Page 300 - The Tigris Expedition

In the Indus Valley in Search of Meluhha
had pointed out, it meant that the ancient forts of Sutkagen Dor and
Sotka-Koh had been built right beside the former edge of the
sea.
As we reached the upper level and started walking across the
sandy isthmus the surface was so full of potsherds that it seemed as
if the population had broken all the jars it possessed as soon as the
merchants from Karachi had brought them modern metalware. In
fact, the first thing we saw were small groups of women escaping
from us across the sands in their foot-length robes with tin jars on
their heads. A well had been dug not far from our beach and the
women came from far and wide for its water.
As Rashad had pointed out, the houses we passed on our way
were so similar to the characteristic reed dwellings of the Marsh
Arabs that it was difficult to see how people living in a desert and
people living in swamps could build homes so similar without a
common heritage. When we finally reached Ormara village, on the
other side of the dunes, even the mat-houses were rectangular, with
gabled or flat roofs like the more recent stone huts. Otherwise the
village gave us a fascinating taste of a community that reflected deep
roots with sparse grafting from abroad; its environment was sea,
cliffs and desert. Inland was all barren wilderness, with clean white
sand-dunes heaped like thick snow-drifts to the very edge of the
settlement. There was no overland road to Karachi, only camel
tracks and, in the opposite direction, a jeep passage westwards to
the prehistoric fort of Sotka-Koh and Pasni. While most of Pakistan
became increasingly affected by the hubbub of modern Karachi,
Ormara and its surrounding desert, like the swamps of the Indus
delta, offered great natural obstacles to cultural revolution. Ormara
patiently awaited its turn to take the leap into the twentieth century.
In the meantime, life continued closer to my image of a self-
sustained, civilised community of the third millennium bc than
anything I had ever seen except among the fine Marsh Arabs of Iraq
and the timeless mountain town-dwellers of Oman. Here I felt, as
more than once before in isolated communities, that the now
utterly interdependent outside world, with its problems of petrol
and military prestige, may be shaky, but should it ever collapse, as
did the empires of Sumer and the Indus Valley, the camel trains of
Ormara will still go on loaded with palm leaves and canes for house
construction, and fish, dates and vegetables for human survival.
The proud women will still find a way of draping themselves in
coloured robes to sail over the dunes for milk and water; the men
will still haul in the fish and till the plots between the palms.
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