What Ibn Battuta found in Sharjah: From Kalba’s rivers to Dibba’s humid nights

What were famed Moroccan traveller Ibn Battuta’s first impressions of Sharjah more than 700 years ago? And how did Emirati navigator Ahmad Ibn Majid shape the course of maritime history?

These were among the topics explored during discussions at the Sharjah pavilion at the Rabat International Book Fair. Held in the heart of the Moroccan capital and running until April 27, the fair is in its 30th year, with Sharjah participating as guest of honour.

As part of its designation, the emirate presented a packed opening weekend programme featuring more than a dozen authors, poets and historians, highlighting the deep-rooted cultural ties between the UAE and the North African kingdom.

“It is an important relationship that still endures today, often in ways we don’t realise or tend to take for granted,” said Abdulaziz Al Musallam, chairman of the Sharjah Institute for Heritage. Speaking to The National at the book fair, he pointed to the shared linguistic roots found in everyday Arabic words across the Gulf and Morocco. “Even our Emirati dialect reflect the connection. We say ‘zein’ [good], they say ‘zwina.’ We say gahwa [coffee], they say ‘qhwa’ or ‘qahiwa’ – it’s the same word, just with different variations.”

A celebrated tie between the UAE and Oman, Al Musallam says, is the 14th-century Moroccan traveler Ibn Battuta, who sailed along the Arabian Gulf coast and is believed to have passed through Sharjah towns such as Kalba, Khor Fakkan, and Dibba – then largely under the control of Kingdom of Hormuz.

"It seems Ibn Battuta arrived during the winter, because he said Kalba had rivers and green meadows. He saw green trees and a flowing valley – it was vast and it's a place with a lot of water. Then he moved on and described Khor Fakkan too," Al Musallam says. "Then, it seems it became summer, so he went to Dibba and said that at night something came down from the sky like molasses – you know, the black syrup. What he saw was humidity. Then he entered the Gulf but didn’t refer to it as the Gulf; he called it the Sea of Siraf. That’s mentioned in some old manuscripts."

Many of these experiences are recorded in The Travels of Ibn Battuta, A.D. 1325–1354, a multi-volume work that has been translated from the original Arabic text and published in various editions over the years. Revered as a cornerstone of travel literature, Ibn Battuta’s writings owe their conversational tone and spontaneity to the fact that they were recounted from memory rather than compiled from extensive notes, Al Musallam says. The result is often a rollicking – and at times unfiltered – account of his escapades.

“He was essentially an oral storyteller. From my own experience working with such narrators over the past 30 years, you realise one storyteller can tell the same story in four different ways over four sittings – adding a little here, omitting there. It depends on the audience in that if they like a topic, the storyteller would emphasise it. If not, he downplays or hides it,” he says.

“Ibn Battuta’s travelogue represents the Arab model of the wandering narrator – someone unfiltered, sometimes painfully honest. Some people may now find this style inappropriate, but that was normal in Arab storytelling – to say things bluntly, both the good and the bad.”

As for Ahmad Ibn Majid, the 15th-century navigator born in Julfar, present-day Ras Al Khaimah, he preferred to share his maritime knowledge through poetry. Many of his verses were compiled in volumes including the seminal Kitab al-Fawa’id fi Usul ‘Ilm al-Bahr wa’l Qawa’id (The Book of Useful Information on the Principles and Rules of Navigation) – a work widely regarded as a foundational text of classical Arab navigation.

In a Saturday session exploring his influence, UAE poet and researcher Shaikha Al Mutairi states that Ahmad Ibn Majid is also credited as one of the first Arab navigators to describe the use of the compass – thought to have been invented in China as early as the 2nd century BCE and adopted for navigation by the 11th century.

“He described it as a deep cup, and at the bottom of the cup is black paper which influences the direction of the indicator,” Al Mutairi says. “His father was a great sailor, so Ahmad Ibn Majid inherited this legacy. While we don’t have many records of his father, Ahmad’s impact spread across the Gulf – not just in the UAE or Oman. Kuwaiti sailors relied heavily on his poetic navigational rhymes. So did sailors in Basra and East Africa.”

Another key reason for that wide reach, Al Mutairi notes, is how Ibn Majid transmitted dry and practical information through rajaz verses – a classical form of Arabic poetry often used for improvisation due to its short, repetitive and rhythmic style. “He uses beautiful literary expressions, powerful introductions and emotive language,” she says.

“There’s also a deeper psychological layer in his poetry. Sometimes it feels as if he’s defending himself when he says, ‘I’m fine. I’m skilled. I’m knowledgeable.’ It makes you think – what was he going through at the time? We don’t know, but he often states his name and lineage again and again – as a way of affirming his identity.”