Latest news with #AbbasidCaliphate
Otago Daily Times
30-05-2025
- General
- Otago Daily Times
History's marching papers
The oldest known fragment of paper, over 2000 years old, shows part of a map. It is just 5cm wide and comes from a Chinese grave. As digital communication takes over, so letters are now few and far between. This is going to create an unfortunate void for future historians, for so much is to be found in personal letters and diaries. Take, for example, the Roman fort of Vindolanda, just south of Hadrian's Wall in northern England. In 1973, a student excavator digging in swampy layers extracted what he thought were wood shavings. Prising two of these apart, he recognised writing. Under infrared, this archive of wafer thin wooden letters has revealed what life was like for those garrisoning the wall — there was an invitation to a party, and a request for more beer. Then consider earliest messages from the civilization of Sumer, pressed into clay tablets, or the papyrus records, made from the pith of the plant of the same name, that date back to 2560BC and which describe the construction of the Great Pyramid of Giza. In Europe, records were kept on parchment, that is curated animal skins. The best vellum comes from foetal calfskin. Angkorian temples included libraries for royal archives, but they stand empty because records were kept on palm leaves that have not survived the tropical climate. In China, early texts were written on strips of bamboo that were strung together with silk. So, consider what you are holding: a newspaper. Even in the digital age, paper remains central to our lives in so many ways. Tradition has it that paper was invented by a Chinese eunuch Cai Lun, who submitted his discovery to the Han emperor in 109AD. Early Chinese paper was made from the bark of the mulberry tree or sandalwood. However, archaeology has rejected this story, for the earliest fragment of paper found in a Chinese grave and bearing a map, has been dated to the first century BC. Paper documents soon became the norm in China, but how did expertise in paper making spread further? There is an intriguing story that it reached the Middle East and further west following the Battle of the Talas River in 751AD. Located on the border of Kazakhstan and Kyrgystan, the forces of the Abbasid Caliphate defeated the Tang Dynasty army, and in doing so, captured some Chinese paper makers. Be that as it may, paper was soon replacing papyrus in Baghdad and the inexorable spread of paper made its way west. The Magna Carta was written on parchment in 1309, the oldest paper document from England. However, the Treaty of Waitangi is written on a long sheet of paper.
Saudi Gazette
22-05-2025
- Saudi Gazette
Darb Zubaydah: Reviving the legendary Hajj route from Iraq to Makkah
Saudi Gazette report RAFHA — Stretching over 1,400 kilometers from the city of Kufa in Iraq to the holy city of Makkah, Darb Zubaydah is one of the most significant historical routes in the Arabian Peninsula. Once a lifeline for pilgrims and traders alike, this ancient path winds through the northern reaches of Saudi Arabia, running parallel to the Northern Border Region's Rafha Governorate—its first Saudi waypoint. Darb Zubaydah is more than a relic of the past; it's a striking example of the engineering brilliance that characterized early Islamic civilization. What began as a trade corridor evolved into a crucial pilgrimage route during the Abbasid Caliphate, reaching its peak prominence in the early Islamic era. Named after Zubaydah bint Jaafar, wife of Caliph Harun Al-Rashid, who famously financed much of its infrastructure, the road became known for its carefully planned stations, rest stops, and water collection systems. Massive stone reservoirs and ponds were constructed at strategic intervals to store rainwater, offering relief to pilgrims braving the harsh desert terrain. These waypoints not only ensured water availability but also served as shelters and supply hubs. To guide travelers across the vast and often treacherous desert, a series of stone markers—known as almanar or flags—were erected. These conical towers, made from stacked stones, stood prominently along the route, especially near water sources and crossroads. The distance between each major station was typically around 24 kilometers (12 Islamic miles), with a guiding flag placed midway between stops, providing orientation and reassurance in the open wilderness. In sandy regions, the road was paved with stones to provide traction and stability, preventing the slipping of caravans and animals. Key stations such as Al-Qaa, Zubala, Al-Shihayat, Fayd, Al-Ajfar, and Al-Qa'iya became vital centers of rest and resupply. They offered food, water, shelter, and even medical care, transforming the desert journey into a more humane and manageable pilgrimage. Today, Darb Zubaydah is receiving renewed attention as part of Saudi Arabia's Vision 2030, which emphasizes the preservation and promotion of cultural heritage. National heritage bodies are working to document, restore, and revive the path's key landmarks. These efforts aim to transform the ancient route into a living museum of Islamic history and architectural ingenuity, while also encouraging heritage tourism and enriching the Kingdom's cultural landscape. With every marker restored and every stone relay brought back to life, Darb Zubaydah offers a tangible connection to the past—an enduring symbol of devotion, civilization, and the spirit of service that once guided millions on their sacred journey.
