Ten Years' Captivity in the Mahdi's Camp 1882-1892

by Josef Ohrwalder; Sir F. R. Wingate

Others would sneak about like wild beasts, their loins covered with the merest rag, and if they saw anyone alone carrying eatables, they would pounce down on him like tigers, content even to seize a handful. These were called "Khatafin" (i.e. snatchers, or birds of prey), and at first they were fairly successful in their sudden attacks; but gradually people understood what to be prepared for, and the wretched creatures would be beaten off with sticks: hunger seemed to make them insensible to pain.

One could see hundreds of these starving people wandering about, mere bags of skin and bone, and almost shapeless; they would eat anything, no matter how repulsive. The skins of the camels which had been killed after the defeat of the Kababish and Gehena, and which had been used as coverings for the roofs of the houses, were now taken down, roasted, and eaten in that condition.

Perhaps the most horrible scenes occurred at the places where animals were slaughtered. Hundreds of starving men and women would be seen standing around with cups or gourds in their hands, ready to catch the blood before it fell, and then, as the animal would be writhing on the ground in its death-agony, they would fall upon it to catch the blood as it flowed out of its wound, whilst a crowd would be seen struggling on the ground for the few drops which had escaped and become mixed up with the dust and sand; these struggles generally ended in fights, in which the receptacles were broken, and the people besmeared with their contents, which added to the grim ghastliness of this dreadful sight. No power on earth could have restrained these poor sufferers—the pangs of hunger had driven them mad.

Although famine swept off hundreds, still people poured in from the provinces. Male camels and bullocks had become scarce, and the females were now slaughtered without mercy, even should they be with young. Old bones of animals were ground to powder and made into a sort of bread, which was eaten with avidity; even the decaying carcases of donkeys were consumed in this terrible struggle for food.

But in all this wretched misery the Khalifa showed no mercy, pity, or a desire to relieve these terrible sufferings. He took good care that his Baggaras should be fed, but for the others he cared not a jot. Hunger certainly had the effect of bringing to the front all manner of inventive genius; as it was now no longer possible to rob and steal, the khatafin decided to let the sellers alone, provided they would not hinder them in their attempts to get what they could out of the buyers.

Omdurman was full of strangers who had no notion of the existence of the "khatafin," and would carelessly go to market to buy their food; but no sooner had they placed their money in the shopman's hands than the "khatafin," with wild yells, would seize the money in a trice, and leave the purchaser standing with empty hands. Naturally, the shopmen would not deliver to them the goods, the price of which had been stolen by the "khatafin."

One could fill a book with the thousands of strange episodes which occurred during this awful famine. Children, deserted by their mothers—poor, wretched, starving little things—would beg in the most pitiful, heart-breaking way for alms. Beggars would follow one about till late at night, and would stand about one's house; they would beg for hours even for a grain of food. A poor naked little boy one day broke into our house, crying, "Gian Gowi!" ("I'm very hungry!") The tone in which it was said, the wistful, sunken eyes, and the wretched condition of the boy, could not but excite our pity, though hundreds of beggars had been turned away before he came; we fed him, and he survived the terrible year of famine, but he had forgotten his name, so we always called him "Gian Gowi." Often did I see poor little skeletons of infants trying to get nourishment from their dead mother's breasts.

The following instance will give the reader some insight into the horrors of this famine. One day a poor woman came to me with three starving children; she carried one in each arm, while the eldest clung to her skirt, the whole four looked like wandering skeletons. With a voice of agonised supplication, which could come from a mother only, she earnestly begged me to take the boy and feed him, and that if he survived he could remain for ever my slave. Here was a poor mother who preferred to see her child a slave than to look on whilst he died of starvation before her eyes. This touched me to the very heart, but I could not accept the offer, for I had scarcely enough food for myself, so I dismissed her with a handful of dhurra.

The next day the mother came with one child less, and the third day she came with one child only; and at last she came alone, saying that she was now going to follow her three loved children. After that I never saw her again. If grief did not kill her, hunger must certainly have claimed her as a victim.

One day a girl presented herself before the judge of the market court, and reported that her mother had roasted her little brother and eaten him, and that now she had run away, as she was afraid she might suffer the same fate. The Kadi at once sent some soldiers with the girl to seize the unnatural mother; they found a poor half-starved woman with an ear and a piece of a leg. She was taken before the Kadi, and took a solemn oath that the only child she ever had was the girl; she was immediately interned in the zariba, and the matter reported to the Grand Kadi, who ordered the leg and ear to be exposed on the gallows. Even the savage blacks, who were hardened by constant warfare, were impressed with the horror of the poor woman's action, and crowded round the zariba to gaze at her; but it was soon discovered that the wretched creature was raving mad, so the Khalifa pardoned her, but she died a few days afterwards.