Every family possesses an additional hut, (called “moraka,”) in which the flour necessary for the consumption of the house is ground. This operation is performed in a hollow stone, a species of rude mortar, which is fixed into the ground, whilst a girl, generally a slave, reduces the grain (dokn) with another cylindrical stone to a powder. In a family consisting of eight persons, one girl would be occupied throughout the whole year in grinding the necessary quantity of corn. This simple labour requires great exertion, and is only to be performed by girls who have attained their fourteenth year, younger children being unequal to the task. Even grown persons suffer considerably in this occupation, for it requires no slight exertion to roll a heavy stone all day long backwards and forwards in the heat of these huts; the poor creatures thus employed are generally bathed in perspiration, and yet they may be heard singing all day long. Their songs are certainly merely expressive of their desire to escape, or of longing after their homes. The chaunts are very peculiar, and, with few exceptions, the impromptu pouring-forth of the feelings of the singer, according to the custom prevalent over nearly the whole of the East.
Few songs are to be met with which the one learns of the other; for each individual sings exactly what he thinks, without any regard to metre or time. For their dances the natives have a few peculiar melodies, which, however, are frequently altered by variations of their own composition. The young female slaves are heard to sing chiefly in a minor key, and their notes are scarcely audible in the next hut: the song will frequently run in the following strain: “The sun is concealing itself behind the hills, come people to the joyous dance; the cows are milked, the work is done, light the fire; my lover comes to fetch me home, &c.” A tear may be seen to flow from the eye of many a girl as she thinks of her native hills, over these songs; time, however, is capable of assuaging the grief of these poor creatures, and after the lapse of two or three years but few of them devote a thought to their native country. In Egypt I have often conversed with both male and female slaves who scarcely remembered their fatherland, which they the more easily forget, as they meet with treatment in captivity they could not have experienced under the paternal roof; they subsequently adopt the customs and habits of the people with whom they are forced to live, and frequently laugh at the simple customs of their own country.
In the houses of the married there is a small elevation, of about one foot and a half in height, in which an earthern pot is immured up to its embouchure: this is called “tirankul,” and is for the purpose of fumigating the person. Wood cut into thin shavings, named “klet” and “telch,” is placed in the pot, and ignited, whereupon the person performs the fumigation. This smoke is very tonic in its operation, and so astringent that it corrugates the skin. The shirts are also fumigated with sandal-wood over this pot.
The influential and more opulent inhabitants of the village, e. g. the sheikhs or the djelabis, possess, in addition to the houses we have already described, a hut built in a quadrangular form and called “rakuba:” they are more spacious than the common dwellings, and are furnished with two entrances to admit of a freer circulation of air, but are not tenantable during the rainy season on account of the extreme lightness with which they are constructed. This description of public building serves the purpose of a place of abode for travellers, and is certainly preferable to the dark and hot tukkoli, which are built rather for the rainy season than for the dry and hot weather, during which period the people live more in the open air. In Bari and Lobeid, where many Turks and Dongolavi reside who look more to comfort, several spacious residences are to be met with, constructed on the principle of those observed in all Egyptian towns. The houses at Bari are more substantially built than those at Lobeid, which are, literally speaking, made of sand. An European architect would be much puzzled to erect a house of this description, if he were shown the material only. It consists of wood and sand; but as the swallows build their nests with very slight material, which, however, in time becomes as firm as stone, in like manner houses are constructed at Lobeid which, although they will not last for ever, resist the inclemencies of the weather for a great length of time, and afford the occupant a secure place of shelter.
