Deep within Souq Waqif, away from the main drag thronged with passengers from a recently arrived cruise ship, the heritage of Qatar is still alive. There is one of the country’s last pearl divers, octogenarian Saad Ismail Jassim in his store, reminiscing about the times before oil and gas changed the country. There is Mujammil Ali, who sells traditional gold-hemmed thobes worn by men on special occasions, and Adil, the falcon vendor, who handles birds worth more than a small car – birds that have a long history in the Arab cultures and are treated like a family member.
This warren of lanes, where you get a friendly guy offering to cart your purchases around in a wheelbarrow, is where I go to remind myself of where I live. With glittering skyscrapers, all the known high-street stores, international restaurants, and residential neighbourhoods that look like Venice, the south of France, or Miami all around you, it is easy to forget that Qatar is a country with a long history – a country filled with age-old traditions and a culture that is inherent to everything here. But it can lie hidden.
I am currently living in Doha for the second time. I first moved to the small state protruding from the Arabian Peninsula in the early 2000s, when basically nobody, including me, had ever heard of the place. After five years I moved on, a trailing spouse to my husband’s work, which took me once around the globe, only to come full circle four years ago, after the COVID pandemic, when I found myself back in Qatar once more.
The first time around, Souq Waqif was still the old, more-shabby-than-chic version, one that burned down nearly completely in 2003, but was subsequently restored and improved upon. And it is still the place where locals come to meet up over karak, the sweet, ginger-spiced tea, shop for spices or cloth, or, indeed, more pricey items such as falcons.
And even though I visit regularly, often simply to say hello to the camels, who are stabled there and work as the lolloping steeds for the Emir’s special guard, or to distribute carrots to the other, often deemed much nobler steeds – the haughty-looking Arabian thoroughbred horses, who might be costly and elegant, but love a good carrot just like every other horse – I still get lost.
But isn’t that what it’s all about? Diving deep into the warrens, this is where the old traditions come alive, or, really, have been alive all along. In tiny, sometimes dusty stores, I found pictures of old Qatar, when the country’s riches were based on the trade of pearls, riches brought to shore in wooden dhows, replicas of which are favourite gifts bought by the Qataris for visitors, and which are built in the souq by those who also have the skill to build life-sized boats.
Or, there is a place I only recently discovered, and will probably never find again.
A small room filled with tables is, basically, a board game café. Here, you can play dama, a game that looks not too far removed from checkers, but with different gaming pieces and much more interesting rules. You can join in, if it is not too busy, although this game, thought to have originated in ancient Egypt, and whose counters, or at least similar ones, can be seen in the nearby Museum of Islamic Art, is popular and draws regular challengers who sit deep in thought before making their next move. Just watching from the lane is quite literally a window into old Qatar.
Within easy walking distance from the souq lies the modern National Museum of Qatar, rising like a gigantic desert rose, a locally found natural gypsum-salt formation. I always take visitors there, because after strolling (and yes, getting lost) in Souq Waqif, this is where you can put it all together. Just when you thought that a desert country, especially one with Bedouin roots, would not have any history due to the nomadic lifestyle and harsh conditions which erode more permanent structures eventually – think again.
Inside, you can learn more about the old pearling days Saad Ismail Jassim still remembers, see some examples of traditional dress, like those sold by Mujammil Ali, even marvel at the ancient petroglyphs of games scratched into the rock in northern Qatar. Not quite dama, but evidence that long before the skyscrapers, people lived here and knew how to have fun.
While Souq Waqif may well be on most tourists’ itineraries, it is in the hidden alleyways where I find old and, yes, still authentic Doha. Don’t be scared of getting lost, of popping into stores, of asking questions, because Arabian hospitality and culture welcome strangers – and people are more than happy to talk about their trade.
