Emirati women train next generation in traditional embroidery, in the hope it will stop the craft dying out

Far from Dubai’s glitzy towers, Mariam al-Kalbani’s henna-dyed fingers weave brightly coloured threads in a skill she hopes young Emirati women watching her can preserve for the future. The art of hand-weaving braided shiny ribbons to adorn traditional clothing and bags is called Al Talli, which is on Unesco’s Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity list. But with the relentless pace of change in the United Arab Emirates, its days may be numbered. “It’s a craft of our ancestors and our people,” Kalbani says in Al Ain, the UAE’s fourth largest city. If we do not take initiative and introduce it to them, it will disappear.” The 70-year-old craftswoman, wearing a traditional black abaya robe and golden face covering, has been training students and apprentices in the art for 15 years. “The goal is to revive the heritage for the next generation,” she says. She emphasises that mastering Al Talli doesn’t happen in a couple of hours. “It could take a year or two, especially if training is done just once a week.” Kalbani has been weaving Al Talli since she was a teenager. The simplest Al Talli designs are made from six threads – although they can number up to 50 – and mastering the process of combining them with beads, ornaments and precious metals such as gold can take a long time. Accounting student Reem al-Ketbi watched Kalbani intently as she worked on a round cushion called a Mousadah, weaving a silver thread back and forth during the recent annual Traditional Handicrafts Festival. “Every time I see Al Talli, I remember the Emirati identity – it’s something rare and special,” says the 23-year-old, who began learning the craft in 2023 while also pursuing her studies. No precise information on Al Talli’s origins exists. But Mohamed Hassan Abdel Hafez, a cultural heritage expert at the UAE’s Sharjah Institute for Heritage, says it has been passed down through multiple generations, “at least from grandparents to grandchildren”, in line with Unesco’s listing requirements. “In the field of intangible cultural heritage, it is very difficult to determine the exact date or when it historically began,” he says. However, the UAE authorities are working to preserve traditions that date from before the development of the oil industry in the country. Kalbani laments that her own daughters did not take up the craft, but smiles as her three-year-old granddaughter beside her asks questions about the braids and threads. Al Talli was not the only tradition being highlighted at the festival. At the main square in Al Ain, American Katie Gaimer watched men performing the traditional Al-Ayalah dance, wielding bamboo sticks or unloaded rifles to the rhythm of folk songs. The 35-year-old teacher says she and her friends have just enjoyed an Al Talli workshop, where they had a free lesson on how to make bracelets. “It kind of felt like we were making friendship bracelets … it was fun and it was nice to learn from somebody teaching it in a traditional way,” she says. Elsewhere, women produced various items including Sadu fabric, which is used for tents, carpets and camel saddles, and is also listed by Unesco. Aisha al-Dhaheri, who works to promote traditional crafts at the UAE’s Department of Culture and Tourism in Abu Dhabi, says that authorities hope to support Al Talli by licensing certified experts to expand production and teaching. “It’s considered at risk of disappearance, so we tried to expedite preservation efforts by organising training courses,” she says. Accounting student Ketbi believes that young women these days are not very interested in learning craft techniques from long ago. But she still considers preserving them worthwhile “out of love for the country”. Those who can even remember the UAE before its vertiginous ascent into modernity are increasingly few, however. Emiratis make up just 10 per cent of the country’s 10 million inhabitants, and overwhelmingly the young are focused on the digital future, less so on the often impoverished past. At one shop in the festival area, octogenarian Kulthum al-Mansouri sells bags, incense burners, bracelets, necklaces, medals and keychains – all adorned with Al Talli, which she herself braided under the eyes of passers-by. She says she feels saddened that young women seem less interested in Al Talli than ever, distracted as they were “by screens and phones”. But she still hopes the skill can be passed on, because her generation cannot maintain it forever. “For how long do we have left to live?” she says.