THE HAMRAN ARABS.
To describe, however briefly, all the tribes which inhabit the vast district called Arabia would be a task far beyond the pretensions of this work. Some have advanced very far in civilization, while others have retained, with certain modifications, their pristine and almost savage mode of life. I shall therefore select these latter tribes as examples of the Arab life, and shall briefly describe one or two of the most characteristic examples.
South of Cassala there is a remarkable tribe of Arabs known as the Hamrans, who are celebrated through all the country for their skill in hunting. They possess the well-cut features and other characteristics of the Arab race, and are only to be distinguished by the style of wearing the hair. They permit the hair to grow to a great length, part it down the middle, and carefully train it into long curls. Each man always carries the only two weapons he cares about, namely, the sword and shield. The latter is of no very great size, is circular in shape, and about two feet in diameter, with a boss in the centre much like that of the Nubian shield already described. It is made of the skin of the hippopotamus, and being meant for use and not for show, is never ornamented.
As to the sword, it is the chief friend of the Hamran Arab’s life, and he looks upon it with a sort of chivalric respect. It is straight, double-edged, and is furnished with a cross-handle, like that of the ancient Crusaders, from whom the fashion seems to have been borrowed. The blades are of European make, and the Arabs are excellent judges of steel, valuing a good blade above everything. They keep both edges literally as sharp as razors, and prove the fact by shaving with them. When a Hamran Arab is travelling and comes to a halt, the first thing he does after seating himself is to draw his sword and examine both edges with the keenest attention. He then sharpens the weapon upon his leathern shield, and when he can shave the hair on his own arm with both edges, he carefully returns the blade into the sheath.
The length of the blade is three feet, and the handle is about six inches long, so that the weapon is a very weighty one, and a fair blow from its keen edge will cut a man in two. Still, it is not serviceable in single combat, as, although its weight renders a successful blow fatal, it prevents the recovery of the sword after an unsuccessful blow. Sir S. Baker, to whom we are indebted for an account of this remarkable tribe, says that a Hamran Arab, with his sword and shield, would be at the mercy of an ordinary swordsman. He can cut and slash with wonderful energy, but knows nothing of using the point or parrying, so that, if a feint be made at his head, he will instinctively raise the shield, and lay his whole body open to the point of his adversary’s sword.
The scabbard in which the sword is carried is very ingeniously made of two strips of soft and elastic wood, slightly hollowed to receive the blade, and covered with leather. The absurd metal scabbards still in use in our army would be scorned by an Arab, who knows the value of a keen edge to his weapon. On the scabbard are fitted two projecting pieces of leather. When the Arab is on the march, he slings the sword on the pommel of his saddle, and passes his leg between these leather projections, so that the sword is held in its place, and does not jump and bang against the sides of the horse.
Armed with merely the sword, these mighty hunters attack all kinds of game, and match themselves with equal coolness against the elephant, the rhinoceros, the giraffe, the lion, or the antelope. Their mode of procedure is almost invariably the same. They single out some particular animal, and contrive to cut the tendon of the bind leg with a blow of the sword, thus rendering the unfortunate beast helpless.
When they chase the elephant, they proceed in the following manner. The elephant hunters, or aggageers, as they call themselves, convert their swords into two-handed weapons by wrapping thin cord very closely round the blade, for about nine inches from the handle. The guarded portion of the blade is held in the right hand, and the hilt in the left.
Two hunters generally set out in chase of the elephant. Having selected the bull with the largest tusks, they separate it from its fellows, and irritate it until it charges them. One of the aggageers takes on himself this duty, and draws the attention of the elephant upon himself. The irritated animal makes its furious onset, and goes off at full speed after the aggageer, who carefully accommodates his pace to that of the elephant, so that it always thinks it is going to catch him, and forgets that he has a companion.
Meanwhile, the other aggageer rides close to the side of the elephant, draws his sword, springs to the ground, bounds alongside of the elephant, delivers one tremendous cut on the ankle of the hind foot, and springs again on his horse. As soon as the elephant puts the injured foot on the ground, the joint becomes dislocated, and the foot turns up like an old shoe. The animal is now helpless, and, while its attention is still engaged by the aggageer whom it has been pursuing, the swordsman passes to its other side, slashes the ankle of the remaining leg, and brings the animal to a dead halt. The sword is carefully wiped, sharpened, and returned to the sheath, while the wounded elephant sinks to the ground, and in a short time dies from loss of blood. Thus one man will kill an elephant with two blows of a sword.
