Originally Posted on Dec. 6, 2021

I finally bought a boat.

However, mine did not cost QAR 1 million, nor take a year to build. During my most recent trip to the Souq Waqif, I found the perfect dhow at Al Galaf, an antique store.

“How long does it take you to carve?” I asked Maanoj, a craftsman from India.

“Three days,” he said.

In three days, Maanoj transforms a small, wooden block of wood into a mini replica of a life-sized dhow.

Sabaan, the antique shop owner, walked over to join the conversation.

“Here is the process,” Sabaan said as he led me to another room where shavings, splinters, and chips of wood were scattered across a large rug. Sabaan picked up four different small blocks of wood and placed them on a chair—side by side.

“See?” he said, pointing to the differences in each block.

The first block was uncarved, while the second was roughly carved. The third appeared to be the refined foundation from which Maanoj carves the added fine, unique details of the boat. The fourth was a nearly finished product.

As I returned to the other room to decide which boat to purchase, Sabaan asked me where I was from.

“Oklahoma,” I said. “What about you?”

He said he was from Qatar but had a scholarship to study in the U.S.

Sabaan is now the owner of five antique stores. I wanted to know more—what did he study? When did he open his first shop? Why antiques?

Instead of delving into an interview with Sabaan, I turned to Maanoj to ask more questions about woodworking, as I remained a stranger to the craft.

“How long have you been carving boats?” I asked Maanoj.

“Three days,” he said.

“Oh. Well, for how many years have you been doing this—carving boats? When did you start carving boats?” I asked.

“Three days,” he said, still smiling.

“It’s the language barrier,” I thought as I nodded and smiled back.

“This one is amazing,” I said as I pointed to my dhow of choice.

“Do you take card?” I asked.

“Just cash, ma’am,” Maanoj said.

“I’ll be right back,” I said.

As I stepped outside the shop to find the nearest ATM, I realized I’d lost touch with time and place. I glanced at my watch. The time was approaching 9 p.m. Crowds of people were walking in every direction—with some stopping to talk to vendors selling golden camels, leather backpacks, and pearl necklaces.

Others clustered around tables where they smoked shisha, sipped tea, and shared plates of chicken shawarma and pita bread with hummus. Children with lighted balloons in hand ran up and down the alleys of the souq.

Careful not to run into anyone, I spotted the ATM, withdrew Qatari riyals, and headed back to the shop.

Inside, Maanoj had already covered my boat in layers of bubble wrap at the counter.

There are different types of dhows, Sabaan said.

Mine is the Boom.

Sabaan handed me a stack of information cards that included descriptions of the boats, along with a poster with a photo of a gulf Galaf, a “ship builder.” The information cards and poster are Sabaan’s own publications.

The art of building ships in the gulf is known as “Galafat Al Sofon,” which literally means “boring the logs and joining them with ropes,” the poster states.

The mastery of the craft gave sailors the freedom to sail across seas and visit faraway lands, as stated on the poster.

The dhows—the Boom, Sanbouk, Jalboot, and Nails—serve specific purposes.

Gulf sailors used the smaller-sized Booms, also known as the “Al-Boums” when diving for pearls, while the larger-sized Al Boums were used during commercial journeys from Zanzibar to India, the information card states.

I glanced back at Maanoj who placing my bubble-wrapped dhow in a plastic bag.

On my way out of the shop, I waved to Maanoj and Sabaan. Outside, the late-night crowds continued on. With twinkle lights and sweet treats at every turn, the atmosphere was reminiscent of a fall festival back home. As I drove back to my apartment, I thought about Maanoj’s chosen profession.

“The work he does here represents past days at sea,” I thought. "Each boat tells a story.”