A Pilgrimage to Nejd, the Cradle of the Arab Race. Vol. 2 [of 2]

NEW BALLAD OF IBN ARÛK

I went out from Damascus, the far-off country.
I marched through the lone valley, with the Beg alone.
I lighted down at Jôf, at a new built dwelling.
Dear are the souls it shelters. “Guests,” he said, “sit down.”
“See, Abu Turki, see,” I called, “thy kinsmen.”
“Bring first for these,” he cried, “a fatted lamb.
“Welcome, O Beg, welcome O Lady Khatún,
Welcome, O distant kinsman, to your home.”
I asked him for his daughter. “Take her dowerless.”
“Her dower be these, five thousand,” said the Beg.
Lady, O daughter of the great the generous!
Lady, O daughter of a princely line!
O Lord, keep safe my brother and the Khatúm.
Grant them to reach the dwellings of repose.
Guide them through Persia and far Hind and lead them
By all the seven seas in safety home.
Let them once more behold their friends and London.
Let them relate the things that they have done.

CHAPTER XV

“Here lie I down, and measure out my grave,
Farewell, kind master.” – Shakespeare.

Muttlak Ibn Arûk and the Ketherin – Their horses – We are adopted by the tribe – The Haj again – Ambar sends round the hat – A forced march of one hundred and seventy miles – Terrible loss of camels – Nejef.

February 16. – Two Asian Shammar of the Jezireh came last night, and recognised us as having been in Ferhan Pasha’s camp, last year, in Mesopotamia, – a very pleasant meeting, though we have no distinct recollection of either of them. They gave us all the latest Jezireh news in politics. Ferhan and his brother Faris are now at open war, though Ferhan is no fighter himself, and leaves the conduct of affairs to his eldest son, Aassa. All the Shammar of the Jezireh are with Faris, except Ferhan’s own tail, and the Abde, and the Asslan, Muttany’s men, and our old friend Smeyr ibn-Zeydan. It is true also that Faris is now friends with Jedaan. All this we are glad to hear.

This morning, Jedur and his mother left us, as they are not going any further our way. I like them both, and should have been glad to give the mother some small remembrance of our journey together, but, as Arabs do, they went away without saying good-bye. Our march to-day was a short one, nine or ten miles, still down the Wady Roseh, where water has actually been running since the late storm, and where there are pools still here and there, and a large swamp full of ducks, storks, and snipe, – the first water above ground we have seen since the Wady er-Rajel, nearly two months ago. There is capital grass, too, in the wady, a few inches high, which our hungry mares enjoy thoroughly. As we were stopping to let them and the camels graze on a particularly inviting spot, suddenly we perceived about thirty delúl riders coming over the hill to our right. Although it was probable that this was Muttlak, we all prepared for defence, making the camels kneel down, and seizing each his best weapon, – Wilfrid the rifle, I the gun, and Mohammed his large revolver. Awwad stood ready, sword in hand, and Abdallah squatted with his long gun pointed towards the new-comers; the rest, except Izzar, who possesses a sword, had only sticks, but made a formidable appearance.

There was no need, however, for alarm, for, presently, one of the approaching party detached himself from the rest, and trotting his dromedary towards us, saluted us in a loud voice, and we saw that it was Hazzam, the man who had gone on to announce our coming to Muttlak. In another five minutes the Sheykh himself had dismounted. There was of course a great deal of kissing and embracing between Mohammed and his new found relations, and Wilfrid came in for a share of it. Muttlak is a charming old man, very quiet and very modest, but possessed of considerable dignity. He has an expression of extreme kindness and gentleness which is very attractive, and we already like him better than any of Mohammed’s Jôf relations. Unlike the Ibn Arûks of Jôf and Tudmur, this branch of the family has remained Bedouin, and unmixed by any fellahin alliances. Mohammed’s rather vulgar pretensions to birth and dignity have fallen, ashamed before the simplicity of this good old man, the true representative of the Ibn Arûks of Aared, and though the kasíd has been trotted out once more, and the family genealogy stated and compared, it has been with modesty and decorum, and the sadness which befits decayed fortunes. There can be no question here who shall take the upper place, the Sheykh himself being always ready to take the lowest. To us he is charming in his attentions, and without false dignity in his thanks for the small presents [10 - Presents of honour always given to a sheykh.] we have made him. He is to stay with us to-night, and then he will take us to his tents to-morrow.