It is evident that such hunting as this requires the most perfect horsemanship, and it is accordingly found that the Hamran Arabs are among the best horsemen in the world. They and their steeds seem to be actuated by one spirit, and they sit as if the horse and his rider were but one animal. In his travels in Abyssinia Sir S. Baker gives a very graphic account of their mode of riding.
“Hardly were we mounted and fairly started, than the monkey-like agility of our aggageers was displayed in a variety of antics, that were far more suited to performance in a circus than to a party of steady and experienced hunters, who wished to reserve the strength of their horses for a trying journey.
“Abou Do was mounted on a beautiful Abyssinian horse, a gray; Suleiman rode a rough and inferior-looking beast; while little Jali, who was the pet of the party, rode a gray mare, not exceeding fourteen hands in height, which matched her rider exactly in fire, spirit, and speed. Never was there a more perfect picture of a wild Arab horseman than Jali on his mare. Hardly was he in the saddle, than away flew the mare over the loose shingles that formed the dry bed of the river, scattering the rounded pebbles in the air from her flinty hoofs, while her rider in the vigor of delight threw himself almost under her belly while at full speed, and picked up stones from the ground, which he flung, and again caught as they descended.
“Never were there more complete Centaurs than these Hamran Arabs; the horse and man appeared to be one animal, and that of the most elastic nature, that could twist and turn with the suppleness of a snake; the fact of their separate being was proved by the rider springing to the earth with his drawn sword while the horse was in full gallop over rough and difficult ground, and, clutching the mane, he again vaulted into the saddle with the agility of a monkey, without once checking the speed.
“The fact of being on horseback had suddenly altered the character of these Arabs; from a sedate and proud bearing they had become the wildest examples of the most savage disciples of Nimrod; excited by enthusiasm, they shook their naked blades aloft till the steel trembled in their grasp, and away they dashed, over rocks, through thorny bush, across ravines, up and down steep inclinations, engaging in a mimic hunt, and going through the various acts supposed to occur in the attack of a furious elephant.”
This capability of snatching up articles from the ground stands the hunters in good stead. If, for example, they should come across a flock of sheep, each man will dash through the flock, stoop from his saddle, pick up a lamb, and ride off with it. They can even catch far more active prey than the lamb or kid. On one occasion, as the party were travelling along, they came upon a large troop of baboons, who had been gathering gum arabic from the mimosas. “Would the lady like to have a baboon?” asked Jali, the smallest and most excitable of the party.
Three of the hunters dashed off in pursuit of the baboons, and in spite of the rough ground soon got among them. Stooping from their saddles, two of the aggageers snatched each a young baboon from its mother, placed it on the neck of the horse, and rode off with it. Strange to say, the captive did not attempt to escape, nor even to bite, but clung convulsively to the mane of the horse, screaming with fear. As soon as they halted, the hunters stripped some mimosa bark from the trees, bound the baboons, and with their heavy whips inflicted a severe flogging on the poor beasts. This was to make them humble, and prevent them from biting. However, in the course of the next halt, when the baboons were tied to trees, one of them contrived to strangle itself in its struggles to escape, and the other bit through its bonds and made off unseen.
For such work as this, the hunter must be able to stop his horse in a moment, and accordingly the bit must be a very severe one. The saddle is a very clumsy affair, made of wood and unstuffed, while the stirrups are only large enough to admit the great toe.
The rhinoceros gives far more trouble to the hunters than the elephant. It is much swifter, more active, and can turn more rapidly, spinning round as if on a pivot, and baffling their attempts to get at its hind leg. Unlike the elephant, it can charge on three legs, so that a single wound does not disable it. Still the Hamran Arabs always kill the rhinoceros when they can, as its skin will produce hide for seven shields, each piece being worth two dollars, and the horn is sold to the Abyssinians as material for sword hilts, the best horn fetching two dollars per pound.
Lion-hunting is not a favorite pursuit with the Hamrans, as they gain little if successful, and they seldom come out of the contest without having suffered severely. They always try to slash the animal across the loins, as a blow in that spot disables it instantly, and prevents it from leaping. Sometimes the lion springs on the crupper of the horse, and then a back-handed blow is delivered with the two-edged sword, mostly with fatal effect.
The buffalo, fierce and active as it is, they hunt with the sword. Nothing, perhaps, shows the splendid horsemanship and daring courage of the Hamrans better than a scene which was witnessed by Sir S. Baker.
A large herd of buffaloes was seen and instantly charged by the aggageers, and, while the buffaloes and hunters were mixed together in one mass, the irrepressible little Jali suddenly leaned forward, and seized the tail of a fine young buffalo, some twelve hands high. Two other hunters leaped from their horses, snatched off their belts, and actually succeeded in taking the animal alive. This was a great prize, as it would be sold for a considerable sum at Cassala. Now as Jali was barely five foot three inches in height, and very slightly made, such a feat as seizing and finally capturing a powerful animal like a buffalo bull was really a wonderful one.
