MAKALLA
After our journeys in South Africa and Abyssinia, it was suggested to my
husband that a survey of the Hadhramout by an independent traveller would
be useful to the Government; so in the winter of 1893-94 we determined to
do our best to penetrate into this unknown district, which anciently was
the centre of the frankincense and myrrh trade, one of the most famed
commercial centres of 'Araby the Blest,' before Mohammedan fanaticism
blighted all industries and closed the peninsula to the outer world.
In the proper acceptation of the term, the Hadhramout at the present time
is not a district running along the south-east coast of Arabia between
the sea and the central desert, as is generally supposed, but it is
simply a broad valley running for 100 miles or more parallel to the
coast, by which the valleys of the high Arabian table-land discharge
their not abundant supply of water into the sea at Saihut, towards which
place this valley gradually slopes.
There is every reason to believe that anciently, too, the Hadhramout
meant only this valley; we learnt from Himyaritic inscriptions that five
centuries b.c. the name was spelt by the Himyars as it is now (namely, t
m r d h [Symbol: script]), and meant in that tongue 'the enclosure or
valley of death,' a name which in Hebrew form corresponds exactly to that
of Hazarmaveth of the tenth chapter of Genesis, and which the Greeks, in
their usual slipshod manner--occasioned by their inability, as is the
case still, to pronounce a pure _h_--converted into _Chatramitæ_, a form
which still survives in the Italian word _catrame_, or 'pitch.'
Owing to the intense fanaticism of the inhabitants, this main valley has
been reached only by one European before ourselves--namely, Herr Leo
Hirsch, in 1893. In 1846 Von Wrede made a bold attempt to reach it, but
only got as far as the collateral valley of Doan. My husband and I were
the first to attempt (in the latter part of 1893 and the early part of
1894) this journey without any disguise, and with a considerable train of
followers, and I think, for this very reason, that we went openly, we
made more impression on the natives, and were able to remain there longer
and see more, than might otherwise have been the case, and to establish
relations with the inhabitants which, I hope, will hereafter lead to very
satisfactory results.
Having arrived at Aden with letters of recommendation to the Resident
from the Indian Government and the India Office, besides private
introductions, we were amazed at all the difficulties thrown in our way.
It quite appeared as if we had left our native land to do some evil deed
to its detriment, and we were made to feel how thoroughly degrading it is
to take up the vocation of an archæologist and explorer.
Many strange and unexpected things befell us, but the most remarkable of
all was that when a certain surgeon-captain asked for leave to accompany
us, it was refused to him on the ground that 'Mr. Theodore Bent's
expedition was not sanctioned by Government,' in spite of the fact that
the Indian Government had actually placed at my husband's disposal a
surveyor, Imam Sharif, Khan Bahadur. We had no assistance beyond two very
inferior letters to the sultans of Makalla and Sheher, which made them
think we were 'people of the rank of merchants,' they afterwards said.
Imam Sharif has travelled much with Englishmen, so he speaks our language
perfectly, and having a keen sense of humour, plenty of courage and tact,
and no Mohammedan prejudices, we got on splendidly together. He was a
very agreeable member of the party. My husband paid all his expenses from
Quetta _viâ_ Bombay, with three servants, including their tents and camp
equipage, and back to Quetta.
Our party was rather a large one, for besides ourselves and our faithful
Greek servant Matthaios, who has accompanied us in so many of our
journeys, we had with us not only the Indians, but a young gardener from
Kew, William Lunt by name, as botanist, and an Egyptian named Mahmoud
Bayoumi, as naturalist, sent by Dr. Anderson, whose collections are now
in the British Museum of Natural History at South Kensington.
The former was provided with all the requisites for digging up forest
trees, and Mahmoud had with him all that was necessary for pickling and
preserving large mammals, for no one knew what might be found in the
unknown land; and many were the volunteers to join the party as hunters,
who promised to keep us in game, whereas if they had come they would only
have found reptiles.
As interpreter was recommended to us by the native political agent at
Aden, Saleh Mohammed Jaffer, Khan Bahadur--a certain Saleh Hassan. He
proved to be a fanatical Moslem, whose only object seemed to be to
terrify us and to raise enemies against us, in order to prevent our
trampling the holy land where Mohammed was born. Throughout our journey
he was a constant source of difficulty and danger.
Our starting-point for the interior was Makalla, which is 230 miles from
Aden, and is the only spot between Aden and Maskat which has any
pretensions to the name of port. The name itself means 'harbour.' It is
first mentioned by Ibn Modjawir; Hamdani calls it El Asa-Lasa, and Masudi
gives the name as Lahsa. The harbour is not available during the
south-west monsoon, and then all the boats go off to Ras Borum or the
Basalt Head.
Here we were deposited in December 1893 by a chance steamer, one which
had been chartered and on which for a consideration we were allowed to
take passage. I took turns with the captain to sleep in his cabin, but
there was nothing but the deck for the others.
