is now changing elsewhere.

The different parts of the tent, both the main materials that are designed to protect against the elements as well as those designed for decoration and privacy, are constructed in a simple manner. This is very much a case of necessity. Their unsettled life means that there is little that can be constructed and used that can not be taken down and moved as the badu migrate with the seasons. Among other things, this means that weaving frames have to be simple and small. In effect this has brought about the custom of weaving the material from which tents are made on a simple frame pegged out on the ground and in no more than half a metre wide strips.

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Weaving

This illustration, taken from one of the Qatar government’s sites, shows the relatively sophisticated portable weaving mechanism, I think for touristic purposes in one of its museums or displays. It should be relatively easy to imagine how this would look pegged out in the desert without the supporting wooden base arrangement, and without the carpet.

The method of weaving produces distinct patterns, of necessity in a stepped manner. These kinds of patterns can be seen all over the world where simplistic weaving has developed. The main differences are the materials themselves, the colours and the scale. A slight difference can be seen in Iran where kilims have developed with returns of the weft threads creating slits, parallel with the warp, in the finished piece. This does not generally occur in the Arabian versions. These two examples, albeit, not too clean, illustrate typical materials used to form the decorated walls of tents. The benefit of this type of weaving is that the material can be used on either of its faces.

Sometimes, however, material is woven so that it only has one presentation face – as in this top photograph – and the back of the material – as shown in the lower photograph – hiding its construction as in this example which is used as a part of the harnessing of a camel. These narrow strips of brightly coloured material are a common feature of the trappings of camels. Tassels are usually added to these strips of material, adding colour and movement as they sway to the motion of the camels’ walk. It is evident that decoration of this sort fulfills a number of different functions for the badu illustrating, at least, pride in their animals combined with a desire to decorate and enhance their immediate surroundings within the very limited facilities available to them.

The functional purpose of the weaving, I should have mentioned earlier, is related to the need to have containers for the many different items that are used in their day-to-day activities, particularly when the badu have to move. Storage bags, rugs and tent walls are the main items woven, along with dressings for their camels. For those interested in badu weaving, considerably more information can be found here.

While I’m on the subject I will add a couple of photographs that show the timber elements of the assembly that attaches to the camel, a riding saddle or hawlaani. On the face of it this may not seem to have much to do with Gulf architecture but I believe that, like the traditional boats, there is a connection between this and traditional architecture. These are relatively small pieces of wood that slot together and are bound with leather strips in order to maintain their necessary shape. The wood sits on top of a padded arrangement which is covered with a woven cloth usually from which tassels hang for decoration, the whole sitting over the hump of the camel.

You can also see, in the lower photograph, the carving that enhances the wooden frame. It is relatively simple, comprising mostly chevron carving in bands tracing the outline of the shaped wood. In this it has similarities to the peripheral carving found in naqsh work though, as you can see, the central panel is completely different from carved naqsh, showing no alteration in the pattern or scale of carving.

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Tent material

The tent is known among the badu as the bayt sha’r or house of hair. Preferably it is constructed of goat hair which gives its distinctive dark brown-black colouring and which has the physical properties required by the badu.

Goat hair is very strong in tension and the strands relatively long. Occasionally sheep wool or camel hair is added for effect, but the former elongates under tension and the latter is too short to form effective yarn. The yarn for tents is spun from the goat hair using a mighzal or drop spindle and then woven on a sadu or a simple loom pegged out horizontally into the desert. The material which is woven from it is normally approximately sixty centimetres wide and the resulting strips, filli, are then sewn together with a goat hair thread to make the tent and its walls as well as a number of other necessary bags and mats – the tenting material having a denser weave in order to help shed rain. The width is a traditional measurement based on the distance between the tip of an extended finger to the elbow.

The material used to form the tent has to be hard wearing under the tough conditions in which the tents are used. The material lasts about five or six years. As and when they wear out the strips comprising the tent are mended or replaced and, eventually, perhaps cycled to the bottom of the ruaq or discarded completely.

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Environmental response

Note that, in these illustrations, the women’s section of the tent is larger than the men’s as that is the family’s living area in which the tasks of the family are carried out, and the men and women of the family use daily. The men’s area is essentially for relaxation by the men of the family and, of course, for entertainment of guests. Note the arrangement of stones to the south-east of the tent that serves to act as a mosque.

