<h3><SPAN name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></SPAN>CHAPTER XXXVI</h3>
<h4>AMONG THE FADHLI</h4>
<p>We were up and off before the sun rose, our party being
increased by Sultan Salem, brother to the Fadhli sultan.
He was twenty, and though not dark in colour, has woolly hair.
He and the soldiers and the wazir, Abdullah bin Abdurrahman,
rode at some distance to our left, between us and the
dangerous Yafei towers. The Goddam or Kadam range,
which separates the Wadi Yeramis from the Abyan, is a mass
of arid peaks, none reaching to more than 2,000 feet. A road
leads from Al Ma'a across the mountains to the sea at Asala.</p>
<p>We reached Karyat el Maksuf about ten, the valleys
getting narrower and more woody and grassy as we approached.
There is an ancient fort on a hill 650 feet above
the valley, and about 1,300 above the sea, with a glorious view
over the Goddam range to the sea. There is another ruin of
a round fort on the left of the valley. We went on a mile to
a delightful place, where there were trees, water, and reeds, and
beautiful views through shady glades to the mountain peaks,
and many cattle. We wished to remain there, but were told
it was better to get on to Naab, as there was a little danger.
We quite understood that danger was a bogey to prevent us
keeping them from a town, and we pointed out that the
Yafei were not likely to come down a light-coloured mountainside
with only a few tamarisks into a valley half a mile wide;
so my husband firmly said we would stay on the clean sand.
Here we saw many baboons. The first ruin is probably Persian<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_413" id="Page_413"></SPAN>[<SPAN href="./images/413.png">413</SPAN>]</span>
or later Arabian. The second one, which is a mile further
up the Wadi Yeramis than the first, is evidently Himyaritic,
and protected the first town after Banna on the way to the
Hadhramout. It is circular, crowning a hill 300 feet high,
and enclosing a space of 50 yards in diameter. On the north-east
side it is protected by five square towers, and has one
gate to the south. It was the acropolis of a large town,
lying in all directions, but chiefly to the north-east. It has
evidently been a place of considerable strength, as the Wadi
Yeramis is only half a mile wide here. There is a regular
stream of water in a narrow channel, and the whole valley is
green and fertile.</p>
<p class="figcenter"><SPAN href="./images/ill-25.jpg"><ANTIMG src="./images/ill-25_th.jpg" alt="OLD NA'AB (By Theodore Bent)" title="OLD NA'AB (By Theodore Bent)" /></SPAN></p>
<p class="figcenter"><span class="smcap">Old Na'ab (<i>By Theodore Bent</i>)</span></p>
<p>Before we entered this narrow part of the valley, it was
curious to see below the peaked mountains a flat-topped
effusion of basalt, called <i>borum</i>, advanced forward.</p>
<p>We made a very early start next morning, and gradually got
into a thick low wood, but where the Wadi Yeramis widened
out there were only tamarisks. Our ascent was rapid, and
after about an hour we turned due east, this part being very
bare-looking, though there were a good many horrid acacias
and also euphorbias with rounded trunks. We soon burst
upon a lovely plain all mapped out in fields and abrs. It is
six miles to Naab, and we took three hours. We passed
through full two miles of this fertility, with three or four
villages—Souat, Nogat, Arrawa, and Old Naab, with mosque,
minar, and a fine old house all tumbling into ruins. Wadi
Yeramis is much opened out here, and the lower part is
bounded by the basalt in walls about 200 feet high, sometimes
with mounds within them again, and hillocks of the
same formation as the high mountains. This cultivated
paradise is the property of Sultan Ahmet bin Salem, brother
to Sultan Saleh of the coast, and may be said to be the pick
of his whole dominions.</p>
<p>Arrawa, or New Naab, has twenty-four shops, and the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_414" id="Page_414"></SPAN>[<SPAN href="./images/414.png">414</SPAN>]</span>
sultan gets half a real (or Maria Theresa dollar) on all
merchandise-camels going up to the Beled Yafei. There
were many bales of merchandise in a sort of Custom-house
when we arrived at this great centre of inland traffic. We
encamped on the opposite side of the wadi from the town
of Arrawa, which is perched on a raised plateau of earth
banks. When we halted, and had climbed up, there was a
line of people waiting to salute us. We and Sultan Salem
walked in front, our eleven men with guns walked behind,
singing a <i>merghazi</i>, or salutation song, of which I have a
copy. We halted again, and they fired ten salutes; then we
advanced again, Sultan Salem leading, when twenty of the
local sultan's soldiers came forward and kissed his hand and
shook ours. Then there was a refreshment of five or six cups
of coffee and ginger, very weak, on the floor in a tower. There
was milk in the first cups, but it became exhausted. We never
saw the sultan all the time we were there, for they said he
had a wound in his leg.</p>
<p>The earthen cliffs are about 30 feet high, and we had
to go a very roundabout way to get up them by very narrow
gullies. My husband went up a hill, Yerad, just behind
Naab, with an old Arab fort on it above the Yeramis, which
ends here; then begins Wadi Reban, with a clear course
north-east for three miles, then north, and then a long stretch
east again. There was a lovely view over the Yafei mountains
on the north and Goddam range on the south. A
Bedou, Abdallah, who went with him told him all the names.
