Omani jewelry designer and cultural preservationist Fatma al-Najjar draws deeply from her Dhofari heritage, reimagining ancestral adornment practices through her jewelry and lifestyle brand, Rahina. Born in 1992 and raised in Muscat, Fatma’s work bridges the urban and the ancestral, the contemporary and the traditional. Her creations are inspired by the oral histories, rituals, and material culture of southern Oman, particularly the Shehri-speaking Jabbali communities.

Through Rahina, Fatma crafts jewelry that honors the spiritual and symbolic significance of traditional Omani pieces, transforming them into wearable narratives that connect past and present. Fatma’s practice is also a personal journey of reclaiming identity and belonging, as she navigates her mixed Omani and Filipino heritage to create art that is both intimate and communal.

AGSIW spoke to Fatma to learn more about her personal background, the importance of cultural preservation, and how her heritage has informed her artistic practice.

AGSIW: What has been your personal journey, and how did you become interested in jewelry design?

Fatma: I always had a deep connection with creativity. From making movies to writing stories and assembling plastic jewelry from DIY kits, creativity and being outdoors were a huge part of my childhood. Yet, as I grew up, I began to view creativity as something frivolous and lacking practical value in the adult world.

I initially followed the conventional path: education, a university degree in business and marketing in London, then a job back home in Oman. Seven years passed by, and I found myself yearning for a career with purpose, seeking what I termed a “soul” business, though unsure what form it should take.

Not long after, I quit my job and found myself in Zanzibar, a place that became a cocoon for shedding old norms and embracing new possibilities. It was there that I met Maria, a nomadic Maasai woman whose daily ritual of crafting jewelry captivated me.

She sat on a beach, stringing together intricate, colorful pieces that reflected her heritage and artistry. I found myself buying anklets and observing her until she eventually started to teach me her beaded jewelry techniques.

In Maria’s teachings, I unearthed memories of my mother’s preparation ritual of adornment for special occasions: donning a family heirloom passed onto her – my Dhofari grandmother’s heritage piece called the Rahina necklace – with coral beads and gold coins strung on a golden chain.

The timing was fortuitous. Covid-19 enveloped the world and confined me to quarantine. In my room, I found solace in the tools left behind by my mother, herself a former jewelry artisan. In this space of solitude and reflection, my journey into jewelry design began.

AGSIW: As someone with mixed Omani, Dhofari, and Filipino heritage, how do you navigate the complexities of identity and belonging within Omani society?

Fatma: I initially learned to mold myself to fit my environment, hoping that I would go by unscathed and unnoticed. It was easier to be invisible. That way, I wouldn’t have to define or explain myself to anyone.

I felt caught between polar opposites: Omani and Filipina, conservative and liberal, right and wrong. I grappled with a sense of needing to choose, to define myself within distinct boundaries. I leaned toward choosing my Arab/Dhofari/Omani side, which sometimes meant setting aside my Filipina roots.

I faced internal and external questioning about what truly constitutes an Arab. Does my father’s first language, Shehri (also known as Jabbali), disqualify him as an Arab? Am I really Dhofari if I do not live among the people for more than three months a year? What if I don’t cover my face and subscribe to some of the cultural practices?

It was only well into my adult life that I came to realize that identity is not static: It is fluid and multifaceted. My identity is shaped by my experiences, blended heritage, values, and the communities I belong to.

I’ve come to embrace my mixed heritage, though I still identify more closely with my Dhofari side. In Dhofar, I feel that belonging is earned through the purity of your bloodline, physical presence, doting on the community, and blending in with everyone else. It’s a place where change is met with caution, and being different puts you at risk of being an outsider, even if you share the same blood and tribe. In contrast, the Filipino community, known for its openness and diasporic nature, offers a more fluid sense of identity and belonging.

My research serves as a lifeline that connects me to my people and land, yet my appearance and distance, being based in Muscat, sometimes evoke a sense of being an outsider appropriating my own Dhofari heritage. I tread carefully, mindful of how I present myself and share my insights, seeking always to honor and bridge the complexities of my identity.

AGSIW: What is the significance of the Jabbali culture in Dhofar and its importance to Oman’s cultural landscape?

