An Artist in Egypt

by Walter Tyndale

Not feeling sure as to my intentions, he came himself, and was not satisfied till I had promised to dine with him the next day. Mansoor was later cross-questioned as to whether I liked such and such a dish. Did I always eat with a knife and fork? He supposed I sat on a chair while I fed, and could Christians get through a meal without strong drink? Such questions were duly repeated to me, so I sent my man back to the Sheykh with a message that the more the dinner was as he was accustomed to have it, the more I should appreciate his hospitality.

I was there early on the following morning, as I wished to complete my drawing before the meal took place. I had a good long paint with no other company but a weasel, which is often seen in Egyptian houses to keep off the mice and rats, or whatever one chooses to call that creature which is too large for the former and too small for the latter. I know of but one name for either of these pests, and firán does duty for both. Cats are also household pets, but are less adaptable for spying out the secret places where the firán are wont to nest their young.

A message came from the Sheykh to know if I wanted my dinner at twelve or at one o’clock. I sent Mansoor to find out what his usual hour was, and being told that it was just after the midday prayer, I sent word that no other time would suit me better.

About half-past twelve the Sheykh appeared, followed by a gentleman in European clothes and a ‘tarbouch.’ I was introduced, and informed that this was a cousin and a judge of a native tribunal. I was relieved to find that the judge spoke French fluently, for my Arabic is liable to fail me if put to too severe a test. They seemed interested in my drawing, and held it close to their eyes to enable them to decipher the text engraved on the lintel of the door. It is a never-failing surprise to Easterns if they can read any lettering which one may have introduced in a drawing. ‘The ghawaga says he can’t write Arabic; then how is it that we can read what he has here written?’ My explanation that I had merely copied the strokes and dots which I saw before my nose seldom satisfied these inquiries, and generally left a suspicion of something uncanny. Needless to say here that the lady now shown in the illustration was non-existent at that time, and not being of the beau sexe myself, the privilege of seeing one at any time in this house was not to be expected. There are still some things left which the painter may do and which are still beyond the power of the camera.

Now, a word of warning to any one who may be about to dine for the first time with one of the Near East. To put it crudely: Come with an empty stomach and eat as sparingly of the first dishes as you can. They may be very good; but our powers of absorption may fail us, and we might have to pass several subsequent courses untouched, which might be taken as a slight to the quality of the fare. I was prepared for this, and had made a very light breakfast. The grace, repeated in a low voice by the master, is always impressive: ‘Bi-smi-lláhi-r-raḥmani-r-raḥeem’

(In the name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful), and the smell of the savoury dish which had been placed before us made the ‘Tafaddal’ or invitation to sit down doubly welcome. Chairs had been borrowed, as a concession doubtless to the requirements of the Ferangi, and a plate, knife, and fork were also placed before me. I dismissed the latter articles as only being necessary to cut up the tougher food of Europeans, and as quite useless with the tenderer dishes of the Muslemeen. The Sheykh seemed pleased at this and, as is the custom, first tasted of the dish.

When I tore a piece off the thin flat loaf placed before me and, doubling it, I hooked a piece of meat out of the dish, he exclaimed that I had eaten in Arab fashion before. The judge agreed with me that with Arab dishes he did not see where a knife and fork came in. Not partaking so freely of the yachnee as to satisfy our host, he took a delicate morsel out of the stew and handed it to me.

The manner of eating with the fingers seems strange at first; but it is astonishing how soon one gets accustomed to it, and also how much more delicate it seems than when described to those who may never have witnessed it. The right hand should always be used if possible, and should a fowl be served, it is polite to catch hold of one leg, so as to enable the master to dismember the bird without having to use his left hand. It may take as long to learn the etiquette pertaining to the Arab mode of eating as for an Arab to acquire all the niceties observed at an English table. Should a stranger, however, from want of experience do something contrary to the usages of the country, an oriental will pretend not to notice it, as a well-bred Englishman would do if the cases were reversed.

Dish followed on dish; when some sweetstuffs were placed on the table my hopes revived, till they were replaced by yet another stew. My powers of absorption had about reached their limit. I appealed to my host to consider the limited dimensions of my lower waist, and that that only prevented me from doing full justice to his generous fare. This had some effect, and I was let off with a tit-bit which he politely handed to me in his fingers. ‘El-ḥamdu li-lláh!’