The Women of the Arabs

by Henry Harris Jessup

When he comes in, he says, Subah koom bil khire, "Your morning in goodness." Then Assaf, the cook, answers him, "Yusaid Subahak," "May God make happy your morning." If I come out when he is here, he runs up to kiss my hand, as the Arab children are trained to be respectful to their superiors. When a little Arab boy comes into a room full of older people, he goes around and kisses the hand of each one and then places it on his forehead. Asaad wears a red tarboosh or cap on his head, a loose jacket, and trowsers which are like a blue bag gathered around the waist, with two small holes for his feet to go through. They are drawn up nearly to his knees, and his legs are bare, as he wears no stockings. He wears red shoes pointed and turned up at the toes. When he comes in at the door, he leaves his shoes outside, but keeps his cap on his head.

The people never take off their caps or turbans when entering a house, or visiting a friend, but always leave their shoes at the door. The reason is, that their floors are covered with clean mats and rugs, and in the Moslem houses, the man kneels on his rug to pray, and presses his forehead to the floor, so that it would not be decent or respectful to walk in with dirty shoes and soil his sijjady on which he kneels to pray. They have no foot-mats or scrapers, and it is much cheaper and simpler to leave the shoes, dirt and all at the door. Sometimes we are much embarrassed in calling on the old style Syrians as they look with horror on our muddy feet, and we find it not quite so easy to remove our European shoes. But it must be done, and it is better to take a little extra trouble, and regard their feelings and customs, than to appear coarse and rude.

It is very curious to go to the Syrian school-houses, and see the piles of shoes at the door. There are new bright red shoes, and old tattered shoes, and kob kobs, and black shoes, and sometimes yellow shoes. The kob kobs are wooden clogs made to raise the feet out of the mud and water, having a little strap over the toe to keep it on the foot. You will often see little boys and girls running down steps and paved streets on these dangerous kob kobs. Sometimes they slip and then down they go on their noses, and the kob kobs fly off and go rattling over the stones, and little Ali or Yusef, or whatever his name is, begins to shout, Ya Imme! Ya Imme! "Oh, my mother!" and cries just like little children in other countries.

But the funniest part of it is to see the boys when they come out of school and try to find their shoes. There will be fifty boys, and of course a hundred shoes, all mixed together in one pile. When school is out, the boys make a rush for the door. Then comes the tug of war. A dozen boys are standing and shuffling on the pile of shoes, looking down, kicking away the other shoes, running their toes into their own, stumbling over the kob kobs, and then making a dash to get out of the crowd. Sometimes shins will be kicked, and hair pulled, and tarbooshes thrown off, and a great screaming and cursing follow, which will only cease when the Mûallim comes with his "Asa" or stick, and quells the riot. That pile of shoes will have to answer for a good many schoolboy fights and bruised noses and hard feelings in Syria. You would wonder how they can tell their own shoes. So do I. And the boys often wear off each other's shoes by mistake or on purpose, and then you will see Selim running with one shoe on, and one of Ibrahim's in his hand, shouting and cursing Ibrahim's father and grandfather, until he gets back his lost property. Sometimes when men leave their shoes outside the door of a house where they are calling, some one will steal them, and then they are in a sorry plight. Shoes are regarded as very unclean, and when you are talking in polite society, it will never do to speak of them, without asking pardon. You would say, "the other day some one stole my new shoes, ajellak Allah," i. e., May God exalt you above such a vile subject! You would use the same words if you were talking with a Moslem, and spoke of a dog, a hog, a donkey, a girl or a woman.

They do not think much of girls in Syria. The most of the people are very sorry when a daughter is born. They think it is dreadful, and the poor mother will cry as if her heart would break. And the neighbors come in and tell her how sorry they are, and condole with her, just as if they had come to a funeral. In Kesrawan, a district of Mount Lebanon near Beirût, the Arab women have a proverb, "The threshold weeps forty days when a girl is born."

There is a great change going on now in Syria in the feelings of the people in regard to girls, but in the interior towns and villages where the light of the Gospel has not shone as yet, and there are no schools, they have the ancient ideas about them up to this very hour.