They are as active on foot as on horseback. On one occasion, three of them, Jali of course being one, were so excited with the chase of a wounded elephant that they actually leaped from their horses and pursued the animal on foot. The elephant was mad with rage, but seemed instinctively to know that his enemies wanted to get behind him, and always turned in time to prevent them. Active as monkeys, the aggageers managed to save themselves from the charges of the elephant, in spite of deep sand, which impeded them, while it had no effect on the elephant. Time after time he was within a yard or so of one of the hunters, when the other two saved him by dashing upon either flank, and so diverting his attention.
They hunt the hippopotamus as successfully as they chase the elephant, and are as mighty hunters in the water as upon land. In this chase they exchange the sword and shield for the harpoon and lance. The former weapon is made on exactly the same principle as that which has already been described when treating of the hippopotamus hunters of South Central Africa, but it is much lighter. The shaft is a stout bamboo about ten feet in length, and the head is a piece of soft steel about a foot long, sharply pointed at one end and having a single stout barb. One end of a rope, about twenty feet in length, is firmly attached to the head, and to the other end is fastened a float made of a very light wood called ambatch, which is also used for making canoes and rafts.
When the hunter sees a hippopotamus, and means to attack it, he puts on his hunting dress, i. e. he braces a leathern belt round his waist, and takes off all his clothes. He then fixes the iron head on the bamboo shaft, winds the rope round the latter, and boldly enters the water, holding the harpoon in the right hand and the ambatch float in the left. As soon as he comes within striking distance of his victim, the harpoon is hurled, and the hunter tries to find a spot in which the infuriated animal cannot reach him. The wounded hippopotamus dashes about, first in the river, then on the bank, and then in the river again, always trailing after it the rope and float, and so weakening itself, and allowing its enemies to track it. Sooner or later they contrive to seize the end, drag the animal near the bank, and then with their lances put it to death.
Often, when they have brought the hippopotamus to the shore, it charges open-mouthed at its tormentors. Some of them receive it with spears, while others, though unarmed, boldly await its onset, and fling handfuls of sand into its eyes. The sand really seems to cause more pain and annoyance than the spears, and the animal never can withstand it, but retreats to the water to wash the sand out of its eyes. In the mean time, weapon after weapon is plunged into its body, until at last loss of blood begins to tell upon it, and by degrees it yields up its life.
Sir S. Baker gives a most animated description of one of these strange hunts.
One of the old Hamran hunters, named Abou Do—an abbreviated version of a very long string of names—was celebrated as a howarti, or hippopotamus hunter. This fine old man, some seventy years of age, was one of the finest conceivable specimens of humanity. In spite of his great age, his tall form, six feet two in height, was as straight as in early youth, his gray locks hung in thick curls over his shoulders, and his bronze features were those of an ancient statue. Despising all encumbrances of dress, he stepped from rock to rock as lightly as a goat, and, dripping with water, and bearing his spear in his hand, he looked a very Neptune. The hunters came upon a herd of hippopotami in a pool, but found that they were too much awake to be safely attacked.
“About half a mile below this spot, as we clambered over the intervening rocks through a gorge which formed a powerful rapid, I observed, in a small pool just below the rapid, an immense head of a hippopotamus close to a perpendicular rock that formed a wall to the river, about six feet above the surface. I pointed out the hippo to old Abou Do, who had not seen it.
“At once the gravity of the old Arab disappeared, and the energy of the hunter was exhibited as he motioned us to remain, while he ran nimbly behind the thick screen of bushes for about a hundred and fifty yards below the spot where the hippo was unconsciously basking, with his ugly head above the surface. Plunging into the rapid torrent, the veteran hunter was carried some distance down the stream, but, breasting the powerful current, he landed upon the rocks on the opposite side, and, retiring to some distance from the river, he quickly advanced toward the spot beneath which the hippopotamus was lying. I had a fine view of the scene, as I was lying concealed exactly opposite the hippo, who had disappeared beneath the water.
“Abou Do now stealthily approached the ledge of rock beneath which he had expected to see the head of the animal; his long, sinewy arm was raised, with the harpoon ready to strike as he carefully advanced. At length he reached the edge of the perpendicular rock, the hippo had vanished, but, far from exhibiting surprise, the old Arab remained standing on the sharp ledge, unchanged in attitude.
“No figure of bronze could have been more rigid than that of the old river-king, as he stood erect upon the rock with the left foot advanced, and the harpoon poised in his ready right hand above his head, while in the left he held the loose coils of rope attached to the ambatch buoy. For about three minutes he stood like a statue, gazing intently into the clear and deep water beneath his feet.
