“Time is money”--_Rumamain_--Priestly hospitality--Fair mountain
groves--Es-Salt--The springs--Relation to Arabs--Raisins--Descent to
the Jordan--Distant view of Jerusalem--View of the river, the plains
of Jordan, the Dead Sea, and the mountains beyond--The bridge--The
“publican’s” shed--The men from _Kerâk_.
CAUSES for delay are never far to seek among Orientals. “Time is money”
is a phrase void of meaning in Arab ears. Money is precisely the thing
he lacks most, while of time he has more than abundance. An Eastern
in a hurry is one of the rarest sights. We were still on the uplands,
far from our destination, when the sun began to throw his evening
glories over the western hills. Our cook thought fit to profess that
he had lost the way--this doubtless to pay us out for our refusal
of a guide. His manner, however, was much too cool and collected,
so we were not deceived. But it was annoying, as the whole caravan
drew up, to see him comfortably seated among the bushes, on the top
of a huge precipice, enjoying a cigarette. We moved rapidly forward,
and fortunately found a wandering _Bedawy_ who, for a consideration,
agreed to conduct us to _es-Salt_. He led us by a steep pathway to the
bottom of a sweet valley. Then suddenly we plunged into a romantic
ravine, down which dashed a brawling stream, sprinkling rock and bush
with sparkling diamonds. A stiff climb up the farther bank brought us
to the little village of _Rumamain_, just as the light departed. Our
tents were pitched by candle-light. The villagers, who are Christians,
were most cordial in their welcome, and hastened to furnish whatever we
required, as far as it was in their power. The priest invited our party
to take refreshments with him, and those who could be spared from the
camp gladly accepted his hospitality. He well maintained the eastern
traditions in the entertainment of strangers, although some of his
beverages were stronger than the desert law prescribes!
[Illustration: RUMAMAIN]
The village stands on the edge of the gorge through which we had
passed. The mountains tower aloft on either side. The valley narrows
southward, but to the north it opens out into a broad, fertile expanse,
bounded by the mountains, torn with water-courses, which form the
southern bank of the gorge of the Jabbok.
Before daybreak we were all astir. Waiting only for a supply of
beautiful milk, which was brought us by the Arabs in the mountains,
we got to horse again. Our guide shouldered his club and marched off
towards the thickets that hung, shaggy and dark, on the sides of the
valley. Our path wound among these delightful groves almost to the
confines of _es-Salt_. About three hours sufficed to bring us to the
city, but the ride was one not soon to be forgotten. It was one of
the most enjoyable parts of our whole journey. Thick oaks and thorns
gathered in the bottom of the hollows; honeysuckle, entwining their
gnarled limbs, shed perfume on the air; the hillsides were clad with
trees of richly varied foliage, while tall pines swayed gracefully high
over all. The morning was fresh and beautiful. Even the horses seemed
to feel the inspiration of surroundings, and footed it merrily along.
It seemed all too soon when we reached the edge of the forest, and
looked forth on the treeless hills beyond. Many of these are, however,
covered with vineyards, whose sprouting green relieved the dull
monotony. Tree-clad they too once were, as we can see from the numerous
stumps in the fields. A few of the forest patriarchs, left here and
there in the cultivated ground, would have done much to beautify the
land, and would have yielded grateful shade to the labourers. But it is
difficult to restrain the axe when it is once set in motion. Here we
found evidences of genuine industry. Wherever it is possible, vines are
planted and carefully tended, so that the face of the country assumes
quite a cheerful and prosperous aspect.
The city of _es-Salt_, lying as it does on the steep slope of a
valley, is not seen until one is fairly upon it. The name _es-Salt_ is
evidently derived from _salton hieraticon_--“the sacred forest.” The
inhabitants may number in all some seven thousand, of whom the great
majority are Moslems. With the Christians, however, they continue to
dwell together in harmony. There may be about two thousand Christians,
taking Greeks, Latins, and Protestants all together. The last belong
to the church founded by the Church Missionary Society. It was our good
fortune to meet with the Syrian clergyman of this congregation, _Kassîs
Khalîl Jamal_--a gentleman whose praise is in all the churches. With
his counsel, we were persuaded to stay here for the day, instead of
pushing straight on to Jordan, as we had originally intended. In the
valley under the city are olive groves, where the company, dismounting,
sat down for lunch, under shadow of the trees, with the sound of
running water in their ears. Our tents we pitched on the top of the
hill overlooking the town, separated by a narrow valley from that on
which the ruins of the old castle stand.
