Nectar of Allah
It brings wealth to merchants; doctors consider it a universal remedy. Beekeepers speak of it as a gift from Allah. Women believe in its ability to reduce infertility and men praise its aphrodisiac qualities. Its taste, purity, rarity and medical applications all contribute to making it the world’s most expensive honey.
This honey, from Wadi Do’an, a valley in the Hadramawt region of eastern Yemen, is as precious as oil. A kilogram can be sold for up to US$100 (£50) in Yemen, while prices reach US$200 in Dubai, where sheikhs feed it to their camels before a race, convinced of its energy-boosting qualities. This combination of rational explanations and mysterious beliefs make it a genuine liquid gold.
Honey has been deeply rooted in Arabic culture for centuries. Its medical applications are mentioned in the Qur’an, in a surah called An-Nahl (‘The Honey Bee’), and the Prophet Mohammed is also said to have recommended its consumption to cure stomach ailments. Arabic physicians have studied its medical benefits: in the Hadramawt town of Tarim, visitors to the local library can view the Targig Al Hassal, a compilation of honey treatments written by scholars Abdallah Ibn Mohammed and Al Fairous Abadi during the 14th century. Honey also features in Yemeni poetry dating back hundreds of years, where it’s praised as an embodiment of love, beauty and pleasure.
Hives and guns
Each October, thousands of semi-nomadic beekeepers converge in Wadi Do’an, birthplace of Yemeni honey, with their hives harnessed to their trucks. They move the hives five times a year across Yemen according to the flowering seasons in order to enjoy five harvests annually. In this valley in the Hadramawt desert, the thorny jujube tree grows, the flowers of which contribute to one of the most precious honey varieties out of the dozen produced locally.
Simple tents cover the valley for more than 150 kilometres. Hundreds of thousands of hives are piled up under the trees with bees buzzing furiously around them. Beekeepers look after their swarms with Kalashnikovs slung across their shoulders. Every man in Yemen carries a gun – it’s ingrained in the national culture (Yemen has the second most heavily armed population in the world after the USA).
And while there is no ‘honey war’ between rival beekeepers, competition is fierce.
Beekeepers often come from poor and under-educated families with a tradition of apiculture passed down through the generations. The honey they produce is expensive, however, and a Yemeni beekeeper earns a good living. ‘A beekeeper is a gold-seeker: I am respected and rich,’ says 44-year-old Salem Shamlan. The honey rush has begun.
In mid-November, the honeycomb is extracted and sun-filtered. The liquid is packaged and escorted to the markets of Hadramawt. Merchants from the Persian Gulf rush to the souk of El Qatan, a dusty town
and the local honey hub. Traders examine the amber shades of the nectar, appreciating its fluidity. They dip their index fingers into the honey and savour its unique taste. Its spicy notes remain in the throat long after being swallowed, and its thick texture delivers a delicious warm sensation.
The honey is then dispatched to the larger cities. In the 200 stores of Sana’a’, the Yemeni capital, with their flashy mirrors and varnished panelling, merchants offer tastings of the different vintages, distinguishing one from the other as subtly as for French wines.
Of the 12 or so varieties of honey produced locally, the most famous and expensive are those derived solely from jujube or acacia nectar. The least expensive is a blend of nectars from several wildflowers. Both jujube and acacia honey taste and look like caramel butter: jujube honey’s taste and texture are very sweet, whereas acacia honey is stronger and darker. These particular varieties are highly prized not only for their flavour but also for their purity (they are made using traditional methods and without chemicals or fertilisers) and rarity.
The quality, variety and price of this honey have increased considerably over the past decade as it has become something of a status symbol among the elite. It’s poured over puff pastry, bread, dates or bananas and mixed with ginger to soften tea. At weddings, family reunions or with guests, it’s a sign of prestige and a welcoming gesture. As a present, it’s a mark of consideration: ‘On the occasion of his official visit to President Jacques Chirac in 2006 and to Nicolas Sarkozy in June 2007, President Ali Abdullah Saleh offered a bottle of the aphrodisiac honey,’ recalls Gilles Gauthier, France’s ambassador to Yemen.
‘The honey is a treasure,’ says Taha Hussein Abrauni, 41. At the back of his store in the pharmacist’s souk in Sana’a’, surrounded by bottles filled with ginseng roots, spices and myrrh, the Arab doctor prepares his magical remedies. ‘Mixed with rock oil, dried lizard powder and fish scales, the honey is an excellent aphrodisiac,’ he says.
