Discoveries Among the Ruins of Nineveh and Babylon

by Austen Henry Layard

PREPARATIONS FOR A JOURNEY TO THE KHABOUR.—SCULPTURES DISCOVERED THERE.—SHEIKH SUTTUM.—HIS REDIFF.—DEPARTURE FROM MOSUL.—FIRST ENCAMPMENT.—ABOU KHAMEERA.—A STORM.—TEL ERMAH.—A STRANGER.—TEL JEMAL.—THE CHIEF OF TEL AFER.—A SUNSET IN THE DESERT.—A JEBOUR ENCAMPMENT.—THE BELLED SINJAR.—THE SINJAR HILL.—MIRKAN.—BUKRA.—THE DRESS OF THE YEZIDIS.—THE SHOMAL.—OSSOFA.—ALDINA.—RETURN TO THE BELLED.—A SNAKE-CHARMER.—JOURNEY CONTINUED IN THE DESERT.—RISHWAN.—ENCAMPMENT OF THE BORAIJ.—DRESS OF ARAB WOMEN.—RATHAIYAH.—A DEPUTATION FROM THE YEZIDIS.—ARAB ENCAMPMENTS.—THE KHABOUR.—MOHAMMED EMIN.—ARRIVAL AT ARBAN.

I had long wished to visit the banks of the Khabour. This river, the Chaboras of the Greek geographers, and the Habor, or Chebar, of the Samaritan captivity[103], rises in the north of Mesopotamia, and flowing to the west of the Sinjar hill, falls into the Euphrates near the site of the ancient city of Carchemish[104] or Circesium, still known to the Bedouins by the name of Carkeseea. As it winds through the midst of the desert, and its rich pastures are the resort of wandering tribes of Arabs, it is always difficult of access to the traveller. It was examined, for a short distance from its mouth, by the expedition under Colonel Chesney; but the general course of the river was imperfectly known, and several geographical questions of interest connected with it were undetermined previous to my visit.

With the Bedouins, who were occasionally my guests at Mosul or Nimroud, as well as with the Jebours, whose encamping grounds were originally on its banks, the Khabour was a constant theme of exaggerated praise. The richness of its pastures, the beauty of its flowers, its jungles teeming with game of all kinds, and the leafy thickness of its trees yielding an agreeable shade during the hottest days of summer, formed a terrestrial paradise to which the wandering Arab eagerly turned his steps when he could lead his flocks thither in safety. My old friend Sheikh Mohammed Emin, who had pitched his tents on the river, having invited me to visit him, and sent me word that two colossal idols, similar to those of Nimroud, had suddenly appeared in a mound by the river side, I did not hesitate, but determined to start at once for the Khabour.

As the Shammar Bedouins were scattered over the desert between Mosul and the Khabour, and their horsemen continually scoured the plains in search of plunder, it was necessary that we should be protected and accompanied by an influential chief of the tribe. I accordingly made arrangements with Suttum, a Sheikh of the Boraij, one of the principal branches of the Shammar, whose tents were at that time pitched between the river and the ruins of El Hather, and punctual to his appointment, he brought his camels to Mosul on the 19th of March. He was accompanied by Khoraif, his rediff, as the person who sits on the dromedary[105] behind the principal rider is called by the Bedouins. Amongst the two great nomade tribes of the Shammar and Aneyza, the word “rediff” frequently infers a more intimate connection than a mere companionship on a camel. It is customary with them for a warrior to swear a kind of brotherhood with a person not only not related to him by blood, but frequently even of a different tribe. Two men connected by this tie are inseparable. They go together to war, they live in the same tent, and are allowed to see each other’s wives. They become, indeed, more than brothers. Khoraif was of the tribe of the Aneyza, who have a deadly feud with the Shammar, and was consequently able to render equal services to any of his old or new friends, who might fall into each other’s hands. It is on this account that a warrior generally chooses his rediff from a warlike tribe with which he is at enmity, for if taken in war, he would then be dakheel, that is, protected, by the family, or rather particular sept, of his companion. On the other hand, should one of the rediff’s friends become the prisoner of the sub-tribe into which his kinsman has been adopted, he would be under its protection, and could not be molested. He rides, when travelling, on the naked back of the animal, clinging to the hinder part of the saddle, his legs crouched up almost to his chin—a very uncomfortable position for one not accustomed from childhood to a hard seat and a rough motion.

