The Women of the Arabs

by Henry Harris Jessup

While he was weeping, a wealthy Hajji or pilgrim came along, on his return from Mecca. He was surprised to see a man alone in this wilderness, and asked him why he was weeping? Mohammed replied, O Hajji, I have found the tomb of a holy prophet, and I have vowed to be its keeper, but I am in great need. The Hajji thanked him for the news, and dismounted to visit the holy place, and gave Mohammed a rich present. After he had gone Mohammed hastened to the nearest village and bought provisions and then returned to his holy prophet's tomb. The Hajji spread the news, and pilgrims thronged to the spot with rich presents and offerings. As money came in Mohammed brought masons and built a costly tomb with a tall white dome that could be seen across the Jordan. He lived in a little room by the tomb, and soon the miraculous lights began to appear in the tomb at night, which Mohammed had kindled when no one was near. He increased in fame and wealth, and the Prophet's tomb became one of the great shrines of the land.

At length Sheikh Ali heard of the fame of the new holy place in the desert, and as his own visitors began to fall off, decided to go himself and gain the merit of a visit to the tomb of that famous prophet. When he arrived there with his rich presents of green cloth, incense and money, he bowed in silence to pray towards Mecca, when suddenly he recognized in the holy keeper of the tomb, his old servant Mohammed. "Salam alaykoom" said Sheikh Ali. "Alaykoom es Salam," replied Mohammed. When he asked him how he came here, and how he found this tomb, Mohammed replied, this "tomb is a great "sirr" or mystery, and I am forbidden to utter the secret." "But you must tell me," said Sheikh Ali, "for I am a father to you." Mohammed refused and Ali insisted, until at length Mohammed said, "my honored Sheikh, you remember having given me a donkey. It was a faithful donkey, and when it died I buried it. This is the tomb of that donkey!" "Mashallah! Mashallah!" said Sheikh Ali. The will of Allah be done! Then they ate and drank together, and renewed the memory of their former life, and then Sheikh Mohammed said to Sheikh Ali, "My master, as I have told you the 'sirr' of my prophet's tomb, I wish to know the secret of yours." "Impossible," said Ali, "for that is one of the ancient mysteries, too sacred to be mentioned by mortal lips." "But you must tell me, even as I have told you." At length the old Sheikh Ali stroked his snowy beard, adjusted his white turban, and whispered to Mohammed, "and my holy place is the tomb of that donkey's father!" "Mashallah," said Mohammed, "may Allah bless the beard of the holy donkeys!"

The people tell this story, which shows, that they ridicule and despise their holy places, and yet are too superstitious to give them up. The great thing with the sheiks who keep them is the piastres they make from the visitors.

As we go up the hill to Safita, you see the tall, beautiful Burj, or Crusader's tower, built as were many of the castles and towers whose ruins you see on the hills about here, by the French and English eight hundred years ago, to keep down the wild and rebellious people. The Protestant Church is at the east. These are two watch towers. One was built for warriors who fought with sword and spear, and the other for the simple warfare of the gospel. You may depend upon it, we shall have a welcome here. It is nearly sunset, and the people are coming in from their fields and pastures and vineyards. Daûd and Nicola, and Michaiel, Soleyman, Ibrahim, and Yusef, Miriam, Raheel and Nejmy and crowds of others with a throng of little ragged boys and girls, come running to greet us. "Praise God we have seen you in peace!" "Ehelan wa Sehelan," "Welcome and Welcome!" "Be preferred!" "Honor us with your presence!" "How is your state?" "Inshullah you are all well!" "How are those you left behind?" "How are the preserved of God?" "I hope you are not wearied with the long ride, this hot day?" "From whence have you come, in peace?" "What happy day is this to Safita!" and we answer as fast as we can, and dismount and pitch the tent in front of the church door, in the little plot of ground next to the houses of some of the brethren. The church is built of cream colored limestone, the same color as the great Burj, and contrasts strongly with the houses of the people. Did you ever see such houses? They are hardly high enough to stand up in, and are built of roundish boulders of black trap-rock, without lime, and look as if the least jar would tumble them all down. Each house has but one room, and here the cattle, goats and donkeys all sleep in the same room. The people are poorer than any fellaheen (peasants) you ever saw. There is not a chair or table in the village, unless the Beshoor family have them. They are the only wealthy people here, and in years past they have oppressed the Protestants in the most cruel manner. Beshoor had a lawsuit with the people about the land of the village. It belonged to them, and he wanted it. So he brought Government horsemen and drove them off their lands and took the crops himself. They thought they would try a new way to get justice. The Government officials were all bribed, so there was no hope there. So they decided to turn Protestants and get aid in that way. They did not know what the Protestant religion was, but had some idea that it would help them. Down they went to Tripoli to the missionaries with a list of three hundred persons who wanted to become Angliz or Protestants. The people sometimes call us Angliz, or English, others call us "Boostrant" or "Brostant," but the common name is "Injiliyeen" or people of the Enjeel, or Evangel, that is, the Evangelicals.

