Split bamboo forms the brooms, and the hard material tears the plaster from the walls. A coarse pottery, which the saltness of the clay renders peculiarly brittle, is fabricated by the Wasawahili at Changani Point, and supplants the original lagenarias. Some Kumárs, or Hindustani potters, came to Zanzibar a few years ago; they suffered so severely from fever that, fancying themselves bewitched, all ran away.
CHAPTER VI.
VISIT TO THE PRINCE SAYYID MAJID.—THE GOVERNMENT OF ZANZIBAR.
‘Zanzibar is an island of Africa, on the coast of Zanzibar, governed by a king who is a tributary to the Portuguese.’ Reece’s Cyclopædia.
We now proceed to wait upon H. H. the ‘Sayyid of Zanzibar and the Sawahil,’ who would be somewhat surprised to hear that he is ‘tributary to the Portuguese.’
The palace lies east of, and close to, the fort. It is fronted by a wharf, and defended by a stuccoed platform mounting eight or nine brass guns en barbette, intended more for show than use. The building is a kind of double-storied, white-washed barrack, about 140 feet long, roofed with dingy green-red tiles, and pierced with a few windows jealously raised high from the ground; shutters painted tender-green temper the sun-glare, and a few stunted, wind-wrung trees beautify the base. Seaward there is a verandah, in which levees are held, and behind it are stables and sundry outhouses, an oratory and a graveyard, where runaway slaves, chained together by the neck, lie in the shade. In this oratory, as in other mosques, are performed the prayers of the two Great Festivals which, during the late prince’s life, were recited at the Mto-ni ‘Cascine.’ Here, too, is the large, gable-ended house commenced in his elder age by the enterprising Sayyid Said, and built, it is said, after the model of the Dutch factory at Bander Abbas. It was intended for levees, and for a hall of pleasure. Unhappily, a large chandelier dropped from the ceiling, seventy masons were crushed by a falling wall; and other inauspicious omens made men predict that the prince would never enter the ‘Akhir el Zaman’ (End of Time). It has since been shut up, like one of our ghost-haunted houses, which it not a little resembles.
In the centre of the square, opposite the palace, stands the Sayyid’s flag-staff, where the ‘Bákúr’ is administered, where executions take place, and where, according to an American traveller,[[66]] distinguished criminals are fastened to a pole, and are tied from the ankles to the throat, ‘till the soul of the dying man is literally squeezed out of its earthly tenement.’ The author, who visited Zanzibar in ‘the mercanteel,’ was grievously hoaxed by some kind friend. Under Sayyid Said torture was unknown, death was inflicted according to Koranic law, and only one mutilation is recorded. I may remark, en passant, that in this part of the world the two master romancers, Ignorance and Interest, have been busily at work; and that many a slander rests upon the slenderest foundation of fact. Adventurers have circulated the most ridiculous tales. We hear, or rather we have heard, of 300,000 Arab cavalry, and hordes of steel-clad negroes, possibly a tradition of the ‘Zeng’ (Zanzibarians), who, in the days of the Caliphs, plundered Basrah. We read of brilliant troops of horse artillery, whose only existence was in the brain of some unprincipled speculator; and yet this report sent a battery from Woolwich as a present for the late Sayyid. To the same category belong the Amazons bestriding war-bul locks, doubtless a revival of El Masudi, who in our tenth century reported that the ‘King of Zeng’ commanded, Dahoman-like, an army of soldieresses, mounted, as are the Kafirs, upon oxen—the Portuguese ‘boi-cavallos.’ Some travellers have asserted that the Cape tribes learned cattle-riding from Europeans: but Camoens, making his hero land at the Aguada de S. Braz, after sailing from the Angra de Santa Elena, expressly states—
‘Embrown’d the women by the burning clime,
On slow-paced oxen riding came along.’—Canto V. 63.
Durbars, or levees, are held three times a day, after dawn-prayers, in the afternoon, and at night. The ceremonial is simple. The lieges, passing the two Sepoys on guard at the gate, enter with the usual Moslem salutation, and after kissing hands take their appointed places. There is no lord of the basin, lord of the towel, or lord of the pelisse, deemed indispensable by every petty Persian governor. The ruler is addressed, Yá Sídí, my lord, and is spoken of by his subjects as Sayyidna, our prince. Coffee is served, but only at night; and all forms of intoxicants are jealously banished. The long, bare reception-hall, ceilinged with heavy polished beams, and paved with alternate slabs of white and black marble brought from Marseille, boasts only a few dingy chandeliers, and three rows of common wooden-bottomed chairs. It is, however, unencumbered with the usual mean knicknacks, French clocks and bureaux, cheap prints, gaudy china, and pots of neglected artificial flowers, supposed to adorn the window-sills; nor, after the fashion of Zanzibarian grandees, are the sides lined with seamen’s chests, stuffed full of arms, watches, trinkets, cashmere shawls, medicines, and other such ‘chow chow.’
The Prince received us at the Sadr, or top of the room, with the usual courtesy. He was then a young man, whose pleasing features and very light complexion generally resembled those of his father. This is said to have been the case with the whole family. We found the ‘divan’ of Egypt and Turkey unaccountably absent, banished by the comfortless black-wood ‘Kursi’ of Bombay. After a few minutes’ conversation two chairs were placed before us, bearing a tray of sweetmeats, biscuits, and glasses of sherbet; of these we ate and drank a mouthful in acceptance of hospitality, and we were duly pressed to eat. Lemonade and confitures take the place of strong waters amongst Europeans, and of the cocoa-nut milk, the mangoes, and the oranges of humbler establishments. Pipes, however, though offered by the late Sayyid to distinguished European guests, are never introduced, in deference to Wahhabi prejudice; nor did we suffer from the rose-water ablutions of which M. Guillain complains. Feminine eyes did not peep at us from the inner apartments; but we were fronted by well-dressed slaves who, as we pass through the crowded outer hall, will steal, if they can, the gilt tassels from our sword-knots, and who have picked the pockets of guests, even when dining with their Prince. H. H. the Sayyid Majid took considerable interest in our projected journey, and suggested that a field-piece might be useful to frighten the Washenzi (wild men). We left the palace much pleased with the kindness and cordiality of its owner, into whose ear, moreover, evil tongues had whispered the very worst reports.