During the period of mourning, which extends to one year, black or yellow garments, or the ordinary apparel steeped in mire, must be worn; and on the demise of a relative or friend, both sexes scarify the cheeks by tearing from below each temple a circular piece of skin about the size of a sixpence; to accomplish which, the nail of the little finger is purposely suffered to grow like an eagle’s talon. An ecclesiastical remonstrance to the throne, representing this practice to be in direct violation of the written law, “Ye shall not make any cuttings in your flesh for the dead,” long since obtained the promulgation of a royal edict directing its discontinuance; but it is still universally practised, and throughout the kingdom there is scarcely an individual to be seen, whether male or female, who has not at some period of life been thus horribly disfigured.
The máteb, a small encircling cord of deep blue silk, chosen in reference to the smiling sky above, is the badge of debased Christianity throughout the land, and those who accidentally appear in public without it are severely censured by their pastors. Like other Eastern nations, the Amhára have no family name. They soon ripen and grow old. Girls become mothers at the early age of twelve, and are decayed before the summer of life has well commenced.
It has been conjectured by Pliny, that the Orientals received their first hints in architecture from the swallow, and that, in imitation of the abode of the feathered instructor, their primeval essays were made in clay. Whence the Abyssinians obtained their ideas on the subject it were difficult to tell, but it is certain that they have made little progress whether in execution or in design. Their houses, constructed as in the earliest days, are still a mere framework of stakes sparingly bedaubed with a rude coating of mud. Here thieves can readily break through and steal; and of such a flimsy nature are the materials employed, that the morning sun often rises a witness to the truth of the scriptural metaphor, “He built his house upon the sand, and it was swept away by the rising flood.”
The windows, when any windows there be, are mere perforations in the wall, furnished with clumsy shutters, but unprovided with any transparent substance; and thus, if the ponderous door is closed against the searching fog, or the cutting wintry blast, all possibility of admitting light is precluded; whilst, excepting through the crevices in the plank, and the apertures of the cracked walls, there exists no exit for the smoke of the sunken wood fire, which thus fills the solitary apartment, blackens the low roof, and occasions frequent attacks of ophthalmia. Throughout, the most slovenly appearance pervades the dreary interior. Furniture is limited to a small wicker table, a bullock’s hide, and a rickety bedstead abounding in vermin; and whilst the universal objection to the use of water, whether as regards the person or the apparel of the inmates, enhances the gloomy vista of cobweb desolation, dirt and filth choke up the surrounding enclosure.
The absence of drains or sewers compels the population of the towns and villages to live in the miasma of decomposing matter and stagnant water. The comfort of space is never consulted—stables and outhouses are far beyond the notions of the proprietor; and in the absence of all tidiness or comfort in the arrangement of the yards, the unseemly dunghill, which in other countries is carried away to improve the soil, is here suffered to accumulate and rot before the entrance. Poisoning the atmosphere with its baneful exhalations, it is periodically swept away by the descending torrents to feed the rank weeds which fatten in the mire; but no attempt is to be seen at the small trim garden, or neat rustic porch, even in the lone farm-steadings which are scattered throughout the country. All alike present a dreary look of desertion. The poultry, and the mules, and the farm-stock, and the inhabitants, all reside under the same roof. Bare walls and slovenly thatch rise from a straggling wattle stockade, which environs the premises to preserve the inmates from the nocturnal attacks of the prowling hyena, and to impart the fullest idea of confinement and misery. Few trees break the monotony of the scene. No busy hum of glad labour is to be heard—no bustle or noise among the elders—no merry game or amusement among the children; and thus to the European visitor the whole appears strange, savage, and unnatural.
With doors allowing free ingress to every injurious current, with roofs admitting the tropical rain, and sunken floors covered with unwholesome damp, it is only surprising that many more of the people of Shoa are not martyrs to disease. It is now nine years since an epidemic called ougáret made its appearance at the capital, and, as might have been anticipated, spread with fearful virulence in the foul city. The iron drum of misfortune was heard by the credulous pealing over the land; and although a black bull was led through the streets, followed by the inhabitants carrying stones upon their heads in token of repentance, and the sacrifice of atonement was duly performed, one half of the whole population were speedily swept away. The monarch sought strict seclusion in the remote palace at Machal-wans, where he would see no person until the plague was stayed; and those who survived of his terror-stricken subjects fled for a season from a hill which was declared by the superstitious priesthood to have been blasted by a curse from heaven.