Fire and Sword in the Sudan / A Personal Narrative of Fighting and Serving the Dervishes 1879-1895

by Freiherr von Rudolf Carl Slatin

That afternoon, the Khalifa gave orders for the ombeÿa to be sounded, while the dull beats of the great Mansura (war-drum) boomed through the city, and he himself rode with an immense escort to the parade ground. On his arrival, his sheepskin was spread on the ground; and on this he sat, facing the east, whilst the Kadi and others stood behind him in a semi-circle. He then ordered the accused to be brought before him. Already his hands had been tied behind his back; but he showed not the slightest signs of fear. When within a hundred paces of the Khalifa, he was decapitated by Ahmed Dalia, the chief executioner.

Soon after this, a certain Fiki called Nur en Nebi (The Light of the Prophet), who had collected a considerable number of disciples, preached to them about the necessity for religious zeal, and urged them not to be led away by innovations. Yakub reported this to the Khalifa, with the result that the Fiki was at once arrested, and brought before the Kadi. The necessary witnesses were procured; and the Fiki openly declared before them that he was a good Mohammedan, but not a follower of the Mahdi. By command of the Khalifa, the judges ordered him to be laden with chains; his hands tied behind his back; and, under the deafening shouts of the mob, he was dragged to the market-place, where he was hanged on the scaffold erected there. I remember looking at the body, whilst suspended from the gallows, and was struck by the calm and smiling expression on the face of this man who had died for his convictions. Several hundred houses, surrounding the abode of the murdered man, were confiscated; their inmates arrested, bound, and carried off to prison; but, through the intervention of Adlan, they were subsequently liberated. The Khalifa now issued a proclamation to the effect that all the inhabitants of the city were responsible for the actions of their neighbours; and persons found involved in political or religious intrigues were threatened with the most condign punishment. On mere suspicion, several of the natives of the Nile valley were thrown into chains, and deprived of all they possessed. Thus did he deal with all suspected persons, and at the same time considerably enriched his treasury.

On another occasion, he had a meeting of the Kadis, and told them, in confidence, that, in his opinion, all vessels on the Nile were really "Ghanima" (booty); for, as he truthfully remarked, whilst he was in Kordofan, the owners had, in spite of his frequent appeals, invariably refused to assist the Mahdi's cause. They had not only failed to attack the Government steamers on the river, but had also frequently provided the Government stations with grain and wood. Of course the Kadis fully concurred in his opinion; and, the following morning, they received a letter from Ibrahim Adlan, asking them whether all vessels were not state property. The all-powerful judges replied in the affirmative, supporting their answer by extracts from the Mahdi's code, according to which the owners were to be considered Mukhalafin (obstinate persons). This pamphlet was read publicly, in the presence of the Khalifa, who remarked, in conclusion, that those vessels alone were exempt which did not float, or which were not built of the wood of the forests, which were all the property of the state. These vessels, numbering upwards of nine hundred, of from twenty to five hundred ardebs carrying capacity, now all passed into the possession of the Beit el Mal; and, as they were almost without exception the property of Jaalin and Danagla, who lived on the river, the means of support of these unfortunate people was entirely gone. The boats were now utilised by Ibrahim Adlan to carry cargoes of grain to the Beit el Mal; or they were hired out annually at a high rate, to persons who were considered worthy of this confidence.

In order to show his veneration for the Mahdi, the Khalifa decided to erect a monument to him, as is the custom in Egypt; but this he did rather to satisfy his own vanity, than out of respect for his late master. A square building was erected, some thirty feet high, and thirty-six feet each way; and the stone for this construction, of which the walls were upwards of six feet thick, had to be brought all the way from Khartum. Above this a hexagonal wall fifteen feet high was built, from which rose a dome forty feet high. On the corners of the main building were four smaller domes. This was called Kubbet el Mahdi (Mahdi's dome). It was furnished with ten large arched windows, and two doors; and in the hexagonal portion were six skylights. It was whitewashed all over, and surrounded by a trellis-work fence; the windows and doors were made by the workmen in the Khartum arsenal; while directly beneath the dome, and over the Mahdi's grave, a wooden sarcophagus was erected, covered with black cloth. On the sides of the walls, candelabra were hung; while, suspended by a long chain from the centre of the dome, was an immense chandelier taken from the Government palace in Khartum. The sombre appearance of the inside of the building was relieved by some gaudy painting on the walls. A few yards from the building is a small cistern, built of red bricks cemented together; and this is used by the visitors for their religious ablutions. The plans for this building were devised by an old Government official who had been formerly employed as an architect; but, of course, public opinion dutifully attributed the design to the Khalifa.