Muttlak has brought us three sheep for a present. He has with him a very handsome falcon, a lanner like ours, but larger.

February 17. – We left our camp in the Wady Roseh, where Muttlak told us there was better pasture than we should find with him, and rode off on our mares to pay him a morning visit and return at night. Muttlak has with him his own little mare, the counterpart of himself, old and without other pretension than extreme purity of descent. She is a kehîlet Omm Jerass (mother of bells), and was once in Ibn Saoud’s stables. It is difficult to describe her, for her merits are not on the surface; I am sure nine out of ten English dealers would pass her over, if they saw her at Tattersall’s or Barnet Fair, as an insignificant little pony. She is very small, hardly over 13 hands, for even Mohammed’s mokhra looks tall beside her, chestnut with four white feet and a blaze, a good but not a pretty head, and, but for a proud carriage of the tail, no style or action; an old brood mare never ridden except on state occasions like the present, for on ordinary occasions no Arab of Nejd thinks of riding anything but a delúl. As Muttlak said, very gravely, “When God has given you a mare that is asil, it is not that you should ride, but that she should breed foals.” The old man stuck to his delúl, and the little mare was ridden by his cousin Shatti, who went with us, and gave us some valuable information by the way. The Ketherin, like all the tribes of Nejd, were formerly under Ibn Saoud. They are a branch of the Beni Khalid, who, in their turn, are a branch of the Beni Laam, an ancient and noble tribe, of which the main stock is still found between Aared and Katîf, while another branch settled some centuries ago beyond the Tigris, on the Persian frontier. The Ketherin are now few in number and decayed in circumstances, but Shatti informed us, with some pride, they can still turn out a hundred khayal on occasion; that is to say, if they are attacked and obliged to fight. This shows more than anything the small number of horses possessed by the tribes of Nejd. I asked Shatti which of the tribes still under Ibn Saoud are now most in repute as breeders of horses; and he told me the Muteyr or Dushan (for it seems they have both names), who could turn out four hundred horsemen. Their best breeds are Kehîlan Ajuz, Kehîlan el-Krush, Abeyan Sherrak, Maneghy Hedruj, and Rabdan Kesheyban. They have no Seglawis at all; the Krushiehs of Ibn Rashid came originally from them, Feysul having bought them from the tribe. It must not, however, be supposed, he said, that all the Dushan mares were asil. The Dushan, like every other tribe in Nejd and elsewhere, has “mehassaneh,” or half-breds, what the Ánazeh would call “beni” or “banat hossan;” that is to say, animals with a stain in their pedigree, and therefore not asil, though often nearly as good and as good-looking. Their own breeds (that is to say, the Ketherin’s) are principally Wadnan, Rishan, Rabdan, and Shueyman. As we got near the Ketherin tents we met two men on a delúl, leading a lovely little bay colt, one of the prettiest I ever saw, which Shatti told us was a Wadnan Horsan.

After nearly three hours’ riding we arrived at the buyut shaar (houses of hair), and were soon being hospitably entertained. It is the custom here, as it is in the Sahara, that the Sheykh should receive illustrious strangers, not in his own tent, but in a special tent set up for the purpose. It was a poor place, little more than an awning, but the welcome was hearty and sincere. Here all the principal people of the tribe assembled as soon as the news of our arrival spread, and a feast was prepared of tummin and fresh butter, and naga’s milk. The Arabs, never kill a lamb except for the evening meal.

