Al-Hamra, a provincial capital in the northern Oman interior, was remote even by that country's standards when I first visited it in June 1978. Paved roads and electricity had not yet reached the oasis; only a few homes had generator-powered televisions, and the nearest telephone was almost an hour's drive away. It was much the same when I returned to the oasis a year later to conduct field research. On this second visit, I spent a day in formal discussions with local officials and tribal leaders, and then, having missed my bus, was obliged to spend the night. The shaykh (or tribal leader) of the `Abriyin graciously invited me to stay in his guest house, along with several men who were visiting from outlying villages.

Well before dawn, these other guests--observant Muslims to a man--rose for morning prayer, and one of them called to me to ask whether I intended to perform my ablutions. "Not yet," I replied, and went back to sleep. Some minutes later, my host, Shaykh `Abdallah al-`Abri, gently prodded me with the muzzle of a machine pistol. In Oman, it is bad manners to touch a sleeping person with one's hands, and Shaykh `Abdallah was a model of politeness.

"Are you sick?" he asked. "You're not getting ready to pray."

Half asleep, I mumbled, "I'm Christian; we pray differently."

Shaykh `Abdallah looked momentarily puzzled, then went away.

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