“I watched eagerly for the reappearance of the hippo; the surface of the water was still barren, when suddenly the right arm of the statue descended like lightning, and the harpoon shot perpendicularly into the pool with the speed of an arrow. What river-fiend answered to the summons? In an instant an enormous pair of open jaws appeared, followed by the ungainly head and form of the furious hippopotamus, who, springing half out of the water, lashed the river into foam, and, disdaining the concealment of the deep pool, he charged straight up the violent rapids. (See [engraving No. 1], on the next page.) With extraordinary power he breasted the descending stream; gaining a footing in the rapids, about five feet deep, he ploughed his way against the broken waves, sending them in showers of spray upon all sides, and upon gaining broader shallows he tore along through the water, with the buoyant float hopping behind him along the surface, until he landed from the river, started at full gallop along the dry shingly bed, and at length disappeared in the thorny nabbuk jungle.”
During one of these flights, the hippopotamus took it into his head that the ambatch float was the enemy that was damaging him, and attacked it furiously. Taking advantage of his pre-occupation, two hunters swam across the river, carrying with them a very long and tough rope, and holding one end on each bank and “sweeping,” as the sailors say, they soon caught the float in the centre of the rope and brought it ashore. The hippopotamus then made a charge, and the slackened line was immediately coiled round a rock, while two hunters fixed additional harpoons in the animal; and though he made six charges at his foes, bit one of the ropes asunder, and crushed the lance-shafts between his teeth like straws, the hardy hunters got the better of him, and his death was a mere matter of time.
The hippopotamus is nearly as great a prize as the rhinoceros, as it affords an almost unlimited supply of food, and the hide is extremely valuable, being cut into strips two inches in width, which are used in the manufacture of the koorbash, or hide whip, so universally employed throughout Africa.
In the water, the crocodile is even a more dangerous antagonist than the hippopotamus, and yet the Hamrans attack it with their harpoons, boldly entering the water, and caring no more for crocodiles than for so many frogs.
(1.) HUNTING THE HIPPOPOTAMUS.
(See [page 678].)
(2.) TRAVELLERS AND THE MIRAGE.
(See [page 689].)
CHAPTER LXVIII.
BEDOUINS, HASSANIYEHS, AND MALAGASY.
SIGNIFICATION OF THE NAME — GENERAL APPEARANCE OF THE BEDOUINS — THEIR ROBBER NATURE — HOSPITALITY AND ITS DUTIES — LIFE AMONG THE BEDOUINS — THE BEDOUIN WOMEN — SIMPLE MODE OF GOVERNMENT — CONSTANT FEUDS — MODE OF COOKING — THE DATE AND ITS USES — THE HASSANIYEHS — GENERAL APPEARANCE — THEIR VILLAGES — STRANGE MARRIAGE CUSTOMS — A HASSANIYEH DANCE — SUPERSTITIONS OF THE ARABS — THE HAUNTED HOUSE — NOTIONS OF THE MIRAGE — THE INK MIRROR — THE MALAGASY AND THEIR TRIBES — THE FIRST BEEF-EATER — THE HOVA TRIBE — ARCHITECTURE — THE TRAVELLER’S TREE AND ITS USES — TREATMENT OF SLAVES — NOTIONS OF RELIGION — THE BLACKSMITH TRIBE.
Of all the many tribes which are designated by the common title of Arab, the typical tribes are those which are so well known by the name of Bedouin, or Bedaween. The former is the more familiar mode of spelling the word, and it will therefore be employed. The name is a most appropriate one, being derived from an Arabic word which signifies the desert, and meaning, therefore, a man of the wilderness. The Bedouins are indeed men of the desert. True Ishmaelites, their hand is against every man, and every man’s hand against them. They build no houses, they cultivate no lands, they conduct no merchandise; but are nomad and predatory, trusting chiefly for their living to the milk of their camels, and looking upon their horses and dromedaries as means whereby they can plunder with greater security.
As Mr. Palgrave pithily remarks, while treating of the character of the Bedouin: “The Bedouin does not fight for his home, he has none; nor for his country, that is anywhere; nor for his honor, he has never heard of it: nor for his religion, he owns and cares for none. His only object in war is the temporary occupation of some bit of miserable pasture-land, or the use of a brackish well; perhaps the desire to get such a one’s horse or camel into his own possession.”