After this entertainment I went to visit Muttlak’s family, and on my return I found Wilfrid inspecting the mares which we had already seen grazing near the tents. There were half-a-dozen of them, fair average animals, but nothing first-rate, or so handsome as the Wadnan colt, nor any over fourteen hands high. We were looking at these rather disappointedly, when Hazzam ibn Arûk, Muttlak’s brother, rode up on a really beautiful mare, which he told us was a Seglawieh Jedran, the only one left in Nejd. He added that they had been obliged to conceal the name of her breed for some years on account of the danger incurred of her being taken by force. In former times, when the Wahhabis were all powerful, any famous mare ran great risk of being seized for the Riad stables. Ibn Saoud would declare war with a tribe merely as an excuse for robbing it of its mares. Ibn Rashid, at the present day, put great pressure on the owners of valuable mares to make them sell; but he paid for what he took. This mare had been often asked about both for Ibn Rashid, and for Nassr el-Ashgar, Sheykh of the Montefyk, who (or rather his brother Fahad now) has the best collection of horses after Ibn Rashid and Ibn Saoud. She is a fine bright bay, muttlak-el-yemin, snip on the nose; has a splendid way of moving when ridden, action like Hamúd’s mare at Haïl, handsome rather than racing. The head is good, the eye bright and large, the forehead rather flat, the jowl deep; the wither high and back short, quarters round, like all the Nejd horses, sinews good, and hoofs large and round.

Hazzam’s mare is under fourteen hands, but stands over much ground, and ought to be up to weight, being wonderfully compact. We had some hopes at one moment of being able to purchase her, and for a good price and money down I think it might have been done, for they are all most anxious to oblige us. But we have no money and our cheque on Bagdad would be difficult for them to cash. The Ketherin are this year in great distress, as there was no autumn rain, and until a month ago, nothing that horses can eat. They are without corn or even dates, and but for the locusts, which have been abundant all the winter, they must have starved. Indeed locusts are still their main article of food, for man as well as beast. Great piles of these insects, dried over the fire, may be seen in every tent.

Amid a general chorus of good wishes, we at last took our leave of these good people. “You,” they said to Wilfrid, “shall be our Sheykh whenever you return to us. Muttlak will not be jealous. We will make war for you on all your enemies, and be friends with your friends.” Muttlak himself has promised that there shall be a general council to-night to decide whether the tribe shall move northwards as has been proposed, or not, and that if it is decided that it shall be so, he will join us to-morrow morning, and travel with us to Meshhed to make arrangements with the intervening tribes, whose consent must first be obtained. It is strange what friendship we have made with these simple-hearted people in a few hours. We are the first Europeans they have seen, and they look upon us as beings of a superior world.

As we came back to the crest of the hill overlooking Wady Roseh, we saw away to the south a smoke rising – the Haj.

February 18. – We had walked down to the birkeh to try and stalk some ducks when the first runners of the Haj arrived, and presently the Haj itself, now swelled to double its former size, swept past us down the Wady. At the same moment Muttlak appeared on his delúl ready to go with us. This gave us great pleasure. He has got the consent of his tribe, and what is of more importance of the women of his family, to go with us to Meshhed Ali, and see what arrangements can be made with the Ánazeh Sheykhs for a migration of the Ketherin northwards. Such migrations have, I fancy, taken place in all ages among the Bedouins of Arabia; the want of pasture constantly driving them outwards from Central Arabia to the richer deserts of Syria and Mesopotamia. In this way the Shammar and the Ánazeh obtained their present inheritance of the Hamád and the Jezireh, and thus in still earlier times the Taï abandoned Nejd.

Muttlak’s equipment for the journey is of the simplest kind, the clothes in which he stands. He and a single attendant are mounted together on an old black dromedary, the Sheykh perched on the saddle, and his man kneeling behind, their only weapon a stick, and they guide the delúl with a rope passed through a hole in his nostril, a primitive arrangement. “There,” we said to Mohammed, “that is how your ancestors left Nejd.” The old man is very pious; unlike the Ánazeh and other tribes of the north, these Bedouins of Nejd say their prayers regularly, and profess the Mussulman creed, and Muttlak’s first act on dismounting this evening in camp, was to go apart with his attendant and pray. Mohammed and Abdallah still say their prayers occasionally, though with less and less fervour as the distance from Haïl grows greater. Awwad’s devotion is of a very varying quality, sometimes quite imperceptible, at others almost alarming. I have noticed that any special stress of work in loading the camels of a morning, or pitching the tents at night, is sure to call forth a burst of spiritual fervour. At such times his la-ilaha-illa-llah goes on for a prodigious length of time, and may be heard a quarter of a mile off.

