A FRAGRANCE HANGS IN THE AIR

THE SOUTH OF OMAN IS THE CRADLE OF FRANKINCENSE. TO THIS DAY, THE RESIN IS HARVESTED BY HAND USING TRADITIONAL METHODS

- Rike Uhlenkamp

JUST BEFORE THE SUN disappears behind the hills, Said Ali Al-Mahri arrives in his paradise: scattered across the stony plateau and the surrounding slopes are thousands of ancient trees, their roots clinging to the rock and their thin, gnarled branches reaching toward the sky.

The 62-year-old has hiked into the mountains for the Boswellia sacra, the Arabian frankincense trees, and their ‘white gold’.

The Sap That Shapes Lives

There is still some daylight left. Wearing a long-sleeved functional shirt and a cloth skirt tied around his waist, he crouches in front of a tree trunk. With his sharp knife, he begins to scrape off the dried resin that is protruding from the tree bark in several places. He collects his harvest in a woven basket dangling from his arm.

A few trees away, Said Ali Al-Mahri's cousin is scraping bark. The two men have the same first name and the same last name. To tell them apart, the names of their firstborn sons were added to their names: Said Ali and Said Mohammed. During the harvest season between April and October, the two men climb the mountains every two to three weeks.

The incense harvested by the Saids is considered the best in the world. Here in Dhofar, Oman's southernmost province, the climate is perfect for the trees: it is barren and dry. At the same time, the nearby Indian Ocean and the annual monsoon provide humidity.

To get to the olibanum, or frankincense, the Saids have to make several cuts: the resin that flows from the tree after the first two cuts is of inferior quality. Only after the third cut does the actual harvest begin, which becomes purer and purer over the next few weeks. The men then work tree by tree for days on end.