In several parts of the East I have had frequent opportunities of observing that they build very neat dwellings as it were of nothing. Houses, two stories in height, are frequently erected from the ground in five or six weeks. The walls are represented by a thick framework of wood, lined with a few bricks. A coating of mortar covers the whole, and thus a house bears all the appearance of being built of stone, and does not easily fall, especially where they are not detached, but form streets, and the one, therefore, supports the other. In Kordofan, on the other hand, each man builds an isolated hut, and every species of building material, excepting wood, is wanting; the construction, therefore, is completely that of a swallow’s nest. When a man has fixed upon the plot of ground on which he intends to construct his house, the earth is excavated to the depth of half a foot; and as much of the sand dug out as is necessary for the building, is mixed with water in a well, at two or three paces distant from the site of the building. The foundation is now erected to a height of about two feet, and the labour is remitted for two or three days, to allow the wall of sand to acquire the proper firmness. This latter proceeding is the more essential as the whole fabric would tumble to pieces before it had attained its necessary height, unless this precaution were adopted. When the destined elevation is completed, and the wall is thoroughly dry, thin rafters are laid horizontally across it to form the skeleton of the roof. Mats of straw are now placed upon the rafters, and covered with a thin layer of sand, which is then wetted; small pebbles of quartz are now strewn over this bed, and the whole mass is firmly beaten together. A fabric of this nature is not unlike papier maché, and, like the latter, would become perfectly saturated with the first rain, and fall to pieces, if they did not take the precaution of covering the whole with a coating of cow-dung, which effectually keeps out water, and thus prevents the occurrence of such a calamity. It will be easily conceived that a house of this kind diffuses no very agreeable odour during the first few days after erection, and that its colour is by no means the most pleasing. In the rainy season this plastering has to be repeated several times, and yet the rain frequently penetrates. I have lived in one of these houses, and derived the greatest benefit from my umbrella both by day and by night.
Most places are provided with draw-wells, but the water is on the average very bad. The wells are situated at a short distance from some of their places of residence, and the tributary springs frequently dry up, as was the case in the year 1839, when many villages suffered from want of water. In several localities, where this element was formerly found at a depth of ten feet, it is now necessary to dig to a depth of twenty feet before it can be reached. About fifteen years ago water was found at twenty feet below the level of the ground at Lobeid; at present fifty feet must be penetrated before arriving at it. During the rainy season water is, indeed, never wanting; but the rains do not last long, and that which remains in the ponds either quickly evaporates, or becomes in a short time so deteriorated that it could not be drank without producing fatal consequences.
The arrangements in the interior of the tukkoli are as simple as the huts themselves. In addition to an “angareb” (a bedstead or frame, with straps fastened across it), a leathern shield, and a few spears, the furniture consists of the following objects:—a pot, called “burma,” for water; a second for boiling, and a third for “merissa” (a species of beer); further a flat earthern dish “doka” for baking bread; some few gourds for drinking; a wooden platter named “gedda” for the boiled food; and a dish of straw plaited from the leaves of the Doum palm, called “tabake.” Milk is kept in a basket formed of rushes so densely interlaced that no fluid can percolate: to render them thus impermeable they are steeped in boiling water immediately after they are plaited. Provisions and other articles of domestic economy are hung against the walls, to keep them from the mice and white ants; these insects are a thorough plague in the country, and nothing is safe from them; they will even gnaw and undermine the wood-work of a house, and cause the whole fabric to fall to pieces. Their habitation is the sand, especially where it is rather damp; everything in fact that is placed on the ground is in danger of being eaten up by them; chests and trunks should, therefore, be placed upon stones, for they do not creep up these: the open air is also fatal to the white ant. When they have gnawed anything to pieces they leave a moisture mixed with sand, which becoming hard forms an incrustation; and beneath this they carry on their work of destruction. This covering is not intended to defend them from other insects inimical to them, and likely to disturb them in their work, but to guard themselves against the access of the air, which, as I before mentioned, they cannot bear. I took all possible pains to learn something more of the habits of these animals, to find out where they live and in what numbers they congregate. I have often dug to a depth of one foot or two feet in the sand without meeting with one single ant; and yet, if I placed a wooden chest on the ground, where I had just been digging, I found in a short time the spot covered with hundreds of these insects.
