Tent Work in Palestine: A Record of Discovery and Adventure

by C. R. Conder

The stories usually related of the Sheikhs are neither interesting in themselves, nor do they apparently conceal any mythological meaning. One saint flew through the air after death in her coffin; a second prayed with his cloak spread on the sea; the bones of a third were collected by his dog, and carried to a mountain-top where they still lie buried; a fourth called the remains of his camel, which had been partly eaten by infidels, from a dust-heap, the camel answering his appeal with an audible voice, and gathering its scattered limbs and bones to form a living beast again. In the main the stories are childish, and resemble those current among the Italian peasantry of the present day in connection with Christian saints.

These traditions are not easily collected, partly because of the distrust which the peasants show towards strangers, partly from their fear of the displeasure of the saint, partly because such stories are considered rather the women’s business; in many cases the real history is, however, evidently forgotten, and the peasant answers that it is “from ancient times,” and that he worships because his father and grandfather did so before him. Such forgetfulness or ignorance as to the origin of certain Mukâms is universal among the peasantry, and I have been assured by those best acquainted with the natives that it is genuine.

There is a difference in intelligence between inhabitants of different districts, and in different grades of peasant society, but even the least ignorant know scarcely anything, while the cowherds and goatherds are very little better than brute beasts. There was something almost pathetic in the childish confidence which the poor peasants seemed to repose in the wisdom and power of the English. Habîb told one man that the English would some day take the country, and that then the poor would be made rich; and his listener actually believed that, because he was the poorest, he would be made king of the district. Another Fellah said he had heard that the French had bought the sea; a third thought that we were going to take away the ground in boxes.

Most of the peasantry believed we were seeking for hid treasure, which by incantation would be wafted to England; and some supposed that we were parcelling out the land, and erecting cairns on the high mountains where the chief men would build their houses. Sometimes they dug for gold under our cairns; often they pulled them down, and had in consequence to be imprisoned. A shepherd in Galilee saw us levelling, and had a vague idea we were making a railway. “Will you let the sea into Jordan?” he asked; “or will the steamships go on wheels?” Such are a few instances of common Fellah ideas. The peasantry could hardly believe that in England there were no Arabs living in tents, and no camels; and they supposed that though Christians might be more numerous there than among themselves, still the majority of the population in every European country must be Moslem.

Belief in the supernatural powers of certain persons of superior sanctity is not confined, among the peasantry, to the dead. Many living saints are also recognised in Palestine. Thus we heard of a man who fell into a well, and called on a famous living Wely or “favourite of God” at Jaffa; a hand, he said, pulled him out, and on going to the house of the Wely, the latter declared he had heard him some ten miles off, and had assisted him. The peasants are naturally prone to believe the marvellous, and such stories are devoutly credited.

The most peculiar class of men in the country is that of the Derwîshes, or sacred personages, who wander from village to village, performing tricks, living on alms, and enjoying certain social and domestic privileges, which very often lead to scandalous scenes. Some of these men are mad, some are fanatics, but the majority are, I imagine, rogues. They are reverenced not only by the peasantry, but also sometimes by the governing class. I have seen the Kady of Nazareth ostentatiously preparing food for a miserable and filthy beggar, who sat in the justice hall, and was consulted as if he had been inspired.

A Derwîsh of peculiar eminence is often dressed in good clothes, with a spotless turban, and is preceded by a banner-bearer, and followed by a band, with drum, cymbal, and tambourine. In one case at Kannîr, the banner-bearer was a negro, who worked himself into a sort of fury, foamed at the mouth, and charged at us with the sharp spear-head of the flag. As a rule, however, the saint is half-naked, and perhaps blind, and holds a tin pot or plate for alms. One of this class, a fine old mendicant from Mecca, with a shock head of uncut locks, came, spear in hand, to our Jeb’a camp and offered, for a fee, to “pray for the column (or cairn) in the day of our journeying.” Another ran before us for a mile or more (as Elijah ran before Ahab’s chariot), shouting loudly as he went.

It is natural to reflect whether the social position of the Prophets among the Jews may not have resembled that of the Derwîshes. Revered by the people, but hated by the ruling class when their influence was directed against the king, or the court religion, the Prophets, though solitary, poor, and unaided, became powerful in times of religious revival, when they suddenly assumed the position of leaders, and became persons of political importance, just as a Derwîsh might do even now in times of fanatical excitement.

The Derwîshes belong to regular tribes with recognised chiefs: thus there are the Raf’ai or “snake-charmers,” who draw out serpents from their holes, and who are regularly initiated by their Sheikh, who is a disciple of the “Saint of God, Raf’ai,” who came from Egypt. There are many others, including those who perform strange feats—eating scorpions, or sticking sharp swords into their cheeks or eyes. By Europeans in Palestine the Derwîshes are generally regarded as impostors.

The peasantry have numerous superstitions: they believe in incantations, in charms, in divination by sand and other means, and in the evil eye, their children being purposely left dirty, or even besmirched, to avoid the consequences of an envious look. The belief in evil spirits is also general. These include first the jan, or powerful demon, good or bad, the latter kind having for bodies the tall smoke-pillars of the whirlwind, so commonly seen in summer; secondly, the ’Afrît, who is seemingly equivalent to a ghost; thirdly, the Ghoul, or Hag of the cemetery, which feeds on the dead: a place haunted by one of these demons is carefully avoided, or at least never approached without the most polite salutations, intended to appease the unseen spirit: fourthly, there are the Kerâd or “goblins,” whose name is akin to the Arabic word for a monkey; lastly, there is the Shaitân or Satan, a name often applied to human beings of an evil disposition.