The Eesa, here mixed with the Gudabirsi, have little power: we found them poor and proportionally importunate. The men, wild-looking as open mouths, staring eyes, and tangled hair could make them, gazed with extreme eagerness upon my scarlet blanket: for very shame they did not beg it, but the inviting texture was pulled and fingered by the greasy multitude. We closed the hut whenever a valuable was produced, but eager eyes peeped through every cranny, till the End of Time ejaculated "Praised be Allah!" [43] and quoted the Arab saying, "Show not the Somal thy door, and if he find it, block it up!" The women and children were clad in chocolate- coloured hides, fringed at the tops: to gratify them I shot a few hawks, and was rewarded with loud exclamations,—"Allah preserve thy hand!"—"May thy skill never fail thee before the foe!" A crone seeing me smoke, inquired if the fire did not burn: I handed my pipe, which nearly choked her, and she ran away from a steaming kettle, thinking it a weapon. As my companions observed, there was not a "Miskal of sense in a Maund of heads:" yet the people looked upon my sun-burnt skin with a favour they denied to the "lime-white face."
I was anxious to proceed in the afternoon, but Raghe had arrived at the frontier of his tribe: he had blood to settle amongst the Gudabirsi, and without a protector he could not enter their lands. At night we slept armed on account of the lions that infest the hills, and our huts were surrounded with a thorn fence—a precaution here first adopted, and never afterwards neglected. Early on the morning of the 4th of December heavy clouds rolled down from the mountains, and a Scotch mist deepened into a shower: our new Abban had not arrived, and the hut-mats, saturated with rain, had become too heavy for the camels to carry.
In the forenoon the Eesa kraal, loading their Asses [44], set out towards the plain. This migration presented no new features, except that several sick and decrepid were barbarously left behind, for lions and hyaenas to devour. [45] To deceive "warhawks" who might be on the lookout, the migrators set fire to logs of wood and masses of sheep's earth, which, even in rain, will smoke and smoulder for weeks.
About midday arrived the two Gudabirsi who intended escorting us to the village of our Abbans. The elder, Rirash, was a black-skinned, wild- looking fellow, with a shock head of hair and a deep scowl which belied his good temper and warm heart: the other was a dun-faced youth betrothed to Raghe's daughter. They both belonged to the Mahadasan clan, and commenced operations by an obstinate attempt to lead us far out of our way eastwards. The pretext was the defenceless state of their flocks and herds, the real reason an itching for cloth and tobacco. We resisted manfully this time, nerved by the memory of wasted days, and, despite their declarations of Absi [46], we determined upon making westward for the hills.
At 2 P.M. the caravan started along the Fiumara course in rear of the deserted kraal, and after an hour's ascent Rirash informed us that a well was near. The Hammal and I, taking two water skins, urged our mules over stones and thorny ground: presently we arrived at a rocky ravine, where, surrounded by brambles, rude walls, and tough frame works, lay the wells— three or four holes sunk ten feet deep in the limestone. Whilst we bathed in the sulphureous spring, which at once discolored my silver ring, Rirash, baling up the water in his shield, filled the bags and bound them to the saddles. In haste we rejoined the caravan, which we found about sunset, halted by the vain fears of the guides. The ridge upon which they stood was a mass of old mosques and groves, showing that in former days a thick population tenanted these hills: from the summit appeared distant herds of kine and white flocks scattered like patches of mountain quartz. Riding in advance, we traversed the stony ridge, fell into another ravine, and soon saw signs of human life. A shepherd descried us from afar and ran away reckless of property; causing the End of Time to roll his head with dignity, and to ejaculate, "Of a truth said the Prophet of Allah, 'fear is divided.'" Presently we fell in with a village, from which the people rushed out, some exclaiming, "Lo! let us look at the kings!" others, "Come, see the white man, he is governor of Zayla!" I objected to such dignity, principally on account of its price: my companions, however, were inexorable; they would be Salatin—kings—and my colour was against claims to low degree. This fairness, and the Arab dress, made me at different times the ruler of Aden, the chief of Zayla, the Hajj's son, a boy, an old woman, a man painted white, a warrior in silver armour, a merchant, a pilgrim, a hedgepriest, Ahmed the Indian, a Turk, an Egyptian, a Frenchman, a Banyan, a sherif, and lastly a Calamity sent down from heaven to weary out the lives of the Somal: every kraal had some conjecture of its own, and each fresh theory was received by my companions with roars of laughter.
