Watch: Lost UAE Sea Chants Once Performed On Pearl Diving Ships Heard Again In Sharjah

At a recent heritage event in Dubai, a quiet room suddenly filled with the rhythm of clapping hands and deep voices rising together. The sound was hypnotic, almost like the sea itself. These were nahma, or sea chants, once performed on pearl diving ships that sailed out of the Arabian Gulf.

For many in the audience at Sharjah Maritime Museum, the experience was a window into a world that has almost vanished. For the Emiratis leading the session, it was a reminder of how music carried their ancestors through some of the toughest journeys at sea.

“Every task on board had its own chant,” said Emirati artist and composer Ibrahim Jumaa, who today serves as an arts advisor at the Hamdan bin Mohammed Heritage Centre.“The men sang as they prepared the ship, hammered the nails, raised the sails, or lowered the anchors. The chants weren't just music, they gave rhythm to the work.”

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In the days before engines and GPS, pearl diving trips could last months. Divers risked their lives searching the seabed for oysters while the rest of the crew worked tirelessly to keep the ship afloat. Singing became both a form of entertainment and survival.

“The ship's singer, known as the Naham, was as important as any sailor,” Jumaa explained.“He lifted morale, helped men coordinate their movements, and even offered comfort during moments of loss. Without the chants, the silence of the sea could feel unbearable.”

The role of the Naham was so respected that he received a share and a half of the profits from the voyage, more than a regular crew member. On larger ships, there could be more than one Naham, each with a distinctive voice.

Ali Khamees, a researcher at the Sharjah Institute for Heritage and author of several books on pearl diving history, described the chants as a“living diary of the sea.”

“Through these songs, we hear about courage, exhaustion, longing for home, and sometimes grief,” he said.“They were not written down, they were passed from memory to memory. That is why every performance today is also an act of preservation.”

Some chants were tied to very specific moments. When throwing Al Sinn (an iron weight) into the water to stabilise the ship, the Naham would begin a hymn called Al Taqseera. The divers and pullers responded in unison:“Aaaah.” The sound echoed across the waves, almost like a prayer before plunging into the unknown.

Others were more playful. During long evenings, the Naham would sing Samar songs, telling stories and jokes to keep the crew awake.

Here's a glimpse into the ancient tradition:

“The chants weren't only serious,” said Khamees.“They were also about joy and laughter. Even in hardship, sailors made room for entertainment.”

What struck the modern audience was how interactive the performance felt. The chants demanded call and response, voices rising together like waves. It was not a song meant to be listened to passively but one that pulled everyone into the rhythm.

“This is why we continue to perform them,” Jumaa said.“Because they remind us of the resilience of our people. These weren't professional musicians, they were sailors and divers. But through their songs, they left us a cultural legacy as deep as the sea they sailed.”

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