Ambar, the negro emir-el-haj, has brought a polite message for us from Ibn Rashid. He came with the Haj as far as Khuddra, and then went back to Haïl, so we have lost nothing by not going with him on his intended ghazú.

Having camped early we sent Abdallah and Hanna to the Haj to find out our Persian friends there, and invite them to dine with us, as we had killed a sheep, and just before sunset they arrived, Ali Koli Khan, Huseyn Koli Khan, and Abd er-Rahim of Kermanshah. We seated them all on a carpet outside our little tent, for it is a warm evening, and then the dinner was served. But much to our vexation, for we had carefully arranged the entertainment, they refused to eat anything, first saying that they had already dined, and afterwards admitting that the Mollahs in whose company they were travelling, had forbidden their eating with us during the Haj. They were very polite, however, and made all sorts of apologies, and even took one mouthful each to avoid being positively rude. Ali said that but for his mother’s Mollah, he would have asked us to dine with him, for he has a good cook, but under the circumstances it cannot be. Huseyn, who is the son of an ex-vizier, pretended to speak French, but the only complete phrase which he had at command, and which seemed borrowed from a copy-book, was, “L’Arabe est charlatan.” This he repeated in and out of season, whenever there was a pause in the conversation. These Persians were as loud as ever in their complaints against the Arabs, and being now out of his dominions, did not spare the Emir, whom they accused of having plundered them terribly. They also had much to tell of the extortions of the hemeldaria, or contractors for the Haj.

It appears that each pilgrim, when he starts for Mecca, puts himself into the hands of an Arab contractor, generally a native of Meshhed Ali, who undertakes to provide him with transport, either in the shape of riding dromedaries, or litters, or even in some cases, mules or horses. He does this for a sum of money down, accepting all risks, and is bound to replace any animal that breaks down or dies on the road, with another at a moment’s notice. It is a very speculative business, as if all goes well with the Haj, the hemeldaria makes a fortune, whereas if things go badly, he may lose one. In some years great numbers of camels die, and then the contractors are ruined; but generally they make a very good thing out of it, as their charges are enormous. At any rate they seem very rich, and ride about themselves on the finest dromedaries in the Haj, and wear the finest clothes. There are twenty of these contractors now with the Haj, who divide the two thousand Persian pilgrims amongst them. Besides the Persians there are about a hundred Shias from Bagdad and Bussorah, but these do not mix much with the Persians, and a body-guard of about a thousand Bedouins, Ibn Rashid’s people. In all, over three thousand persons, with five thousand camels. It must be like the journey of the children of Israel to Mount Sinai.

Ali Koli Khan left Haïl with the Emir, nearly a week after we did, so we did not need to be in any hurry, but I think we were right to get clear away while we could.

February 19. – An early start before sunrise, though there were stragglers till seven o’clock. We were the last to go, but we had sent our camels on as there was good grass, and we wanted our mares to have a comfortable feed. Occasionally one of the pilgrims would come and sit down a moment by our fire to warm his hands. We have now quite left the Nefûd, and are travelling over broken stony ground. The Haj marches fast, quite three miles an hour, and there is no stopping on the way. We are halted this evening at the last of the reservoirs of Zobeydeh, the Birkeh Jemaymeh (Jemima’s pool). Here there are considerable ruins and a very large well.

The boy Izzar has left us, I am sorry to say, and he is sorry too. He was very serviceable and pleasant, and we lose with him his naga’s milk, which we have been drinking fresh every morning. (N.B. We will never travel again without a she camel for milk.) But his delúls have been impressed for the Haj. We gave him three mejidies (about ten shillings) for his ten days’ service, which brought down blessings on our heads. I do not think he expected anything.

