One day Allah sent forth some angels on a special mission to the earth. But beguiled by the charms of earthly women, the spirits lingered so long over their task and performed it so badly that they incurred the wrath of the Most High. Fearing lest their conversation on their return might trouble the limpid peace of heaven or sow discontent in young seraph hearts, Allah condemned the culprits to be cast forth for several centuries to a region midway between heaven and the earth. There, suspended in the æther above Fez, the exiled angels busy themselves in making amulets which they throw upon the earth below, to the great aggrandisement of the sorcerers of Morocco.
When it is feared that someone has been ‘overlooked’ by the evil eye, a magician is hastily sent for, and verses of the Koran are usually administered either externally in the shape of an amulet applied to the afflicted part, or internally, chopped up in hot water. Should the patient show no immediate signs of relief, the prescription is repeated till he either dies or recovers. A good deal is also done by the muttering of incantations and the touching of the sufferer. These ‘wise people’ are also extremely useful should a person wish to do harm to an enemy. By the saying of certain incantations accompanied by the shutting of a knife, his life may be quietly cut off with no unpleasant fuss whatever. Or magic powders can be introduced into the water he drinks or the food he eats, which will ensure the destruction of the peace of his household or serious illness to himself. This latter seems the more likely result of the two.
I. M. D.
They are also much sought after for love-philtres, or methods of reviving a waning love. There is a horrible story of a woman of good birth in Tunis many years ago, who consulted a magician as to the best way to regain her husband’s love. She was told she must give him couscous to eat, “made by a dead hand.” By dint of bribes, she made her way to a cemetery at midnight, had the newly buried body of a woman disinterred, set the corpse against a gravestone, and holding its rigid hand in hers used it to stir the contents of the cooking pot she had brought. The dead woman was then returned to the peace of her grave, and next day the unconscious husband ate the couscous. But alas! we do not know with what results. The facts leaked out and there was a great scandal over the desecration of a grave, but owing to the social position of the culprit the matter was hushed up.
I was told a strange story too by a European resident in Tunis. Some young man of Arab extraction became engaged, but wearying of his fiancée and wishing to marry someone else he consulted a native sorcerer. By degrees the girl became ill and seemed to be wasting away mysteriously. Doctors could do nothing and the mother was overcome with grief, as also appeared to be the young man. At last an old negress servant declared to the parents that their daughter must have been bewitched. Distracted at the girl’s rapid decline, they finally let the negress take them to consult a famous Arab sorcerer, in fact the very man to whom the young man had applied. Yes, he said, she would die, but he could save her were they prepared to give a higher sum than the young man had paid him to have the curse laid upon her. To this they agreed. A black cock was brought, its heart was taken out and transfixed with a nail on which was skewered her name, and it was then roasted at a slow fire. “And for a further larger sum,” remarked the magician, “I will transfer the malady to the young man himself.” But the parents fled. The patient recovered, and the engagement was speedily broken off.
CHAPTER III
AN ARAB WEDDING
Within a mile or two of Kairouan were various small orchards and gardens, and Ali Hassan told me importantly that he was the owner of one of these, consisting of olive trees, fruit trees and vines, for which he had given 600 francs, and that with taxes and extra payments the whole had cost him no less than a thousand. I was suitably impressed. But during a drive in that direction some of his pride collapsed. He had shown me his property with its mud hut in one corner which he referred to magnificently as “ma maison.” He intended to have it moved down to the roadside end of the field, “for a highway brings much money.” There he will have a little shop and sell coffee and beans, grapes and fruit.