In person the Bedouins are fine specimens of the human race. They are tall, stately, with well-cut features, and have feet and hands that are proverbial for their beauty. Their demeanor in public is grave and haughty, and every man walks as if he were monarch of the world. While other Arab tribes have lost their distinctive manners by contact with civilization, the Bedouins alone have preserved them, and, even when they visit the cities which they hate so much, they can be at once distinguished by their demeanor. Lady Duff-Gordon was greatly struck with it. “To see a Bedawee and his wife walk through the streets of Cairo is superb. Her hand resting on his shoulder, and scarcely deigning to cover her haughty face, she looks down on the Egyptian veiled woman, who carries the heavy burden and walks behind her lord and master.”
The dress of the Bedouins is simple enough. The men wear a sort of a tunic or shirt, covered with a large thick mantle called the haik. Another cloth is disposed over the head, and falls on either side of the face so as to shield it from the sun, and is kept in its place by a cord of camel’s hair, that is wound several times across the brows. As for the women, they wear a blue shirt, much open at the bosom, and care for no other clothing.
Being a predatory race, the Bedouins are always armed, their chief weapon being the spear, which is of enormous length, and often so weighty that a powerful as well as a practised arm is required to wield it. At the present day those who can afford fire-arms carry guns of such length of barrel that they seem to have been made in emulation of the spear shafts. These weapons are of very indifferent quality, and the Bedouin is never a good marksman, his clumsy weapon taking a long time to load, and the owner taking a long time to aim, and then aiming very badly.
In consequence of the robber nature of the Bedouins, no one will venture to pass through their districts without being well armed, or protected by a sufficient escort. At the present day, Europeans can travel with comparative safety, as they have a way of fighting when attacked, and of generally hitting their mark when they fire, so that even the wandering Bedouins have conceived a respect for such incomprehensible beings, and would rather receive them as guests than fight them as enemies.
If, however, they come upon a solitary traveller, they pounce upon him, and rob him of everything, even of his clothes. Still, they are not brutal about it, except perhaps in enforcing haste by a menacing gesture with a spear. They seldom accompany robbery with murder, and have been known to take the traveller whom they have robbed into their tents, feed him, give him old clothes instead of the new which they have taken from him, keep him all night, and send him on his journey, even taking the trouble to accompany him for some distance, lest he should lose his way. The robber feels no enmity toward the man, and simply looks on him as a providential benefit cast in his way, and as such rather respects him than otherwise.
The reader will remember that the Bedouin takes the man to his tent after he has robbed him. Had he begun operations by allowing the traveller to enter his tent, and partake of his food, he could not have robbed his guest afterward. There is a chivalrous sort of feeling in the Arab mind that the person of a guest is sacred; and if the fiercest Bedouin had received a man under the shadow of his tent, he would be bound to protect that man as if he were his own son. So far is this feeling carried, that instances have been known where a strange Arab has taken refuge in a tent and received protection, though the owner discovered that his guest had killed one of his nearest relations.
The only habitations of the Bedouins are their tents. These tents, on which so much poetry has been lavished, are about as unpoetical as anything can be. Any one can make a Bedouin tent in five minutes. He has only to take a few sticks, some five feet in length, thrust one end into the ground, throw over them a piece of black and very dirty sackcloth, peg the edges to the ground, and there is the tent. Being only some four feet in height in the middle, no one can stand upright in it, and only in the middle can any one even sit upright. But as the tent is not regarded as we regard a house, and is only used as a sort of convenient shelter in which the Arabs can sleep, height is of no importance. The [engraving No. 2], on page 670, illustrates a “Bedouin camp.”
These low, dark tents are almost invariably pitched in the form of a semicircle, the openings eastward, and just enough space left between each hut for the passage of their camels and horses. The area inclosed between the arms of the crescent is intended for the children, as a place wherein they may disport themselves while still under the mother’s eye. When new, the tents are mostly striped in broad bands of two or three feet in width, but the rough usage to which they are subjected soon destroys the color.
Such are the tents of the ordinary Bedouins. The sheikh, or chief of each clan, has a larger and better tent, which is divided into compartments by curtains, so disposed as to leave a set of rooms on the outside, and one or more rooms in the centre. Those on the outside are for the men, and those in the interior for the women belonging to the sheikh’s family. A certain amount of privacy is gained, which belongs, however, only to the eye and not to the ear, the partitions being nothing more than curtains, and the Arabs all speaking in the loudest of voices—a bawling nation, as a French traveller described them.
The furniture is suitable to the dwelling, and consists merely of a mat or two and a few pots. Some of the wealthier are very proud of possessing brass mortars in which they pound their coffee, and every morning is heard the musical tinkle of the coffee-maker. Even the men condescend to make coffee, and the sheikh himself may be seen at work in the morning, pounding away at the berries, and rejoicing equally in the musical sound of the pestle and the fragrant odor of the freshly-roasted coffee.
