A Prisoner of the Khaleefa: Twelve Years Captivity at Omdurman

by Charles Neufeld

On entering the prison I found myself in the company of about a hundred poor wretches, Soudanese and Egyptians, and all chained. I was taken at once to an anvil sunk in the ground until the striking surface was almost level with it; first one foot and then the other had to be placed on the anvil, while more anklets with chains connected, were fitted to me. I had now three sets of shackles, and another ring and chain was fastened to my neck. During my twelve years in chains, and amongst the hundreds who came directly under my observation, I never saw, as has been illustrated in some papers, any prisoner with chains from the neck connected with the wrists or ankles. All prisoners were shackled in the manner as shown in my photograph; the chain from the neck was allowed to hang loose over the shoulder.

The shackling completed, I was taken to a room measuring about thirty feet each way, but having a pillar about four feet wide to support the roof, thus reducing the actual space to about twenty-six feet between each face of the pillar and the walls. I was |81| assigned a place at the wall furthest from the door, and between two men—in chains—dying of small-pox. There were about thirty other prisoners in the room, some lying down ill, to whom not the slightest attention had been paid for days, as sickening visible evidences proved. Near the roof were a few small apertures presumably for ventilation, but the only air which could come into the place was through the doorway when it was opened. The stench in the room was sickening—overpowering. I had little hopes of surviving more than a few days in such a hole, and must have swooned off soon after entering, for I remember little or nothing until roused after the sun had set, when in the dim light I could see what appeared to be an endless stream of prisoners coming through the door, and no sooner was the door closed when a terrific din and uproar ensued. Mingled with the clanking of chains, the groans of the sick, the moans of the dying, and their half-uttered prayers to Allah to relieve them of their sufferings, were the most fearful imprecations and curses as the prisoners fought and struggled for a place near the walls or the pillar, against which they could rest their backs; no sleep was to be had; this had to be snatched during the day, when allowed out into the zareeba. It is out of the question to try to describe my first night; it is a confused horrible dream to me.

On the opening of the cell door next morning, I swooned again, and was carried into the open air to come round, and I had no sooner partially done so, when I was carried back, in order, as I was told, “to |82| get accustomed to the place.” My first three days passed in fever and delirium; my legs were swelling with the weight of the chains and anklets; my earliest clear recollection was on what I knew later to be the fourth day, when an Egyptian, Hassan Gammal, was sent to attend to me. Later on, the same day, my servant Hasseena was sent to me to prepare food and bathe my legs. Until now I had eaten nothing, and I have no recollection of even taking a drink of water. Hasseena, on my being sent into prison, had been sent into the Khaleefa’s hareem; but, on her telling the women and eunuchs that she was with child, she was promptly turned out. The money I had brought with me, and which had been taken from me on my arrival, and sent to the Beit-el-Mal, was given to Hasseena with which to purchase my food. On her entering the prison enclosure, Idris-es-Saier, the head-gaoler, relieved her of the money, saying he would take care of it, and shackling her with a light chain, sent her into his hareem.

I now received permission to sit outside during the day, and also to converse with the other prisoners. On my first entering the prison I had been warned, under threats of the lash, not to speak to any one, and the other prisoners, under the same threat, had been warned not to speak to me. They, as may be guessed, were most anxious to talk to me, and get some news from the outer world, but they were most guarded in their inquiries. There were many prisoners in the place, who, to curry favour with the gaoler or the Khaleefa, would have reported anything |83| in the way of a complaint against their treatment—a wish on the part of any one to escape, or an expressed hope that the Government would soon send troops to release us. Knowing that the Government had, for the time being, abandoned all thoughts of re-conquering the Soudan, I told my fellow-captives, when they spoke to me about a probable advance of the combined armies, that they must have patience until the hot weather passed. Had I told them what I knew, their despair could not have been concealed, and the truth would soon have reached the Khaleefa’s ears. A number of the prisoners were old soldiers of the Egyptian army, who had been taken at the fall of Khartoum and elsewhere, and they waited day after day, week after week, and year after year, still hoping that the Government for whom they had fought would send troops to release them; but, with the greater number, their release came only with death—at the gallows, at the Khaleefa’s shambles, or by disease and starvation.

Imprisoned at one time with me was Mahmoud Wad Said, the Sheikh of the Dabaanieh tribe, who for years had kept the Abyssinians in check on the Egyptian frontier in the Eastern Soudan. At one time he was powerful, rich in cattle, slaves, and lands, but had been taken prisoner early in the Mahdist movement. When he had been imprisoned about three years and four months, he became paralyzed, and his release was ordered by the Khaleefa, who had so far relented as to allow of his dying with his family, then at Omdurman, patiently waiting for |84| his promised release. By their careful nursing and attention, the old man recovered, only, when the Khaleefa heard of it, to be thrown into prison again, where he passed another thirteen months, at the end of which time he was once more released, on condition that he would collect the remnants of his tribe, and attack his old enemies the Abyssinians, whom the Khaleefa was then fighting with. A few months later I heard that Mahmoud was dead, one report saying that he had died of a broken heart, and the other that he had been “removed” by order of the Khaleefa, for failing to bring together again a tribe, which the Khaleefa himself had almost exterminated.

Another of my companions in adversity was Ajjab Abou Jinn, of the Hammadah tribe; he fought with the Government troops at Sennar, and, when defeated by the dervishes, he retired to his country with his men until, on the fall of Sennar, he was attacked and defeated, his property confiscated, and he taken prisoner to Omdurman, his wife being sent into the Khaleefa’s hareem. After spending four years in prison, he was considered sufficiently “educated,” and released, and in a few months was allowed to return to his own country, when he set about making preparations to attack the dervishes, and tried all means to get into communication with the Government. Many of his people came to see me in prison, in the hopes of learning news from me of a forward movement.

Shereef. Zeigheir. Zeigheir’s father.

A GROUP OF PRISONERS.

The three sons of Awad el Kerim, Pasha of the Shukrieh tribe, were also in prison with me; their |85| father had died in prison shortly before my arrival. After keeping the three brothers—Abdalla, Mohammad, and Ali—for nineteen months, the Khaleefa promised to release them on condition that their tribe came to Omdurman and tendered their submission, which they did; but, coming unprovided with food, the tribe in the four or five months they were kept waiting at Omdurman, was decimated by disease and starvation, and then, and then only, the Khaleefa kept his promise, and released their chiefs.