“Why all this rejoicing?” he demanded.
“Because for a month we have had no sugar, and now our tea is sweetened again,” said Abdullahi.
Until one has tried going without any sugar whatever, one does not realize how keenly it will be missed.
The corporal shook his head and smiled. “I must return at once to Kuttum and bring you more provisions,” he said. “We never realized that you were so short of food.” Before he left he was kind enough to go to a camp near-by and bring us a sheep and butter, which were to be paid for by the moawin of Kuttum, since the seller refused to accept Egyptian paper money. The corporal then left with letters from me for Mr. Dupuis and the moawin, the deputy Governor of Kuttum.
The provisions which he had brought us were good as far as they went, but we should very soon be in need of more. I decided to push on at once. We made our midday halt at the government rest-house at Marahig Well and our stop for the night only a few kilometers farther on. The camels were in very bad condition. The backs and sides of some of them were sore and bleeding, and two camels refused to move until their loads were taken off. It rained for an hour that evening, but it could not dampen our spirits. The men sang and danced around a big fire. The humidity and the smell of the wet grass reminded me of my walks in English country.
We made an early start the next morning in order to reach Mutarrig Well for the midday halt. We lunched at the rest-house near the well and received a visit from the sheikh of Mutarrig, who brought a few chickens as diafa. He wanted us to stop the night so that he could entertain us properly the next day, but I felt the necessity of going on as fast as possible.
The camels were getting steadily worse. We had to leave one of them with the sheikh of the village on the understanding that if it recovered he was to get a quarter of the price it brought when sold, while if it died he was not to be held responsible.
An hour and a half after starting the next day another soldier on horseback appeared. He brought a letter from the moawin of Kuttum and a small quantity of rice and sugar. They are gratefully received, for once more we were on short rations and without sugar for our tea. I gave him a letter to take back to Kuttum. A little later we camped in the small valley of Boa. In the afternoon, soon after we had started again, it came on to rain with a strong southeast wind, and I thought it might be wise to camp until the storm was over. But through my glasses I made out ahead of us the row of straw huts of the Markas—the government house—of Kuttum, and spurred on by the sight we drove the camels faster.
Soon a group of horsemen were seen approaching us, and my Bedouins impulsively raised a cheer. When I recognized the uniform of Sudanese troops, it was the most cheering sight that I had seen for many weeks. Riad Abu Akla Effendi and Nasr El Din Shaddad Effendi, the two moawins of Kuttum, approached with a detachment of ten soldiers, the kadi, the head clerk, and other officials and notables of Kuttum. I shook hands warmly with them all, and under their escort the caravan moved on through the village. As we approached, the Markas women clothed in white and beating drums greeted us with singing and “lu-lias.” We settled ourselves in and about the rest-house, and the women came again to offer greetings. In a long line they sang and danced, much to the delight of my Bedouins, who asked permission to empty gunpowder in acknowledgment of the courtesy. I could not refuse my consent, and one by one, beginning with Bukara, the men performed the ceremony of singeing the girls’ slippers. The Sudanese women were not so accustomed to the Bedouin manner of paying homage as the girls of the northern desert, and flinched a little as the powder flashed at their feet. But they accepted it all in good part, the whole line swaying and dancing to the rhythm of the drums while one by one my men singled them out for the “slipper-singeing honor.” It was a wonderful reception, and the pleasure of it dispersed like magic the fatigue and lassitude of the journey.
More hospitality was to come. Four sheep, butter, and fresh vegetables, to say nothing of sugar, were brought to us as diafa from the moawins and officials, and we spent a pleasant evening feasting.