The village of Bilal Sayt is nestled into a small valley high up in the Hajj mountains. As I inch the SUV through the hairpin curves to get there, I am wondering what could possibly have possessed those people to settle here – in the middle of nowhere.
I park and walk around the narrow streets. There’s a school, a couple of stores, palm groves and vegetable plots, and an old crumbling fort. And the ever-present mosque, of course. Some kids run away when they see me, just to come back and taunt me a second later.
The few adults I meet say “Salam” and an old man lets me take his photo. After half an hour or so, I find myself at the bottom of the valley in a dry wadi. The riverbed leads into a narrow gorge, barely six feet wide, and I suddenly see the brilliance of this settlement.
Before the road was built, the only way in would’ve been this easily defended passageway allowing the villagers to grow their crops and herd their goats in peace, which is pretty much what they seem to do to this day. A life away from bandits and rulers.
I walk the wadi for a bit, and not wanting to backtrack I decide to follow some goats up the cliffside to get back to the car. The trail is well used, someone has even made little cement steps on the rock face to make for an easier climb. But for a person with vertigo it’s like mounting the Matterhorn. It takes me two attempts and a lot of inner dialogue to make it.
As the car ascends back to the main road I stop to take a last photo. But for the fact that I would go stir crazy in a week, I would love to live in this village.