Thus bred entirely in the open air, the only shelter being the tattered sackcloth of the tent, the true Bedouin can endure no other life. He is as miserable within the walls of a town as a wolf in a trap. His eyes, accustomed to range over the vast expanse of desert, are affronted by the walls over which he cannot see. The streets oppress him, and within the atmosphere of a room he can scarcely breathe. Both he and his camel are equally out of their element when among civilized people, and they are ever looking forward to the happy moment when they may again breathe the free air of the desert.
Life among the Bedouins is not pleasant to a European, and is by no means the sort of paradisaical existence that we are often led to think. It is certainly a free life in its way, and has that peculiar charm which is felt by all civilized beings when first allowed to do as they like. But it has its drawbacks, not the least being that every one is equally free; and if a stronger man should choose to assert his freedom by plundering the traveller, he is at perfect liberty to do so.
Then the “Arab maids,” who look so picturesque—in a painting—are not quite so pleasant in reality. Dirt, evil odors, screaming voices and detestable manners are not seen in a picture, but in reality force themselves on more senses than one. Even in youth the Bedouin girls are not so handsome as is generally thought. They are tall, well made, and graceful, but are deficient in that gentleness and softness which we naturally associate with the feminine nature. They are fond of tattooing themselves, and cover their arms and chins with blue patterns, such as stars or arabesque figures. Some of them extend the tattoo over the breast nearly as low as the waist. The corners of the eyes are sometimes decorated with this cheap and indestructible ornament. They are fond of ornaments, especially of ear-rings, which can scarcely be too large for them.
Unlike the more civilized Mahometans, they care little about veiling their faces, and, in fact, pass a life nearly as free as that of the men. Even the women’s apartment of the tent is thrown open by day for the sake of air, and any one can see freely into it.
Feminine beauty differs as much among the Arabs as among other people. Mr. Palgrave says wittily that if any one could invent an instrument which could measure beauty—a kalometer, as he calls it—the Bedouin would be “represented by zero, or at most 1°. A degree higher would represent the female sex of Nejed; above them rank the women of Shomer, who are in their turn surmounted by those of Djowf. The fifth or sixth degree symbolizes the fair ones of Hasa; the seventh those of Katar; and lastly, by a sudden rise of ten degrees at least, the seventeenth or eighteenth would denote the pre-eminent beauties of Oman.
“Arab poets occasionally languish after the charmers of Hejaz; I never saw anyone to charm me, but then I only skirted the province. All bear witness to the absence of female loveliness in Yamen; and I should much doubt whether the mulatto races and dusky complexions of Hadramout have much to vaunt of. But in Hasa a decided improvement in this important point is agreeably evident to the traveller arriving from Nejed, and he will be yet further delighted on finding his Calypsos much more conversible, and having much more too in their conversation, than those he left behind him in Sedeys and Aared.”
It is popularly thought that Arab manners are like those of the Turk,—grave, polite, and majestic. The fact is far different. Though, like the American Indian, the Arab has a proud and stately walk, and knows well enough how to assume a regally indifferent demeanor on occasion, he is by nature lively and talkative, not caring very much what he talks about; and fond of singing Arab songs in that curious mixture of high screaming falsetto and guttural intonation which he is pleased to consider vocal music.
Then the general manners are by no means dignified, even when the Bedouins want to do special honor to a guest. Mr. Palgrave spent much time among them, and has drawn a vivid picture of life in a Bedouin encampment. It is no unfavorable one, the inmates being described as “ajaweed,” or gentlemen—though the author remarks rather wickedly that, if they were gentlemen, he very much wondered what the blackguards were like.
“The chief, his family (women excepted), his intimate followers, and some twenty others, young and old, boys and men, came up, and, after a kindly salutation Bedouin-wise, seated themselves in a semicircle before us. Every man held a short crooked stick for camel-driving in his hand, to gesticulate with in speaking, or to play with in the intervals of conversation; while the younger members of society, less prompt in discourse, politely employed their leisure in staring at us, or in pinching up dried pellets of dirt from the sand, and tossing them about.
“But how am I to describe their conversation, their questions and answers, their manners and jests? ‘A sensible person in this city is like a man tied up among a drove of mules in a stable,’ I once heard from a respectable stranger in the Syrian town of Homs, a locality proverbial for the utter stupidity of its denizens. But among Bedouins in the desert, where the advantages of the stable are wanting, the guest rather resembles a man in the middle of a field among untied mules, frisking and kicking their heels in all directions around him.
