WE DEPART FOR THE LAND'S END--_i.e._ RAS MOMI
After leaving Tamarida we spent a night at a place the name of which has
been variously spelt. We decided to spell it Dihelemnitin. It has
otherwise been called Dishelenata, &c. It is a lovely spot, at the
confluence of two streams in a wood of palms, and we had a nice little
flat field to camp in. When I say a field, I mean a wall-supported place
once used as such. We saw very little cultivation except gardens at the
villages, and the palm-trees were for the most part quite neglected. Near
Tamarida we saw just a few fan-palms, and one I remember looked very odd,
as it still retained every leaf it had ever had, and looked like a yellow
tower, with the green leaves at the top. All the rest were bristling,
withered down to the ground.
In South Arabia people are punished if they steal each other's
palm-leaves, as the ribs are valuable for many things as well as the
leaves themselves, but here there are no restrictions of that kind.
There was a good deal of climbing up and down to Saièhen, our next camp.
While we stayed there my husband went about everywhere that he was told
there were ruins or supposed inscriptions, but saw nothing worth
mentioning except the inscribed crosses already alluded to.
At first, after leaving Saièhen, we kept along the lower ground for some
time, passing by Garriah Khor, a very long inlet or lagoon which
stretches inland for at least two miles. We dismounted at Dis'hass,
where, we were told by Ammar, 'the English once had houses.' It was a
mass of ruins.
We went over a pass about 2,500 feet high, and up and down two sets of
hills to a level plain about 1,500 feet high, extending all the way to
Ras Momi. As we ascended we passed a peak 2,000 feet high, called
Gòdahan, which has a great hole in the middle of it, through which a
large patch of sky is visible. We encamped near it, close to the hamlet
of Kit'hab, in a wood of palms and various other trees, full of those
pretty green and grey birds, half parrot and half dove, whose beauty,
however, did not save them from our pot.
From this place and even before we reached it we had very little personal
use of our camels, the clambering up as well as down was so severe.
There is behind the peak of Gòdahan a curious flat ridge, raised not very
many feet above the plateau, which is called Matagioti, and is perfectly
honeycombed with fissures and crevices, offering delightful homes for
people of troglodytic tendencies. Huge fig-trees grow in these crevices,
and dragon's-blood trees, and large herds of cows and goats revel in the
rich carpet of grass which covers the flat surface of the plateau.
Unfortunately, this rich pasture ground is only indifferently supplied
with water. We obtained ours from two very nasty holes where rain-water
had lain, and in which many cattle had washed; and when these dry up the
Bedouin have to go down to the lower valleys in search of it. Before we
left it had assumed the appearance of porter.
There was a great deal of lavender growing about and numerous pretty
flowers, and we found many shells in that place. It was so very cold that
we had a fine bonfire to dine by, and the dew that night was drenching,
pouring off our tents like rain in the morning.
As Ras Momi is approached the country wears a very desolate aspect; there
are no trees here, but low bushes and stunted adeniums covered with
lichen, and looking just like rocks with little bushes on them; very
little water, but plenty of grass.
We encamped near the hamlet of Saihon, where, though there was no
appearance of a mosque, there was not only a mollah but a doctor. The
former was so free from fanaticism as to send us a present of a lamb.
The inhabitants were very friendly to us, and let us go into their houses
and watch their occupations. The women were busy grinding limestone to
make pots; and we obtained a very dirty little bag full of a kind of
organic substance like small white stones, which is ground to powder,
mixed with water into a whitish paste, which after a little time turns
red. I think they paint the pots with it.
They were pleasant looking folk with quite a European cast of
countenance, mostly ugly, and some with scanty beards, and reminding us
strongly of the old frieze of the Parthenon sculptures in the Acropolis
Museum at Athens. Really, they were just like them except for their
colour, which is chocolate brown. We could not help thinking of the
'Moskophoros' when one came up to look at us with a lamb round his neck.
We settled there for several days, not being able to go nearer Ras Momi
for reasons connected with water. I cannot think it could have been
really pleasant to the people of Saihon that we should have drunk up
nearly all their water, and only left a little the colour of coffee
behind us.
We suffered badly while there from two things; firstly from the dreadful
kind of grass upon which we were encamped, and secondly from a regular
gale of wind.
The grass, a _pennisetum_ I believe, is one we knew and hated in
Mashonaland. The seed is like a little grain of very sharp oats, well
barbed, which carries behind it into your clothes a thread like a
fish-hook, about 2 inches long.
