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Southern Arabia

<h3>CHAPTER XXVIII</h3> <h4>BEHIND THE JEBEL ERBA</h4> We left Wadi Gabeit next morning, and on the following day another messenger from Sawakin met us with a similar mandate; but as we were now journeying in a presumably safe direction we annexed him too, and went on our way rejoicing. Personally we felt that we knew the condition of the country better than the authorities of Sawakin, who had never been there. If our sheikhs had meant treachery they would long ago have put it into practice; our two Kourbab sheikhs, whose property is in and around Mohammed Gol, were ample guarantee for our safety; and, moreover, the country was so absolutely destitute of everything that we gave the Dervishes credit for better sense than to raid it. Our first day's march was dreary in the extreme, over country covered with dark shale, just like a colliery district without the smoke, and with the faintest possible trace of vegetation here and there. It was at this juncture that we lost our little dog, a pet that had journeyed everywhere with us; when search failed we gave it up for lost, and drew mournful pictures of the dear creature dying in agonies in the desert, foodless and waterless. The clever animal nevertheless retraced its steps, how we know not, to Mohammed Gol in five days, without food and with very little water, over the desert paths we had come—a distance of about 120 miles—and terrified the governor out of his wits, as he naturally thought it was the sole survivor[328] of our expedition. It made its way straight to the jetty and swam to our dhow, the Taisir, and was picked up by our Arab sailors more dead than alive. After resting and feeding on the dhow for two days, the dog jumped overboard once more, and went off by itself to the mountains for three days in search of us; when this failed it returned again, and reached our dhow the night before we did, and was ready to welcome us on our return with a wildly demonstrative greeting. We eventually gave it to a sergeant at Sawakin, and have reason to believe that it is at present taking part with its regiment in the Soudan campaign. That day, Sheikh Mohamed Ali Hamed, who was riding a loaded camel, came to me so much disgusted with the smell of a box covered with black American cloth, that he asked me if it were not made of pig-skin. The people are so ignorant of what pig-skin looks like that they often handle it without knowing, otherwise they would not touch it. It was a distinct disappointment to us only to see the mountains of, and not to be able to penetrate into, the Wadi Hayèt, owing to its occupation by Dervish tribes. On excellent authority we heard that there were numerous ruined cities there, especially at a spot called Oso; that it was more fertile than the parts through which we had passed; that the Mogarra mountains were higher than Erba; and that it was well watered. Apparently this important Soudanese valley takes its rise in Bawati, to the south of Erba, and, after making first a bold sweep right through the heart of the Soudan, it reaches the sea to the north of Mount Elba, some twenty miles north of Halaib. This wadi will form an interesting point for exploration when the Soudan is once more settled, and if these statements are correct it will be of considerable importance in the future development of the country. As for the valleys near the coast, unless they prove rich in minerals they can never be of much value to any one. In Wadi Gabeit,[329] the only industry now carried on by the very few inhabitants, except the rearing of flocks, is the drying of senna, which grows wild here in considerable quantities. They cut the branches and lay them out to dry on levelled circles; these they take down to the coast and export to Suez. We were now sixty miles, as the crow flies, from the sea. We were terribly afraid we should be made to go by a lower way between the mountains and the sea, in which case our journey would not be of nearly such great value in map-making, but at last my husband persuaded the sheikhs, saying he would sign, with all the rest of us, a paper to protect the heads of Sheikhs Ali Debalohp, Hassan Bafori, and Mohamed Ali Hamed, which we did. They said they did not themselves expect any danger. Had they done so they would never have let our camp extend over so much ground, with no concealment as regarded fires and shouting, nor would they have let their camels wander so far afield. The first place after Wadi Gabeit that we camped at was Hambulli, four hours distant. The thermometer was down to 50° in the night. There was another letter from the mamour and another from