Between Desert and Blackboard: Teaching English in Oman (2008–2009)

After completing a life-changing teaching contract in Sudan, I set out once more—this time to the Sultanate of Oman. I arrived at the Ibri College of Applied Sciences at the end of 2008, stepping into a world where modern education met centuries-old tradition.

Nestled in the Al Dhahirah desert, Ibri wasn’t a postcard-perfect tourist hub—but it became one of the most meaningful chapters in my TEFL career.

At Ibri College, I taught English for Academic Purposes (EAP) to first-year students preparing to enter Education, Business, and IT degree programs. The goal was to help them reach an IELTS score of 4.5, often starting from limited prior exposure to academic English.

Each day was a balancing act:

• Building core language skills (reading, writing, listening, and speaking)

• Teaching note-taking, presentation, and time management techniques

• Coaching students through mock interviews, debates, and group projects

But more than anything, it was about building confidence—helping young adults from rural Oman believe they could succeed in an English-medium higher education system.

Ibri wasn’t glamorous. It had one hotel (no pool), a Pizza Hut, the essential Makkah Supermarket, and a handful of local markets, fort ruins, and a nearby wadi. Yet it had its own pulse.

Daytime heat was stifling—often forcing us into a nocturnal rhythm.

After sundown, the town came alive:

• Indian and Turkish cafés opened their doors, serving shawarma, biryani, and strong Omani tea

• Perfume shops lined the streets, thick with the scent of frankincense and oudh

• Teachers and locals alike gathered under the stars to share food, talk football, and enjoy the desert stillness

It wasn’t the easiest place to live, but it offered space—to think, to reflect, and to truly experience a different way of life.

One weekend, my student Miriam kindly invited me to attend a local camel race with her family. This was no staged spectacle for tourists—it was the real thing.

Out in the desert, surrounded by tribal groups and cheering families, we watched young jockeys riding live camels in traditional style. There were no robot jockeys here—just pure skill, sand, and speed. The camels thundered across the track as pickup trucks followed, honking and cheering them on.

It was dusty, exhilarating, and deeply authentic—a rare glimpse into Omani heritage, generously shared by my student.

With a few days off, I joined fellow teachers Baxter, Steve, and Fran for a rugged road trip to Jebel Shams, Oman’s tallest mountain. The air thinned as we ascended, and by the summit, we were rewarded with jaw-dropping views into Wadi Ghul, known as Arabia’s Grand Canyon.

It was humbling—raw, vast, and ancient. The hike tested our legs, but the silence and scale of the landscape left a lasting imprint.

On another weekend, the same group and I hiked into the Wadi Dhum canyon just outside Ibri. After a scorching trek, we reached a series of natural rock pools, hidden away like desert jewels.

We dove into cool emerald waters, floated in the shade of sheer cliffs, and spent hours laughing, exploring, and basking in one of the most beautiful—and unexpected—places I’d ever seen

Some of my most memorable moments came outside the classroom, traveling with students.

• In Misfat al Abriyeen, a mountaintop village of stone houses and date groves, we explored ancient falaj irrigation systems and shared a meal with a local family.

• In Nizwa, students took us through the souq, bought halwa, and explained the history behind the famous fortress.

• One sunny afternoon, we enjoyed a wadi picnic with music, homemade biryani, and splashing in shallow pools.

These weren’t just field trips—they were bonding experiences that deepened our mutual respect and gave cultural richness to the learning process.

Needing a short break, I headed to Dubai for a weekend. Just a few hours away, it felt like another planet—glass towers, fountains, and five-star comfort.

Highlights included:

• Dune bashing in a roaring 4x4

• Crossing Dubai Creek by abra river taxi

• Browsing the Iranian dhow markets, where traders from Bandar Abbas still barter goods in chaotic charm

It was fun, fast, and surreal—but I was happy to return to Oman’s quieter rhythm.

After asking Ansu on a hilltop outside Dhank to marry me, we flew home briefly to South Africa—to get married. Returning to Oman as a newlywed gave me a new outlook. I was building a personal life while growing professionally in one of the most unique teaching contexts of my career.

Life in Ibri had its rhythm—quiet, dry, and grounded in simplicity. But every few weekends, we craved a taste of urban energy, and Muscat delivered just that.

The capital, about a 3-hour drive away, felt like entering a different world.

Sleek highways gave way to dramatic mountain backdrops and seaside views. Muscat was a place of contrasts: modern buildings beside ancient forts, traditional Omani wear alongside Western fashion, and sleepy residential streets leading into lively commercial centers.

We explored:

• 🛍️ Muttrah Souq, hunting for scarves, spices, and souvenirs

• 🌊 The scenic Corniche, perfect for evening strolls

• 🛒 Daiso, for quirky finds and budget-friendly classroom materials

• 🎬 Al Shatti Plaza, where we caught English films and grabbed familiar snacks

These Muscat getaways gave us a reset button. They offered more than just convenience—they reminded us of the blend of old and new that defined Oman, and gave us a deeper appreciation for both the quiet life in Ibri and the pulse of the capital.

Oman taught me that teaching is more than a job—it’s a relationship. That quiet places often hold the deepest insights. And that when you give yourself fully to a culture, it gives back in ways you can’t predict.

From dusty streets to mountaintop hikes, from classroom breakthroughs to camel races—I left Oman changed, grateful, and more grounded than ever.

After 10 unforgettable months in Oman—navigating desert life, exploring mountain wadis, teaching motivated students, and experiencing a culture far from our own—it was time to return home for a much-needed break. ✈️🇿🇦

Back in South Africa, I shifted gears and joined Learnthings Africa on a freelance basis, bringing PC literacy and e-learning to rural schools across the country. It was a rewarding change of pace, using education to make an impact in communities often overlooked.

During this period, my wife and I also embraced a new kind of responsibility—volunteering as house parents at the Jacaranda Children’s Home in Pretoria for 9 months. This chapter was quieter, rooted in care and compassion, but no less meaningful.

Of course, Oman hadn’t seen the last of us. In 2011 and 2012, we returned for another TEFL adventure—this time with new roles, new cities, and new stories to tell.

But before that, 2009 to 2011 was a season to reconnect with home, give back, and prepare for the next leg of our journey. The road ahead was still wide open, and we were just getting started.