The sheep of Palestine have immense tails, which often weigh fifteen pounds and more. In the Lebanon this weight is doubled on the sheep that are specially fattened for the winter supply of meat. These sheep, called ma‛lûf, are fed on the remains of the mulberry leaves not devoured by the silkworms. As the worms eat only the tender parts of the leaves, the sheep are given what is left. When the animal is so surfeited as to refuse more food, an attendant makes it her business to roll it up in leaves and force it into the unwilling creature’s mouth. The sheep attains an almost incredible size under this treatment.
The goats have very long flapping ears, which often get torn in the briers as they hold their heads down to feed. On some breeds the ears nearly, if not quite, touch the ground as the goats walk along. Goats and sheep are allowed to overrun all the wild places for pasture, so that any shoots of trees or shrubs that start are nibbled off. They browse upon some of the driest and least promising ground. They flourish best in the time of the rains. As the country’s surface is burned over with the hot summer and autumn, the flocks are driven to the few moist valleys.[[156]] Most frequently a boy is in charge of a smaller flock.[[157]] He whiles away some of his time on a reed flute.[[158]] If his animals get too far from him, or go in the wrong direction, he heads them off with a call and by dropping a stone from his sling,[[159]] or hand, just beyond them in the forbidden direction. The shepherd’s usual weapon is a heavy oaken club, called locally dibbûsy from its resemblance in shape to a pin, the long handle being ended in a round, heavy knob. This club is under three feet in length and weighs from one to two pounds. It is a powerful weapon. Often, too, a shepherd will carry one of those long, rickety, brassbound muskets that look very dangerous,—for the manipulator. A leathern pouch, flint and steel, a knife and a sling of woolen yarn complete the outfit, except the actual clothing. The main garment is a long cotton shirt that comes to the knees, belted with a leathern belt. For sleeping and for rainy weather the homespun woolen overcoat, called an ‛abâyeh, is worn. Shoes and head-dress finish off the man, who is the loneliest of Syrians, though he sings and plays and talks to his animals. Sometimes, as you see him in silhouette against the sky-line, he seems to be transfixed on the club or musket on which he leans, so long does he stand unchanged. When he moves it is with singularly slow movements.
1.—HAND SPINNING 2.—REELING
3.—STRAIGHTENING THREADS FOR THE LOOM
Besides meat and milk, which both goats and sheep provide, the sheep produce wool. Considerable raw wool is bought by the weavers of the village. A man in Râm Allâh, whose house abuts unpleasantly on more valuable property, refuses to sell it to a well-to-do neighbor[[160]] because it is on the outskirts where he is in a position to get first chance at those who come into the village from that direction to sell fleeces. The wool is washed, combed, dyed and spun into thread by the villagers. We had occasion to purchase a lot of wool in fleeces for mattresses. We bought five hundred and ten pounds at eleven cents per pound, but after a thorough cleansing we found that the lot weighed four hundred and twenty-six. Having purchased ticking for mattresses, quilts and pillows, and cotton for filling the quilts, our next step was to engage the services of the mattress-maker from Jerusalem. His name was Baruch, a Spanish or Sephardim Jew, tall, wiry and dark, with stooping shoulders and remarkably successful in getting hold of one’s hand and planting on it a reverential kiss before his object was discovered. The kiss felt and sounded like the bursting of a smoke-ball. He came for a few days’ stay, bringing his tools and a boy helper with him. The most novel of the implements was one shaped like a huge bow which is used in fluffing up cotton or wool. It might be compared to an attenuated single-stringed harp. It is held in the hand by the wooden part, the string resting in the cotton. By striking the cord with a wooden mallet, a vibration is set going that twangs musically and throws the cotton into a light, billowy mass. He is very skilful with his needles. He would sew and quilt nearly twenty hours out of the twenty-four in his haste to complete the task and get back to Jerusalem. We were put to it to feed him properly, as certain things were unlawful for him to receive and eat from our hands. But eggs, olives, bread and tomatoes were acceptable. In case of a doubt concerning an article of food we simply asked him whether it was lawful or not. He was very gentle and pleasing. We had to be careful to see that he did not go to sleep among his inflammable materials and leave the lamps burning according to Oriental practise.
When otherwise unemployed a villager will spin off a ball of yarn by hand. Two sticks, like thick pencils, are laid one across the other at right angles. This makes the bobbin. The upright one is notched at the top to catch the thread when needful. A hank of clean wool is disposed over the left forearm. A little of this is started through the fingers of the two hands. It is then caught on the notched end of the bobbin, which is given a whirl and allowed to hang down, while the hands play out the twisting yarn to govern the thickness. When the bobbin carrying the spinning yarn has reached the ground, the amount of yarn already made is wound up on it and caught at the notch. The whirling, feeding out and spinning go on until a ball of yarn is produced.