Sawakin and a most tremendous lot of consultations, and at last my husband sent a letter to the mamour: 'Your Excellency,—I have decided to go by Erba and Sellala and hope to reach Mohammed Gol in a shorter time by that route.' By this time we were in the Kourbab country, in that part under Sheikh Hassan Bafori, who governs a branch of the tribe. We liked the mamour's messenger, Sheikh Moussa Manahm, who came on with us, very much. Four hours of very desert journeying was our portion the following day. We were a good distance from water, but some was obtained by digging, thick with sand and earth. We had thus far[330] carried water from Wadi Gabeit. We travelled six hours, wandering through desert valleys, in which everything was dried up, with clumps of grass in it as black as if they had been burnt, and as if they had not seen rain for years. All the valleys to the west of Mount Erba seem to be arid except Gumateo or Gumatyewa, a big valley which must have water near the surface, which runs all along at the back of the range, with arid hills from 500 to 1,000 feet on either side of it. Vegetation is more abundant, and masses of arack-trees (salvadora), supposed to be the mustard-tree of the Bible, grow here, the wood of which is much esteemed for cleaning the teeth. Wadi Gumateo seems to be a favourite nursery for camels. On our way we passed many camel mothers with their infants, feeding on the arack and other shrubs. At the upper end of this valley, where we encamped for a night, Mount Erba, with its highest peak, Mount Nabidua, stands out in bold and fantastic outline. It is a remarkable range as seen from this spot, shutting off like a great wall the Soudan from the Red Sea littoral. It was a most beautiful place and there was plenty of wood, so we could have fine fires at night and burn some charcoal for future use. On February 18 we had a much more enjoyable day, for we were winding about among the mountains. Twice we had to dismount to walk over passes. One was exceedingly fine, with bold and stupendous cliffs. There were several groups of huts in the Wadi Khur, which we next reached. There is much more vegetation here, many tamarisks and other shrubs giving delightful shade. Wadi Khur is the nursery for young donkeys, many of which, we were told, from time to time escape to the higher mountain, and have established the race of wild asses to be found here. The valley has a good many pastoral inhabitants, and in the[331] side gorges are deep pools of lovely water in natural reservoirs, in which we revelled after our somewhat limited supply further inland. Up these gorges we found bulbs, rushes, and water-plants. At our camp here our men busied themselves in decorating their locks prior to reaching Sellala. Mutton-fat is beaten in the hands till it becomes like lard, and this material the hairdresser dabs at the curly wigs of his patients; those whose curls become the whitest and stiffest deem themselves the finest. As we were going through a very narrow gorge, where Wadi Khur has changed into Khor (gorge) Khur, some stones were bowled down from above, without hitting any part of our caravan. There was a great deal of shouting from the principal sheikhs to the offenders, and they desired one of the soldiers to fire off his gun, which he did. Sheikh Hassan did not half like the laugh that rose against him when I said, 'Last time it was Sheikh Ali Debalohp's men, and now it is yours.' We encamped while still in the Khor Khur, but the sheikhs would not allow the tents to be put near the rocks, fearing disaster, and in the morning Sheikh Hassan was in a great hurry to be off, coming and shouting 'Al khiem! Al khiem!' ('the tents!') to hasten us out of them and let them be packed. We had had to carry water from the last place. It had been so clear and clean when we had it in our own buckets. It had taken more than four hours to fetch with camels, but what we carried on was put into dirty skins, full of the mud of the place before, so it was horrible and a great disappointment; we had to wait for more. When we left this camp we were led to suppose we should reach Sellala, said to be an oasis, in about two hours and a half; but it took us an hour to get out of the Khor Khur, winding among high rocks with most beautiful shapes and shadows, rounding Jebel Gidmahm, which was on our[332] left, and then we entered a very hideous wadi called Amadet. The floor of it was very up and down, and high rocks and little hills stood about, whereas the wadis are for the most part flat in the middle. But all round this ugly wadi there were high and fantastic mountains, range behind range. After that there was a narrow khor called