January 5th, 1891.
Went in the morning to see my friend Hassan Effendi. He came down on the steamer with us; and, as he speaks excellent English, he has been quite a godsend. He informed me that he had found a camel sheikh, but that I must first go and visit the Mudir of the town to get permission to travel in the Eastern Desert. Accordingly, we set off together to the great man’s house. We found him seated on his divan, surrounded by his scribes and counsellors. Having been formally introduced to all the high officers of state, I was given a seat, and our “shauri” began.
Hassan Effendi explained that I had permission from the Sirdar to shoot in the Kittar mountains, but that it had not been given me in writing, which was certainly unfortunate. The Mudir thought deeply for a long time. Then he and all his supporters chattered and talked against each other, till I began to wonder what it was all about. When it was all over, Hassan Effendi told me that they had been discussing how I could possibly live in a country where there was no food. This, I explained, was easily done by means of stores carried on camels. I hoped the old boy was satisfied; but he said he would not let me go without leave from the Minister of the Interior at Cairo, and that I had better telegraph to the Sirdar to telegraph to the said Minister, who would in turn telegraph to him (the Mudir), sanctioning my departure. So matters stand at present, and I am awaiting a telegram to let me start. If it does not come to-night I shall go and “draw” the Mudir again, if only to get some more of that excellent coffee. My breakfast this morning consisted of an omelette and native black bread toasted. It is not very delicate in flavour, but I thought it better than the native bread one gets in Norway. Having only one kettle and no teapot in this establishment, they boiled the goat’s milk and tea up together, and brought it up as it was.
I rode out on a donkey with my dragoman Faragh, and succeeded in shooting fourteen pigeons and two doves. The pigeons fly very well, nice rocketing shots, and consequently give good sport. I could have shot a lot more, but had enough for our pot.
Have arranged with a camel sheikh, by name Suliman Jirmān, to pay him eighteen piastres (there are 97½ piastres in an English pound) a day for each camel. We are to have three for our baggage, one for the water in four skins, and three for riding. He says our first well, Bir ’Arrās, is dried up, so we shall have a longer distance to travel without water. He also says he knows the road to the mountain.
January 6th, 1891.
Still dawdling here, as no telegram has been received from the Minister. I telegraphed to Floyer this morning, and have had a reply saying he is telegraphing to the Sirdar, and that he is sorry the Mudir is so troublesome. The worst of it is, the Sirdar is up the river about three days from Cairo, and consequently it is rather difficult to get a telegram to reach him. I visited the ancient temple of Dendera on the other side of the river, such a wonderful place. I climbed up to the top after a great scramble, and got a magnificent view of the Nile Valley, and of the mountain opposite. The hieroglyphics on the wall are in wonderfully good preservation, especially in the chamber beneath the temple. These chambers are full of bats, and smell accordingly. I took eight photographs, and shot one pigeon. We lunched in the shade of the temple. All my camels are ready for a start, and I long to be off, especially as I want to send the camels and waterskins back here for Powney.
I was just getting into bed last night when a centipede about two and a half inches long crawled out. I secured him in a tumbler and counted his legs this morning. There were over one hundred on each side of his body. The mosquitoes here are very fierce and hungry, but one never sees them on the Nile itself,—they all seem to frequent the towns. An old fossil came here to-day and offered to take me two days into the desert to shoot wolves. I suppose he meant hyænas. I declined with thanks. Great preparations are being made here to receive the Khedive, who is coming up to Wadi Halfa next week.
Such lovely weather. Mail leaves to-night.
January 7th, 1891.