Observer
09-04-2025
- Politics
- Observer
Opinion- An American's reflections on Oman, the Middle East
I have been immensely fortunate these past few months to be in Oman on a Fulbright Research fellowship as a PhD Candidate in history at Washington University in St. Louis. I am likewise lucky to be affiliated with the history department at Sultan Qaboos University—a vibrant and friendly academic community—that has helped further my research on the history of education and development in this lovely country. I first came here in 2019 to study Arabic at the Sultan Qaboos Institute for the Teaching of Arabic to Non-Native Speakers in Manah during a very hot, but enjoyable, summer. I instantly fell in love with the country and found its history so interesting that I changed the topic of my dissertation from Yemen to Oman. In the intervening years, I was able to visit several times for research and tourism, and I am blessed to say I now have many good friends in the Sultanate of Oman. My path to Oman has been a long one. I spent several years working in the private sector before returning to school for advanced studies. I had enjoyed parts of the jobs that I had, but I missed intellectual labour. In truth, I felt the inquisitive side of myself dying. During this time, I had developed an academic interest in Islam and the Middle East and had started taking Arabic at my local community college while I applied to graduate school. In the first weeks of my master's programme at the University of Chicago, I realised that I could spend the rest of my life studying this region. As someone who had previously studied the West almost exclusively—in part because my educational institutions offered few courses in anything else—learning about the Middle East opened my eyes to a vibrant and vast side of the human experience of which I had been ignorant. Studying the history of the translation movement and the philosophical and scientific efflorescence during the Abbasid Caliphate; the architectural wonders of Fatimid Cairo; reading the Shanameh of Ferdowsi, the poetry of Saadi and Hafez, and the novels of Tawfiq al Hakim and Jokha al Harthy, I realised that most of us in the West do not learn this side of history. In the formative period of my studies, and sometimes even today, when I told people what I worked on, they would widen their eyes and look confused. They might ask things like: 'Why would you want to study that?' or say: 'I can't imagine reading just squiggles'. When I would mention a specific location, they would say, with just a hint of unease in their voice: 'that's a Muslim country'. On the one hand, considering the absence of Middle Eastern history in our education system, I do not blame these people for their lack of knowledge and understanding. However, this kind of ignorance can, unfortunately, lead to bigotry. On the other hand, I realised I could use my knowledge to be part of the solution to this problem. I could contribute to my chosen field through research and scholarly monographs, and I could share my insight with students as a teacher-scholar. The teaching aspect of academia has always appealed to me. Research is rewarding, but it is a slow, iterative, and often difficult process whose results may take years to come to fruition. By contrast, teaching and working with students offers the chance to benefit someone's life almost immediately. Students grow from being introduced to new ideas, and from the process of interpreting and applying new knowledge and skills. Yet, teachers are also rewarded in their hearts by facilitating this growth. Knowing that they have taught a young person a new concept, a new way of thinking, or a new skill, fills the educator with a great sense of gratitude. Moreover, teacher-scholars can perform kinds of public service using their knowledge. While I was an adjunct at a small college between my MA and the start of my PhD, I helped organise, and participated in, a teach-in entitled: 'Everything You Wanted to Know About Were Afraid to Ask'. The series brought together scholars from religious studies and anthropology and included the participation of the Muslim members of the college community. After I leave Oman and complete my PhD, I will continue to implement educational programming that draws on my academic expertise and personal experiences at whatever institution I am employed. If I am able to help my fellow Americans learn about this region and appreciate not only its unique and illustrious history but also to see it as an integral part of human history as a whole, then I will have accomplished my mission.