I knew an old Syrian grandmother in Tripoli who would not kiss her granddaughter for six months after she was born, because she was born a girl! But I know another family in that city of Tripoli that do not treat girls in that style. The father is Mr. Antonius Yanni, a good Christian man, and a member of the Mission Church. He is American Vice Consul, and on the top of his house is a tall flag-staff, on which floats the stars and stripes, on Fourth of July, and the Sultan's birthday, Queen Victoria's birthday, and other great feast days. One day when the Tripoli women heard that "Sitt Karîmeh, Yanni's wife, had another "bint," (girl) they came in crowds to comfort her in her great affliction! When Yanni heard of it, he could not restrain himself. He loved his older daughter Theodora very dearly, and was thankful to God for another sweet baby girl, so he told the women that he would have none of this heathenish mourning in his house. He then shouted to his janizary or Cawass, a white bearded old Moslem named Amr, "Amr, haul up the Bandaira el Americanîyeh, (American flag) to show the world how glad I am that I have another daughter." "On my head, on my head, sir," said Amr, and away he went and hauled up the stars and stripes. Now the Pasha's palace is not far away, and soon the Turkish guards saw the flag, and hastened to the Pasha with the news that the American Consul had some great feast day, as his flag was raised. The Pasha, supposing it to be some important national feast day of the American Government which he was so stupid as not to know about, sent his Chief Secretary at once to Mr. Yanni to ask what feast it might be? Yanni received him politely and ordered a narghileh and coffee and sherbet, and after saying "good-morning," and "may you live forever," and "God prolong your days!" over and over and over again, and wishing that Doulet America might ever flourish, the Secretary asked which of the great American festivals he was celebrating that day. Yanni laughed and said, "Effendum, you know how many of the ignorant in Syria are so foolish as to mourn and lament when God sends them a daughter, but I believe that all God's gifts are good, and that daughters are to be valued as much as sons, and to rebuke this foolish notion among the people, I put up my flag as a token of joy and gratitude." "Sebhan Allah! you have done right, sir," ... was the Secretary's reply, and away he went to the Pasha. What the Pasha said, I do not know, but there was probably more cursing than usual that day in the grand palace of Tripoli, for the Mohammedans think the birth of a daughter a special judgment from God.

When a boy is born, there is great rejoicing. Presents are sent to him, and the people call to congratulate the father, and the whole house is gay and joyous. After a few days a dainty dish called "Mughly" is made and sent around as a present to all of the relatives. It is made of pounded rice, and flavored with rich spices and sugar and put into little bowls, and almonds and other nuts sprinkled over the top. One of these little bowls is sent to each of the friends. But when a girl is born, there is no rejoicing, no giving of presents, and no making of the delicious "mughly."

Here come two little girls bringing earthen pots of milk. They are poor girls, daughters of two of our neighbors who are fellaheen or farmers. One has no shoes, and neither have stockings. They wear plain blue gowns, made of coarse cotton cloth, dyed with indigo, and rusty looking tarbooshes on their heads, and a little piece of dirty white muslin thrown over their heads as a veil to cover their faces with, when men come in sight. One is named Lebeeby and the other Lokunda, which means Hotel. They behave very well when they come here, as they have the fear of the big Khowadja before their eyes, but when they are at home running about, they often use dreadful language. Little boys and girls in Syria have some awful oaths which they constantly use. I suppose the poor things do not know the meaning of half the bad words they use. One of the most common is "Yilān Abook," "curse your father!" It is used everywhere and on every side by bad people, and the children use it constantly in their play. When the little girls come into our Schools and Seminaries, it is a long time before they will give up "abook"-ing. One of our friends in America is educating a nice little girl in the Beirût Seminary, and we asked the teacher about her a few days ago. The answer was, "She still lies and swears dreadfully, but she has greatly improved during the past two years, and we are encouraged about her."

Sometimes a boy will say to another Yilan abook, "Curse your father," and another will answer, Wa jiddak, "and your grandfather," and then they will call back and forth like cats and dogs. I saw a Moslem boy near my house standing by the corner to shield himself from the stones another boy was throwing, and shouting wa jid, jid, jid, jid, jidak, "and your great-great-great-great-grandfather," and away went the other boy, shouting as he ran, "and your great-great-great-great gr-e-at," and I heard no more. And then there are a great many very naughty and vile words which the children use, which I cannot write, and yet we hear them every day. It is very hard to keep our children from learning them, as they talk Arabic better than we do, and often learn expressions which they do not know the meaning of. One of the most common habits is using the name of God in vain. The name of God is Allah, and "O God," Yullah. Then there is Wullah and Bismillah, "In the name of God," Hamdlillah, "Praise to God," Inshullah, "If God will." The most awful oaths are Wullah and Billah. The people use Yullah at all times and on all occasions. The donkey-drivers and muleteers say Yullah when they drive their animals. Some years ago a good man from America, who fears God and would not take his name in vain was travelling in the Holy Land, and came on to Beirût. When he reached there, some one asked him if he had learned any Arabic during his journey. He said yes, he had learned Bakhshish for "a present," and Yullah for "go ahead." His friend asked him if he had used the latter word much on the way. He said certainly, he had used it all the way. His friend answered, Professor, you have been swearing all the way through the Holy Land. Of course he did not know it and meant no wrong. But it shows that such words are used so commonly in Syria that strangers do not think them bad language, and it also shows that travellers ought to be careful in using the words they learn of muleteers and sailors in Arab land.