The looms are primitive and heavy. They are constructed in the dark room which serves as the weaver’s house. A pit is made for him to sit in, and only the light from the door falls on his work. Cotton and wool fabrics of heavy texture are produced. The heavy woolen ‛abâyeh is the chief garment made by the peasant weavers. The light-weight cloth for the other garments is purchased from the city shops. Coarse rugs are made on a still more primitive loom, which is often seen out-of-doors, especially among the Bedawîn.
The land of Palestine bears abundant evidence of a higher state of cultivation once upon a time than that of the present day. Remains of villas, terrace walls and numerous cemented cisterns to catch rain-water are observable. The soil lacks only water to produce abundantly. For the most part the list of things grown has narrowed to those requiring the least care and capital. Where springs are plentiful, and where the people have a little ambition, a variety of vegetables and fruits are cultivated. But because of the uncertainty of the amount and incidence of the tax there is little incentive. In the neighborhood of Jaffa some of the finest oranges in the world are raised. The Sidon oranges come next in desirability. The Jordan Valley is one of the richest garden spots imaginable. The vine is perfectly at home in the lime country of the highlands, as are the fig and the olive.[[161]] This same region is excellently well adapted to silk culture, and might exceed the Lebanon in this respect, though scarcely a dream of such a possibility is indulged in Palestine. The gardens of Urṭâs, near Solomon’s Pool, of ‛Ayn Kârim, of Silwân (Siloam) and of Jenîn might with encouragement be matched hundreds of times. Around Haifa, and on the way to ‛Athlît, the Germans have shown what improvements are possible. There is also the fine agricultural farm at Jaffa, called Mikweh Israel, or Natur’s, under French management. By pools and cisterns, conduits and irrigation, the peasant farmers could make garden spots where now to the eye of the stranger all looks hopeless. The peculiar powdery effect of lime rock, and the countless tons of small stones constantly breaking up and showing on the surface of the ground, look, but are not necessarily, forbidding.
The market of a village is usually its chief street, in which the buyers and sellers meet each other, where the laden animals from the country about come with goods, and where people bent on business are most apt to meet those who can serve them. Shops and storerooms line the market street. The Arab name for this interesting locality is sûḳ. Thither the gardener takes such of his produce as he cannot himself use, and if he be not a merchant himself, puts it into the care of one who is, on commission. Venders of fabrics, pottery, breadstuffs and meats assemble here and display their goods. The shopkeepers naturally seek localities in the market street and, when space fails there, in the adjacent streets. If there are a number of tribes in the village, each tribe, in its own section, may have stores for the supply of the simple stock of foodstuffs required. A shop or store is a little room from six to a dozen feet square, with a door, seldom a window, a counter and the necessary bins and shelves. What we should call a grocery store will keep in stock sugar, flour, oil, matches and possibly grain. Some simple candies, some spice, starch, dried fruit, coffee and rice may complete the list. The scales will be on the counter. No wrapping-paper need be used, as the purchaser brings his own dish if he be purchasing a liquid, and if not, carries his purchases in the skirt of his dress or in a handkerchief. The sugar comes in a huge loaf covered with blue paper. Salt is heavily taxed by the government. Tobacco is a government monopoly and to be sold only by a specially authorized merchant, who wears a brown coat as a sort of uniform designating him and his rights. Such a shop as has been described may add cotton cloth and thread to its stock. Shoe shops confine themselves to the making and displaying of peasant shoes. The weaver of cloth and ‛abâyehs ordinarily has no separate place of sale, but sells from the loom-room or else makes a journey to the villages about and displays the goods in their market streets. The shops have their regular customers, to whom they sell on credit, with some favor and less haggling than is customary with other purchasers. The butcher hangs his freshly-slaughtered sheep on hooks in the side wall of the market street and sells at a uniform price per ruṭl or oḳḳîyeh any part of the creature. Perhaps he has not killed until there is a likelihood of demands enough for meat to warrant the venture. If local restrictions do not hinder, the butcher may kill and dress his animals right in the market street.
The traders are keen and allow no points of advantage to escape their notice. In fact, the conversation of the common people of the country is in terms of the currency and concerns the ins and outs of bargaining, loss and gain. Sometimes, in the heat of trading, the parties appear to rise into a frenzy of altercation. But nothing is ever settled at this high tension. After a few seconds of comparative calm the haggling and controversy begin again and an attempt is made to find a common basis of argument in which neither party may yield too much. The difference between wholesale and retail business is not very clearly recognized in the villages. Few peasant producers know what their own expense has been in the production of their commodities. Striking a bargain is a tedious process to the stranger, but an exercise of great interest to the native and full of possibilities. He declares that the business arrangement shall be as you like, utterly. He is a servant of God, he seeks not money but your happiness, your good-will. Is not that the sweetest possession, the love and favor of brothers? If it is a house that you are trying to rent at a decent price, he says, “What is such a thing as that between us? Take it for nothing.”[[162]] An utter stranger once came to my door with a young gazel which he had found in the wilderness. He declared that it was a present to me. I offered him forty cents for it and he demanded sixty. I gave him the forty, however, promising the other twenty if the little creature lived.