February 20. – Again the Haj has come to a stand-still, to the renewed wrath of the pilgrims. It is now twenty days since they left Haïl and not more than half the journey has been accomplished. There are two hundred miles more of road, and their provisions, calculated for three weeks, are all but run out. What makes this new delay the more aggravating to them is that it has been ordered by the negro Ambar, so that he may send the hat round for a private contribution to his own benefit. He has made it known that two mejidies a head is what he expects, and that he will not move till the sum is forthcoming. This will be a nice little purse for him, something like eight hundred pounds, and we maintain a fleet in the Red Sea to suppress the slave trade, out of motives of humanity! The Persians are powerless to resist, for without the black man’s order, not a camel would move. We, as Ibn Rashid’s guests, are exempted from all toll or tax whatever, but we want to get on. Fortunately we laid in a whole month’s provisions at Haïl.

The day has been a very hot one, and we have had the tent propped up all round, so that it resembles a gigantic umbrella. It is pitched on a hill overlooking the Haj, and has attracted a good many visitors. The first of them was a certain Seyd Mustafa, a native of Shustar in Persia, but speaking Arabic well. He is travelling as interpreter with Ali Koli Khan, and has given us some information about the country between Bagdad and his own town. Ali Koli has several times proposed that we should go on with him from Bagdad, to pay a visit to his father in the Bactiari mountains, and Wilfrid is very much bent on doing this.

He himself is going round by the river to Bussorah, and then up the Karun to Shustar, a plan which would not suit us; but Seyd Mustafa says he will go with us by land, though it is a very difficult country to get through. The frontier between Turkey and Persia is occupied by the Beni Laam who recognise neither the Sultan nor the Shah. The Beni Laam however, ought to receive us well from our connection with the Ibn Arûks, and a visit to them would almost complete our acquaintance with the Arab tribes north of Nejd.

Next two poor women came, an old and a young one, dressed alike in white rags. They are from Bagdad, and have made the pilgrimage barefoot and begging their bread. One of them carries a tin mug, into which somebody had just thrown a handful of barley. I gave them a loaf of bread, with which they went away invoking blessings on me. They seem perfectly contented and happy.

Then we had a visit from some Bagdadis; one had been a soldier, the others shopkeepers. They were pilgrims, however, now, and not on business, as most of the Arabs here are.

Next a Dafir boy, with a lamb and a skin of fresh butter to sell, the butter mixed up with date-skins and hair, and coloured yellow with a plant called saffron. After much haggling (for stinginess in a purchaser inspires respect) we bought the lamb and the butter for a mejidie – four shillings.

Next a Jinfaneh Shammar, with a bay horse, also for sale, a Kehîlan Ajuz fourteen hands, with good jowl, good shoulder, and tail well carried, but rather small eye, thick nose, and coarse hind quarter – altogether strong with plenty of bone – aged, very much aged! We do not want him.

Then an Ibn Duala, with a Wadneh mare, also bay, thirteen hands three inches, or fourteen hands – pretty head, with projecting forehead, very good jowl, good shoulder, but thick nose and coarse hindquarter, rather high on the legs, with a good deal of hair on the fetlocks. They all seem to have the same faults.

I asked the Jinfaneh Shammar about the well of Wakisa, marked on Chesney’s map as eight hundred feet deep, but he laughed and said, “forty of these,” holding out his arms, and Muttlak confirmed the statement; this would make it two hundred and forty, a much more probable depth.

Wilfrid in the meanwhile had been with Seyd Mustafa and Mohammed to the Haj, and had had tea with Huseyn Koli Khan. They also called on Ambar and Ali Koli Khan; but both were out. Most of the pilgrims were lying on their backs asleep in the sun. It was very hot.

Ambar’s little white mare has been brought to graze near our tents, for as usual we have chosen the best pasture for our camp. The slave with her says she is a Krushieh. She is a flea-bitten grey, very old and very small, but for her size powerful, with a good head, though not a handsome one, a very fine shoulder with high wither, the usual Nejd hindquarter and manner of carrying the tail, legs like iron. To complete the picture, I must mention one knee swelled, all four feet much out of shape with long standing in the yard at Haïl, and very hairy heels. There are with the Haj several yearling colts bought by the hemeldaria for sale at Bagdad, scraggy little things more like goats than horses.

The sun has brought out a huge tarantula from the sand close to our tent. It is the first venomous reptile I have seen on the journey.