The ceremony of laying the foundation-stone of this building was conducted with great unction by the Khalifa, who "turned the first sod." Accompanied by a crowd of upwards of thirty thousand people, he proceeded to the river bank, where the stones were heaped up, and, lifting one of them on his shoulder, carried it to the spot, his example being followed by every individual person in this vast assemblage; the noise and confusion were perfectly indescribable. Numbers of accidents happened; but those injured thought it fortunate to suffer on such an occasion. The building was not completed till the following year, and entailed a considerable amount of labour, though little expense; and, during its construction, the Khalifa frequently asserted that angels lent their assistance. An Egyptian, hearing this, and aware that many of his compatriots were masons, was constrained to remark to them, "You are probably the Khalifa's angels, and require neither food, drink, nor payment." Had the Khalifa heard this, he would undoubtedly have removed this wag's head.

As usual, I was always in close attendance on the Khalifa; and, as a token of his good-will, he presented me with one of the Abyssinian girls sent by Abu Anga. Her mother and brother had been killed before her eyes; and the poor creature had been torn from their bodies, and driven into captivity at the end of the lash. Although not treated as a slave by my people, who did all they could to lighten her sad lot, she never seemed bright or happy; she continually brooded over her losses and her home, until, at length, death released her from her sufferings. Occasionally Father Ohrwalder used to visit me secretly; but, as the Khalifa did not approve of our meeting, his visits were few and far between. We used to talk of our home, and of our present wretched existence; but we never lost hope that, sooner or later, our captivity would come to an end.

Abu Girga, who commanded at Kassala, was now ordered to proceed to Osman Digna, and assist him in his fighting; leaving Ahmed Wad Ali as his representative at Kassala, he was summoned to Omdurman to report to the Khalifa on the state of the Arab tribes in the Eastern Sudan. He arrived late one evening, and was at once received in long private audience by the Khalifa; and, on withdrawing, hurriedly told me that he had given him a letter from my family in Europe. A few minutes later, I was called in, and informed that the Governor of Suakin has sent a letter to Osman Digna, which was supposed to be from my family, and which he had sent on. In handing me this letter, the Khalifa ordered me to open it at once, and acquaint him with its contents. I glanced through it hurriedly, and, to my intense grief and sorrow, saw that it was an announcement from my brothers and sisters that my poor mother had died, and that, on her death-bed, she had expressed an earnest hope that we should all be re-united. The Khalifa, impatient that I took so long to read it, again asked me who had written it, and what were its contents. "It is from my brothers and sisters," I replied; "and I will translate it to you." I had no reason to conceal its contents; it was merely a few lines from distressed brothers and sisters to their distant brother. I told him how disturbed they were about me; and how they were ready to make any sacrifice in order that I should regain my liberty. When I came to the part about my mother, it required all my self-control; I told him that, owing to my absence, her death was not so peaceful as it might have been, and that during her long illness, her constant prayer to God had been that she might see me again. Her prayer, alas, had not been answered; and now this letter had brought me her last greeting, and her tender hopes for my welfare. My throat felt parched and dry, and had not the Khalifa suddenly interrupted me, I must have broken down. "Your mother was not aware that I honour you more than any one else," said he; "otherwise she certainly would not have been in such trouble about you; but I forbid you to mourn for her. She died as a Christian and an unbeliever in the Prophet and the Mahdi, and cannot therefore expect God's mercy." The blood rushed to my head; and, for a moment, I could say nothing; but gradually regaining my self-control, I continued to read on that my brother Henry was now married, and that Adolf and my sisters were quite well. Finally, they begged me to let them know how I could obtain my liberty, and urged me to write to them. "Write and tell one at least of your brothers to come here," said the Khalifa, when I had finished the letter. "I would honour him, and he should want for nothing; but I will talk to you about this another time." He then signed to me with his hand; and I withdrew.

My comrades, who had already heard that a letter had arrived for me, were very inquisitive, and asked me all manner of questions; but I answered them only briefly, and, as soon as the Khalifa had retired to rest, I went home. I flung myself down on my angareb, and my servants, much concerned, asked me what was the matter; but I told them to leave me. "Poor mother, then it was I who made your last hours so unhappy!" My brothers and sisters had written her last words: "I am ready to die; but I should have loved to see and embrace my Rudolf once more. The thought that he is in the hands of his enemies makes my departure from this world very difficult for me." How well I remembered her words when I left for the Sudan: "My son, my Rudolf, your restless spirit drives you out into the world! You are going to distant and almost unknown lands. A time, perhaps, will come when you will long for us, and a quiet life." How true had been her words,—poor mother! How much trouble I must have given her! And then I cried and cried,—not about my position, but for my dear mother, who could never be replaced.