The spirit of Bedouin hospitality thrives in Jordan’s tourism renaissance

AMMAN: In the deserts of Jordan, Bedouin communities are finding new ways to open their homes to the world, bridging traditional hospitality with the economic opportunities of global tourism. Whereas Airbnb listings around the world range from spare couches to mansions, in southern Jordan, hopeful visitors might encounter just a cave.

Indeed, Imad, a 34-year-old local from Petra, has ventured into the digital age by listing his own cave on Airbnb. The ancient city attracts nearly a million visitors annually, and Imad says his peculiar real estate is fully booked during the high seasons.

During their stay, guests are treated to fresh tea and enjoy traditional dishes slow-cooked beneath the desert sands, while their warm and welcoming Bedouin host shares old tales by the campfire.

Imad explains that this profound sense of hospitality is “deeply ingrained in his DNA.” He told Arab News: “It is a trait that has been passed down by our ancestors and is a legacy of tribal life in the desert.”

Bedouins in Jordan maintain a strong connection to their nomadic origins, tribal affiliations, and ancestral lands, with cultural heritage remaining a source of pride. Hospitality is a key pillar of the Bedouin ethos, a trait believed to have been forged by the unforgiving desert terrain.

“A Bedouin would open his home even to a stranger because he knew that in the desert, he would one day also seek refuge,” Hashem, a 29-year-old local and tour guide from Wadi Rum, told Arab News.

“Hospitality was about security and solidarity. This was long before there was anything called ‘police’ or ‘government.’ Our people looked out for each other,” he added.

For centuries, the desert’s Bedouin inhabitants maintained their traditional agricultural and pastoral way of life before Jordan experienced a surge of global tourism in the 1980s. As places like Petra and Wadi Rum — famed for their archaeological and natural marvels — transformed into popular travel destinations, traditional values of hospitality seamlessly merged with the growing need to cater to visitors.

Leveraging their intimate knowledge of the desert and inherently friendly nature, locals excel as tour operators, desert guides, camel handlers, and souvenir merchants, all while offering visitors an authentic Bedouin experience.

But navigating through Jordan’s $3 billion tourism industry has presented the local communities with the challenge of preserving their cultural heritage in a rapidly commercialized world.

Hashem underscores the centrality of hospitality in Bedouin culture, explaining that, in keeping with an age-old Arab custom, a host would refrain from asking his guest about his identity or reasons for his journey for the first three days.

Bedouin hospitality is exercised through the symbolic ritual of serving coffee. The offering of three distinct servings — al-dayf (for the guest), al-kayf (for pleasure), and al-sayf (for the sword) — solidifies the bond between host and guest, binding them in shared respect and defense.

Today’s visitor to a Bedouin’s doorstep is typically not stranded or in need. Instead, many have abandoned the hotel chains to experience a way of life that cherishes a connection with nature and is unburdened by the trappings of urbanism.

“A lot of foreigners tell me they prefer Bedouin life. The city is short-sighted. Here your eyes will relax because you see all this open space. You don’t look at the time. This is freedom of the desert,” Awad, a 21-year-old cameleer from Wadi Rum, said.

With hospitality as a marketable asset, the symbolic pact formed through coffee is being replaced with contractually binding sales for goods. This commodification of hospitality has stirred debate among local communities, given its stark contrast to the traditional values that reject transactional interactions.

“Some locals view hosting tourists for money as shameful and dirty work. It’s definitely something you have to get used to,” Faisal, who also listed his Petra cave-dwelling on Airbnb, told Arab News.

Another local, Mahmoud, said: “I’m against making hospitality a business; it makes me sad. These people exploit the name ‘Bedouin’ to make money.”

However, many others perceive it as a necessity in a changing world.

Tourism plays a vital role in Jordan’s economy as one of the top two sources of federal revenue. In desert regions like Wadi Rum and Petra, locals heavily rely on visitors for income.

“All the job opportunities in our region are predominantly in tourism. We don’t have industrial or financial industries, but Allah has blessed us with a beautiful area like this. So you have to excel in the field you’re given,” Hashem said.

While economic opportunities are reshaping certain practices, many, like Faisal, tread cautiously. For example, he draws the line at charging guests for meals, saying: “I would consider it very shameful if I made people pay for their food. Our hospitality comes from the heart.”

Fadi, who runs a bazaar in Wadi Rum, illustrates how to strike a balance between tradition and trade. He offers a warm drink to every visitor who enters his tent, regardless of whether they purchase any souvenirs.

“We leave these jars on the table for whoever would like to give a tip, but we never ask,” the 31-year-old explained.

Fadi says that locals, for the most part, are happy with the increased income and improved standard of living that tourism has brought to his tribe’s area. He also highlighted that the industry provides a platform to showcase their heritage to the world, with tourists embracing customs becoming a source of pride.

“We are here in Wadi Rum in the name of Jordan and the kingdom to serve everyone. If I am the face of tourism, I see this as an honorable thing,” he added.

For many like Hashem, working in the tourism industry has also allowed them to feel connected to contemporary Jordanian society and a wider global network.

“I’ve made friends from all around the world. Any country I want to visit, I know someone who would welcome me into their home as I did with them,” the 29-year-old said.

However, amidst this global convergence, he voiced concerns about fading traditions. Hashem misses the times when daily gatherings and conversations around a fire were the norm.

“Today, a man might not know his neighbor. Everyone is busy working,” he said.

“Back in the day, the Bedouin didn’t care about money. He had his goats, and that was all he needed. But now, he has to think about how to keep up with modern-day life and how to pay for his children’s school and university tuition.

“Now when you call on someone and tell them you’re coming over, he’ll tell you he’s busy or ask you if you want something. It’s no longer out of love.

“Then I wish I never called to begin with because now he thinks I want something from him. I want nothing other than his good health and well-being.”

The southern Jordanian economy is challenged, with comparatively less services when compared to the capital, which houses more than 35 percent of the country’s population.

Therefore, tourism is not only a revolutionary factor but also one of the last surviving economic lifelines — a volatile one, regularly influenced by the turbulent political developments in the region.