Here I am, O Allah, here am I!
No partner hast thou. Here am I!
Verily the praise and the grace are thine, and the kingdom!
No partner hast thou. Here am I.
The director of our consciences now bade us be good pilgrims, avoiding quarrels, abusive language, light conversation, and all immorality. We must religiously respect the sanctuary of Meccah by sparing the trees and avoiding to destroy animal life, excepting, however, the “five instances,”—a crow, a kite, a rat, a scorpion, and a biting dog. We must abstain from washes and perfumes, oils, dyes, and cosmetics; we must not pare the nails nor shave, pluck or cut the hair, nor must we tie knots in our garments. We were forbidden to cover our heads with turban or umbrella, although allowed to take advantage of the shade, and ward off the sun with our hands. And for each infraction of these ordinances we were commanded to sacrifice a sheep.
The women followed our example. This alone would disprove the baseless but wide-world calumny which declares that El Islam recognises no soul in, and consequently no future for, the opposite sex.
The Early Fathers of the Christian Church may have held such tenet, the Mohammedans never. Pilgrimesses exchange the lisam—that coquettish fold of thin white muslin which veils, but does not hide, the mouth—for a hideous mask of split, dried, and plaited palm-leaves pierced with bull’s-eyes to admit the light. This ugly mask is worn because the veil must not touch the features. The rest of the outer garment is a long sheet of white cotton, covering the head and falling to the heels. We could hardly help laughing when these queer ghostly figures first met our sight, and, to judge from the shaking of their shoulders, they were as much amused as we were.
In mid-afternoon we left Zaribah, and presently it became apparent that although we were forbidden to take lives of others, others were not prevented from taking ours. At 5 p.m. we came upon a wide, dry torrent-bed, down which we were to travel all night. It was a cut-throat place, with a stony, precipitous buttress on the right, faced by a grim and barren slope. Opposite us the way seemed to be barred by piles of hills, crest rising above crest in the far blue distance. Day still smiled upon the upper peaks, but the lower grounds and the road were already hung with sombre shade.
A damp fell upon our spirits as we neared this “Valley Perilous.” The voices of the women and children sank into deep silence, and the loud “Labbayk!” which the male pilgrims are
ordered to shout whenever possible, was gradually stilled.