113. Houses in the Delta, with Rain-proof Domes.
The man who can read and write is the rare exception in the country; perhaps two per cent. of the fellahin men can do so, but probably not one woman in ten thousand. Of education there is but very little, for the great majority of the people; in villages the children of the fellah seldom go to school, and in large towns the scholars are but a minority of the boys, while the girls are nowhere. In accounts they have some sharpness, but their reckoning would amuse an infant scholar in England. I overheard some quick lads, of about sixteen, anxiously discussing what a man’s wages were at £3 a month: they pretty soon saw that it was £1, or 100 piastres, every ten days, but how many piastres a day that was puzzled them all. One fellow proposed eleven; he was contradicted by another who said twelve; then another tried 9½; and at last, as a great discovery, one sagely reminded them all that ten tens made a hundred, and so a hundred piastres in ten days must be ten piastres a day. Egypt would almost satisfy Jack Cade.
The gross superstition, and the innumerable local saints, remind us again of mediaeval times. Many—perhaps most—of the people wear charms, written on paper, and sewn up in leather; they are worn around the neck, on the purse or pouch, or on the top of the cap. Cattle are also sometimes protected by them. It is common also for a man passing a saint’s tomb to repeat a prayer in a low mumble, even without stopping; while many go into the tomb-chamber to pray. These saints are anybody who has died in an odour of sanctity, probably within this century or the last—for few, I imagine, have a perennial reputation. Some of the great saints are commonly appealed to in the slightest emergency, such as lifting a weight or climbing an obstacle; and constant appeals are made to Ya Said, ya Bedawi, ya Tantawi (‘O Said, O Bedawi, O man of Tantah’) or Ya sitteh Zenab (‘O lady Zenab,’ the wife of the prophet); while a Copt, if his legs are stiff in rising from the ground, will call out, Ya adrah Mariam (‘O virgin Mary’). The most absurd tales are readily believed, and there is little or no discrimination or criticism applied to them. At one village there lies a large number of rough stones half hidden in the ground, scattered over an acre or so; probably old remnants of building material, brought a century or two ago from the hills. A great festival of a local saint is held at the village yearly, and an intelligent fellow gravely told me that the saint had been murdered there with all his followers, of whom a thousand were buried under each of the stones. The total number, or the question of burying a thousand men in a few square yards, did not seem to matter. I have also heard the old tale of the man who stole a sheep and ate it: when questioned, he denied the theft, whereat the sheep bleated in his stomach. A station-master, who had been educated in England, told me in English, in all sincerity, a tale about a Copt he knew, who got great treasures from a hall full of gold in an ancient mound. The door of the place only opened for five minutes once a week, on Friday noon, just when all true believers are at mosque; then the Copt went and took all the gold he could carry, before the door shut. One day, tarrying, the door began to shut and wounded his heel before he could escape.
114. Houses in Middle Egypt.
While naming the local festivals above, it may be noted that they generally take place around a tall pole fixed in some open space by the village. Some poles are stout masts thirty or forty feet high: around this central point is the celebration of the molid or birthdays of the village saint. Some molids are fairs for the whole district, lasting nine days or even more, and attended by performers, shows, jugglers, sweet-sellers, and as much riff-raff as any English fair.
Many visitors to Egypt see the dancing and howling derwishes, but few know of the common and less obtrusive orgies of the same kind in the villages. They are connected strictly with a devotional sentiment: a man who has just joined in such excitement will tell you that it is ‘good to see Allah’ in that way—much like the fervid and maddening religious intoxication which yet finds a place in English civilization. These derwish parties are formed from a few men and boys—perhaps a dozen or twenty—who happen to live as neighbours: they are almost always held in moonlight, generally near full moon, a point which may connect them with some pre-Islamite moon-worship; and though often without any cause but idleness, yet I have noticed them being held after a death in a village where they do not occur otherwise. A professed derwish often leads the party, but that is not essential. The people all stand in a circle, and begin repeating Al-láh with a very strong accent on the latter syllable; bowing down the head and body at the former, and raising it at the latter. This is done all in unison, and slowly at first; gradually the rate quickens, the accent is stronger, and becomes more of an explosive howl, sounding afar off like an engine; the excitement is wilder, and hideously wild, until a horrid creeping comes over you as you listen, and you feel that in such a state there is no answering for what may be done. Incipient madness of the intoxication of excitement seems poured out upon them all, when at last they break down from exhaustion; or perhaps one or other, completely mad for the time, rushes off into the desert, and is followed, for fear he may injure himself. After a pause, some other phrase is started, and the same round is gone through. After about half an hour of this they separate with a great sense of devotional virtue, and wearied with excitement.