Having seen all right about the camp, some of us set out, gun in
hand, tempted by the numerous partridges, and enjoyed an excellent
opportunity to see the surroundings of _es-Salt_. There are few remains
of antiquity, and these not of great interest. Traces of old graves,
found along the hill-faces, and the bare ruins of the old castle are
the chief. The springs, to which the town owes so much of its life,
are, of course, highly prized. The town itself is interesting as
being the chief mercantile centre in all the district east of Jordan
through which we travelled. The market is frequented by the _Beduw_
from far and near, and everything necessary for their poor life is
found exposed for sale in the streets. Hither the “housewives” bring
their _samn_, _jibn_ (clarified butter and cheese), skins, and other
products of the wilds, and carry off in return the cloth of which
their scanty clothing is made, coffee, tobacco, etc. _Es-Salt_ thus
forms an excellent basis from which to reach the Arab tribes in these
parts. The advantages it offers are utilised, as far as possible, by
the missionaries there, and, with the help of the medical department of
the mission, they have found considerable entrance; but, in order to
overtake the work in a manner at all satisfactory, men would have to be
set apart to devote all their time to evangelising the Arabs. With a
well-manned station here and another at _Bozrah_, nearly all, if indeed
not all, the tribes that touch the eastern borders of Palestine might
be reached; and in due time evangelists from among themselves would go
forth with the glad tidings into the inhospitable wastes beyond.
We were assured that the grapes grown in the district are unsuitable
for the making of wine. However that may be, wine is not made, but a
great business is carried on in raisins, those of _es-Salt_ being famed
throughout the whole country. The Jewish merchants of Tiberias buy
large quantities of them and use them to produce _’arak_--a distilled
spirit which is working havoc among the youth of western Palestine,
Moslems as well as others falling a prey to its seductive influences,
although all use of intoxicants is for them under religious ban.
[Illustration: ES-SALT, THE FOUNTAIN]
Our stores were replenished from the market, two days’ provision only
being required, as in that time we hoped to reach Jerusalem. Early next
morning all was packed up and ready for the descent to Jericho.
Several of our party were already in the saddle, when the horse of one
who had been assisting the ladies to mount thought fit to bolt, and,
in their wild efforts to catch him, the European horsemen may have
given the Arabs some new ideas in horsemanship. In any case, we gained
a more intimate acquaintance with the nearer surroundings of the city
than would have been possible otherwise. When at last the runaway was
captured, the main part of our caravan had already disappeared some
distance in front; and it may give some idea of the crookedness and
irregularity of the road to say that we did not catch a glimpse of
them again until we were almost upon them, on reaching the plain to
the north of the Dead Sea. It is a descent of over four thousand feet
in about fifteen miles. The road turns abruptly now to one hand, now
to the other, adapting itself to the possibilities of the rough, rocky
surface, plunging into ravines, and anon emerging on grassy tracts;
but downward, ever downward, is its course. The wild birds here are
evidently little used to be disturbed by man. Even the timid partridge
sat quite close, or nimbly ran along the rocks on either side of the
path. We had not left _es-Salt_ half-an-hour when, from an eminence
commanding a wide prospect, we saw the high tower that crowns the Mount
of Olives in the far distance, and thus caught the first glimpse of the
environs of Jerusalem. This is one of the most tantalising sights. It
seems so near, and yet hours of toil in the hot sun seem to bring the
traveller no nearer. And when, as the sun sinks, he descends into the
valley, and it is lost to view, it seems as if he had been following
some strange kind of “Will o’ the wisp.” Ere long, too, we obtained
a view of the Dead Sea, lying under a blue haze away below us to the
left; and soon we could trace the course of Jordan through the sandy
plain by the winding breadth of deep green that fills the valley within
the valley in which the river is confined.
[Illustration: JORDAN, SHOWING TERRACES]
In that clear, dry atmosphere distances are most deceptive. Seen
through the openings in the hills, one would think that on touching
the plain we should immediately reach the river, but there are miles
of flat, sandy ground to cover ere we pass under the shadow of the
embowering foliage and hear the rush of the waters of Jordan. Leaving
behind us the mountains of Ammon, which form the eastern boundary
of these deep plains, their scarred sides stretching away into the
beetling heights that rise darkly over the Salt Sea, the prospect
before us was one of enchanting interest. We were already on the
borders of the “circle” of Sodom, which charmed the worldly eye and
heart of Abraham’s nephew, when viewed from yonder mountains to the
west, and which was so generously given up by the aged uncle to the
youthful Lot. How strikingly these barren plains enforce the lessons
of that old-world history! How vain the choice of beauteous pastures,
one day ere long to be o’erwhelmed in desert sand! How infinitely
wise the choice of Abraham, the portion of whose inheritance was the
unchanging God Himself! There, stretching away southward until lost in
a blue haze between her guardian mountains, are the waters of the
great sea, which still, in name, is associated with the unhappy Lot;
for the natives call it only _Bahr Lût_--“the sea of Lot.” Before us
flowed the river whose tide rolled backward, and over which, while
the ark of the covenant stood in the midst, the great “congregation”
of Israel crossed dry-shod. Yonder lies the site of Gilgal, whence
the conquering hosts went forth under the gallant Joshua. Towards the
western border of the plain we saw great patches of green, over which
rose a curl of blue smoke, marking the position of _Erîha_, the village
which now represents the city of Jericho, whose walls fell down at the
shout of the armies of Israel. Beyond rose the dark, frowning crags of
_Karantal_, by tradition identified with the wild scenes of our Lord’s
Temptation.