Rabrabda, and finally a great sandy desert, where the hills were comparatively low, through which we marched for several hours, always looking out for the oasis, where we promised ourselves great enjoyment, intending to spend a few days in so nice a place. When at last we reached Sellala, which Ali Hamid's son had led us to believe was a perfect Paradise, instead we found a wretched arid spot, with one deep and well-constructed well, probably of considerable antiquity, surrounded by many mud drinking-troughs, around which were collected a large number of camels. All our promised verdure resolved itself into a few mimosa-trees and desert plants, and we encamped in great discomfort in a raging sandstorm, quite out of patience with our guide for his deceit. The wind was very wild and cold. We did not enjoy Sellala at all. Our tent had to be tied up in a tiny sandy cleft, and a huge boulder was under my bed. We had only two winds to trouble us there, though, instead of all four, which were raging outside. About 200 yards from the well was Ali Hamid's village, a collection of some six or eight huts, in one of which dwells old Ali Hamid himself, the aged sheikh of this powerful branch of the Kourbab tribe; and the only evidence that we had of greater prosperity was that the women here wear gold nose-rings and have long gold earrings and more elaborate ornaments hanging from their plaited hair. Ali Hamid looked very old and decrepit. He had a long hooked nose and exceedingly unpleasant face, and when we[333] saw him we quite believed him to be, as they say, a hardened old slave-dealer. Perhaps the most remarkable fact about him was that he had a mother living, a wizened old crone who inhabited a tiny hut at Mohammed Gol, and reputed to be 135 years old by her friends, though I question if she was much over 90. Old age is rare among these nomads, and hence they make the most of any specimen they can produce. We sat in the village for some time, and purchased various camel ornaments—tassels which they hang from their necks, and curious adornments decorated with cowries, which they place before the covered awning beneath which great ladies conceal themselves when on a camel journey. Ali Hamid's son took us the next day on fast-trotting camels to visit some graffiti on basaltic rocks about eight miles distant. Here we found representations of animals chiselled on the hard rocks, similar to those we saw in Wadi Gabeit; we could recognise gazelles, camels, and elephants, and we thought the artist also had intended to depict giraffes, mongooses, and other strange beasts. Scattered amongst these animals are several Sabæan letters, the two [Symbol: See page image] (ya) and [Symbol: See page image] (wa) being very conspicuous. These scribblings were evidently done by the miners who were on their way from the coast to Wadi Gabeit, having landed at a convenient little harbour close by called Salaka. There is also one of the ruined towers not far from this spot, and the letters point to the fact that some of the miners here engaged must have been of Sabæan or Southern Arabian origin. Sheikh Ali Hamid came often to see us, with many other sons, besides Mohamed, who had travelled with us, and a few of the latter's children, clothed and naked. They used to sit in a semicircle round the door of our tent. Of course an exchange of gifts took place, and we were sent a sheep and a huge basketful of milk. The basket was[334] shaped like a vase, a foot in diameter. A very nice inhabitant of the forbidden Wadi Hayet came to see us, Sheikh Seyyid Ta'ah. He gave us useful information as to the geography of his neighbourhood and the course of the valley. Captain Smyth went off from Sellala with Sheikh Mohamed to take a peep into Wadi Hayèt, and on February 22 we left the place without any regret and turned northward. There are five Sellalas, and one is really an oasis. The splendid mountains of Erba had been quite obscured by the sand, though there had been a magnificent view of them when we arrived. On the way we passed three more of the tall towers similar to those we had previously seen, and felt still more convinced that they were connected with the gold industry in the inland valley, and had been built to mark the roads conducting in that direction. We tried to find a sheltered nook to encamp in when we reached the mountains, but in vain. We stayed at Harboub, and were nearly stifled by the dirty dust that blew into the tents. The water was very clear and soft. We continued northward for two hours and a half, and then turned westward up the steep Wadi Ambaya. Wadi Ambaya is the chief valley of Mount Erba, and it runs right into the heart of the