Arabian Adventures
A few months ago, I set out to retrace my great-grandfather's footsteps in the Middle East. With no real sense of what to expect (after all this was 100-odd years later), I hoped to wander the same streets, search for pearls as he had done and - a long-held dream - meet descendants of the pearl merchants who sat with a very dapper Jacques Cartier for the B&W photograph on my study wall. What I didn't envisage was how the trip - and those I met - would impact me personally, and certainly not that it would make it into the newspapers, onto TV and even lead to a record-speed Arabic-edition of The Cartiers (to be launched at the Abu Dhabi Book Festival next week no less!)
The Bahrain I initially experienced felt a world apart from the one Jacques had described in his diaries. In the place of desert and donkeys were busy roads and skyscrapers (although we did eventually find a donkey!). Only the deep blue sea was a constant. Like Jacques, I went on a boat in search of pearls but unlike him, I tried the diving myself: first in the shallows with a mask and snorkel and later, deeper in the ocean with scuba gear (had to overcome my fear of deep sea diving for this one!). Any shells I found I placed in the net I carried – a process that hasn’t changed much in the last century.
Back on the boat, I was shown how to look for a pearl within its shell, prying it open with a wide blunt knife and gently extracting the gem from its jelly-like home within. Jacques talked about spending a whole morning on the boat and not finding a single pearl of note. We found a few but they were tiny. Later, at Jewellery Arabia, I saw many more, falling in love with this exquisite pearl scarf (below) by Mattar Jewelers, a family business whose ancestors Jacques had met 112 years earlier on his hunt for natural pearls.
On my last night, a dinner had been arranged by DANAT (the Bahrain Institute for Pearls and Gemstones), to introduce some of the descendants of the pearl merchants Jacques had known. Over drinks, I met those who would later recreate a photo with me, along with their families. It was emotional - more than I had anticipated. I am lucky to give quite a few talks all over the world, but when I was asked to say a few words in front of these welcoming faces under the Arabian stars, I felt overwhelmed. It was hard to find the words to express how I felt: that the threads of history I’d been trying to understand and track down for so long were, at that very moment, reunited again.
Benches had been set up to replicate those in the original photograph, and the five of us took up our positions (literally trying to mimic the exact leg crossing as our ancestors). But then we realised it wasn't quite right – I was missing the cigarette Jacques had in the photo, someone else was missing the walking stick, the right scarf... cue much activity as helpful people in the watching crowd went off to look for the items. I was quite glad for the time as it gave us five a chance to chat, to laugh, and to acknowledge that jolt of connection. We may not have known our great-grandfathers in person but by sitting here, in the same country they had sat, sharing stories with each other, we were bringing their history – and the links they had made – back to life. There’s something powerful about that.
I set out to research the history but I didn't anticipate how much the experience might enrich my present. I had wanted to track down the buildings and motifs Jacques had photographed, to better understand the pearl process and the sources of inspiration he found in the Middle East. Some things I found, others I didn't, but perhaps I share my great-grandfather's globe-trotting gene because I loved it all.
In Oman, I visited the desert, and was overwhelmed by its vastness, the sense of calm, the way it hadn’t changed for so long. In his diary, Jacques had spoken about meeting the Sultan, “a charming man and very enlightened”, in Muscat in 1912. A century or so later, also in Muscat, against the stunning mountainous backdrop and setting sun at the Shangri La, I gave a talk with HH Princess Basma Al Said (below right, in red), the brilliant founder of Oman’s first mental health clinic, about the history of our ancestors.
Next week, against the odds, I will be launching ‘The Cartiers’ Arabic-language edition in Abu Dhabi and Dubai. One always learns things with the foreign editions: this experience was incredibly fast paced and led to some fascinating exchanges with the translators (it’s rare for anyone to read your words so closely). I also learnt how lucky I was to have this opportunity as not many books are translated into Arabic (a 2003 UN study estimated that only c. 10,000 books had been translated into Arabic in the past millennium!). My publisher, Kalima, an initiative of the Tourism and Culture Authority, was set up in 2007 to change that: its impact has already been felt: 20 years ago, only c. 300 books a year were translated into Arabic, now it's closer to 10x that figure.
Join the Abu Dhabi in-person launch
For those in the region, you are more than welcome to join for the book launches, and it would be lovely to see you there. First will be the official launch at the Abu Dhabi book fair on the evening of Weds 24th May, and then a talk/signing at Sotheby's Dubai on Thursday 25th May at midday (RSVP here). For others too far away but interested in the links between The Cartiers and the Middle East, I am also working on a webinar because there are so many stories and images to share (date still TBC but I will send details soon).
In the meantime, happy May (finally getting some Spring sunshine here in England - hope you are too!),
Francesca