“Here you may see human nature at its lowest stage, or very nearly. One sprawls stretched out on the sand, another draws unmeaning lines with the end of his stick, a third grins, a fourth asks purposeless or impertinent questions, or cuts jokes meant for wit, but in fact only coarse in the extreme. Meanwhile the boys thrust themselves forward without restraint, and interrupt their elders (their betters I can hardly say) without the smallest respect or deference.
“And yet, in all this, there is no real intention of rudeness, no desire to annoy—quite the reverse. They sincerely wish to make themselves agreeable to the new comers, to put them at their ease, nay, to do them what good service they can, only they do not exactly know how to set about it. If they violate all laws of decorum or courtesy, it is out of sheer ignorance, not malice prepense. And, amid the aimlessness of an utterly uncultivated mind, they occasionally show indications of considerable tact and shrewdness; while, through all the fickleness proper to man accustomed to no moral or physical restraint, there appears the groundwork of a manly and generous character, such as a Persian, for instance, seldom offers.
“Their defects are inherent in their condition, their redeeming qualities are their own—they have them by inheritance from one of the noblest races of earth, from the Arabs of inhabited lands and organized governments. Indeed, after having travelled much and made pretty intimate acquaintance with many races, African, Asiatic, and European, I should hardly be inclined to give the preference to any over the genuine unmixed clans of Central and Eastern Africa. Now these last-mentioned populations are identical in blood and tongue with the myriads of the desert, yet how immeasurably inferior! The difference between a barbarous Highlander and an English gentleman, in ‘Rob Roy’ or ‘Waverley,’ is hardly less striking.”
The resemblance between the gipsy and the Bedouin is almost too evident to need mention, and the author of this passage has here drawn attention to the singular resemblance between the Bedouin and the Highlander, as described by Scott. There is, however, in the “Legend of Montrose,” a passage which is worthy of being quoted in this place, so strangely close is the parallel. It occurs in the scene where the wounded Mac-Eogh is dying in prison, and is giving his last commands to his grandson. “Keep thou unsoiled the freedom which I leave thee as a birthright. Barter it not, neither for the rich garment, nor for the stone roof, nor for the covered board, nor for the couch of down. Son of the Mist, be free as thy forefathers. Own no land—receive no law—take no hire—give no stipend—build no hut—inclose no pasture—sow no grain.... Begone—shake the dust from thy feet against the habitations of men, whether banded together for peace or war.” Shift the scene from Scotland to Arabia, and no more appropriate words could have been put into the mouth of a dying Bedouin chief.
With characters so impatient of control, it is evident that there can be no government worthy of the name. Like the Son of the Mist, they acknowledge no lord, and there is no one who bears even by courtesy the title of King of the Bedouins. Each clan is governed by its own sheikh, and occasionally a few clans unite for some raid under the presidency of the eldest or most important sheikh, and remain united for some time. But his rule only lasts as long as the others choose to obey him, and instead of being a sovereign, or even a commander-in-chief, he is but primus inter pares.
The clans themselves vary exceedingly in numbers, and, as a general rule, each clan consists of one family, gathered together after the patriarchal system. Then if one of the men should happen to excel his fellows he is sure to get together a band of followers, to separate in time from his family, and found a clan of his own.
In consequence of this insubordinate nature, war, as we understand it, is impossible, simply because discipline cannot be maintained. If, for example, several clans unite under the presidency of one of their number, should one of the confederated sheikhs feel dissatisfied with the commander, he will go off together with his people, and probably join another who is more to his mind.
Though war is unknown, the Bedouins live in a chronic state of feud, no one knowing whether his encampment may not be assailed by another clan, all his little property—dress included—torn from him, if he submits, and his throat very probably cut if he resists. No one ever thinks of giving notice of attack, or of fighting anything like equal numbers. Should they not be far superior in numbers, they contrive to project their assault secretly, and to take their victims by surprise, and the man who is most ingenious in planning such raids, and the most active and courageous in carrying them out, is sure to be the man who will rise to a sort of eminence in his own clan, and finish by founding one of his own. The only object of such a raid is the acquisition of property; and even a handsome horse, or a remarkably swift dromedary, will cause the destruction of a whole clan.
Living in the desert, and only travelling from one fertile spot to another, they cannot be expected to be very delicate in regard to provisions, nor to possess any great skill in cookery. Their greatest luxury is a feast on boiled mutton and the whole process of cooking and serving is almost ludicrously simple. The body of a sheep is cut up and thrown into a pot, together with a sufficiency of water. The pot is then placed on the fire, and in process of time it boils. When it is about two-thirds cooked, according to our ideas, the hungry Bedouins can wait no longer; it is all turned into a large wooden bowl, and the guests assemble round it. Their hands are plunged into the bowl, the scalding and half-raw meat is quickly torn to pieces, and in five minutes nothing is left but the cleanly picked bones. No vegetables are added to it, and no condiments are thought needful. Water is then passed round in another bowl or pail, a deep draught is taken, and the feast is over.
