The nurses and attendants in the women’s ward seemed to be much interested in their charges and to develop a real affection for them. There are no bonds in the whole institution. The severe cases are put to bed. As soon as their condition will warrant it they are set to work at something that will keep them busy, laundering or helping in various ways about the institution, always with ample supervision. One bright-faced patient possessed with the notion that the devil was in her nose made that member the object of her constant thought, keeping it always covered.
We saw a large, powerfully-made man standing behind the iron grating of one of the men’s windows. He was an alcoholic case who was sent away from the hospital at one time apparently cured, but fell into the old ways again and now is hopeless, incurable.
Some of the patients come to the hospital in a most wretched state of filth. Some come loaded with the chains that the ignorant country people have put on them. Some have been isolated in caves and scantily fed, some have been beaten. Some have been made to drink water in which written texts of the Ḳurân have been soaked. Many are the ways with which the superstitious natives would treat these unfortunates. Sometimes the insane are looked upon with superstitious awe as of an order other than ordinary human beings and to be invoked. At other times the people are said to beat them in order to drive out the demon, but more often, according to their own saying, they let them pretty much alone. “For,” say they, “God has touched him; that is enough; leave him alone.”[[103]] All through the country this unconscious fraternity lives its life apart from men. Only their bodies are in contact with the world of reality. They are fed or beaten, caged or prayed to, in turn. We saw one of these unfortunates who had been groveling in a fit on the street in Jerusalem near the Jaffa Gate. He had a small cord drawn through a fleshy place in his abdomen, by working which back and forth well-meaning spectators had caused considerable blood to flow, thinking to relieve him. We have seen them wandering in the streets of Damascus with the freedom of the city, all making way for them; and well they might; we did, too, for I’ve never seen human beings more unutterably filthy. In the village of ‛Ayn ‛Arîk there was a dumb maniac who went about naked.[[104]] He was credited with being a wily, or holy man. Families having a sick person among them would sometimes send him presents of roast stuffed fowls and secure from the wily some of his hairs, which they would burn near the patient, hoping thereby to effect a cure.
The leprous generally congregate outside the cities and follow the trade of begging. Hospitals and asylums are provided for them, but many of them prefer the freedom which puts them obnoxiously in the way of those who can be teased for alms.
Death among the peasantry is an occasion for long mourning. The body is wrapped, and placed in the ground and protected from the falling earth as well as may be by the use of stones. On the top of the grave the heaviest stones obtainable are packed to make it difficult for the hyenas to secure the body. It is customary to watch the grave many nights to keep these creatures away.[[105]] The more advanced peasantry try to secure a wooden coffin for the body about to be buried. The natives are capable of much tenderness and consideration at these sad times. The many bearers take turns assisting in the carrying of the body on the way to the grave. Visitors from other villages come to assist in the mourning for the deceased. They are provided with food and shelter while they remain. The public mourning lasts as long as visitors continue coming to offer condolences, which may be for many days. At weddings the singers are men, but at funerals the women perform the part. The same native melody is used on both occasions. The death of a young man is an occasion for especial grief, since so many family hopes and prospects are thereby disappointed. A prop and stay in the tribe is withdrawn and the calamity is very severe. The women are sometimes seen on the threshing-floor marching slowly round and round, wailing out the dirge. One of the saddest cases that came under my observation was that of a young man who, leaving his family, emigrated to America in search of fortune. While in Monterey, Mexico, he heard of the death of an uncle in the home village and grieved over it. He was taken ill, probably with yellow fever, went to the hospital and died there in a short time. When the news reached Râm Allâh the grief was keen. It is customary at such a time for the women to go either to the threshing-floor or the cemetery to mourn.[[106]] But in this case, as the man was buried far away, the women assembled on a small piece of ground that was owned by some of the tribe where there was a fig-tree. They sat under this talking until the company increased to over forty women. They had all left their head-dresses, ornamented with coins, at home, and their hair fell in disheveled condition over their necks and shoulders. Some of them had daubed their faces with soot. Some were dressed in their oldest and poorest clothing; one had on a fancy Bethlehem costume, but her disordered hair was bound with crêpe. A circle was formed and the women marched to the accompaniment of the mourning song. Now and then a few would break from the circle into the middle and, tossing their arms above their heads, perform a funeral dance. The name of the deceased was Butrus (Peter) and the widow’s name was Na‛meh (Naomi). The following is a translation of the words which the women sang at the time:
O door of the house, fall down
For one who went and did not return;
For one who left his wife,
A trust remaining with me.
Butrus in the distant country calls,