One of my talks with Sir Francis Reginald Wingate was of a more personal nature dealing with some of the events in which he was an historic figure. I had asked His Excellency if he would not some day write a new book on the Sudan. He wrote “Mahdism and the Egyptian Sudan” some years ago; and a few years later published a work entitled “Ten Years’ Captivity in the Mahdi’s Camp.” He also translated and edited Slatin Pasha’s “Fire and Sword in the Sudan” and for years his life has been a part of the history of the country and his experiences such that no man living can tell about it better than he. The Sirdar replied:
“I may write another book some day. I have kept notes of things which I have observed and which have occurred from time to time, and putting them together may give me occupation when I retire. At present my chief interest is in the development of the country, and I am too much occupied with that and with my duties here to find any time for literary work.”
Afterward our conversation turned to the conditions which prevailed here while the Mahdi was waging war against the English. Sir Reginald, then General Wingate, was one of the officers in command of the British troops and is full of vivid stories of those terrible times. As we talked we were standing on the portico jutting out from the second story of the government palace. We were looking down the Nile and in plain view of the little island of Tuti over the way. General Wingate went on to tell a story of General Gordon’s bravery and absolute lack of fear:
“It was on this site that Gordon had his headquarters during a siege of the Mahdi. He lived in a rough building with windows opening toward that island, upon which the enemy had an encampment. It was his custom of an evening to sit in his room facing the river and write in his diary. The Mahdists saw his light and shot at it again and again but, notwithstanding this, General Gordon did not change his place for writing. His friends remonstrated and the citizens of Khartum sent in a petition to him either to write in the back of the house or to hide his light behind a screen. This petition was brought in by a delegation from the town, which had assembled in front of the headquarters awaiting an answer. As they stood there, lights were put in every front window and they saw General Gordon go from window to window making himself, as they thought, a fair mark for the Dervishes on the island. At last he came out and standing in the full blaze of the light said:
“‘Gentlemen, there is an old story that when the Lord made mankind He did so with two great piles of material before Him. One of the piles was composed of the clay of which man is made and the other of the fear that often makes one less than a man. As the Lord worked, He took up a handful of clay, shaped it into a human form, and then sprinkled it over with a handful from the pile of fear. And so He went on making man after man until at last He took up the stuff of which He made me. There was plenty of clay for my body but when He looked about for fear with which to sprinkle it, He found that the pile of fear had all been used up, so the result is I do not know what fear is.’”
In the dry Upper Nile valley piled-up grain awaits unprotected the boats which will distribute it along the river. The provinces of Darfur and Kordofan alone can produce enough dura to feed the entire Sudan.
No matter how far up the Nile or how deep in the desert they live, “backsheesh” is the cry of the children of Egypt and the Sudan. Young and old alike have learned the trick of asking a fee for posing.