As for the wind, when we came home one afternoon we found Matthaios in a
most dreadful state, fearing the tents would be down. He was trying to
get the outer flies off alone, and was delighted when my husband and I,
the only two other experienced tent-dwellers, came to his assistance. For
days we might as well have lived in a drum, for the noise of this
tempest.
There was a little round enclosure to keep goats in; we knew that Hashi
and Mahmoud had taken this as their home, and we were satisfied that no
matter which way the wind blew they were sheltered; but one evening
before dinner we heard that Mahmoud was ill with fever. We both went to
see that he was comfortable, and my husband took him some quinine.
We found Hashi had put him to bed on the windy side of the enclosure,
with a hard, stiff camel-mat under him, one over his body, and a third on
his head. We soon moved him and wrapped him in blankets, and my husband
having got some sacks and other things as a pillow, Hashi put them on the
top of Mahmoud's head. We built up a waterproof tent over him, but soon
had to unpack him, as the village doctor appeared on the scene, demanding
a fee of two annas from my husband.
He began by making several slashes on the top of his head and cupping him
with a horn, which he sucked, gave him some medicine, and having spent a
little time blowing in different directions, settled down, crouching over
the patient, waving his hand as if making passes to mesmerise him, and
muttering a few words alternately with spitting, slightly and often, in
his face.
Our joint efforts were successful in the recovery of Mahmoud, who was
well next day.
It is curious that in this somewhat wild and at present uninteresting
locality we found more traces of ruins and bygone habitations than are
found in any other part of the island. About five miles from Ras Momi,
and hidden by an amphitheatre of low hills on the watershed between the
two seas, we came across the foundations of a large square building,
constructed out of very large stones, and with great regularity. It was
105 feet square; the outer wall was 6 feet thick, and it was divided
inside into several compartments by transverse walls. To the south-east
corner was attached an adjunct, 14 by 22 feet. There was very little soil
in this building; and nothing whatever save the foundations to guide us
in our speculations as to what this could be. Other ruins of a ruder and
more irregular character lay scattered in the vicinity, and at some
remote period, when Sokotra was in its brighter days, this must have been
an important centre of civilisation.
None of the natives would help us to dig in this place. They are very
much afraid of the Devil, and think the ground under the ruins is hollow
and that there is a house in it. At one time hopes were held out that the
sacrifice of a goat might avert danger, but, after all, we and Matthaios
had to do the best we could in the way of digging. We always carried
tools with us. My part consisted in tracing out the walls with the trowel
and moving stones.
My husband and I found it most difficult next day to take the
measurements in the high wind.
From Saihon my husband climbed up a steep and rugged mountain to a ruined
village on a strong place called Zerug. Ammar's family mansion was near:
a cave containing three women, some children, and large flocks of goats,
kept in the cave by a wall; it is heated at night, and very stuffy.
Before leaving this corner of the island we journeyed to the edge of the
plateau and looked down the steep cliffs at the eastern cape, where Ras
Momi pierces, with a series of diminishing heights, the Indian Ocean. The
waves were dashing over the remains of the wreck, still visible, of a
German vessel which went down here with all hands some few years ago, and
the Bedouin produced for our edification several fragments of German
print, which they had treasured up, and which they deemed of fabulous
value. Ras Momi somewhat reminded us of Cape Finisterre, in Brittany, and
as a dangerous point for navigation it also resembles it closely. Near
the summit of one hill we passed an ancient and long disused reservoir,
dug in the side of it, and constructed with stones; and during our stay
here we visited the sites of many ancient villages, and found the cave
charnel-houses already alluded to.
We lunched in a sort of cave, behind some huts on the opposite side of
the valley, if such it may be called, from the bone caves, and were put
to the rout by a serpent, which evidently liked the water in a little
rocky pit in the mouth of the cave. It was horrible stuff, but we had
brought water for our tea with us. Our supposed foe was slain. The
serpent was very pretty, fully a yard long, black and salmon-coloured,
and with a very tapering head and tail. It was said to be poisonous, but
we thought it could not be.
The hills all about Ras Momi are divided into irregular plots by long
piles of stones stretching in every direction, certainly not the work of
the Sokotrans of to-day, but the work of some people who valued every
inch of ground, and utilised it for some purpose or other. The miles of
walls we passed here, and rode over with our camels, give to the country
somewhat the aspect of the Yorkshire wolds. It has been suggested that
they were erected as divisions for aloe-grounds; but I think if this was
the case traces of aloes would surely be found here still. Aloes are
still abundant about Fereghet and the valleys of Haghier, but near Ras
Momi there are none, and it is hard to think what else could grow there
now; but these mountain slopes may not always have been so denuded.