mountain. Up this we were conducted by Sheikh Hassan, in whose territory we now found ourselves. This valley is fairly well inhabited by pastoral people; they live in huts dotted about here and there, which are difficult to recognise from their likeness in colour to the rocks surrounding them, which they would almost seem to have been made to mimic. The slopes of Erba provide pasturage for a large number of flocks at all seasons of the year. Nabidua, the highest peak of the range, reaches an elevation of 7,800 feet; Sherbuk and Emeri are[335] not much lower, and the outline of the rugged peaks is exceedingly fine. Up in the higher parts of this range there are a great number of ibex, several of which fell to Captain Smyth's rifle, but we did not care much for the flesh. The natives hunt them with dogs of a breed said to be peculiar to these parts. Our camp in Wadi Ambaya was a delicious spot, amid fantastic boulders and rich vegetation. On climbing up the gorge beyond us we came across a stream with running water, forming deep green pools among the rocks, and to us, after the arid deserts we had passed through, this spot was perfectly ideal; and the people, too, who dwell up in the higher ground, look infinitely healthier—lithe, active men, who leap like goats from rock to rock, each with a sword and shield. There are several valleys in Erba penetrating into the heart of the mountains, but Ambaya is the principal one. In the outer part of the valley, which is rather open, is a way into the Wadi Addatterèh, where we had already been. It was a tremendous scramble to get up the gorge, and our tents were perched on rocks, and Matthaios was delighted with his nice clean kitchen in the middle of the gorge. He rigged up some sticks to hang a cloak up as a shade. The servants had plenty to do preserving antelopes and ibex heads, and burning charcoal and washing. We were here made glad by Captain Smyth's safe return, and after staying three days we returned to the mouth of our wadi, and then went on toward the north, and after five hours camped under some large trees near a well of very good water, called Tokwar. We finished our journey into the Wadi Koukout at 8 o'clock next morning, having to leave the camels and squeeze on on foot. It is a veritable frying-pan. We had hardly room to pitch our tents, or to get into them when[336] pitched, by reason of the big boulders and steep hollows where water swirled about. There was good water quite close. We had another messenger from Sawakin, Hassan Gabrin, to guide us by land, or, if we went by sea, to say we should go quickly. The morning after our arrival we started very early to visit Koukout, a mountain really separate from Erba, but looking like a spur of it, the highest peak of which is only 4,000 feet above the sea. Here again one penetrates into the mountain by a curious gorge, with deep pools of water, the rocks about which are, if possible, more fantastic than those of Erba. One comes to chasms, over which the water flows, which look like the end of all things; but by climbing up the side of these one finds the gorge continuing until the very heart of the mountain is reached, where is a little open ground well stocked with water and green. High up here we spent a few hours at a pastoral village, where we found the women busily engaged in making butter in skins tied to a tree; these they shake until butter is produced. They store it in jars, and take it to Mohammed Gol to exchange for grain, but they eat very little except the products of their flocks, and, like the Abyssinians, they do not mind eating meat raw. We saw some interesting domestic features in this mountain village. The children are given toy shields and spears, with which to practise in early life; and we found here several long flutes with four notes each, the music of which is weird and not unlike that of the bagpipes, and well suited to the wild surroundings. Here, too, they play the ubiquitous African game, munkala or tarsla. Two rows of six holes are dug in the ground, and in these they play with counters of camel-dung a mysterious game which I never can learn. Here they call it mangola, and it is played all down the East Coast,[337] from Mashonaland to Egypt, and also, I hear, on the West Coast; it seems a general form of recreation throughout the Dark Continent, and has been carried by Africans to all parts of the world to which they have wandered. Here they were playing with holes in the sand, but one often sees them dug in marble blocks, or on rocks, or in pavements. There are two games—the game of the wise and that of the foolish; the former, like chess, requires a good deal of thought. <ANTIMG