The people of Tajourah manufacture this tobacco into snuff by first scorching the leaf, and then triturating it between two stones, something in the same manner as paint is ground in England. Some of the Dankalli tribes, among which are the Assobah, and Omah Battah’s family of the Sidee Ahbreu, are remarkable for their abstinence from the use of this intoxicating herb, an indulgence in which, by any individual belonging to either of these tribes would be followed by his assassination. These people may have derived this prejudice from some early connexion with the Christian Church of Abyssinia, one canon of which interdicts the use of tobacco among its communicants. I suspected also that it might have arisen from the exhortation of some of their more respected Sheiks, who had learnt the existence of a similar abstinence from tobacco, practised by the modern Islam sect termed Whaahbee. On inquiry, however, I found that the Dankalli had rejected its use long before the appearance of these Unitarians of South Arabia. I may observe that the Whaahbee found their objection to the use of tobacco, upon some commandment contained in the Koran, that says “no property shall be consumed in fire,” which they contend is the case when smoking is indulged in, and that consequently, it is a crime of scarcely less atrocity than downright arson.
Tobacco in the form of snuff is used, however, by all the tribes, and I have myself seen the Chief of the Sidee Ahbreu snuffing greedily a large quantity up his nose whilst he was telling me, with a great deal of self-satisfaction, that the use of tobacco was a capital crime among his people. This luxury is kept in a little bag, or pouch, made of two pieces of fine gut, stretched and dried in the sun, and then sewed together. What little snuff they can get possession of is carefully deposited in this; it is then folded up several times one way, and placed between the scabbard of their knife and the thongs that secure it to their girdle. “Surat,” the name of snuff in the Dankalli language, indicates the place on the coast of India from whence was imported the first that came into Adal.
I was much amused by a comparison memory suggested, between the Dankalli of the present day, and the beggars for tobacco in the south of Galloway, in Scotland, not one hundred years ago, where a traveller of that day relates of the inhabitants, “that they are for the most part great chewers of tobacco, and are so addicted to it that they will ask for a piece thereof from a stranger as he is riding on his way, and therefore let not a traveller want an ounce or two of roll tobacco in his pocket, and for an inch or two thereof he need not fear the want of a guide by day or night.” This relation so accords with the practices of the Dankalli Bedouins, that supposing freedom from any attack is assured by the protection of some powerful chief, all other services and attention required during a sojourn amongst them, may be commanded by following the recommendation of the worthy traveller in Galloway.
During the day I managed to make a new covering for my hat, for in passing beneath and among the thorny mimosas, the old one had been torn to rags. Having to get out a shirt to cut up for the necessary material, such a collection of my escort and Kafilah men that gathered around my hut, I never saw, and snatching for the buttons, or begging for the remnants, they left me little more than barely sufficient for my purposes, and, in fact, I was obliged to purchase back, for a couple of needles, part of one of the sleeves, to finish my task in a creditable manner. Everything I required to perform this, my needles, my thread, the white tape binding, and the last shreds of the shirt, were distributed fairly among the admiring mob, before I could get them away.
Ohmed Medina, whilst at prayers this evening, without moving from the mat upon which he performed his prostrations, called me to bring my gun to have a pot shot at some guinea-fowl, that were roosted for the night, in the branches of an aditu tree very near to the camp. Having only one barrel loaded with shot, the other containing a ball I sent the latter, first among the crowd of birds, not above twenty yards from me, and killed three, following it up by pouring in the shot, which brought down four more of the scared fugitives.
All had their throats cut before they were quite dead, each bird having three or four assistant executioners to settle its business, although numbers rather delayed than accelerated the operation, which Ohmed Medina consecrated, by bawling out from his prayer-mat the necessary “Allah achbar!” “Allah achbar!”
Ohmed Mahomed, who had become very civil the last day or two, visited my hut in the evening, and I had some conversation with him relative to our starting the next day, and sounded his intentions by remarking, that here was plenty of forage and excellent water. “Good, Good,” replied Ohmed, pointing to the camels; and then, with hands spread some distance from his stomach, intimated how well distended the animals seemed to be with food. I shook my head, telling him I was very sorry to see it, for where forage was abundant, there our stay was sure to be long. Ohmed Mahomed, to close the dialogue, and get away, responded, “Ehwah, ehwah” (yes, yes); “Jimel, big-belly,” making signs; “Jimel, carry big box. Jimel, little-belly,” screwing himself up. “Jimel, carry marfish” (nothing). The English of all this, it must be understood, was pantomimic; and a pretty good idea may be drawn from this little scene, of the manner in which conversations were carried on, between me and some of my companions.
May 3d.—Long before sunrise this morning, I was awoke by the hoarse voice of Ohmed Mahomed, as he stood upon one of the boxes, giving the usual loud cry, as a signal for starting. For some reason or other, it had been arranged that the Hy Soumaulee and myself, instead of preceding the Kafilah, as had been customary, should now remain until the very last camel had moved off the ground. Ohmed Mahomed was, perhaps, not quite sure, but that we might give him the slip, and push on for Shoa, without waiting for him.
After I had booted and belted, I retired to a large stone with my carbine in my hand, where I sat until the camels were all loaded, and, one after the other, in detached strings of six or eight, led by a slave, the long rope halter thrown over one shoulder, and his spear on the other, were stalking solemnly along the winding path among the clumps of trees, which now hid them for a moment or two from the view, and between which they then again appeared, until lost altogether to sight among the distant foliage.
Whilst I was sitting, I had an opportunity of observing a singular effect of mirage upon the summit of a long low ridge, that formed one of the sides of the valley of Hasanderah. It evidently depended upon the refraction of the rays of light passing through a stratum of air, in which was suspended or contained a considerable quantity of the vapour of water, and which, of less specific gravity than the air itself, was rising from the damp earth in this neighbourhood. On the top of the ridge, standing in high relief, from the grey sky behind him, was a Bedouin, who, of gigantic proportions, seemed to be quite as tall as a very high tree, which was growing near to where he stood. I looked at him with astonishment; and thought of the enemy described by Ossian’s frightened scout,—“I saw their chief, tall as a rock of ice; his shield the rising moon, his spear a blasted pine;” of so enormous a size, was the figure and arms of this supernatural-looking being. Feeling assured that it must be some unusual phenomenon, rather than anything real, I left my seat to examine more closely the unmoving bronze colossus upon the height. A short walk soon proved to me that I was not wrong in my idea of the real character of this appearance, for I found that the tall tree, on my approach, sunk into a low mimosa bush, scarcely five feet high, and the tall giant reduced himself, to the form of my Hy Soumaulee friend, Carmel Ibrahim, who was waiting very leisurely a little apart, like myself, the departure of the Kafilah.