“The stately date, whose pliant head, crowned with pendent clusters, languidly reclines like that of a beautiful woman overcome with sleep.”—Abulfeda Descr. Egypt, a Michaelis, p. 6.
To do them justice, the Fezzan people seemed as glad we were come back, as we were ourselves. “To go and come back from the black country! Oh, wonderful!—you English have large hearts!—God bless you!—the poor doctor to die too, so far from home!—Health to your head! it was written he was to die, and you to come back.—God is great!—and the young Rais Ali too! (Mr. Toole)—Ah! that was written also:—but he was a nice man—so sweet spoken. Now you are going home: well, good fortune attend you! How all your friends will come out to meet you with fine clothes—and how much gunpowder they will fire away!”
At the mosque of Sidi Bouchier the usual prayer was offered for our safe arrival in our own country; and on the 21st of November, Sunday, we made our entry into Mourzuk, and took possession of our old habitation.
Nov. 21.—All welcomed our return: we had bowls of bazeen and kouskosou night and morning, and visitors from daylight until long after sunset, notwithstanding we had no tea, coffee, or sugar, to regale them with, as on our former residence amongst them. The new sultan, Sidi Hassein, who succeeded Mustapha, had only arrived the day before us; and as he had entered in mourning on account of the death of the bashaw’s wife, the Lilla Gibellia[60], no rejoicings were allowed on the occasion: he however sent us two fat sheep, a large pot of olives, and two sacks of wheat; we had therefore a little rejoicing of our own. The two Lizaris, Mohammed and Yusuf, Captain Lyon’s friends, were amongst the foremost to pay us attention, as well as old Hadge Mahmoud, who exclaimed continually, “Thank God, you are come back!—who would have thought it!—how great and good God is, to protect such kaffirs as you are! Well! well! notwithstanding all this, I love you all, though I believe it is haram (sin).”
Though many degrees nearer our own fair and blue-eyed beauties in complexion, when moderately cleansed and washed, yet no people ever lost more by comparison than did the white ladies of Mourzuk, with the black ones of Bornou and Soudan. That the latter were “black, devilish black,” there is no denying; but their beautiful forms, expressive eyes, pearly teeth, and excessive cleanliness, rendered them far more pleasing than the dirty half-casts we were now amongst. A single blue wrapper (though scarcely covering) gave full liberty to their straight and well-grown limbs, not a little strengthened, perhaps, by four or five daily immersions in cold water; while the ladies of Mourzuk, wrapped in a woollen blanket, with an under one of the same texture, seldom changed night or day, until it drops off, or that they may be washed for their wedding; hair clotted, and besmeared with sand, brown powder of cloves, and other drugs, in order to give them the popular smell; their silver ear-rings, and coral ornaments, all blackened by the perspiration flowing from their anointed locks, are really such a bundle of filth, that it is not without alarm that you see them approach towards you, or disturb their garments in your apartments.
The bashaw was said to have had an engagement with the Arabs, who were in rebellion against him, and to have defeated them; after which they had fled all to the Gibel, which had been long the rendezvous of the disaffected; we therefore determined on our immediate departure, after having sold the six remaining camels, out of twenty-four, which I had brought with me from Kouka, for twenty-one dollars—sore backed miserables that they were! The Maherhies, though handsomer and more fleet, do not bear fatigue like the Salamy or Tripoli camels.
On the 12th of December we were ready for our departure, and on the 13th we took our leave, the sultan having given us an order, or teskera, on all the towns of Fezzan, for every thing we might stand in need of. The cold of Mourzuk had pinched us all terribly; and notwithstanding we used an additional blanket, both day and night, one of us had colds, and swelled necks, another ague, and a third, pains in the limbs—all, I believe, principally from the chillness of the air; yet the thermometer, at sunrise, was not lower than 42° and 43°.
On the 18th we reached Sebha, and found our old friend, sheikh Abdallah-ben-Shibel, whose hospitality we had before experienced; with abundance of kouskousou and meat, with highly peppered broth, prepared for us. The daughter of my friend Abdallah, who was now married, and a mother, and to whom I had two years before given a very simple medicine but once, which she was convinced had cured her of the jaundice, sent me two very pretty straw fans for the flies; they were made of the date leaf, in diamonds, coloured red, black, and yellow; the red is produced by foor, or madder root; the yellow with dried onion leaves, steeped in water; and the black by nil, or indigo.
At Sebha, Timinhint, and Zeghren, we were fed with the best produce of their cuisine. Omul Hena, by whom I was so much smitten on my first visit to this place, was now, after a disappointment by the death of her betrothed, with whom she had read the fatah just before my last visit, only a wife of three days old. The best dish, however, out of twenty which the town furnished, came from her; it was brought separately, inclosed in a new basket of date leaves, which I was desired to keep; and her old slave who brought it inquired, “Whether I did not mean to go to her father’s house, and salaam, salute, her mother?” I replied, “Certainly;” and just after dark the same slave came to accompany me. We found the old lady sitting over a handful of fire, with eyes still more sore, and person still more neglected, than when I last saw her. She however hugged me most cordially, for there was nobody present but ourselves: the fire was blown up, and a bright flame produced, over which we sat down, while she kept saying, or rather singing, “Ash harlek? Ash ya barick-che fennick?”—“How are you? How do you find yourself? How is it with you?” in the patois of the country, first saying something in Ertana, which I did not understand, to the old slave; and I was just regretting that I should go away without seeing Omul-hena, while a sort of smile rested on the pallid features of my hostess, when in rushed the subject of our conversation. I scarcely knew her at first, by the dim light of the palm wood fire; she however threw off her mantle, and, kissing my shoulder (an Arab mode of salutation), shook my hand, while large tears rolled down her fine features. She said “she was determined to see me, although her father had refused.” The mother, it seems, had determined on gratifying her.
Omul-hena was now seventeen: she was handsomer than any thing I had seen in Fezzan, and had on all her wedding ornaments: indeed, I should have been a good deal agitated at her apparent great regard, had she not almost instantly exclaimed, “Well! you must make haste; give me what you have brought me! You know I am a woman now, and you must give me something a great deal richer than you did before: besides, I am Sidi Gunana’s son’s wife, who is a great man; and when he asks me what the Christian gave me, let me be able to show him something very handsome.” “What!” said I, “does Sidi Gunana know then of your coming?” “To be sure,” said Omul-hena, “and sent me: his father is a Maraboot, and told him you English were people with great hearts and plenty of money, so I might come.” “Well, then,” said I, “if that is the case, you can be in no hurry.” She did not think so; and my little present was no sooner given, than she hurried away, saying she would return directly, but not keeping her word. Well done, simplicity! thought I: well done unsophisticated nature! no town-bred coquette could have played her part better.