The interior of some of the tukkoli is decorated with beautiful coloured straw mats; the angareb is also covered with variegated matting, and serves, at the same time, as a couch. Two or three ropes are drawn across the middle of the hut, to which ribbons, two fingers in breadth, plaited of rushes, and spreading out inferiorly, are attached; by these ligatures blue porcelain plates, of English manufacture, are suspended, to contain food and preserve it from the insects. A second cord is passed round the hut, to which black glass bottles are hung, ornamented with gold paper; part of these are empty, others again are filled with perfumery and cosmetics belonging to the women, as grease, palm-oil, oil of cloves, shebe,[18] telka,[19] etc. The walls are decorated with a shield, a two-edged sword, and a few spears. Before the tukkoli, a hollow cylinder made of cow-dung is frequently met with, it is placed on stones, and is hermetically closed with a lid. In this vessel the inhabitants keep their corn, but a majority of them bury their stores under-ground. For this purpose they dig a pit, and line it internally with straw-matting; the corn is then thrown in and covered with straw-mats; sand is now shot over the whole, and the ground is levelled. Cabinets d’aisance are not known to the natives; in these matters they imitate the cats. There are no stalls or stables for the domestic animals; the cattle is penned together in an enclosure of thorn, in the vicinity of the tukkoli. The fence is exceedingly dense, intended to keep out the wild beasts at night; and yet it frequently happens that a lion, or hyæna, when urged by hunger, will effect an entry through the thickest hedge, and carry away a sheep, a goat, or a calf.
The habits of the people are very simple, and their labour is restricted to the most necessary employments. As soon as the day begins to dawn old and young rise from their couches, and after washing their faces, hands, and feet, in accordance with their religion, proceed to work; the occupation of the majority, however, consists in again retiring to the angareb. It is worthy of remark that no one sleeps on the bare ground, and that the meanest slave is provided with a mat to lie upon. In the houses of the more respectable natives, one or two angarebs are always found on which they sleep, while the lower orders are provided with straw-mats, for no human being could endure lying on the mere ground for any length of time; for the vermin harbouring in the sand would nearly eat him up. The bed of a slave is certainly not of eiderdown, and many Europeans, rising in the morning from a couch of this description, would consider they had undergone a severe punishment; for these straw, or rather cane-mats, are plaited from a species of reed, the stalks of which are as thick as the little finger, and each particular reed is so far apart in the texture, that their entire number may be counted in the morning on the body of the slave. I have often asked these poor wretches how they could possibly sleep on a bed of torture of this kind, but they have always assured me, laughing, that they could rest better there than on the bare ground. As a general rule no one places any pillow under his head, not even as much as a stone; but the natives cover themselves with a shirt, if indeed they have one; in this garment they envelope the whole head, and if any one, in fact, neglect covering his head at night, he will experience a sensation of heaviness and indisposition in the morning, which will continue during the whole day. Breakfast is not customary in this country. Although the coffee from Abyssinia, and even from Yemen, which stands in commercial connexion with Kordofan, is very cheap, this beverage is but little known and is only drank by some few djelabi and the Turkish residents of Kordofan; with the exception of one coffee-house at Lobeid, there is no establishment of the kind in the whole province, and this single café is frequented by the Turks solely, and not by the natives. Among the most respectable Dongolavi, however, some few may be occasionally found who do not abstain altogether from this beverage. If a foreigner visit an influential person in the morning a pipe and merissa are offered him, and a dish, reckoned a great delicacy, which requires, however, a stomach differently constituted to that of an European to digest it. I, on one occasion, had the honour of being treated with this dish. I was one day invited by a djelabi at Denaglé to breakfast. Having arrived at the appointed time, I was conducted to a seat on an angareb covered with beautiful carpets, and a pipe and merissa were handed to me. When I observed that no fire was lighted in the fire-place and that no other preparations were being made, I asked, without further ceremony, where the breakfast was, for I knew very well that simple merissa would not be considered sufficient to offer me, and I had not time to remain longer. The djelabi told me that it would be ready immediately, and