src="./images/ill-14_th.jpg" alt="FLUTE-PLAYERS IN THE WADI KOUKOUT, SOUDAN" title="FLUTE-PLAYERS IN THE WADI KOUKOUT, SOUDAN" /> Flute-players in the Wadi Koukout, Soudan Sheikh Hassan Bafori's mother resided in this village, so old that she looked like the last stage of 'She,' but no one said she was as old as old Ali Hamid's mother. I think the weaving arrangements were quite the most rude I have ever seen. The yarn had been wound over two sticks about 20 feet apart, and that stick near which the weaving was begun was tied by two ropes, each a foot long, to pegs in the ground. The other was simply strained against two pegs. At this end a couple of threads had been run to keep the warp in place. There was no attempt to separate the alternate threads so as to raise each in turn. There was a stick raised 4 or 5 inches on two forked sticks to separate the upper and under parts of this endless web of 40 feet. The weaver sat on her goat's-hair web, and never could get the shuttle across all the way. It consisted of a thin uneven stick, over a foot long. She had to separate twelve to fifteen threads with her hand, and stick in a pointed peg about 10 inches long, while she put the shuttle through that far; then she beat it firm with this instrument and went on as before, patiently. The shepherd boys looked very graceful, playing on the long flutes with four notes. One of these flutes belongs to each hut. We were interested, too, in seeing men making sticks out of ibex horns. They cover the horn with grease, and[338] put it in hot water or over the fire to melt and soften it, and then scrape and scrape till it is thin enough and able to be straightened. The ibex-horn hairpins are made with six or seven bands of filigree round them. The women's camel-saddles have great frameworks of bent sticks, nearly as large as some of the huts, to give shelter, and are very smart indeed on a journey. On leaving Koukout, Sheikh Hassan took us to his well at Tokwar again, a deep and presumably ancient well, near which he has his huts; and from there to a spot called Akelabillèh, about four miles from Tokwar, and not far from our original starting-point of Hadi. Here we found slight traces of gold-working. About half a dozen crushing-stones lay around, and a good deal of quartz refuse. Probably this was a small offshoot of the more extensive mines in the interior which had not repaid continued working. A rapid ride of three hours from Akelabillèh brought us back again to Mohammed Gol and the close of our expedition, for already the first murmurs of disturbances with the Dervishes were in the air, and the mamour of Mohammed Gol and the officers at Sawakin affected to have been very anxious for our safety. We, however, being on the spot, had been in blissful ignorance of any danger, and further considered that the country we had traversed was not the least likely to be raided by any sensible people, desert and waterless as it was for the most part, and would offer no attractions in the shape of booty, except in the fastnesses of Mount Erba itself. Not one inch of the ground was under cultivation, and the few inhabitants were the poorest of the poor, and I think this is the only expedition we have ever made in which we never once saw such a thing as a hen or an egg. By the by, at the huts near Tokwar we rejoined Sheikh Ali Debalohp, who had been invited by Sheikh Hassan to[339] stay a night, and with due permission from my husband he was able to do so. We saw the sleeping arrangements. On the ground was a piece of matting large enough for both to sleep on, and another bit a yard high, supported by sticks, round the three windiest sides. They were busy playing with a large lizard, of which they seemed to be afraid, and which had a forked tongue and very long teeth. It had a string round its neck, and was kept at bay with a sword. We reached Mohammed Gol the quicker that we had no foot passengers. All had scrambled on to the camels, and so we were by twos and threes on our animals. The little mamour Mohammed Effendi was delighted to see us, and we were soon drinking tea in his public arbour, surrounded by a crowd of now smiling faces—the very same faces which had scowled upon us so dreadfully when we first landed. We and our little dog Draka were equally delighted at once more meeting. We found the south wind blowing, if it can be said to do so in a dead calm—prevailing would perhaps be a better word. The madrepore pier had been nearly swept away, and the houses near the water were flooded. We settled into our ship again that evening. Next day was pay-day, and my husband and Matthaios went ashore with more than 40l. to distribute. The three big