BEHIND THE JEBEL ERBA
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 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, 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 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 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
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 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: script] (_ya_) and
[Symbol: script] (_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 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 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 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, 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.
[Illustration: 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 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 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 40_l_. to distribute. The three big sheikhs, by the advice of the
mamour, were given 2_l_. 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 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 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.
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.'
[Illustration: MAP OF
SOKOTRA
to illustrate the travels of
MR. J. THEODORE BENT.
_Stanford's Geog.^l Estab.^t, London_
London: Smith, Elder & Co.]
THE MAHRI ISLAND OF SOKOTRA