Dr. Post and your Uncle Samuel came up to Safita to look into the matter. They found the people grossly ignorant and living like cattle, calling themselves Protestants and knowing nothing of the gospel. So they sent a teacher and began to teach them. When the people found that the missionaries did not come to distribute money, some of them went back to the Greeks. But others said no; this new religion is more than we expected. The more we hear, the more we like it. We shall live and die Protestants. Then Beit Beshoor became alarmed. They said, if this people get a school, have a teacher, and read the Bible, we cannot oppress them. They must be kept down in ignorance. So they began in earnest. The Protestants were arrested and dragged off to Duraikish to prison. Women and children were beaten. Brutal horsemen were quartered on their houses. That means, that a rough fellow, armed with pistols and a sword came to the house of Abû Asaad, and stayed two weeks. He made them cook chickens, and bring eggs and bread and everything he wanted every day, and bring barley for his horse. The poor man had no barley and had to buy, and the Greeks would make him pay double price for it. When he could get no more he was beaten and his wife insulted, and so it was in almost every Protestant house. They began to love the Gospel, and the men who knew how to read, would meet to read and pray together. One evening, all the Protestants met together in one of the houses. Their sufferings were very great. Their winter stores had been plundered, their olives gathered by Beit Beshoor, and they talked and prayed over their trouble. It was a dark, cold, rainy night, and the wind blew a gale. While they were talking together, a man came rushing in crying, run for your lives! the horsemen are here! Before they could get out, a squad of wild looking wretches were at the door. The men fled, carrying the larger children and the women carrying the babies, and off they went into the wilderness in the storm and darkness. Some women were seized and tied by ropes around their waists, to the horsemen, and marched off for miles to prison. The men who were caught were put in chains. Some time later they got back home again. But they would not give up the Gospel. Beshoor sent men who told them they could have peace if they would only go back to the Greek Church. But he offered peace quite too late. They had now learned to love the Gospel, and it was worth more to them than all the world beside. One night they were assembled in a little low black house, when some men came to the door and threw in burning bundles of straw and then shut the door, so that they were almost stifled with the smoke. They sent a messenger to Beirût. The case was laid before the Pasha, and he telegraphed to have the Protestants let alone. But Beshoor cared for nothing. A Nusairy was hired to shoot Abû Asaad, the leading Protestant. His house was visited in the daytime, and the man saw where Abû Asaad's bed was placed. In the night he came stealthily upon the roof, dug a hole through, and fired three bullets at the spot. But see how God protects his people! That evening Abû Asaad said to his wife; the floor is getting damp in the corner, let us remove the bed and mat to the other side. They did so, and when the man fired, the bullets went into the ground just where Abû Asaad had slept the night before! He ran out and saw the assassins and recognized one of them as the servant of Beshoor's son. The next day he complained to the Government and they refused to hear him because he did not bring witnesses!

But the poor people would not give up. Every day they went to their fields, carrying their Testaments in their girdles and at noontime would read and find comfort. Their children were half naked and half starved. When word reached Beirût, the native Protestant women met together and collected several hundred piastres (a piastre is four cents) for the women and girls of Safita. They made up a bale of clothing, and sent with it a very touching and kind letter, telling their poor persecuted sisters to bear their trials in patience, and put all their trust in the Lord Jesus. That aid, together with the contributions made by the missionaries and others in Beirût, gave them some relief, and the kind words of sympathy strengthened their hearts. The school was kept up amid all these troubles. One of the boys was taught in Abeih Seminary, and two of the girls were sent to the Beirût Female Seminary.

You would have been amused to see those girls when they first reached Beirût. They walked barefoot from Safita down to Tripoli, about forty miles, and then Uncle S. took them on to Beirût. He bought shoes for them, and hired two little donkeys for them to ride, but they preferred to walk a part of the way, and would carry their shoes in their hands and run along the sandy beach in the surf, far ahead of the animals. I rode out to meet them, and they were a sorry sight to see. Uncle S. rode a forlorn-looking horse, and two ragged men from Safita walked by his side, followed by two ragged fat-faced girls riding on little donkeys. The girls were almost bewildered at the city sights and scenes. Soon we met a carriage, and they were so frightened that they turned pale, and their donkeys were almost paralyzed with fear. One of the little girls, when asked if she knew what that was, said it was a mill walking.

The first few days in school they were so homesick for Safita that they ran away several times. They could not bear to be washed and combed and sent to the Turkish bath, but wanted to come back here among the goats and calves and donkeys. One night they went to their room and cried aloud. Rufka, the teacher, asked them what they wanted? They said, pointing to the white beds, "We don't like these white things to sleep on. We don't want to stay here. There are no calves and donkeys, and the room is so light and cold!" The people here in Safita think that the cattle help to keep the room warm. In the daytime they complained of being tired of sitting on the seats to study, and wished to stand up and rest. One was 11 and the other 12 years old, and that was in 1865.

One of them, Raheel, fell sick after a time, and was much troubled about her sins. Her teacher Sara, who slept near her, overheard her praying and saying, "Oh Lord Jesus, do give me a new heart! I am a poor sinner. Do you suppose that because I am from Safita, you cannot give me a new heart? O Lord, I know you can. Do have mercy on me!"

Who are those clean and well dressed persons coming out of the church? Our dear brother Yusef Ahtiyeh, the native preacher, and his wife Hadla, and Miriam, the teacher of the girls' school. Yusef is one of the most refined and lovely young men in Syria. What a clear eye he has, and what a pleasant face! He too has borne much for his Master. In 1865, when he left the Greek Church, he was living with his brother in Beirût. His brother turned him out of the house at night, with neither bed nor clothing. He came to my house and staid with me some time. He said it was hard to be driven out by his brother and mother, but he could bear anything for Christ's sake. Said he, "I can bear cursing and beating and the loss of property. But my mother is weeping and wailing over me. She thinks I am a heretic and am lost forever. Oh, it is hard to bear, the 'persecution of tears!'" But the Lord gave him grace to bear it, and he is now the happy spiritual guide of this large Protestant community, and the Nusairy Sheikhs look up to him with respect, while that persecuting brother of his is poverty-stricken and sick, and can hardly get bread for his children.