Though he could understand when the Bedouin talked to him,
he could not understand two talking together. Abdallah said
he had been a soldier in the sultan's service, but when my
husband asked how long he answered, 'Four, five, six years.
I have never had it written down.' The Bedou gave my
husband some food called <i>kharou</i>, roast millet seeds put in
a mug with boiled milk, not at all bad.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_415" id="Page_415"></SPAN>[<SPAN href="./images/415.png">415</SPAN>]</span></p>
<p>The Sultan Salem bin Saleh's old abandoned castle had
some nice decoration about it. They left it because there
were so many jinni (<i>i.e.</i> ghosts) in it. Our informant had
not seen them, but only heard of them.</p>
<p>March the 12th my husband went up what he thought
was the highest mountain of the Goddam range, Minzoko,
just behind Naab, and made it 2,000 feet, but considered
when he got to the top that its neighbour Haidenaab was 300
or 400 feet higher. The Tarik Minzoko goes between them.</p>
<p>The sultan sent to our camp some bowls of food, soup,
and a fowl cut up and cooked in gravy, very rich with oil
and onions. It would have been good but for the stuffy,
bitter taste of myrrh, which they like so much to put in
their food. He also sent us red cakes of millet bread.</p>
<p>A poet of Naab made a <i>merghazi</i> on us during our stay,
about our treatment by the Yafei sultan: how he had
demanded money of us and how he had bidden us return to
Aden. This was thought so excellent by everybody that my
husband was forced to take a copy of it from dictation and
Sultan Salem took a copy back to Shukra.</p>
<p>Our party was now increased by another 'prince,' Sultan
Haidar, son of the sultan of Naab, a person delightful to
contemplate. He was got up in Bedou style; his hair,
fluffy and long, was tied back by a fillet and stuck out in a
bush behind. He had a curious countenance and very weak
eyes. He was wrapped in a couple of large blue cotton
cloths with very long fringes, half a yard at least. The
cotton is plastered with indigo, even beyond the dye, and
when calendered, as the clothes are when new, gleam purple
and red. The richer you are the bluer you are, and Sultan
Haidar was very blue indeed. The curious thing about
these blue people is that, as the prominent parts of the face
and body are the darkest, there is an odd inside-out effect.</p>
<p>While in Naab we had our usual number of patients,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_416" id="Page_416"></SPAN>[<SPAN href="./images/416.png">416</SPAN>]</span>
but the one we were most interested in was a woman who
had a dreadfully sore foot. The foot was very much swollen,
and there was a sore on her instep and ankle in which one
could nearly put one's fist. This had never been washed,
though it had been going on for some years, and it had a
dressing composed of half a pound or so of dates stuffed into
it. The poor creature lay on a sort of bedstead or <i>charpai</i>
in a tidy little house consisting of one room and lighted only
by the door.</p>
<p>My husband set off at once half a mile back to camp to
fetch the necessary relief and I waited, sitting on a cloak
that someone rolled up on the floor, for there was not even
a carpet to sit on. I was afraid of various insects, but I
could not rudely stand, and I should have had to stand a
good time as my husband had a mile to walk.</p>
<p>When he returned he syringed the sore with Condy's
fluid and I cleaned it with bits of wadding, and the woman
with her nails in a way that made me shudder, but she did
not seem to hurt herself. Then we put on zinc ointment.
