Are Qatar’s Cultural Heritage Sites Facing Erasure?

Cultural diplomacy is a strategic way of promoting cultural heritage and dialogue between nations, and it has taken center stage in Qatar. It is largely built on the idea of sharing and celebrating the cultural elements of different nations. Here in Qatar, we pride ourselves with the Years of Culture initiative, which has been an active player in introducing different cultures to Qatari society. Yet, as we continue to engage in cross-cultural exchange, there is an urgent need to turn the same attention inward and safeguard our own heritage sites before they fade away from the landscape and our collective memory. Although Doha is the main city in Qatar where most of its population lives, history shows us that this has not always been the case. Ever since the peninsula was inhabited by the Arab tribes that relocated from Najd, almost every region within Qatar was inhabited by different groups of tribes. The Shamal region in particular was home to many tribes and sub-tribes, and was an economic and social hub due to its proximity to the sea and pearling being the main source of income pre-oil. Many Qatari tribes see the northern region of Qatar as their ancestral home. Naturally, modernization drove these families to leave their northern villages and move to Doha following the discovery of oil and the opportunities that came with it. Unfortunately though, this marked the beginning of the abandonment of Qatar’s historic villages. Al-Ghariya (الغارية) was the village where my maternal family comes from. It was a prosperous town (in terms of qatari life) where the Al-Bukawara (البوكوارة) worked and built their families. Dr. Ali Al-Kuwari describes it in his memoir “Al-Awsaj” (العوسج) and writes about the simple life in the village, describing the way the people came together to build the mud houses, and how they would remove their precious doors and windows and take them with them when they relocated. Today, Al-Ghariya is an empty and abandoned space by the sea. It has one or two houses that are still up, but they’ve been vandalized with gunshots and spray paint. I doubt passersby even know that once upon a time, this town was a community where families were made, and children learned how to read the Quran. Today, it is completely unrecognizable. Even though I’ve never lived in Al-Ghariya, my heart aches for what it was and the devastating loss it represents for Qatar’s cultural heritage. Up until I was 13 years old, I lived in Al Rayyan. My family (my parents, siblings and grandmother) would spend our summers and vacations in a village in Al Dhaayen called Tinbek (تنبك). My paternal family lives in Tinbek, it’s the village where my grandfather was born over 100 years ago and his family lives to this day. We lived in Al Rayyan because my grandmother preferred being in the city next to her sisters and the rest of her family, but us moving to Tinbek was something that me and my siblings had been primed for our entire lives. And so it came, the dreadful day where our house in Tinbek finished construction and I had to say goodbye to the urban life I had been used to and become a village girl. Going to sleep was the most difficult part about living in Tinbek. I wasn’t used to silence in the dead of night; my bedroom window in Al Rayyan overlooked a roundabout, and listening to the speeding cars and endless horns was my normal. Now my bedroom window overlooks a space of nothing. Just a desert, some farms and “Old Tinbek.” Old Tinbek, or Tinbek Al-Qadima, was the place where my family, Al-Hemaidat (الحميدات), lived. It consists of around 20 old mud houses and is now also completely abandoned, just like Al-Ghariya and the other old villages in the north of Qatar. Old Tinbek was the village where my grandparents and great aunts and uncles were born and raised. In it they witnessed days of prosperity and days of hardship. My family still talks about an epidemic that hit Old Tinbek and took the life of my great-great aunt Hessa, this was a day that all the women who lived in Old Tinbek never forget. After living in Tinbek for nearly a decade, I have finally come to appreciate it for what it is: one of the very few semi-preserved ancestral villages in Qatar. Although no one lives in Old Tinbek anymore, they all remember it and the kindness it wrapped their community in. Today, many women from my family who have lived in Tinbek once upon a time still reminisce about this village and the cozyness it emits. Yet, I cannot truly say that Old Tinbek is preserved. Yes, it is preserved in the memories and stories of the people who have once lived there, and yes, the houses are still there. But they’re crumbling, and if we don’t act fast, the village will disappear. Today, the government has official ownership of Old Tinbek. However, nothing is being done to celebrate this village and its history, it has been completely abandoned. A study was done in 2021 to assess the state of the village and suggest revitalizing Tinbek, giving it the attention and care it deserves for its unmatched cultural and historical value. I also came across the following archived article from 1987 that talks about preserving its heritage, it seems that this has been an old concern. Preservation of Qatar’s cultural heritage sites isn’t an impossible mission. The Education City campus is home to “Al-Khater house,” a mud house that used to belong to members of the Al-Khater family in Al-Rayyan. Al-Khater House in Education City is an excellent example of preserving Qatar’s cultural heritage. It was restored in 2022 as part of Qatar Foundation’s objectives of promoting and preserving Qatari identity, which is fabulous. Seeing Al-Khater house gives me hope for other cultural heritage sites in Qatar. Unfortunately though, it is a rare example. It is apparent that there is a dichotomy between what is being carried out in the cultural heritage scene in Doha and the reality regarding the disappearance of our cultural heritage. The urgency to protect our cultural heritage sites cannot be stressed more than now. I grew up hearing the proverb “he who has no past, has no future.” الي ماله اول،) ماله تالي) So, how can we welcome the future, if we neglect our past?