In brief
The walled farms—once central to Unaizah’s food production—are now being transformed into tourist and heritage venues. This move preserves mud‑brick structures, palm trees, wells, and local farming practices while reinvigorating the city’s economy. Archaeological researcher Mohammed Ibrahim Al‑Zunaidi says the farms originally thrived on groundwater in Rawdat Unaizah and had supported 80‑90% of the county’s population.
In the heart of Saudi Arabia’s Qassim Region, the historic walled farms of Unaizah Governorate, known locally as *hitan* or *falayeh*, are shifting from agricultural workhouses to cultural destinations. Residents and visitors alike now steer away from dusty roads and ailing crops toward cafés and restaurants that sit on the same ancient earth.
The transformation began as part of a broader effort to protect the region’s historic edifices and to give new purpose to the mud‑brick buildings that once housed farmers’ families. Spa officials noted that the palatial palm trees and traditional wells that dot the farms still stand, offering visitors a living reminder of the area’s past.
Architectural conservation remains the priority. The new heritage sites preserve a range of old features—including the stone‑walled enclosures that once guarded orchards and the channel systems that piped groundwater from Rawdat Unaizah. These elements form the backbone of Unaizah’s historic identity, according to the Arabic terms used to describe them.
Archaeological researcher Mohammed Ibrahim Al‑Zunaidi explains that the word *hitan* literally translates as “walled farms,” reflecting the enclosed nature of these productive spaces. Al‑Zunaidi in one interview emphasized that the farms’ names were derived from geographic markers or family surnames, and that their presence was tied directly to the availability of underground water.
The farms once underpinned the governorate’s economy. By the early twentieth century, Al‑Zunaidi estimated that 80‑90 percent of Unaizah’s population depended on agriculture, either as owners, cultivators, or workers in related trades. He argued that when the farms thrived, they sparked the spread of residential communities, giving rise to the earliest urban neighborhoods.
Today’s restoration efforts aim to keep the farms’ social functions alive. Converted spaces host cafés, small restaurants, and guided tours, while community workshops train visitors in traditional farming techniques and crafts. Such activities, Al‑Zunaidi notes, help maintain the cultural memory that the farms once nurtured.
Visitors report that the sites feel both authentic and welcoming. A local tour guide explained that many families still own the properties and that they use the revenue from tourism to repair the mud‑brick walls and maintain the wells. In turn, this allows the farms to remain economic assets in a city whose commercial profile has expanded beyond agriculture.
With the wider Saudi push for heritage‑based tourism, Unaizah’s repurposed farms stand as a model for other regions. The governorate’s local authorities intend to multiply the number of sites, adding new museums and cultural centers that showcase the region’s agricultural history. The transformation is already attracting both domestic and international guests, breathing fresh life into the historic farms while keeping them firmly rooted in the collective identity of Unaizah’s people.