She drew her bedding from under her foot so that the water
streamed through the bed to the floor, which was earthen
and below the level of the door. There was a big puddle, of
course, and I feared they would have mud to contend with,
but a woman soon came with a basketful of dry sand, and
by constantly brushing it up when wet into a palm-leaf
dustpan quickly cleaned up all the mess.</p>
<p>We went daily to attend to this foot and at last, if not
much better, it was improved by becoming thoroughly clean,
foot, leg and all, and its poor owner was cheered and looked
much brighter herself.</p>
<p>We left her all the zinc ointment we had remaining to
use first; a milk-tinful of ointment, composed by me from
pure lanoline, vaseline, and zinc powder, to go on with, and
some grease-proof paper to spread it on, a lot of tabloids of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_417" id="Page_417"></SPAN>[<SPAN href="./images/417.png">417</SPAN>]</span>
permanganate of potash and directions to pour it from a
water vessel, very clean.</p>
<p>Before the family would undertake to receive these final
instructions we had to wait while some elderly persons were
fetched, reputed wiseacres evidently, and it was like teaching
a class. The poor things, with such earnest faces, were
determined to make very sure they all thoroughly understood
what to do. An old man took each thing and handed it to
the husband, telling him how to use it, and we all consulted
as to the best niches in the roof in which to stow the things
safely. They, at least, longed for us to stay, and we felt sorry
to go. One feels so helpless face to face with such misery.
I do hope she got well.</p>
<p>The first day we visited this house a great crowd came
after us, but they were turned out with sticks and fastened
out in a very ingenious way.</p>
<p>Most of the houses are surrounded by a fence of prickly
brushwood, in which is an entrance 3 or 4 feet wide.
Outside this stands, on its head, with its root in the air, a
bush. The root has a rope of twisted palm-leaf attached to
it. You enter and pull the rope. The bush stands on its
side then and blocks up the entrance; the rope is secured
inside to a bar which is fixed across the threshold and no
one can pass this strange and thorny gate. The bush is, of
course, wider than the gateway.</p>
<p>Certainly Arabians are not all that one expect. I never
can believe that Mohammedans in general can consider dogs
so very unclean, when they have so many about them, and
one tribe in the Soudan is called Kilab (dogs). We used to
hear also that they all shaved their heads, leaving one lock
only for Mohammed to draw them up into Heaven. Instead of
this they do all kinds of things to their hair, and the only
people I ever saw with one lock were the Yourouks in Asia
Minor, and I think it was only a fashion.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_418" id="Page_418"></SPAN>[<SPAN href="./images/418.png">418</SPAN>]</span></p>
<p>Some people think that all the rude efforts of aborigines
and uncultivated tribes are inspired by truer wisdom than
are the results of science and civilisation, and amongst other
things, turbans are pointed out to us as an instance of
the good sense of people in hot climates, who know how
necessary it is to protect their heads from the sun. If so,
why do some cover their heads with turbans and some not?
and why do those who wear turbans take them off to cool
their heads in the sun, and some accidentally leave a bit of
head exposed when they put the turban on without ever
finding it out? Some never cover the middle of the head at
all, but only wind the turban round. My theory, which may
be wrong, is that it is really worn for ornament, as a diadem
in the original sense of the word, just tied round the head as
a mark of dignity.</p>
<p>Once or twice, our camp being on the far side of the
valley from the town, we managed to give the slip to the
spearman who otherwise would have accompanied us, and
sneaked up a very narrow little wadi, where we found a good
many flowers and enjoyed this very much.</p>
<p>Wild beasts live in holes in these hills, and on the extreme
top of the mountain my husband ascended, was found a big
goat that had been killed in the wadi the night before. A
little hairy animal called <i>ouabri</i> was brought to our camp.</p>
<p class="figcenter"><SPAN href="./images/ill-26.jpg"><ANTIMG src="./images/ill-26_th.jpg" alt="FADHLI AT SHARIAH, WADI REBAN, WITH CURIOUS SANDAL" title="FADHLI AT SHARIAH, WADI REBAN, WITH CURIOUS SANDAL" /></SPAN></p>
<p class="figcenter"><span class="smcap">Fadhli at Shariah, Wadi Reban, with Curious Sandal</span></p>
<p>When we left Naab we turned into the Wadi Reban to
Shariah—three hours and ten minutes, seven geographical
miles, four north-east and three north—and ascended 350 feet.