The elixir supposedly treats cancers, cures sore throats and stomach aches, and accelerates the healing process. Each store extols its own oils, shampoos, soaps and beauty creams based on the honey. One of the largest chains of honey stores is called Al-Shifa – ‘healing’ in Arabic.
Radical ties
However, the Middle Eastern honey trade hides clandestine connections with international terrorism, of which the Al-Shifa chain has allegedly been central. In October 2001, US President George W Bush ordered that the assets of 39 entities presumably close to al-Qaeda leader Osama Bin Laden be frozen. Despite the denials of Yemen, ally to the USA in the ‘war on terror’, two Yemeni honey businesses – Al-Shifa and Al-Nur – are still suspected of laundering terrorism money.
The USA and its allies also believe that the honey trade facilitates the smuggling of cash, guns and drugs around the world for terrorist organisations. Two men were arrested at a New York airport in October 2001 with US$140,000 hidden in gallons of honey destined for Yemen (so keen on honey are Yemenis that the region is a major export market for the US product). As such, mistrust is common. ‘Each time my mother comes to visit me in the USA, customs services always ask her whether she carries honey,’ explains Salwa Alameri, a 29-year-old Yemeni woman studying in Philadelphia.
Some Yemenis believe that the honey entertains links with the fundamentalist branch of the ultra-conservative Islah (Reform) party. The main opposition party in the country, Islah supposedly controls the majority of the trade, which produces 5,600 tonnes of honey and generates US$70million each year. Part of this revenue allegedly contributes to financing universities and hospitals that spread the radical doctrine.
‘The supposed competition between the different businesses hides an organisation that levies a tax and discourages those who might resist,’ complains a merchant. The majority of those working in apiculture can easily be recognised by their beard, which is an indication of their subscription, be it sincere or calculated, to the fundamentalist thesis.
These suspicions, however, don’t detract from the prestige of the honey. It still has a place of honour in the culinary, artistic, scientific and religious patrimony of the country. Yemenis are passionate about the development of beekeeping on the island of Socotra, some 350 kilometres to the south in the Indian Ocean, thanks to an initiative by two French beekeepers. And a local gas company even plans to finance apiary projects along the gas pipeline to the Gulf of Aden.
‘What would we do without this honey?’ asks Mohammed Khanbash, 49, professor of apiculture at Hadramawt University. ‘At least, we would still have Allah!’
September 2008
This honey, from Wadi Do’an, a valley in the Hadramawt region of eastern Yemen, is as precious as oil. A kilogram can be sold for up to US$100 (£50) in Yemen, while prices reach US$200 in Dubai, where sheikhs feed it to their camels before a race, convinced of its energy-boosting qualities. This combination of rational explanations and mysterious beliefs make it a genuine liquid gold.
Honey has been deeply rooted in Arabic culture for centuries. Its medical applications are mentioned in the Qur’an, in a surah called An-Nahl (‘The Honey Bee’), and the Prophet Mohammed is also said to have recommended its consumption to cure stomach ailments. Arabic physicians have studied its medical benefits: in the Hadramawt town of Tarim, visitors to the local library can view the Targig Al Hassal, a compilation of honey treatments written by scholars Abdallah Ibn Mohammed and Al Fairous Abadi during the 14th century. Honey also features in Yemeni poetry dating back hundreds of years, where it’s praised as an embodiment of love, beauty and pleasure.
Hives and guns
Each October, thousands of semi-nomadic beekeepers converge in Wadi Do’an, birthplace of Yemeni honey, with their hives harnessed to their trucks. They move the hives five times a year across Yemen according to the flowering seasons in order to enjoy five harvests annually. In this valley in the Hadramawt desert, the thorny jujube tree grows, the flowers of which contribute to one of the most precious honey varieties out of the dozen produced locally.
Simple tents cover the valley for more than 150 kilometres. Hundreds of thousands of hives are piled up under the trees with bees buzzing furiously around them. Beekeepers look after their swarms with Kalashnikovs slung across their shoulders. Every man in Yemen carries a gun – it’s ingrained in the national culture (Yemen has the second most heavily armed population in the world after the USA).
And while there is no ‘honey war’ between rival beekeepers, competition is fierce.
Beekeepers often come from poor and under-educated families with a tradition of apiculture passed down through the generations. The honey they produce is expensive, however, and a Yemeni beekeeper earns a good living. ‘A beekeeper is a gold-seeker: I am respected and rich,’ says 44-year-old Salem Shamlan. The honey rush has begun.