pointed to a sheep which was running about in the court, adding, that he would not have it slaughtered until I had arrived. I replied, “It will soon be midday and I have other business to attend to, and cannot wait until the meat is roasted or boiled, especially as you have not even prepared a fire.” My host assured me that the breakfast would be ready immediately, and that I should have ample time to attend to my business. My curiosity was now excited to the utmost to know with what kind of breakfast he intended to honour me, and I kept my eyes continually on the sheep, which was to be sacrificed in honour of my visit; judge, however, of my embarrassment when a slave, on a signal from his master, quickly decapitated the sheep, and without waiting to flay the animal, ripped up its abdomen, took out the stomach, cleaned it, cut it into small pieces, and laying them on a wooden dish, squeezed the gallbladder of the animal, as we might a lemon, on the fragments, and lastly, strewed a considerable quantity of cayenne pepper over the whole mess. This being done, and, indeed, in an incredibly short space of time, I was pressed to help myself quickly, before the dish became cool; I sighed, however, and thanking my host, begged to be excused, assuring him at the same time that an European stomach could not possibly bear this very exquisite dish, and that I would, therefore, content myself with looking on. He smiled piteously at my fastidiousness, and showed evident symptoms of relishing the delicacy. I afterwards frequently observed that this is a very favourite dish, and was tempted, rather to satisfy my curiosity than my appetite, to partake of it; and really the flavour is not very disagreeable, for the gall in combination with the cayenne takes away the odour and taste of the raw paunch, nevertheless I could never eat a sufficient quantity of it to satisfy the demands of hunger. Not only in Kordofan, but in Sennaar, and Abyssinia, also, this dish is considered, as I have before observed, a great delicacy.
The duties the inhabitants have to perform during the day require very little trouble, and in no country have I seen as much indolence as in Kordofan. Every man, be his means ever so small, endeavours to purchase a slave, and this poor wretch must then do all the work, in order that his master may lie all day long in the shade, indulging in idleness. The natives never perform any more labour than is absolutely necessary, and thus much only when it is urgently required. Those who attend to agriculture have very little trouble or care in their employment; for they have nothing to do but to sow the seed at a certain season, and to carry the harvest in three months’ time. Very few persons occupy themselves with handicraft. The houses are repaired, or renovated, at the utmost every three or five years; thus no one has anything to do, and the natives are consequently seen lying about sleeping all the day long. The women attend, indeed, to the domestic duties, but these are inconsiderable, and if their means will permit it, they pass the greater part of the day on the angareb. The men have no amusements; only very few of the Dongolavi smoke tobacco, but the negro tribes indulge the more in this habit. They take little or no interest in the dances of the women, and when they are tired of lying down, and have slept to their hearts’ content, a few neighbours congregate; and after greetings and mutual inquiries into the state of their health,—a ceremony which generally occupies a quarter of an hour,—the conversation at the most turns upon the governor and the casheffs, or they talk of their sick camels or asses. Politics in general are a very small trouble to them; the taxes, however, which they are forced to pay several times in the year, cause them a few days of great uneasiness. On these occasions they consult together how they may best collect them; and if the harvest was successful, and merissa consequently plentiful, many a bitter hour is drowned with this liquor. Their conversation becomes then more animated, they console themselves with providence, and the rhababa, a lyre with five strings, entirely dissipates their cares. This instrument is their chief amusement, they will listen for hours to its monotonous notes, and it forms a frequent accompaniment to the voice; but story tellers who relate tales from the Arabian Nights are not to be met with among them as in Egypt. However noisy their amusements may become, or whatever the effects of the merissa may be, they seldom or never proceed to quarrels. Swearing and abusive language is scarcely ever heard among them as it is among the Arabs, and if, as a very rare occurrence, a quarrel ever arise, it is immediately arranged by the elders present. They never fall to blows, although they may, perhaps, occasionally pull each other about by the shirts. They are hospitable, and every one who casually passes by whilst they are amusing themselves is considered their guest, and must participate in the amusements.