As a solution to the problem of shelter the bayt sha’r is almost ideal. In rain the yarns swell slightly which helps to block the ingress of water through the weave, and the oily character of the goats’ hair assists in shedding water. Prolonged rain will eventually come through the fabric and it is not uncommon to feel a very fine mist coming through the tent prior to this. I don’t know what happens to it under really prolonged rain but have heard that the atnab, guy ropes are adjusted to minimise standing water on top of the relatively flat profile. Nor do I know if using hands or poles to move the tent structure upwards and shed water will encourage water to move through the material at contact points as I recall from canvas tents. Perhaps somebody will tell me…

However the badawi does not have the concern for this that others might have. Firstly, rain is welcomed for the benefit it brings to the pasturage, secondly, because he knows percolation to be a characteristic of the tent and, thirdly, there are not many things in a badu tent which would be damaged by slight water ingress. Rather he is aware of its characteristics, and grateful for the tent giving him a degree of protection which he will not have outside the shelter.

Additionally, its relatively light weight is a benefit to him, as is its slightly transparent feeling. Sitting under the shade of a bayt sha’r you can see light coming through the small holes in it and are very much aware of its light character. Reinforcing this character, air movement or winds will move the fabric slightly which helps air to circulate around the interior of the tent as well as aiding psychologically with the feeling of coolness.

By contrast, within modern houses the badu tends to experience a real psychological concern about the apparently unrelieved mass above him, which is reinforced if the ceiling is relatively low. There appears to be a distinct difference in the feeling for the oppression of a solid ceiling compared with that of the material of a tent even though this is generally lower than the ceiling of a house; perhaps caused by the knowledge of the lightness of the tent structure, the fact that it is only half covering the space, and the slight movement of the natural materials.

In addition to letting in some moisture, the tent also admits the wind and breezes. In the hot months of the year this is a positive benefit as any cooling breeze is welcomed in order to help reduce further the temperature within the tent, or to increase the effect of cooling, either psychologically or by transpiration. Having said that, the temperatures within a tent are considerably lower in summer than the temperatures outside. The bayt sha’r absorbs heat because of its colour, but it also dissipates that heat quickly due to the loose weave of the material. The colour of the tent also provides much darker shade than would a light coloured material, and it is impressive to compare the coolness of a bayt sha’r with that of a canvas tent – even if the latter is lined. I should also mention that it is common to have the ruaq – the walls of the tent – taken down completely in summer, using just the roof elements to provide shade, and the tent form itself assisting in drawing air through the interior utilising the venturi effect.

But there is another environmental effect that should be noted within a tent. There is a gradation of heat over the cross-section of the tent. Immediately in the front of the tent – which will have been pitched facing more or less south – the ground will be very hot. Inside the front of the tent the shade will have lowered the temperature of the ground and, at the rear of the tent, and due to the slope of the rear of the tent away from the sun’s rays, the ground will be even cooler, this graduation of temperatures causing convection currents which are noticeable. Generally, the temperature inside a tent under sun is 10-15°C less than outside.

Having said that I should add that the al Na’imi kabila, who live permanently in the north-west of the peninsula, used to have stone houses into which they moved in the hottest part of summer. It seems to me that this must be due to the diurnal thermal lag of the stone structure providing relative coolness throughout most of the day, discomfort becoming an issue in the late afternoon. I would also assume that the stone house would only be better than a tent when there is no air movement – but I have to admit that I have not had this confirmed by anybody with the relevant experience. It is recorded that people slept on the roofs of these structures.

In winter the wind can be more of a problem and, to some extent, this is dealt with by siting the tent carefully in a declivity of the desert – although not in a wadi where the tent would be at risk from flood water – and by using stones or brushwood to reduce the impact of wind on the sides of the tent. The ruaq tent material does not touch the floor as, in that situation, it would be liable to rot. The lowest elements of the ruaq are normally constructed out of a material which can be replaced – sometimes canvas, sacking or a piece of tent that has outlived its position within the body of the tent – and can be held down with rocks to assure a more wind-tight enclosure.

Tent structure

The bayt sha’r of the badu is a sophisticated structure that has developed over centuries into the deceptively simple housing it has become. Guyed by long ropes, lakh, it has a relatively flat, low, aerodynamic profile which helps to counter and reduce the effects of any strong winds.

Although they are usually considered as a single style there are a number of different forms taken by bayt sha’r over not just the Arab world, but farther afield. However, the structures in Qatar seem to be similar conceptually, the only difference between the northern and southern badu tents appears to be that the latter are lower and have shorter maqataab, ridge poles or beams and which are doubled compared with the longer, single northern arrangement. The maqataab are used to spread the area over which the roof fabric has contact.

