An Artist in Egypt

by Walter Tyndale

The streets are full of colour during the first days of the month of Shauwâl. Parents take their children from house to house to show them off in their new garments; for all who can possibly afford it cast off their old clothes at the end of the fast and appear in new ones to enjoy the feast. Primitive merry-go-rounds are erected in the vacant spaces, and the various eatables appropriate to the Little Beiram are on sale everywhere. The rich give of their substance to the needy, and happy faces contrast pleasantly with the saddened looks so frequent during the great fast.

There is a pause in the festivals during the month of el-Kaadeh, which follows Shauwâl, and el-Heggeh, which is the last month of the Mohammedan year, makes up for this in the excitements pertaining to the Mekka pilgrimage. The Great Beiram, or the ‘Eed el-Kebir,’ as it is called by the Egyptians, falls on the tenth day and it lasts during the three following ones. Its advent is noticeable from the flocks of sheep and goats and also the buffaloes which enter Cairo from the fertile plains of the Delta. Sheep are brought round to the bazaars to sell to the merchants who may not wish to attend the markets, and they are frequently to be seen tethered outside the stalls in the poorer quarters, where they are fatted for the sacrifice which takes place at the same hour as the one offered up by the pilgrims at Mekka.

Almsgiving is an important duty and is well observed in the Mohammedan world: on the tenth day of el-Heggeh those who cannot afford a sheep partake of the sacrificial offerings of their well-to-do neighbours.

The new garments of the Lesser Beiram appear again on the greater festival, and the gaily coloured dresses of the children once more enliven the streets. For three days all business is at a standstill, and merry-making and religious exercises go on all the while. On the third night it is usual to visit the tombs of the deceased relatives—a less mournful ending to the festivities than might be supposed. The approaches to the cemeteries are gay with booths and tents, rigged up either for entertainments or for religious zikrs. Should the festival fall during the hot season the tomb visiting is somewhat of an all-night picnic.

Moharram is the month which follows the last, and with it begins the Mohammedan year. The tenth day is called the Ashura, and an event which takes place on the evening of that day is not easily forgotten by any strangers who may happen to have witnessed it. The Sheeas in Cairo (mostly Persians) then commemorate the death of Husseyn, the twin brother of Hassan and grandson of the Prophet. They claim that as Hassan had died, the succession should have continued through Husseyn and his son, Ali Akbar, after him; whereas the Sunnees claim that as Abubekr was chosen by the Prophet himself as his successor, Abubekr’s descendants had a claim prior to that of Mohammed’s actual blood relations. This caused the great split in the Mohammedan world. The Sunnees revere the memory of the twin brothers, and the festival which takes place on their birthday is one of the great events in orthodox Egypt.

The Sheeas commemorate the day of Husseyn’s death, which he met on the field of Kerbala while fighting the usurper of his rights to the Khalifate. That they should do so in Persia is easily understood; but that they should be allowed to parade the streets of Cairo and proclaim their heresy to the crowds of orthodox Sunnees, speaks well for the toleration of the latter. It is true that the police rope the streets through which the procession passes, and a large body of them guard the processionists from molestation. But were the fanaticism of the populace really stirred, the events which I witnessed could never take place.

I got a seat in a coffee-shop close to the Hasaneyn mosque about an hour after sunset; and although the Persians would not be allowed to enter the mosque itself, I felt sure that their enthusiasm would be stirred to the highest pitch when they passed by the shrine where the head of Husseyn is said to be buried.

Crowds of people awaited alongside the route which the Sheeas would take; the display of so much heresy seemed to trouble them very little, and, like myself, they looked forward to an evening’s entertainment. The street was not lighted up as on the day of the birth of the twin brothers, so that the light which presently appeared at the further end of the street attracted the attention of every one at once.

A number of flaming cressets lit up the grey houses where the procession turned from out the Mousky into the Hasaneyn street. As it approached, the short jerky chorus of the men was more often repeated: ‘Hassan, Husseyn! Hassan, Husseyn!’ The shouts got wilder and more frequent as the procession drew near to the mosque. The first to pass us was a man on horseback, who harangued the crowd during an interval in the chorus. He told of how the young Husseyn died in fighting for his faith and against the usurper of his throne. The crowd seemed as little inclined to contradict him as I was, although a few murmurs of dissent came from some who sat on the bench beside me. The men who carried the flaming cressets followed next, and then several mounted policemen. These were not necessarily Sheeas, but were there to preserve the heretics from any hostile demonstrations on the part of onlookers. A number of men carrying tall banners and others with more cressets followed the guardians of the law. Two led horses between a long double file of Persians carrying lanterns were the next objects of interest, for these horses represented the twin sons of Ali, who both were killed while mounted on their steeds.

The ever-increasing noise at the further end of the procession prepared me somewhat for an exciting scene; but I hardly expected the gruesome sight which now followed. A number of men, some half-clad and others in long white garments, were literally streaming with blood. They carried naked swords, with which they occasionally slashed their foreheads, and the white garments which caught the jets of blood seemed as if they had been worn with the purpose of making the sight more ghastly. Some swayed as if about to fall, and had hardly any voice left to shout the names of their heroes. Others, in a state of frenzy, brandished their swords and shouted, ‘Hassan! Husseyn!’