In the evening we had an entertainment of dancing and singing, in which Dowass, as well as the soldiers, took part. They performed a kind of sword dance, one performer beating on a drum made of palm wood and horse hide, while the rest held their swords over their shoulders and chaunted in solemn measure, dancing as solemnly. Occasionally the swords were brandished, and then there was a scream very like what may be heard in the hunting-field at home. Once or twice there was a distinct who-whoop, exactly in the proper key, and with the proper emphasis. The tunes were many of them striking, after the manner of Arabian music. One of them ran thus:—
The dancing ended, a huge bowl of date molasses (dibs) and juice from trengs (a gigantic sort of lemon) was mixed; and surprising quantities of this temperance liquid drunk. Now we are quiet, outside the castle, which is locked up for the night, and are at liberty to write or make sketches by moonlight, things we dare not do in the daytime.
January 7.—Hamdán, our Sherâri guide, who had disappeared, returned this morning furtively for the balance of pay due to him. He says he is afraid of the people at the castle, and cannot stay with us.
A messenger has come from Meskakeh with an invitation from Jóhar for us, so we are going on there to-morrow. We are not, however, to stay with Jóhar, as he has no house of his own there, but with our relations, the Ibn Arûks, who have at last been really discovered. Nassr ibn Arûk, the head of the family, hearing of our arrival, has sent his son with every sort of polite message, and it is to his house we shall go. The young man is modest, and well-mannered, without pretension, honest and straightforward, if one can read anything in faces; and evidently much impressed with the honour done him by our intended visit.
We have been making calls all the morning, first on our former host, Huseyn el-Kelb, and the other relatives, and then on one or two notables of the town. Huseyn says that the Beyt Habûb, mentioned by Mr. Palgrave, exists, but that the noblest of all the families is that of Mehsin ibn Dirra, formerly Sheykh of Jôf, but now reduced to the condition of one of the Emir’s subjects. Ibn Dirra is not (Mohammed tells us) by any means pleased at the political changes in Jôf; but he is afraid to show more than a half-smothered discontent, for Mohammed ibn Rashid keeps a hostage for his good conduct in the person of his eldest son. This youth resides at Haïl, where he is not exactly a prisoner, but cannot return to his friends. At all the houses we were fed and entertained, having to drink endless cups of coffee flavoured with cloves (heyl), and eat innumerable dates, the helwet el Jôf, which they say here are the best in Arabia; they are of excellent flavour, but too sweet and too sticky for general use. The people of Jôf live almost entirely on dates; not, however, on the helwet, which are not by any means the common sort. There are as many varieties here of dates as of apples in our orchards, and quite as different from each other. The kind we prefer for ordinary eating is light coloured, crisp, and rounder than the helwet; while these are shapeless, and of the colour of a horse chestnut. It is a great mistake to suppose that dates are better for being freshly gathered; on the contrary, they mellow with keeping. The sweeter kinds contain so much sugar, that when placed in an open dish they half dissolve into a syrup, in which the sugar forms in large lumps. I have no doubt that regular sugar could be manufactured from them.
The coffee making is much the same process here as among the Bedouins of the north, except that it is more tedious. First, there is an interminable sorting of the beans, which are smaller and lighter in colour than what one gets in Europe; then, after roasting, a long pounding in a mortar, though the coffee is never pounded quite fine; then an extraordinary amount of washing and rinsing of coffee-pots, five or six of them; and lastly, the actual boiling, which is done three times. The Jôf mortars are very handsome, of red sandstone, the common stone of the country, and are, I believe, an article of export. I should like to take one away with me but they are too heavy, a quarter of a camel load each. The design on them is simple but handsome, and I should not be surprised if it were very ancient. The only other manufactures of Jôf that I heard of, are cartridge belts and woollen abbas. The former are showy and tipped with silver, and all the servants have purchased them; the latter are made of wool brought from Bagdad. Awwad bought one for six and a half mejidies.
We next had a look at the castle of Marid, the only building of stone in Jôf. Its construction dates, I should say, from mediæval times, certainly it is not classic, and it has no particular feature to make it interesting. It looks best at a distance. I find the map places it a long way from Jôf, but in reality it is within the walls of the town, on the western edge. It stands about 2000 feet above the sea.
While sitting in Ibn Dirra’s house, we saw an instance of Ibn Rashid’s paternal government, and the first sign of Wahhabism. The midday prayer was called from the roof of the mosque close by, for there is no minaret in Jôf, but for some time nobody seemed inclined to move, taking our visit as an excuse. Then an old man with a sour face began lecturing the younger ones, and telling them to get up and go to pray, and finding precept of no avail, at last gave them the example. Still the main body of the guests sat on, till suddenly up jumped the two young soldiers who had come with us, and shouting “kum, kum,” get up, get up, set to with the flats of their swords on the rest and so drove them to the mosque, all but our host, whose position as such made him sacred from assault. It is very evident that religion is not appreciated here, and except the sour looking old man nobody seemed to take the praying seriously, for the soldiers when they had done their duty of driving in the others, came back without ceremony from the mosque. The outward show of religion does not seem natural among the Arabs.
Another sword dance to-night, and another carouse on lemonade.