Immediately behind the town rise grim, arid mountains of a reddish hue,
and the town is plastered against this rich-tinged background. By the
shore, like a lighthouse, stands the white minaret of the mosque, the
walls and pinnacles of which are covered with dense masses of sea-birds
and pigeons; the gate of this mosque, which is really nearly in the sea,
is blocked up by tanks, so that no one can enter with unwashed feet. Not
far from this rises the huge palace where the sultan dwells, reminding
one of a whitewashed mill; white, red, and brown are the dominant colours
of the town, and in the harbour the Arab dhows, with fantastic sterns,
rock to and fro in the unsteady sea, forming altogether a picturesque and
unusual scene.
Beyond the Bab Assab are huts where dwell the Bedouin who come from the
mountains. They are not allowed to sleep within the town. There is a
praying-place just outside the gate. In the middle of the town is a great
cemetery full of tamarisks, and containing the sacred tomb of the sainted
Wali Yakoub in the centre.
We were amused by a dance at a street corner to the beating of drums. It
consisted of a hot, seething mass of brown bodies writhing about and
apparently enjoying themselves.
Stone tobacco pipes are made here of a kind of limestone, very curly
silver powder-flasks, rather like nautilus shells, and curious guns
without stocks. The Bedou women wear tremendously heavy belts and very
wide brass armlets. Their faces are veiled with something like the
_yashmak_ of Egypt, but it is of plain blue calico, a little embroidered.
Makalla is ruled over by a sultan of the Al Kaiti family, whose
connection with India has made them very English in their sympathies, and
his majesty's general appearance, with his velvet coat and jewelled
daggers, is far more Indian than Arabian. Really the most influential
people in the town are the money-grubbing Parsees from Bombay, and it is
essentially one of those commercial centres where Hindustani is spoken
nearly as much as Arabian. The government of the country is now almost
entirely in the hands of the Al Kaiti family, which at present is the
most powerful family in the district, and is reputed to be the richest in
Arabia.
About five generations ago the Seyyids of the Aboubekr family, at that
time the chief Arab family at the Hadhramout, who claimed descent from
the first of the Khalifs, were at variance with the Bedou tribes, and in
their extremity they invited assistance from the chiefs of the Yafei
tribe, who inhabit the Yafei district, to the north-east of Aden. To this
request the Al Kaiti family responded by sending assistance to the
Seyyids of the Hadhramout, putting down the troublesome Bedou tribes, and
establishing a fair amount of peace and prosperity in the country, though
even to this day the Bedouin of the mountains are ever ready to swoop
down and harass the more peaceful inhabitants of the towns. At the same
time the Al Kaiti family established themselves in the Hadhramout, and
for the last four generations have been steadily adding to the power
thus acquired. Makalla, Sheher, Shibahm, Haura, Hagarein, all belong to
them, and they are continually increasing, by purchase, the area of their
influence in the collateral valleys, building substantial castles, and
establishing one of the most powerful dynasties in this much-divided
country. They get all their money from the Straits Settlements, for it
has been the custom of the Hadhrami to leave their own sterile country to
seek their fortunes abroad. The Nizam of Hyderabad has an Arab regiment
composed entirely of Hadhrami, and the Sultan Nawasjung, the present head
of the Al Kaiti family, is its general: he lives in India and governs his
Arabian possessions by deputy. His son Ghalib ruled in Sheher, his nephew
Manassar, who receives a dollar a day from England, ruled in Makalla, and
his nephew Salàh ruled in Shibahm, and the governors of the other towns
are mostly connections of this family. The power and wealth of this
family are almost the only guarantee for peace and prosperity in an
otherwise lawless country.
The white palace of the Sultan Manassar is six stories high, with little
carved windows and a pretty sort of cornice of open-work bricks, unbaked
of course, save by the sun. It stands on a little peninsula, and like
Riviera towns, has pretty coast views on either side. The sultan received
us with his two young sons, dressed up in as many fine clothes as it was
possible to put on, and attended by his vizier, Abdul Kalek; no business
was done as to our departure, but only compliments were paid on both
sides. After we had separated presents were sent by us, loaves of sugar
being an indispensable accompaniment.
The so-called palace in which we were lodged was next to the mosque and
close to the bazaar; the smells and noise were almost unendurable, so we
worked hard to get our preparations made, and to make our sojourn here
as short as possible. This 'palace' was a large building; a very dirty
staircase led to a quantity of rooms, large and small, inhabited in
rather a confusing manner, not only by our own party, but by another, and
to get at our servants we had to pick our way between the prostrate forms
of an Arabian gentleman and his attendants. We were the first arrivals,
so we collected from the various rooms as many bits of torn and rotten
old matting as we could find, to keep the dust down in our own room,
which was about 40 feet long by 30 feet wide, so very much covered with
dust that no pavement could be seen without digging. It would have been
necessary to have 'seven maids with seven brooms to sweep for half a
year' before they could have cleared that room. Windows were all round,
unglazed of course, and quite shutterless. We set out our furniture and
had plenty of room to spread the baggage round us. An enormous packing
case from Kew Gardens had little besides a great fork in it, so that case
came no farther. Another case, to which the botanist had to resort
constantly, had always to be tied up with rope, as it had neither lock
nor hinges.
