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

by Josef Ohrwalder; Sir F. R. Wingate

On Sunday evening I went to see a friend and returned at nine o'clock; this happened to be the last visit I was to make in Omdurman. Just as I stepped into my yard, there I saw Ahmed standing before me. In a few hasty words he told me to get ready as soon as possible; his friends had made a mistake and had come a day earlier with the camels. The sisters and Adila were all ready; I gave Ahmed the few small things I had as well as my arms, and told him to take the sisters to the appointed place, which was only about thirty yards from the hut, whilst I went off and informed the only person who was in the secret, of our sudden decision to leave a day earlier.

All fear had now gone, and, almost beside myself with excitement, I hastened to my friend's house and knocked at the door. "Who's there?" he asked. And when he knew who it was he was greatly surprised, and asked why I came so late. As some one else was standing near, I said that I had been seized with a violent pain, and had come to beg a few drops of laudanum, and then I approached him, pressed his hand, and whispered in his ear that we were on the point of starting.

The poor man received such a start, that had he not caught hold of something, he would have fallen; but I roused him by asking him loudly to get me the laudanum at once; so he went off to his room, and there, with a trembling hand, he put a few drops on a piece of sugar. I took it back to the house, which I found the sister had just left. Then wrapping myself in a black mantle, I locked the door, and took the key with me. I saw something dark in the distance, which I knew must be the camels, and thither I picked my way. In a few moments I had reached the spot, and a man whom I did not know helped me on to my camel; but there was no time to ask questions. Ahmed put the sisters on the camels, on which the two other Arabs rode, whilst I took Adila behind me on my camel.

Not thirty yards from where we were was a well, around which a number of female slaves were gathered; but the little noise we made was drowned by their laughter. The moment of mounting was perhaps the most dangerous time, for the camels were restive, and longing to be off. It was with the greatest difficulty the Arabs managed to keep their mouths closed, and no sooner were we on their backs than we glided swiftly away into the darkness. Now and then we saw fires, at which the people were cooking their food, or sitting around gossiping; fortunately it was a cold night, so most of the people were in their huts. We passed the spot where we had laid the poor sister who had recently died; it was sad to think that she was not with us now. We kept steadily moving forward, not a word had passed our lips; the camels had been well fed up on dhurra, and went so quickly that we could scarcely hold them in. I tried to peer through the darkness, while my ear was ready to catch the slightest sound of possible pursuers.

Soon we had left Omdurman far behind, and in the soft sand-bed of Khor Shambat we dismounted to have our saddles re-arranged; then we mounted again, and pursued our journey at a rapid pace northwards along the river bank. We were in all seven persons and four camels: the guide Ahmed Hassan, his two friends Hamed and Awad; Sister Catterina Chincarini and Sister Elizabetta Venturini; myself and Adila.

A cold north wind was blowing, which our rapid advance made quite cutting. I followed the Arab custom, and bound a large turban round my head, leaving only the eyes exposed. We passed several villages, but the barking of the dogs always gave us warning, and so we avoided them. I had not heard a dog bark for years, and the sound was quite pleasing to me. We met some Gellabas riding on donkeys, on their way to Omdurman, but in the darkness they could not see who we were, and we passed them rapidly; only Ahmed remained behind, to greet them and exchange news.

Now the narrow track led through thick bushes, which we could not rightly see; our clothes, hands, and feet got torn and scratched by the thorns; but we never checked the pace, and continued our course steadily northwards. "Time is money," they say, but in our case time was life; we crossed dry beds of streams, over which the animals would sometimes stumble and fall, the riders with them; but there was no time to think of pains and bruises; to pick oneself up, catch and mount the camel, which might easily have been lost in the desert, was all one had time to think about. None of us had watches, but during the many sleepless nights I had passed, I had become used to observing the stars, and could tell the time almost to within five minutes.

Just at dawn we neared the village of Wad Bishara, and pushed on quicker so as to pass it before daybreak. This village is generally considered two days north of Omdurman. We then left the ordinary track, and turned towards the desert, as we dared not go along the river bank during the daytime. At sunrise we could just see the thin strip of green which marked the course of the stream; still we did not alight, but pushed on and on, up and down hills, across long stretches of sandy plain. Our eyes became so red and swollen we could scarcely see, and they pained us considerably.

At length, after some hours, we drew up, dismounted ate a little biscuit, and drank some water, readjusted our saddles, then up and away again. My mind travelled back to Omdurman. Had our flight been discovered at once? What would happen to those left behind? How astonished they would be to find we had gone! But this train of thought was suddenly interrupted; one of the sisters had fallen off her camel, and was lying insensible on the ground; we picked her up, splashed her with water, and after a time brought her to; we then put her on to the camel again, and tied her firmly to the saddle; there was nothing else to be done—it was a question of life and death. So we rode continuously forward, in the desert by day and along the river bank by night.

I had asked Ahmed about the stranger who had helped me to mount my camel in Omdurman, and he told me that the animals had become so restive by good feeding that it was impossible for one man to hold them whilst the other two came to the hut to fetch us; he had therefore taken two friends into his confidence, and made them swear on the Kuran that they would not betray us. Just after sunset they had ridden the camels quite openly through the market-place, with their arms slung across the saddles, so that people should think they were post-camels, and no suspicion would be created.