The bread of the Bedouin is as simple as the cookery. The baker pours a few handfuls of flour upon a circular piece of leather, pours a little water upon it, and kneads it into dough. Another man has in the mean time been preparing a fire, and, as soon as it burns up, the dough is patted into a thin circular cake, about one inch thick and six inches diameter. This is laid on the fire and covered with embers, and after being turned once or twice, and the ashes brushed off, it is taken from the fire, broken up, and eaten as it is—“half-kneaded, half-raw, half-roasted, and burnt all round.” Were it not eaten while still hot, it would become so tough and leathery that not even a Bedouin could eat it. In fact, it very much resembles the rough-and-ready bread of the Australian shepherds, which is so well known under the name of “damper.” One advantage of this style of bread is, that it can be readily cooked on a journey, and, on special occasions, a camel-rider can even bake his bread while on the back of his dromedary.
The date is, however, the chief resource of the Bedouin, and on that fruit alone he can exist for a long time, even through the many hardships which he has to endure in his journeying through the desert. In England we do not know what the date really is, nor can understand the rich lusciousness of the fruit before it is dried and preserved. In the latter state it is very heating to a European, and slightly so even to a native, whereas in its fresh state it has no such evil qualities. It contains a marvellous amount of nourishment, and when fresh does not cloy the palate, as is always the case when it is dried.
In consequence of this nourishing property of the fruit, the date tree is not only valued, but absolutely honored. The Arab addresses it as his mother, and treats it with as much reverence as if it were really his parent. A single date tree is a valuable property among all Arab tribes, and, although the genuine Bedouins own none, they reverence it as much as their more stationary brethren. Cutting down the date trees of an enemy is looked upon as the last extremity of cruelty, while planting the trees on a new piece of ground is a sign of peace and prosperity.
The date is eaten in various ways. It is usually preferred while fresh and full of its own sweet juices, but, as it cannot be kept fresh very long, it is dried, pressed together, and so stored for future use. When the dried date forms a portion of a feast, the fruit is served in a large wooden bowl, in the middle of which is a cup containing melted butter. Each guest then picks out the dates singly from the mass, and dips each slightly into the butter before eating it.
There are many qualities of dates, and the best, which grow at Kaseem, are in great estimation, and are largely imported to the non-producing parts of Arabia. At Kaseem, the date-palm is cultivated to a great extent, and probably owes its peculiar excellence to the constant presence of water six or seven feet below the surface of the ground. The ripening season corresponds with our autumn, extending through the latter part of August and the beginning of September.
Some connoisseurs, however, prefer the Khalas date. It grows only in Hasa, and fully deserves its name, which signifies quintessence. It is smaller than the Kaseem date, semi-transparent, and of a rich amber color. The sale of this particular date brings in a large income to Hasa, the fruit being exported as far as Bombay and Zanzibar.
Of religion, the genuine Bedouin has not the least idea. He is nominally a Mahometan, and will repeat certain formulæ with perfect accuracy. He will say his Bismillahs, and Mashallahs, and other pious ejaculations as well as any one, but he has not the least idea who Allah may be, neither does he care. As far as Mr. Palgrave could ascertain, their only idea of Allah was that of a very great sheikh, who would have about the same authority over them in the next world as their own sheikh in this sphere. That is to say, they consider that they will be quite as independent after death as before, and that they will acknowledge allegiance to this great sheikh as long as they choose, and no longer.
Like all men who are ignorant of religion, they are superstitious in proportion to their ignorance. Profoundly illiterate themselves, they have the greatest reverence for book-learning, and any one who can read a book is respected, while he who can write as well as read is regarded with a curious mixture of admiration, envy, and fear. The latter feeling is excited by his presumed ability of writing saphiès, or charms, which are mostly sentences from the Koran, and are supposed to possess every imaginable virtue.
Before leaving the Bedouin Arabs, a few words must be said about the Arab and his horse. Many tales are told of the love that exists between the animal and its master, of the attention which is lavished on a favorite mare, and how she and her colt inhabit the tent together with the children, and are all playfellows together. This certainly may be the case occasionally, but not invariably. That they are brought up in close contact is true enough, and that the animal thereby acquires an intelligence which it never could possess under less sociable treatment. But the Arab has no more real affection for his steed than has many an English gentleman for his favorite horse; and, if he be angered, he is capable of treating the animal with hasty cruelty.