February 21. – Ambar seems determined to make up for lost time, and he has hurried the Haj on all day so that we have done over thirty miles. Our road has been through broken ground, the Wady el-Buttn (the valley of the stomach), where we saw a fox and some hares. One of these last the dogs caught after a long course, and another was run to ground. Abd er-Rahim, the Kermanshahi, rode with us a part of the day, mounted on the most lovely delúl that was ever seen; she is of a bright chestnut colour, with a coat like satin, a light fine mane rather darker than the rest, eyes more beautiful than those of the gazelle, and a style of going which I have not seen equalled by any other camel. This delúl can canter and gallop as well as trot, and kept up with us very fairly when we were chasing the hare, though of course she could not really command a horse’s pace. Abd er-Rahim and Ali Koli Khan now both ride delúls, and have dressed themselves up in Arab fashion, all silk and gold, the mean-looking little Kurd being thus transformed into a fine gentleman. Their saddles, bridles, and trappings are also very gay, got up regardless of expense. They hired their delúls of Ibn Rashid for the journey, I forget exactly for what sum, but it was a good deal of money. The Persians will not eat hare; and Ali Koli Khan, who is travelling with a private chaplain, would not join us in our sport. Indeed he seems now to keep rather aloof from us, but Abd er-Rahim has no such scruples. We hear that a sermon was preached yesterday in camp, against the sin of holding intercourse with kaffirs.

This has been a long, tedious march, two of our camels being tired. We have come to the end of our provision of flour for them, and there is really very little they can eat on the road. Wilfrid makes it still a hundred and forty miles to Meshhed.

February 22. – We travelled yesterday through a low-lying district, bounded by cliffs a little in the style of Jôf (it is all called el buttn, the stomach), and this morning, soon after starting, we reached the end of it, and had to ascend two or three hundred feet, the last akabah or ascent being very steep.

Here there was a great confusion, as the road was narrowed to a single track, and the Haj had to go almost in single file, instead of in line, its usual way of travelling. The steepness of the cliff proved too much for more than one camel, tired as they were with yesterday’s march and want of food. Among them poor Shenuan, the ugly camel of our string, gave in. He is not old, but has long been ailing, and for the last week has carried nothing but his pack-saddle, and been nothing but a trouble to us, still it cost us a pang to abandon him. He has had mange from the very beginning of our journey; in fact, he was the only camel of those originally purchased by Mohammed for us, to which we demurred at the outset. Our objections were overruled by Mohammed’s arguments, that Shenuan’s youth and strength would enable him to get over the effects of mange, but he never prospered, and did not recover from the fatigue of the Nefûd. Poor fellow, he was very loath to be left behind, and struggled on till he came to this hill, which was too much for him. We left him, I am glad to say, in a bit of wady where there was some grass, but I fear his chance is a small one. Camels seldom recover when they get past a certain stage of exhaustion. They break their hearts, like deer, and die. Poor Shenuan! I shall not easily forget his face, looking wistfully after his companions as they disappeared over the crest of the hill. He is the first of our small party that has fallen out of the ranks, and we are depressed with the feeling that he may not be the last.

At the top of the cliff we came to a perfectly level plain, strewn with fine flints, and across this we have travelled all day. Its height above the sea is 1460 feet, and we find that ever since leaving Shaybeh, where the road turned north, we have been descending at an average rate of about ten feet per mile, but the descent is not regular, because of these cliffs which we have come to, which have all been, in a sense, contrary to the general declivity of the ground. About mid-day we came to a great pool of rain-water, at which the camels drank and the goat-skins were filled, a very welcome accident. Our march to-day was twenty-four miles.

February 23. – The flinty plain is called Mahamiyeh, and with the Buttn forms a neutral ground between the Shammar and the Ánazeh, who are here represented by the Amarrat, their Sheykh Ibn Haddal. It was somewhere about here that the battle was fought the other day, in which the Dafir got the best of it, and some of the Ibn Haddal were killed. The consequence of its being thus neutral is, that the Mahamiyeh is covered with dry grass of last year, uneaten by any flocks, a great boon to us; for there is no fresh grass yet.