As the Gudabirsi pursued us with shouts for tobacco and cries of wonder, I dispersed them with a gun-shot: the women and children fled precipitately from the horrid sound, and the men, covering their heads with their shields, threw themselves face foremost upon the ground. Pursuing the Fiumara course, we passed a number of kraals, whose inhabitants were equally vociferous: out of one came a Zayla man, who informed us that the Gudabirsi Abbans, to whom we bore Sharmarkay's letter of introduction, were encamped within three days' march. It was reported, however, that a quarrel had broken out between them and the Gerad Adan, their brother-in- law; no pleasant news!—in Africa, under such circumstances, it is customary for friends to detain, and for foes to oppose, the traveller. We rode stoutly on, till the air darkened and the moon tipped the distant hill peaks with a dim mysterious light. I then called a halt: we unloaded on the banks of the Darkaynlay fiumara, so called from a tree which contains a fiery milk, fenced ourselves in,—taking care to avoid being trampled upon by startled camels during our sleep, by securing them in a separate but neighbouring inclosure,—spread our couches, ate our frugal suppers, and lost no time in falling asleep. We had travelled five hours that day, but the path was winding, and our progress in a straight line was at most eight miles.
And now, dear L., being about to quit the land of the Eesa, I will sketch the tribe.
The Eesa, probably the most powerful branch of the Somali nation, extends northwards to the Wayma family of the Dankali; southwards to the Gudabirsi, and midway between Zayla and Berberah; eastwards it is bounded by the sea, and westwards by the Gallas around Harar. It derives itself from Dirr and Aydur, without, however, knowing aught beyond the ancestral names, and is twitted with paganism by its enemies. This tribe, said to number 100,000 shields, is divided into numerous clans [47]: these again split up into minor septs [48] which plunder, and sometimes murder, one another in time of peace.
A fierce and turbulent race of republicans, the Eesa own nominal allegiance to a Ugaz or chief residing in the Hadagali hills. He is generally called "Roblay"—Prince Rainy,—the name or rather title being one of good omen, for a drought here, like a dinner in Europe, justifies the change of a dynasty. Every kraal has its Oddai (shaikh or head man,) after whose name the settlement, as in Sindh and other pastoral lands, is called. He is obeyed only when his orders suit the taste of King Demos, is always superior to his fellows in wealth of cattle, sometimes in talent and eloquence, and in deliberations he is assisted by the Wail or Akill— the Peetzo-council of Southern Africa—Elders obeyed on account of their age. Despite, however, this apparatus of rule, the Bedouins have lost none of the characteristics recorded in the Periplus: they are still "uncivilised and under no restraint." Every freeborn man holds himself equal to his ruler, and allows no royalties or prerogatives to abridge his birthright of liberty. [49] Yet I have observed, that with all their passion for independence, the Somal, when subject to strict rule as at Zayla and Harar, are both apt to discipline and subservient to command.
In character, the Eesa are childish and docile, cunning, and deficient in judgment, kind and fickle, good-humoured and irascible, warm-hearted, and infamous for cruelty and treachery. Even the protector will slay his protege, and citizens married to Eesa girls send their wives to buy goats and sheep from, but will not trust themselves amongst, their connexions. "Traitorous as an Eesa," is a proverb at Zayla, where the people tell you that these Bedouins with the left hand offer a bowl of milk, and stab with the right. "Conscience," I may observe, does not exist in Eastern Africa, and "Repentance" expresses regret for missed opportunities of mortal crime. Robbery constitutes an honorable man: murder—the more atrocious the midnight crime the better—makes the hero. Honor consists in taking human life: hyaena-like, the Bedouins cannot be trusted where blood may be shed: Glory is the having done all manner of harm. Yet the Eesa have their good points: they are not noted liars, and will rarely perjure themselves: they look down upon petty pilfering without violence, and they are generous and hospitable compared with the other Somal. Personally, I had no reason to complain of them. They were importunate beggars, but a pinch of snuff or a handful of tobacco always made us friends: they begged me to settle amongst them, they offered me sundry wives and,—the Somali Bedouin, unlike the Arab, readily affiliates strangers to his tribe—they declared that after a few days' residence, I should become one of themselves.