As our desert trip would probably last for more than two months, during which time we should meet with no villages, or permanent settlements, we were obliged to take with us supplies of all kinds, both for ourselves and the workmen; consequently, flour, rice, burghoul (prepared wheat, to be used as a substitute for rice), and biscuits, formed a large portion of our baggage. Various luxuries, such as sugar, coffee, tea, and spices, with robes of silk and cotton, and red and yellow boots, together with baskets, tools for excavating, tents, and working utensils, formed the rest of our baggage.

As it was my intention to explore any ruins of importance that we might see on our way, I chose about fifty of my best Arab excavators, and twelve Tiyari, or Nestorians, to accompany us. They were to follow on foot, but one or two extra camels were provided in case any were unable from fatigue to keep up with the caravan. After the usual noise and confusion in settling the loads on the camels, and such matters, about mid-day the caravan got ready to set out.

I did not leave the town until nearly an hour and a half after the caravan, to give time for the loads to be finally adjusted, and the line of march to be formed. When we had all assembled outside the Sinjar gate, our party had swollen into a little army. The Doctor, Mr. Cooper, and Mr. Hormuzd Rassam, of course, with other friends, accompanied me. Thirteen or fourteen Bedouins had charge of the camels, so that, with the workmen and servants, our caravan consisted of nearly one hundred well-armed men; a force sufficient to defy almost any hostile party with which we were likely to fall in during our journey. Hussein Bey, the Yezidi chief, and many of our friends, as it is customary in the East, rode with us during part of our first stage; and my excellent friend, the Rev. Mr. Ford, an American missionary, then resident in Mosul, passed the first evening under our tents in the desert.

Suttum, with his rediff, rode a light fleet dromedary, which had been taken in a plundering expedition from the Aneyza. Its name was Dhwaila. Its high and picturesque saddle was profusely ornamented with brass bosses and nails; over the seat was thrown the Baghdad double bags adorned with long tassels and fringes of many-colored wools, so much coveted by the Bedouin. The Sheikh had the general direction and superintendence of our march. The Mesopotamian desert had been his home from his birth, and he knew every spring and pasture. He was of the Saadi, one of the most illustrious families of the Shammar, and he possessed great personal influence in the tribe. His intelligence was of a very high order, and he was as well known for his skill in Bedouin intrigue, as for his courage and daring in war. In person he was of middle height, of spare habit, but well made, and of noble and dignified carriage; although a musket wound in the thigh, from which the ball had not been extracted, gave him a slight lameness in his gait. His features were regular and well proportioned, and of that delicate character so frequently found amongst the nomades of the desert. A restless and sparkling eye of the deepest black spoke the inner man, and seemed to scan and penetrate everything within its ken. His dark hair was platted into many long tails; his beard, like that of the Arabs in general, was scanty. He wore the usual Arab shirt, and over it a cloak of blue cloth, trimmed with red silk and lined with fur, a present from some Pasha as he pretended, but more probably a part of some great man’s wardrobe that had been appropriated without its owner’s consent. He was the very picture of a true Bedouin Sheikh, and his liveliness, his wit, and his singular powers of conversation, which made him the most agreeable of companions, did not belie his race.[106] The Bairakdar had the general management of the caravan, superintending, with untiring zeal and activity, the loading and unloading of the animals, the pitching of the tents, and the night watches, which are highly necessary in the desert.

As we wound slowly over the low rocky hills to the west of the town of Mosul, in a long straggling line, our caravan had a strange and motley appearance; Europeans, Turks, Bedouins, town-Arabs, Tiyari, and Yezidis, were mingled in singular confusion; each adding, by difference of costume and a profusion of bright colors, to the general picturesqueness and gaiety of the scene.

The Tigris, from its entrance into the low country at the foot of the Kurdish mountains near Jezireh, to the ruined town of Tekrit, is separated from the Mesopotamian plains by a range of low limestone hills. We rode over this undulating ground for about an hour and a half, and then descended into the plain of Zerga, encamping for the night near the ruins of a small village. There is now scarcely one permanent settlement on the banks of the Tigris from Jezireh to the immediate vicinity of Baghdad, with the exception of Mosul and Tekrit. One of the most fertile countries in the world, watered by a river navigable for nearly six hundred miles, has been turned into a desert and a wilderness, by continued misgovernment, oppression, and neglect.