The Edge of the Desert

by Ianthe M. Dunbar

There was a sudden piercing wail from the women behind the door which seemed to cleave through the clotted sound of the drums and chant like the flash of a poignard. The grey light from the door fell on the ghastly face of the ragged youth. Twitches ran over his body and he staggered out from the rest. His head was thrust forward, and he held his arms stiffly behind him, jerking himself convulsively to the rhythm of the chants. He seemed to be half-hypnotised. His sickly face shone livid in the dim light, his eye-balls were turned up, and he moved in a series of jerks, staggering from side to side. And still the chanting and the music went on, barbaric and horrible, till the tension of one’s nerves became almost unbearable. The chief priest shouted something in a strident voice, and seizing the wretched creature by the shoulder he guided him round the mosque holding an object that dangled between the fingers of the other hand. As the group neared us, I saw it was a live scorpion about two inches long.

Meanwhile the boy was staggering and nearly falling and seemed to have little or no power over his limbs. It was horrible to watch, but I could not turn my eyes away. Suddenly the priest pressed the victim’s head back and dropped the wriggling insect into his open mouth. As far as I could see, the wretched creature devoured it ecstatically; I marked the movements of his throat as he swallowed. This was repeated twice. After that he was given large pieces of jagged glass, and these too he seemed to swallow. I cannot describe how horrible the whole thing was: the gloomy interior, the fanatical howling of the worshippers, and the dazed half-mad youth in the midst. He had been clinging to his guide, staggering from side to side. Suddenly he fell unconscious on the ground, and lay there groaning.

Meanwhile the ceremony went on, paying no more attention to him. Now first one and then another of the worshippers began to jerk backwards and forwards and to pull off their outer garments. One kept flinging his head from side to side, whilst his long black hair flapped first this way and then that. Long metal spikes about four feet in length were brought and the fanatics drove them into their throats or seemed to do so. In any case they drove them in so far that they held without support. They were led round, the ‘swords’ sticking out of their bare necks like pins in a pincushion. I felt quite sick, but worse was yet to come when they knelt down and the priest drove the flat-headed spikes still further in with a hammer. No blood flowed. All this time the drums and the chanting went on, till one’s brain reeled.

I think the men were in a state of hypnotic trance—their eyes were half-closed and they jerked backwards and forwards grunting at every stroke of the hammer. It was so horrible that I could not look at it for more than a few seconds. It was not only the dance itself but the whole feeling of barbarism and degradation. The atmosphere itself felt evil.

The doors were wide open and a few native children stood there staring at the scene within. One after another the row of worshippers began to jerk and step forward, already one burly man had fallen forward on his face and lay inert, the scorpion-eater was a mere twitching mass in a corner, and I had had enough and was thankful to push my way into the open air.

I stepped out into the courtyard of the mosque. Already the sky had paled to a clear amber, barred with the few flaming clouds of sunset. At the fondouk near by, camels were being loaded up to leave the town. They padded silently past in the dusk, their nodding heads turned to the tawny plain that stretched away in the distance to the soft purple of distant hills. Far away, twinkling lights showed the Bedouin encampments for which they were bound. One by one the great creatures passed me, the dust like smoke about their feet, followed by silent hooded figures along the white streak of road that led into the golden haze where the sun went down. Slowly the procession melted away into the distance till it merged into the blue haze that hung about the plain, leaving but a little feather of ruffled sand to show which way it had gone.

Though the educated classes, at least the men, are probably not much influenced by superstitions, the lower classes, especially the women, are cumbered about with them from the day of their birth to that of their death. The Koran allows the existence of certain supernatural beings, midway between angels and men, called genii, and these consist of two kinds, peris and djinns: the former are friendly, but the djinn if not actually malevolent is full of mischief, and it is as well to placate him. Different varieties live in fire, air and water. When drawing water from a well, the prudent housewife does not let down the bucket too suddenly, lest she might disturb a sleeping water-djinn. Any sudden movement might hurt or affront these invisible beings. Besides the constant anxiety to keep on the right side of them, there are a hundred and one things which are unlucky and must be avoided. Should you go to see an invalid on Friday, that person will die. Indeed, on any day of the week it is wiser not to call on him in the afternoon.

The black hand (erroneously called the hand of Fatma, Mohammed’s favourite daughter) painted on the walls of houses and on the prows of fishing boats is designed to avert the evil eye, and a tiny hand is often tattooed on the cheek or worn in the form of a brooch fastened in the folds of the turban. A piece of paper with a verse or two of the Koran written on it is put above the door to warn off scorpions, and many carry round their necks or in their turbans small amulets containing verses of the holy writings. These are also often hung round the necks of horses and camels. The burning of hyssop in the rooms of a house keeps evil spirits at bay, and seems a pleasantly easy method of disconcerting them.

Naturally enough in this atmosphere of superstition, the services of sorcerers and ‘wise women’ are much sought after, for the providing of talismans or for more nefarious designs. Nearly all are of Moroccan extraction, it being well known that those of that country are particularly powerful. The following legend explains how this came about.