Step by step

The spectacle is about to begin. Men covered from their necks to the ankles by Virgin-colored dishdashas, the traditional robe for men, haste towards the circle of potential buyers and nosy tourists, their camera lenses lurking for the best shots to come. Following the locals’ example, I elbow my way towards the first row.

“Here they are!” someone shouts in Arabic as the first cow gets dragged through the ring. From its black eyes stares the rigidity of death but its thin legs keep taking one reluctant step after another. A flock of sheep follows, each one baaing relentlessly for its life while getting kicked in the rear if its pace becomes too slow. One malnourished goat, seduced by the mercy of a quick end, falls flat on its side. Only after another few meters the owner realizes that he is pulling a lifeless body and fights his way out of the vibrant circle, swearing.

The buyers‘ tempers boil up as they cry out offers, their trembling voices trying to outdo each other. “You gimme 40 Rial for this goat?“ screams a goat owner. “You wanna kid me?” Offers and responses between the men fly to and fro like fists in a boxing match. Banknotes and animals swap hands in the blink of an eye – observed carefully by the women in their long, mostly black robes, who remain at a safe distance from the cattle auction.

Like background actresses they stand in small groups, apparently uninvolved, yet under their veils, their eyes dash from one scene to another, from one man to the next, from animals to Rial notes. I witness how once in a while, husbands and wives exchange furtive glances, accompanied by slight nods or winks.

As more cattle owners hurl themselves into the mass of spectators, a stench of dung starts creeping over the circle. I move a little closer to the man next to me whose tuft on his dishdasha emits the sweetest fragrance of expensive perfume. My senses pregnant with the overwhelming display of images, smells and noises, I briefly close my eyes.

“Miss, you buy cow?” asks a voice in broken English. I open my eyes and find a brown cow staring at me with puppy-like eyes. Pressing my lips together, I shake my head. “Sorry, I can’t take a cow back home from Oman”. With a snapping sound, the man pulls the rope attached to the animal’s neck and the cow disappears from my sight.