We were six days at Makalla arranging about camels and safe conduct, and
wondering when we should get away; so of course we had plenty of time to
inspect the town, which on account of the many Parsees had quite an
Indian air in some parts. Sometimes one comes upon a deliciously scented
part in the bazaars where myrrh and spices, attar of roses, and rose
leaves are sold in little grimy holes almost too small to enter; but for
the part near the fish market, I can only say that awful stenches
prevail, and the part where dates and other fruits are sold is almost
impassable from flies.
For our journey inland we were entrusted by the sultan to a tribe of
Bedouin and their camels. Mokaik was the name of our Mokadam or
head-man, and his tribe rejoiced in the name of Khailiki. They were tiny
spare men, quite beardless, with very refined, gentle faces; they might
easily have been taken for women, so gentle and pretty were they. They
were naturally dark, and made darker still by dirt and indigo. Their long
shaggy hair was twisted up into a knot and bound by a long plaited
leather string like a bootlace, which was wound round the hair and then
two or three times round the head, like the fillet worn by Greek women in
ancient times. They were naked save for a loin-cloth and the girdle to
which were attached their brass powder flasks, shaped like a ram's horn,
their silver cases for flint and steel, their daggers, and their thorn
extractors, consisting of a picker and tweezers, fastened together. They
are very different from the stately Bedouin of Syria and Egypt, and are,
both as to religion and physique, distinctly an aboriginal race of
Southern Arabia, as different from the Arab as the Hindoo is from the
Anglo-Saxon.
Our ideas as to _Bedouin_ and _Bedawi_, which latter word we never heard
while we were in Southern Arabia, were that they were tall, bearded men,
not very dark in colour, and our imaginations connected them with
hospitality and much clothes. None of these characteristics are found
among the Bedouin of this district. _Bedouin_ is not a word in use, but
_Bedou_ for both singular and plural. They speak of themselves as _el
Bedou_, and when they have seen us wondering at some strange custom, they
have said apologetically, 'Ah! Bedou, Bedou!' I have heard them address a
man whose name they did not know 'Ya Bedou.' I mean to use _Bedou_ for
singular and _Bedouin_ for plural.
Besides the Bedouin we were accompanied by five soldiers,
Muofok-el-Briti, Taisir-i-Fahari, Bariki, and an old man. For the
twenty-two camels we paid 175 dollars to Hagarein, a journey, we were
told, of twenty days.
It would have been useless to have had riding camels, as one could get no
faster than the baggage and soldiers, and travelling so far daily, and up
such rocks, one had to go at foot-pace. We should have had to wait longer
at Makalla while more camels were collected, and the more camels you have
the farther they stray when food is scarce, and the more chance there is
of the annoyance of waiting for lost camels to be found, and sometimes
found too late to start that day. We need not have had twenty-two camels,
and once, later, all the baggage was sent on ten, but this was to suit
the purposes of the Bedouin.
Before proceeding further with our journey, I will here say a few words
concerning the somewhat complex body politic of this portion of Arabia,
the inhabitants of which may be divided into four distinct classes.
Firstly, there are numerous wild tribes of Bedouin scattered all over the
country, who do all the carrying trade, rear and own most of the camels,
and possess large tracts of country, chiefly on the highlands and smaller
valleys. They are very numerous and powerful, and the Arabs of the towns
are certainly afraid of them, for they can make travelling in the country
very difficult, and even blockade the towns. They never live in tents, as
do the Bedouin of Northern Arabia; the richer ones have quite large
houses, whilst the poorer ones--those in Shabwa and the Wadi Adim, for
instance--dwell in caves.
Secondly, we have the Arabs proper, a decidedly later importation into
the country than the Bedouin. They live in and cultivate the lands around
the towns; many of them carry on trade and go to India and the Straits
Settlements, and some of them are very wealthy. They also are divided
into tribes. The chief of those dwelling in the Hadhramout are the Yafei,
Kattiri, Minhali, Amri, and Tamimi. The Bedouin reside amongst them, and
they are constantly at war with one another, and the complex system of
tribal union is exceedingly difficult to grasp.
Thirdly, we have the Seyyids and Sherifs, a sort of aristocratic
hierarchy, who trace their descent from the daughter and son of the
Prophet. Their influence in the Hadhramout is enormous, and they fan the
religious superstition of the people, for to this they owe their
existence. They boast that their pedigree is purer than that of any other
Seyyid family, even than those of Mecca and Medina. Seyyids and Sherifs
are to be found in all the large towns and considerable villages, and
even the Arab sultans show them a marked respect and kiss their hands
when they enter a room. They have a distinct jurisdiction of their own,
and most disputed points of property, water rights, and so on, are
referred to their decision. They look with peculiar distrust on the
introduction of external influence into their sacred country, and are the
obstructionists of the Hadhramout, but at the same time their influence
is decidedly towards law and order in a lawless land. They never carry
arms.
Lastly, we have the slave population of the Hadhramout, all of African
origin, and the freed slaves who have married and settled in the country.
Most of the tillers of the soil, personal servants, and the soldiers of
the sultans are of this class.