The Jordan Valley stretched away northward between its mountain walls
almost as far as the eye could reach; the high cone of _Karn Sartabeh_
rising full two thousand feet above the plain. This last has been by
some identified with the great altar raised by the Eastern tribes on
their return from the conquest of the West. It is in reality an “altar”
of Nature’s raising, and is interesting as one of the signal stations
from which, by means of great fires, intelligence was flashed over the
land when the new moon had been seen in Jerusalem. The wooden bridge
by which we crossed the Jordan was entirely concealed by the groves
around until we were almost upon it. A substantial structure it looked,
made of strong beams, supported by great posts, all securely fastened
together; it seemed as if it would outlive any ordinary flood, and so,
doubtless, it would. But the floods of the winter 1890-91 were not
ordinary. For some months the rains were excessive. The river rose far
above its usual level, submerging large tracts, and carrying off much
that was valuable--among the rest the bridge, which had done us and
others such good service. The river here is deep and strong, sweeping
with great rapidity round its swift curves. The water is of a thick,
brown colour, charged with the soil over which it passes. Care must be
taken in approaching the treacherous banks of sand and clay. Toll was
collected by an enterprising Syrian, who had erected a wooden shed at
the Jericho end of the bridge. One or two native huts also stood on the
little level, almost surrounded by a bend of the river, and protected
to westward by high sand bluffs.
It was already past mid-day when we arrived, and, as the heat was
terrible, we were thankful to take refuge in the “publican’s” shed.
We were received with every token of welcome by the owner, who at
once busied himself to provide for our refreshment. We found it an
excellent plan to carry with us a supply of tea. It is often easy to
get boiling water when it is hard to get other things. Tea is swiftly
made, and, on a hot journey, is most refreshing. _Leban_, also, there
was in plenty. After our meal, the more weary of the party, stretched
in the shade, enjoyed a delightful nap,--only for a little, however;
for this being the chief thoroughfare between east and west of Jordan,
quiet could not be secured for long at a time. Shepherds passed over
with their flocks, and guided them down to the water’s edge to drink.
Negotiating with some of the more tractable of these half-wild men, we
secured draughts of delicious milk. Then came Arabs from the uplands of
Moab; strong, stalwart, sallow-featured men; some armed with the spear,
others carrying rifles, with belts stuck full of battered cartridges.
They sat down sociably around the shed, and conversed freely. They were
greatly impressed with the strength of the men of _Kerâk_, the ancient
Kir Moab. The district was not even nominally subject to the Ottoman
Government. The spirit of wild independence was abroad among them.
While yielding ready obedience to their own _sheyûkh_, they resent
and battle to the death against any interference with their tribal
liberty. Holding themselves absolute masters of the soil, they consider
themselves entitled to levy blackmail on all who pass through their
territory. This varies in amount, according to the prudence or the want
of it displayed by the traveller. One who goes with tents, a large
retinue of servants, and luxurious appointments may have to pay some
hundreds of pounds before he escapes their hands; another may shoulder
his camera, ride in on a mule, and with a few _rotls_ of coffee and a
judicious distribution of a few pounds of tobacco and snuff, may march
about with freedom, photograph all of interest in the district, and
carry off his work in safety. In these regions one must avoid every
appearance of wealth. The Turkish Government claims a supremacy which
for long it was unable to assert. Often we heard that the _Hajj_ guard,
returning from _Mecca_, was to attack and subdue the Kerâkers. The
report that there were four thousand trained men, armed with repeating
rifles and no lack of ammunition, no doubt restrained the valour of the
gallant guard. At length the Turk has established a certain shadowy
authority in the town of _Kerâk_ itself; but over the Arabs, who
occupy the town only a few months in the year, it is difficult, if not
impossible, to exercise any effective control.
The stronghold, the thought of attacking which gave cold shivers to
the Turkish soldiery, could not daunt the high-hearted soldiers of the
Cross. With admirable courage, in the true spirit of Christian heroism,
a missionary and his wife braved all the dangers in the way, and made
for themselves a home in the midst of these people. That they had
dangers not a few to face, and many privations to endure, needs hardly
to be said. But these “things did not move them”; and the bold warrior
Arab learned to love the man of peace, and prize him as a friend. Who
knows whether the Cross may not soon triumph where the crescent so long
struggled for supremacy in vain!