Observer
09-04-2025
- Politics
- Observer
An American's reflections on Oman, the Middle East
I have been immensely fortunate these past few months to be in Oman on a Fulbright Research fellowship as a PhD Candidate in history at Washington University in St. Louis. I am likewise lucky to be affiliated with the history department at Sultan Qaboos University—a vibrant and friendly academic community—that has helped further my research on the history of education and development in this lovely country. I first came here in 2019 to study Arabic at the Sultan Qaboos Institute for the Teaching of Arabic to Non-Native Speakers in Manah during a very hot, but enjoyable, summer. I instantly fell in love with the country and found its history so interesting that I changed the topic of my dissertation from Yemen to Oman. In the intervening years, I was able to visit several times for research and tourism, and I am blessed to say I now have many good friends in the Sultanate of Oman. My path to Oman has been a long one. I spent several years working in the private sector before returning to school for advanced studies. I had enjoyed parts of the jobs that I had, but I missed intellectual labour. In truth, I felt the inquisitive side of myself dying. During this time, I had developed an academic interest in Islam and the Middle East and had started taking Arabic at my local community college while I applied to graduate school. In the first weeks of my master's programme at the University of Chicago, I realised that I could spend the rest of my life studying this region. As someone who had previously studied the West almost exclusively—in part because my educational institutions offered few courses in anything else—learning about the Middle East opened my eyes to a vibrant and vast side of the human experience of which I had been ignorant. Studying the history of the translation movement and the philosophical and scientific efflorescence during the Abbasid Caliphate; the architectural wonders of Fatimid Cairo; reading the Shanameh of Ferdowsi, the poetry of Saadi and Hafez, and the novels of Tawfiq al Hakim and Jokha al Harthy, I realised that most of us in the West do not learn this side of history. In the formative period of my studies, and sometimes even today, when I told people what I worked on, they would widen their eyes and look confused. They might ask things like: 'Why would you want to study that?' or say: 'I can't imagine reading just squiggles'. When I would mention a specific location, they would say, with just a hint of unease in their voice: 'that's a Muslim country'. On the one hand, considering the absence of Middle Eastern history in our education system, I do not blame these people for their lack of knowledge and understanding. However, this kind of ignorance can, unfortunately, lead to bigotry. On the other hand, I realised I could use my knowledge to be part of the solution to this problem. I could contribute to my chosen field through research and scholarly monographs, and I could share my insight with students as a teacher-scholar. The teaching aspect of academia has always appealed to me. Research is rewarding, but it is a slow, iterative, and often difficult process whose results may take years to come to fruition. By contrast, teaching and working with students offers the chance to benefit someone's life almost immediately. Students grow from being introduced to new ideas, and from the process of interpreting and applying new knowledge and skills. Yet, teachers are also rewarded in their hearts by facilitating this growth. Knowing that they have taught a young person a new concept, a new way of thinking, or a new skill, fills the educator with a great sense of gratitude. Moreover, teacher-scholars can perform kinds of public service using their knowledge. While I was an adjunct at a small college between my MA and the start of my PhD, I helped organise, and participated in, a teach-in entitled: 'Everything You Wanted to Know About Were Afraid to Ask'. The series brought together scholars from religious studies and anthropology and included the participation of the Muslim members of the college community. After I leave Oman and complete my PhD, I will continue to implement educational programming that draws on my academic expertise and personal experiences at whatever institution I am employed. If I am able to help my fellow Americans learn about this region and appreciate not only its unique and illustrious history but also to see it as an integral part of human history as a whole, then I will have accomplished my mission.
Arab News
20-02-2025
- Entertainment
- Arab News
Winter at Darb Zubaida Festival in Northern Borders Region
RAFHA: The 4th edition of the Winter at Darb Zubaida Festival, which began on February 18, is in full swing in the historic city of Laynah in the Northern Borders Region. Organized by the Imam Turki bin Abdullah Royal Nature Reserve Development Authority and running for ten days, the festival features diverse cultural, artistic, and entertainment events that showcase the region's rich heritage and distinct identity. The festival includes a baloot tournament and a PlayStation competition with cash prizes, according to the Saudi Press Agency. It also features circus shows and musical performances, making it a fun and educational destination for everyone. Visitors are invited to participate in various interactive activities suitable for all ages, including visits to the authority's pavilion, a gift shop, a honey station, and a shooting range, as well as opportunities to color reserve animals, explore a children's tent, and engage in agricultural education. Laynah village, located 105 km south of Rafha city, is one of the most important historical sites in the Kingdom due to its ancient water wells. The wells, which are thousands of years old, are the subject of legends and stories explaining their origin, drawing tourists and visitors from across Saudi Arabia. The festival aims to revive the historic Darb Zubaida (or Zubaida Trail) as a pathway for Muslim pilgrims and commercial convoys departing from Kufa in Iraq to the holy city of Makkah. The trail stretches more than 1,400 km in the Kingdom, traversing the Northern Borders, Hail, Qassim, Madinah and Makkah regions. Historians call it as the most important Hajj route during the Abbasid Caliphate, between 750 to 850 CE, a period renowned as a golden age of Muslim civilization.