Fatma: As a seafaring nation, Oman has a long history of engaging with diverse cultures. Each region within Oman also boasts distinct dialects, dress, cuisine, traditions, and customs. There are more than nine languages spoken across various local ethnic and regional communities, and, within my own circles, I have been exposed to seven of them.

Shehri, an indigenous language of the southern part of Oman, holds particular importance to me. It is my father and grandmother’s first language. Shehri doesn’t have a written form and has been preserved orally through generations. As Arabic becomes more widely used, the number of fluent Shehri speakers is dwindling. It’s a unique language and has letters that are not part of any other alphabet or phonetics I have heard. It’s tough for new speakers. I started learning in February 2024 and am struggling to pronounce some of the letters!

The Jabbali culture embodies an intimate connection with the land. The land connects the people to their ancestors, provides medicine, and is a vital source of sustenance for both them and their free-range animals (mainly camels, goats, and cows). It’s more than just real estate or a source of income; they are notoriously protective of it. Nonetheless, you’ll still find a chalet or two in the mountains available for tourists to rent.

Efforts to document and revitalize the language are essential in ensuring the Jabbali culture’s survival and passing it on to future generations. Information, stories, teachings, wisdom, and poetry were transferred through oral tradition. Keeping the integrity of the language alive will help us unlock pre-colonial and indigenous teachings that are unique to us and our region.

AGSIW: You describe Rahina as an ode to your Dhofari heritage. How do you incorporate elements of Dhofari culture into your jewelry designs, and what message do you hope to convey through your creations?

Fatma: One thing that fascinates me about Omani jewelry is that each piece is treated as an animate object. Each piece has its own name, purpose, and story.

The “Aissaba” is a headpiece worn during weddings by single first-degree cousins or siblings of the groom. It makes these girls easy to spot. I have my own piece that my mother purchased for me, and I loved taking it out and wearing it. I also loved sharing it with family members on the occasions I could not attend and wear it myself.

This connection with the piece you wear is what I want to bring back through Rahina as an alternative to fast fashion – something that is more sentimental and meaningful, an item to cherish rather than an item to hoard.

AGSIW: What efforts are currently underway to preserve and celebrate the Jabbali culture in Dhofar?

Fatma: The publication of the first Shehri dictionary in 2014, featuring a new alphabet that accommodates sounds absent in the Arabic script, is an important step in preserving the language.

Various papers and books have been written on topics ranging from cave drawings and children’s games to political history, language, rituals, and folklore. Notable among these publications is a guide on Dhofari plants. The text details their scientific attributes and cultural significance, including local uses and the Shehri name for each plant.

Community-driven tourism initiatives like Ghudu involve locals in activities that showcase their traditions. The restoration of historic homes for tourism, such as Koofan House, also promotes cultural exchange. Similarly, Dar Abdulaziz al-Rowas, a private residence, exemplifies architectural preservation by blending Islamic and Dhofari styles. Museums across Oman are increasingly highlighting local artifacts, enriching public understanding and appreciation of Dhofari traditions.

AGSIW: Can you share any memorable experiences or interactions you’ve had while working on reviving Dhofari heritage through your jewelry designs?

Fatma: During Ramadan of 2024, I volunteered to raise funds for Gaza by selling books and struck up a conversation with a woman helping me. She recognized me from my business account and asked about my involvement with the British Museum.

She shared a touching story: Her British aunt, a devoted admirer of Omani culture and silver, made a special trip to London to celebrate her 70th birthday by visiting the 2023 exhibition “Making Their Mark: Women Silversmiths From Oman,” which featured my work.

She said she had a great time and enjoyed the exhibit. Despite the British Museum’s vast number of visitors each year, this personal anecdote made me feel deeply valued and understood. It reminded me of the profound reason why I create – for individuals like her.

These exchanges remind me of how my jewelry, along with every creation I bring to life, is a heartfelt tribute to my ancestors and the profound conversations I hold with them. Despite lacking a formal design background and being relatively new to this journey, each time I craft a piece or shape the identity of the brand, I am driven by an innate, undeniable feeling. It is as if I am tapping into a space where ancestral memories surface, inviting me to explore and express them anew.