The tent fabric is held up with ’amuwd, wooden poles tallest in the centre of the tent, lower at the back than at the front. A wooden device at the top of the central internal vertical poles serves to spread the load over the fabric which itself is reinforced with qatuba, tension bands.

The ’amuwd come in three different lengths and have different local names: mazdm, waasut and mikhir, respectively named for those at the rear, centre and front of the tent.

For more information about tents consult Ferdinand’s and Faegre’s books which were the main sources for research on issues relating to Qatari tents, particularly the former.

Tent walls

The walls of tents can be thought of as of two types, the qata or central, dividing wall or walls and the ruaq, or external walls.

The qata is usually highly decorated and extends into the desert in front of the tent. In fact, on a large tent there may be more than a single qata. Its purpose is to divide the family activities from those of the men, particularly when there are guests on the men’s side. In this its function is to provide privacy, and it is usually highly decorated.

The ruaq comprise the majority of the tent walls, enclosing the tent on three of its four sides. They are constructed on the same lines as the roof of the tent but in a looser weave and, usually, striped red, natural beige and black. Nowadays the tent might have an additional internal wall to provide decoration and extra insulation.

The junction of roof and wall is effected relatively simply. Large wooden pins, khilaal, are used to attach one to the other at approximately one metre intervals. In some circumstances the khilaal have rings at the end with a running line through them in order to keep them together and prevent their being lost in the sand.

The junction of ground and wall is a bit more complicated. As I wrote earlier, the foot of the ruaq is usually sealed by being weighted down with a row of stones, but can be buried in the sand in order to provide a seal against the elements. This would be a relatively normal arrangement for that part of the year when the ruaq are used for privacy and protection. In summer, the ruaq might be taken down completely. Obviously burying the edge of the ruaq can damage it, so the bottom of the ruaq usually has added to it a piece of sacking, canvas or an old piece of tent or ruaq material to which further damage is not important.

When the weather cools the bayt sha’r can be a little cold. To keep it warm the qata can be turned back to seal the open side of the tent, the internal fire keeping the tent warm through the night.

The winter months were particularly dangerous with regard to water and, in order to deal with water run-off a small ditch would be dug with a raised barrier, about twenty centimetres high, on the tent side and with stones on the other side of the channel to weigh down the bottom of the ruaq. The channels were essential to collect water and lead it away from the tent.

Guy ropes

The guy ropes, or lakh, are relatively long, to a large extent this being necessary due to the way in which fixing into the ground is effected; soft soils don’t allow tent pegs to take their loads vertically but require shallow lateral loading to prevent the pegs being pulled out. But the long guy ropes have another function. Their length, and the fact that they are made of hemp, creates elasticity and this acts to damp the forces made on them by any fluctuations of the wind.

Tent pegs

Both soft and hard ground conditions can be met at camping sites, so badu must be prepared for either contingency, or even both at a suitable site.

In the past, sometimes small bushes were used as anchor points in soft ground. Buried sixty centimetres or so under the ground, the branches of a bush are able to spread the loading placed on it by the guy ropes. Nowadays, there seem to be three solutions. The traditional one is to use stones or, in sand, bushes, stones or sandbags.

The main problem with using stones to which to anchor guy ropes is to ensure that movement caused by the wind doesn’t fray the ropes through continuous friction. Perhaps due to the large amounts of steel introduced for the construction industry, I have seen steel pegs, misaamir, used, both straight and spiral, the latter having a loop at the top which enables them to be screwed into and out of the ground. Steel pegs tend to be flattened at the top from hammering into the ground but which also creates a mechanical device to counter the possibility of the lakh slipping off.

These two photographs show the use of plastic bags filled with sand to tether a modern, canvas tent – as well as two camels. I’m a little surprised at the use of these sandbags as tying a safe knot at the mouth of the bag is not that easy, and I would have thought that, in a strong wind, the bags would not be as sound as traditional solutions. Notice also that the misaamir which are used in conjunction with the sandbags are hammered in vertically rather than at an angle, which is a little surprising.

Finally, it is also worth noticing that the sand around the tent is used to seal the junction of the bottom of the canvas wall with the ground, and there is a trench around the tent to collect and lead water away from the tent in the event of rain.

It can be seen from the above that a variety of methods are used for holding down tents, and that the methods vary depending on the character of the ground on which the tents are pitched. In order to cater for each circumstance the badu carry what they need. However, sometimes they can be lucky to find what they need on site such as the sand above, or stones. In this photograph you can see that the ground is level and suited to animals’ grazing. You can also see a number of stones lying around, and it is likely that these will be used over and over again as people use the site to pitch their tents here before moving on to another spot.

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