In mid-November, the honeycomb is extracted and sun-filtered. The liquid is packaged and escorted to the markets of Hadramawt. Merchants from the Persian Gulf rush to the souk of El Qatan, a dusty town
and the local honey hub. Traders examine the amber shades of the nectar, appreciating its fluidity. They dip their index fingers into the honey and savour its unique taste. Its spicy notes remain in the throat long after being swallowed, and its thick texture delivers a delicious warm sensation.
The honey is then dispatched to the larger cities. In the 200 stores of Sana’a’, the Yemeni capital, with their flashy mirrors and varnished panelling, merchants offer tastings of the different vintages, distinguishing one from the other as subtly as for French wines.
Of the 12 or so varieties of honey produced locally, the most famous and expensive are those derived solely from jujube or acacia nectar. The least expensive is a blend of nectars from several wildflowers. Both jujube and acacia honey taste and look like caramel butter: jujube honey’s taste and texture are very sweet, whereas acacia honey is stronger and darker. These particular varieties are highly prized not only for their flavour but also for their purity (they are made using traditional methods and without chemicals or fertilisers) and rarity.
The quality, variety and price of this honey have increased considerably over the past decade as it has become something of a status symbol among the elite. It’s poured over puff pastry, bread, dates or bananas and mixed with ginger to soften tea. At weddings, family reunions or with guests, it’s a sign of prestige and a welcoming gesture. As a present, it’s a mark of consideration: ‘On the occasion of his official visit to President Jacques Chirac in 2006 and to Nicolas Sarkozy in June 2007, President Ali Abdullah Saleh offered a bottle of the aphrodisiac honey,’ recalls Gilles Gauthier, France’s ambassador to Yemen.
‘The honey is a treasure,’ says Taha Hussein Abrauni, 41. At the back of his store in the pharmacist’s souk in Sana’a’, surrounded by bottles filled with ginseng roots, spices and myrrh, the Arab doctor prepares his magical remedies. ‘Mixed with rock oil, dried lizard powder and fish scales, the honey is an excellent aphrodisiac,’ he says.
The elixir supposedly treats cancers, cures sore throats and stomach aches, and accelerates the healing process. Each store extols its own oils, shampoos, soaps and beauty creams based on the honey. One of the largest chains of honey stores is called Al-Shifa – ‘healing’ in Arabic.
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Radical ties
However, the Middle Eastern honey trade hides clandestine connections with international terrorism, of which the Al-Shifa chain has allegedly been central. In October 2001, US President George W Bush ordered that the assets of 39 entities presumably close to al-Qaeda leader Osama Bin Laden be frozen. Despite the denials of Yemen, ally to the USA in the ‘war on terror’, two Yemeni honey businesses – Al-Shifa and Al-Nur – are still suspected of laundering terrorism money.
The USA and its allies also believe that the honey trade facilitates the smuggling of cash, guns and drugs around the world for terrorist organisations. Two men were arrested at a New York airport in October 2001 with US$140,000 hidden in gallons of honey destined for Yemen (so keen on honey are Yemenis that the region is a major export market for the US product). As such, mistrust is common. ‘Each time my mother comes to visit me in the USA, customs services always ask her whether she carries honey,’ explains Salwa Alameri, a 29-year-old Yemeni woman studying in Philadelphia.
Some Yemenis believe that the honey entertains links with the fundamentalist branch of the ultra-conservative Islah (Reform) party. The main opposition party in the country, Islah supposedly controls the majority of the trade, which produces 5,600 tonnes of honey and generates US$70million each year. Part of this revenue allegedly contributes to financing universities and hospitals that spread the radical doctrine.
‘The supposed competition between the different businesses hides an organisation that levies a tax and discourages those who might resist,’ complains a merchant. The majority of those working in apiculture can easily be recognised by their beard, which is an indication of their subscription, be it sincere or calculated, to the fundamentalist thesis.
These suspicions, however, don’t detract from the prestige of the honey. It still has a place of honour in the culinary, artistic, scientific and religious patrimony of the country. Yemenis are passionate about the development of beekeeping on the island of Socotra, some 350 kilometres to the south in the Indian Ocean, thanks to an initiative by two French beekeepers. And a local gas company even plans to finance apiary projects along the gas pipeline to the Gulf of Aden.
‘What would we do without this honey?’ asks Mohammed Khanbash, 49, professor of apiculture at Hadramawt University. ‘At least, we would still have Allah!’
September 2008
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