Yemenis Take a Green Leaf as Serious Pastime

It’s hard to know if it was the years of isolation in a remote village, or the years spent chewing on a narcotic leaf called khat, or maybe a bit of both, but Aziz Mohammed Hasben wasn’t fooling around when he said the Earth must be flat.

“I believe only what I see,” said Hasben, 65, his words a bit garbled by the pasty wad of green leaves tucked chipmunk-like into his cheek. “I only know north, south, east and west. I don’t believe the world is like a ball.”

In Hasben’s universe, some things have not changed since the days when most people believed that the world was flat. His village in northern Yemen has no running water, electricity or the other public conveniences--such as sewers--generally associated with modern life. But, as has been true for generations, it does have a supply of khat--pronounced “gaht”--a shiny green leaf that grows on trees and serves as the national pastime.

And what better place to discuss the mysteries of the universe than a daily khat chew, a midafternoon Yemeni ritual that, to the outsider, looks like something between a kaffeeklatsch and a scene from a 1970s Cheech and Chong movie spoofing marijuana use. There’s a lot of casual conversation, at times taken in bizarre directions by the mood-altering nature of khat.

But where Cheech and Chong got laughs, there is little amusing about khat. This is a national habit of enormous proportions. Not only is khat use legal, but nonusers are often treated as social outcasts. Soldiers frequently walk around with a weapon in one hand and a bag of khat in the other. Traffic police chew it while standing in the middle of the street. If you want to meet with the speaker of parliament, Abdullah Hussein Ahmar, better to catch up with him at his daily khat chew. (His leaves are ground and served with a spoon.) Even President Ali Abdullah Saleh, who has tried to cool his people’s obsession, settles in for a good chew now and then, his aides said.

“This is actually a bad habit, chewing khat,” said Mohammed Kahtan, political director of Islah, the Islamic reform party, as he tucked a few of the small, basil-shaped leaves into his mouth. “It is a bad habit, but we surrender to it.”

Yemenis are defensive about khat. They insist that it is not addictive and that its amphetamine-like effect is good for the economy, good for one’s health, good for maintaining strong ties with family and friends. They say it energizes people.

“It’s like liquor and chocolate,” said Ahmed Ali Yemeni, 29, who is well educated and fluent in English. “So many people benefit from it: farms, sellers, transporters, the government. You are not forced to chew. People are more productive with khat. They work harder, they get paid more. It helps their income.”

This is the majority view in a country where officials acknowledge that 70% to 90% of the 18 million people chew regularly, with many children in the countryside starting as early as age 8.

The anti-khat minority, however, sees it as a destructive addiction.

For the individual, there are negative health effects that run the gamut from indigestion and insomnia to manic behavior with grandiose delusions, the latter a real problem in a country where just about every man owns at least one firearm. Polish Ambassador Krzysztof Suprowicz, for example, said the five armed men who kidnapped him in March 2000 were chewing the leaf.

“All of them were under the influence of khat, so they were agitated,” said the ambassador, who was later released unharmed.

Khat is also damaging to the broader community.

“We as a society spend 1 billion Yemeni rials [about $6 million] every day on khat. We lose more than 18 million working hours a day chewing khat,” said Ahmed Jaber Afif, a former education minister who unsuccessfully tried to get the government to crack down on khat use in the 1970s. A decade ago, he founded an anti-khat organization that isn’t doing too well, either: He figures that it has 100 members.

“I can’t say we are successful,” Afif said. “But we will not lose hope.”

Yemen is a poor country, among the least developed in the world. It needs to attract investment, trade and hard currency. Though political instability and violence have been among the main reasons for Yemen’s economic difficulties, khat also is a factor. The World Bank has cited estimates that khat production accounts for 25% of the gross domestic product.

“It is a major contributor to the rural economy,” said James Rawley, a United Nations Development Program representative. “[But] the downsides, there are quite a few. The amount of lost time in terms of the whole khat phenomenon--it is a negative contributor to production throughout the economy.”

For rich and poor, powerful and dispossessed, khat is the great equalizer. About noon, many people begin to grind their teeth and think about it. By 1 p.m. they are off to a market to pick up their stash. Khat must be chewed within 48 hours of being picked, so Yemenis shop for it the way the French shop for bread.

Men Haggle Over Green Bundles at Markets

But there is none of the ambience of a Parisian bakery. Khat markets are crowded with men haggling over bundles of branches and leaves. Even in the most upscale markets, where tribal leaders buy the best-quality leaves, merchants sell for the equivalent of about $12 a large bundle of branches wrapped in cellophane, usually blue or pink. At a downscale market, a chewer can buy a small bag filled with some leaves for less than a dollar. It is estimated that many households spend as much as half their annual income on khat, according to officials.

Originating in Ethiopia, Catha edulis, or khat, is an evergreen plant that can grow to 20 feet tall. Its leaves are chewed in Somalia, Kenya, Malawi, Uganda, Tanzania, Congo, Zimbabwe and South Africa. In Yemen, however, it is a way of life.

At one time, khat was grown here between the famous coffee shrubs of the southern Arabian Peninsula. Today it has largely displaced coffee and other agricultural products, such as apples. Drive out of Sana, the capital, and the rock-studded plain is barren but for small plots of slim trees. Grape arbors are dried up. But the khat is protect by fences and gunmen. In this parched land, officials say, as much as 80% of water goes to khat farms.

No wonder. It is a lucrative crop.

Gannaf Iddris, 23, said his family pretty much abandoned growing seasonal crops in favor of khat, which can be harvested throughout the year. He can make about $175 a day selling khat, an enormous income in a country with an estimated 35% unemployment. Pickers, usually children who scurry up the flexible branches, can earn nearly $12 for two hours of work, four times the amount earned harvesting apples.

“If there were an alternative, we would do it,” said Iddris, who farms in an area outside Sana.

Like grape growers, khat farmers talk about microclimates that affect the quality and taste of their product. In this area, they produce four types with different taste and effect. “Khat is better than wine,” Iddris insisted.

Khat, however, is quite different from wine. It contains a psychoactive ingredient known as cathinone--chemically similar to amphetamine--something that prompted the U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration to declare khat a Schedule I narcotic, its most restrictive category, making it illegal in the U.S.

To partake, the user plucks off the tender leaves and soft tips of branches and chews them up, swallowing the juice and keeping the masticated leaves tucked in the cheek. In theory, this is supposed to be done in groups to promote socializing, but the country is full of solitary chewers--like the soldier in uniform guarding the office of Wahiba Farah, the minister of human rights, or the civil servant inside who wipes the spit and green leaves from his cheek as he greets visitors.

Khat Chewing Part of Wedding Celebration

In Asnaf, an ancient village of mud-brick houses north of the capital, the community joined together recently to celebrate the wedding of 23 couples. In this traditional society, the women went off to another spot to celebrate, leaving hundreds upon hundreds of men behind. The men danced and ate--then got down to chewing. Many of the region’s most powerful sheiks and political leaders attended the celebration.

The director of security for Sana, Col. Ahmed Maktashi, was sitting in a corner, nibbling away at leaves, when Hasben leaned over and asked, “What is behind America?” Those assembled thought that the question had some political implication, until Hasben made it clear that he was talking geography.

“Behind America is Asia,” Maktashi tried to explain politely. He picked up a plastic bottle and tried to illustrate the shape of the Earth, but Hasben would have none of it, shaking his head and waving his hand.

Dr. Haitham abu Haitham, 35, took a break from his khat and quipped: “The end of the Earth, this is your village.”

Everyone laughed and went back to chewing.