Secret Birthday Traditions, Socotra, Yemen

by Abu Jiwaza
(Fresno, California)

I was born on small island called Socotra which lies in the Indian ocean. It is a part of the Republic of Yemen. Life there remains unchanged as it has been for decades, in terms of technology.

It is an oasis of the old world hanging by a thread in the new. Islam is the main religion, and birthdays are more spiritual than they are in the "Western" world.

My Baba (father) used to tell me the story of my birth. When I was a little boy, I believed this was my own special tale. But as I got older, I learned it was the traditional tale told to children.

My Baba told me that when I was born, a big party was held. Gifts were passed around to thank Allah for a new life. He said that during a week-long celebration, our family donated silver in an amount equal to the weight of my hair.

At the time, I never thought to ask how he figured out the weight of my hair, even though I still wonder that now. I did ask what he did with the silver, and he never told me. That first week is considered your first year.

Until I became an adolescent, my birthdays were always the same: I spent eight days in solitude with my Ommy (mother) and other female relatives. This was crucial, and was the same for females. I had a sister, and she spent eight days with Baba and other male relatives.

On the eighth day, a female singer was hired to perform certain songs. What was so surprising to me was the fact that the female singer was uncovered. Her hair blew loose in the wind! The only uncovered females I had ever seen during my youth were my younger sister and other peers.

So you can understand it was a very odd experience to witness a full grown woman dancing around, singing, with her hair blowing in the wind! I did not understand all the words, but the songs were about Allah and appreciation of life.

After the eighth day (which was actually the day of my birthday), I was immersed together with my family again.

By then, the air was filled with the aromas of many wonderful dishes we would be served. Next, I was given my treat, a sweet fritter. The top of it was painted with a gold line. Eating the sweet fritter was a symbolic way of saying that my life would be filled with sweet pleasure. It was a metaphor of my life, to be devoured with much childhood appreciation.

Then, my relatives would begin singing to me, to each other, and amongst themselves. The celebration came to a close with a great feast of food.