GOODS FOR BARTER.

The sheikh Seebehr complained bitterly of the great rush of Gellahbas to his establishment, and told me that his corn was so nearly exhausted that his land was threatened with famine. From his own mouth I learnt that during the winter two large caravans had come through Shekka, and had brought into the country the enormous quantity of 2000 of these petty adventurers; by the middle of January the number was still larger, and at the beginning of February was swollen again by 600 or 700 more.

All these traders break their journeys across the steppes of the Baggara by making a lengthened stay at Shekka, for the purpose of purchasing oxen both for riding and for carrying burdens; here also it is their practice to lay in a stock of butter[82] for bartering in the Seribas, where it is in great demand. The goods that they bring into the Seriba districts are principally calico, “trumba,” a coarse material woven in Sennaar, and English cotton of two sorts, “amerikani and damoor;” they also make a market of a number of firearms, mostly ordinary double-barrelled guns, of Belgian manufacture, worth from ten to twenty dollars apiece; in addition to these they frequently carry on a brisk trade in all kinds of knick-knacks—​pipes, looking-glasses, Turkish slippers, red fezzes, and carpets.

Every Gellahba, according to his means, takes into his service a number of the Baggara, to whom he entrusts the training and management of his cattle. Camels invariably succumb to the climate in a very short time, and are consequently but rarely used as a means of transport. All the traders ride asses, and it may safely be asserted that they pass the greater part of their lives on the backs of these animals; in fact, a petty pedlar of the Soudan without his donkey would be a sight almost as remarkable as a Samoyede without his reindeer. Besides its rider the donkey will carry not much less than ten pieces of cotton; if it survives the journey it is exchanged in the Seribas for a slave, or perhaps for two; its load of goods will bring in three more, and thus, under favourable circumstances, a speculative vagrant, who has started with nothing beyond his donkey and five pounds’ worth of goods, will find himself in possession of at least four slaves, which may be disposed of in Khartoom for 250 dollars (50l.) The return journey is always made on foot, and the unfortunate slaves have to carry all the articles necessary for travelling.

FAKIS.

But quite apart from these pettifogging traders, whose innate propensity for trafficking in human beings can only be compared to the ineradicable love of usury that characterises the itinerant Polish Jews, there are numbers of more important investors, who, protected by a large retinue of armed slaves and accompanied by long trains of loaded oxen and asses, carry on a business which brings many hundreds of their fellow-creatures into the market. These more wholesale dealers have their partners or agents permanently settled in regular establishments in the large Seribas. More frequently than not these agents are priests, or Fakis as they are called, though strictly the term Faki belongs only to those whose profession it is to explain the Scriptures; it is, however, an indisputable fact that the slave-trade is included amongst the secondary occupations of this class, and, as matter of fact, they are all more or less soiled with the defilements of this scandalous business. In the larger towns, and especially in Khartoom, there is every opportunity for observing their doings, and things often come to light which, except they were actually witnessed, would seem perfectly incredible. In finding scope for their commercial propensities they practice the most heterogeneous trades: the poorer Fakis act as brokers, retail-dealers, amulet-writers, quacks, schoolmasters, and match-makers; whilst the richer and more educated class are directors of schools and managers of inns, where they place paid subordinates to carry on their business. The doctrines of the Prophet are taught in their schools, whilst the merissa-shops are dedicated in a large degree to the worship of Venus. But, in spite of everything, these people are held in the greatest veneration, and their reputation for piety not unfrequently survives the generation in which they live; they are buried in the public places for prayer, the place of interment being marked by small white banners as hallowed ground. A few words will suffice to exhibit these holy men in their true colours.

With the Suras of the Koran in one hand and their operating-knife[83] in the other, they rove from Seriba to Seriba all over the country, leading what might be termed in the most rigid sense a life of perpetual prayer; every other word that they utter is either an invocation of Allah or a direct appeal to Mohammed-el-Rasool. But the wide difference between faith and practice is exemplified in the unrighteous dealings of these Fakis; never did I see slaves so mercilessly treated as by these fanatics, and yet they would confer upon the poor souls, whom they had purchased like stolen goods, for a mere bagatelle, the most religious of names, such as “Allagabo” (i. e. given by God). The following incident will show that with their horrible blasphemy they do not hesitate to combine such cruelty as the commonest scavenger would shrink from using to a dying dog.

In one of their convoys were some poor, miserable Mittoo-slaves, almost too emaciated to bear the heavy yoke (the sheyba) that was fastened to their necks. Going, as I was wont, to my kitchen garden, I had constantly to pass the huts in which they were kept. One morning, hearing an unusual outcry, I paused to inquire what was the matter. A scene, such as my pen can only indignantly depict, met my gaze. A dying man had been dragged from the hut, and was being belaboured by the cruelest of lashes to prove whether life was yet extinct. The long white stripes on the withered skin testified to the agonies that the poor wretch was enduring, and the vociferations I had beard were the shouts of his persecutors, who were yelling out their oaths and imprecations. “The cursed dog, he is not dead yet! the heathen rascal won’t die!” Then, as though resolved to accumulate cruelty upon cruelty, the Faki’s slave-boys not only began to break out into revolting jeers, but actually played at football with the writhing body of the still gasping victim; truly it seemed to be with justice that La Fontaine had recorded: “Cet âge est sans pitié.” The horrible contortions of the sufferer’s countenance, even if they failed to excite commiseration, were sufficient to melt the hardest of hearts; but so far from this, the unfeeling reprobates were loud in their asseverations that the poor wretch was only shamming, and intended to sneak off unobserved. His pitiable appearance, however, gainsaid their words, and he was finally dragged off into the woods, where a few weeks afterwards I found his skull, which I deposited with those of many others of his fellow-sufferers in the Museum in Berlin.

Such is the history of the skull marked No. 36 in my collection, and such are the deeds perpetrated in the very face of death by Mohammedan priests, who consider themselves the very pillars of their faith. And yet our missionaries, perhaps the most guileless men in the world, start by putting themselves on equal terms with these Mussulmen, and endeavour to make headway against their faith, when it is really a simple case of morality that is at issue. The history of Islamism has ever been a history of crime, and to Christian morality alone do we owe all the social good that we enjoy.

GELLAHBAS.