Wadi Reban is a quarter of a mile wide near Naab, but after
two miles opens out; and there are gardens, and now and
again running water appears, and plenty of trees. At the
fourth mile, near a fort, we turned sharply to the north, past
Jebel Riah, where Wadi Riah comes in, and then reached a
wide open space, where Wadi Silib joins in. Jebel Shaas
was beyond us, very high, and Wadi Ghiuda to the right.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_419" id="Page_419"></SPAN>[<SPAN href="./images/419.png">419</SPAN>]</span>
This large open space is girt with mountains 500 to 5,000 feet
high, and is a great junction for the waters from Wadis
Reban, Silib, and Ghiuda. It was once exceedingly populous;
there are here no less than four old villages called Shariah;
two considerable towns were perched on the rocks, forming
gates to the Wadi Silib, and two others at a great elevation
on the opposite side. The cause of the decrease in population
in Arabia must be the constant inter-tribal warfare and
the gradual filling up of the valleys with sand. Great banks
of sand 20 feet high line the river-beds, and wash away with
the heavy rains, which contribute to the silting up. This
country must have been very fertile to have supported the
population, for the four towns must have been large. The
stone buildings alone would make any one of the four larger
than most towns in Arabia to-day, and there must have been
the usual hut population. We had a very pleasant camp
among trees, and had a steep scramble to the ruins.</p>
<p>An enthusiastic geologist would have enjoyed our next
day's journey immensely; we went through such a strange
weird volcanic valley—not a wadi, but a sheb, narrower and
shallower. The road is called Tarik Sauda. The strata of
the rocks are heaved up at a very steep angle, and we had
to ride along smooth rocks, sometimes without any trace of
a road at all among the stones; sometimes we had to make
very great windings amongst heaps and hillocks of all sorts
of different-coloured earths. Hardly a green thing was to
be seen, and altogether the whole place looked dreary and
desolate; but we were much interested in this day's journey
among the great scarred and seamed volcanic mountains.
We ascended 650 feet—very difficult indeed, travelling about
seven miles in four hours; the steepest part is called Akaba
Sauda. We reached the headwater of the Wadi Ghiuda at
the top of the akaba, 2,000 feet from sea level. Naab is
1,000 feet above sea level; thence to Shariah is 350; and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_420" id="Page_420"></SPAN>[<SPAN href="./images/420.png">420</SPAN>]</span>
thence to Ghiuda, 650. We passed Dogoter and M'Haider,
mere names. We encamped on a waste of stones; no tent-pegs
could be used, and it was windy and cold.</p>
<p>There are gazelle in this part and we had some for
dinner.</p>
<p>Now was our time to send by Musaben to the camp of the
sultans three very gay blankets for them and Abdullah-bin-Abdurrahman.
The long name of the wazir's father had
constantly to be on our lips on account of his dignity, for
they are like the Russians in that respect—common people's
fathers are not mentioned. The name was marvellously
shortened to B'd'rahman. We were thought to be in danger
that night, and did not make a very early start, as we had
to load up water; and we two climbed down 350 feet into
the Wadi Ghiuda, that I might take photographs. It was
so pretty, with pools of water and creepers hanging on the
trees.</p>
<p>The sultans, meanwhile, sat up in their beds of leaves
wrapped in their blankets. How absurd it seems that two
princes and a prime minister should have to sleep out because
two English choose to travel in their country! Not a word
of thanks did we ever get for those blankets, but they were
evidently much appreciated, for their recipients sat on their
camels wrapped over head and ears in them in the blazing
sun.</p>
<hr />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_421" id="Page_421"></SPAN>[<SPAN href="./images/421.png">421</SPAN>]</span></p>
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