sheikhs, by the advice of the mamour, were given 2l. apiece; the soldiers got ten shillings each—far too much, he said; Mohammed Ismail, Sheikh Hassan Gabrin, Sheikh Moussa Manahm, Mohammed Erkab, and one Akhmet, a great dandy, had five shillings each. Besides this, other presents were given. Sheikh Ali Debalohp had a quilted cotton coverlet, and Mohammed Ali Hamid the same and a cartridge-belt; Sheikh Hassan Bafori a blanket, a smart silk keffieh and a sword-belt; and[340] the mamour an opera-glass and a silk blanket, besides minor things; all seemed very well satisfied. They certainly were all very nice to us. The secretary gave me a tremendously heavy curved camel-stick of ebony, and the mamour besides a head-scratcher, which he had made me himself from an ibex horn, a stick of ibex horn, and seven and a half pairs of horns. We were weatherbound yet another day, everything damp and sticky. The south wind seems to me to have a very mysterious scooping and lifting power; no other wind lifts sand and water along as this one does. The wind began to freshen up towards night and got as far as the east, and by morning was blowing strong north by east. My husband had, as usual, to go out and stir up Reis Hamaya and tell him we must be off. He seemed as much surprised as he always was. We had a farewell visit from the little mamour, and off we set for a very rolly voyage. The whole day we rolled with the smallest sail, everything banging, beds jostling, but we were glad no longer to feel wet and sticky as regards our clothes, bedding, and the whole ship. Our last night on board was not the least exciting. We had stopped near Darour amongst reefs of coral. Every night when we cast anchor the ship used to turn round so that the north wind blew full on us and our cabins, but this night it whizzed round so violently as to drag the anchors, and we went back on to a reef—only a little, though, but enough to alarm all on board. The anchors had to be got up and taken by boat to fix into another reef. It was necessary for all the gentlemen and servants to assist the sailors in hauling us off the reef. It was very hard on the sailors, for their supper was smoking hot, ready for them[341] after their day's fast, and the poor fellows had to work till 9 o'clock, doing the best they could for the safety of the ship. We went to bed, however, with the unpleasant knowledge that we were not very tightly fastened up, and the uneasy feeling that we might drag in the night, and not without making some little preparation in case of a swim. We were all safe in the morning, but almost the first thing we did, as we sat at breakfast, was to grind over a reef, more than the length of the keel. We duly reached Sawakin in the afternoon of March 4, where Hackett Pain Bey, who was acting-governor, kindly lent us two accommodation in the Government House, and we said farewell to the Taisir, its cockroaches, its mosquitoes, and its mouse; and the ship had immediately to be turned over on her side for repairs—needed, as the coral reefs had done a good deal of damage. Reis Hamaya was enchanted with a gift of the cabins with their padlocks, and I am sure they soon became very dirty holes. Though we were scolded for our pains, our approving consciences told us how pleasing to the British Government those pains had been, and how glad it was of some map beyond the Admiralty chart. Eight days after our arrival the news of the declaration of war came to Sawakin. We were offered a passage to Suez in the Behera (which means delta), but as an ordinary steamer came in, and we did not know how long the Behera might be waiting for troops, we thought it better to make our way northward at once. We reached Cairo just in time for Captain Smyth to be rewarded for his hard work, while with our expedition, by being ordered off to the war by Sir F. Wingate, who, with the Sirdar, was starting that night; Captain Smyth was to follow in two days.[342] We felt very proud, and now he has the Victoria Cross, because 'At the battle of Khartoum Captain Smyth galloped forward and attacked an Arab who had run amok among the camp-followers. Captain Smyth received the Arab's charge and killed him, being wounded by a spear in the arm in so doing. He thus saved the life of one, at least, of the camp-followers.' <ANTIMG src="./images/ill-15_th.jpg" alt="MAP OF SOKOTRA" title="MAP OF SOKOTRA" /> Map of Sokotra to illustrate the explorations of Mr. J. THEODORE BENT. Stanford's Geog.l Estab.t, London London: Smith, Elder & Co. <hr class="full" /> [343] <h2>THE MAHRI ISLAND OF SOKOTRA</h2> <hr /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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