INCIDENTS OF LIFE IN KHARTOUM.
The Departure of Abd-el Kader Bey—An Illuminated Picture—The
Breakfast on the Island—Horsemanship—The Pasha’s
Stories—Departure of Lattif Effendi’s Expedition—A Night
on the Sand—Abou-Sin, and his Shukoree Warriors—Change
in the Climate—Intense Heat and its Effects—Preparations
for Returning—A Money Transaction—Farewell Visits—A
Dinner with Royal Guests—Jolly King Dyaab—A Shillook
Dance—Reconciliation—Taking Leave of my Pets.
I arose at sunrise, and leaving Achmet to have my baggage removed,
walked through the town to my head-quarters at the Consular residence.
I found Dr. Reitz’s horses saddled in the court, and himself walking in
the garden. He was greatly surprised to see me, not having expected me
for another week. After the first greetings were over, he informed me
that Abd-el Kader Bey, the Governor of Kordofan, was about leaving for
Obeid, and his friends intended to accompany him as far as the island
of Moussa Bey, in the White Nile. During my absence, Mohammed Kheyr had
presented Dr. Reitz with a fine Dongolese horse, which he offered to me,
that I might participate in the festivities. While I was at the Catholic
Mission, relating my adventures to Dr. Knoblecher, a messenger came to
announce that Abd-el Kader’s boat had left, and that he, with the other
chiefs of Khartoum, were ready to set out on horseback for the White
Nile. We rode at once to the house of Moussa Bey, who had quite recovered
from his illness. The company was already mounted in the square before
the house, and only awaited our arrival. We dashed through the lanes
of the slave quarter, raising such a cloud of dust that little except
red caps and horses’ tails was visible, until we came out upon the open
plain, where our cavalcade made a showy and picturesque appearance.
The company consisted of Abd-el Kader Bey, Moussa Bey, Musakar Bey, Ali
Bey Khasib, Abou-Sin and Owd-el Kerim, the Shukoree chiefs, Ali Effendi,
Mohammed Kheyr, Dr. Reitz, Dr. Péney and myself, besides a number of
inferior officers and at least fifty attendants: in short, everybody of
consequence in Khartoum except the Pasha, who was represented by one of
his Secretaries. The Beys were mounted on fine Arabian stallions, Dr.
Péney on a tall dromedary, and the Arab chiefs on mules and donkeys,
while the grooms and pipe-bearers ran behind on foot. I shall long
remember the brilliant picture of that morning. The sky was clear and
hot, and the palms rustled their shining leaves in a light wind. The
fields of beans lay spread out between us and the river, their purple
blossoms rolling in long drifts and flakes of color, and warm, voluptuous
perfume. The red caps, the green and scarlet housings of the horses,
the rich blue, brown, purple and violet dresses of the Beys, and the
snowy robes of the Arabs, with their crimson borders thrown over the
shoulder, projected against the tawny hue of the distant plains, and
the warm blue of the sky, formed a feast of color which, in its entire
richness and harmony, so charmed my eye that the sight of it became a
luxury to the sense, as palpable as that of an exquisite flavor to the
palate. Away we went at full gallop, the glittering array of colors
dancing and interchanging to the rapid music, as our horses’ hoofs tore
the bean-vines and flung their trailing blossoms into the air, until
we reached the bank of the White Nile, where the Bey’s vessel was just
coming to land. Here the Arab shekhs and the greater part of the inferior
officers embraced Abd-el Kader and returned to Khartoum.
The rest of us crossed to the island of Moussa Bey and walked over
the thick green turf to a large mimosa tree, of the variety called
_’araz_, where the carpets were spread on the ground for us and the
slaves were ready with our pipes. We lay there two or three hours, in
the pleasant shade, talking, smoking, and lazily watching the motions
of the attendants, who were scattered all over the island. An Albanian
in a scarlet dress shot a wild goose, and Dr. Reitz tried to bring down
an ibis, but failed. Finally the _showrmeh_—an entire sheep, stuffed
with rice—appeared, garnished with bread, onions, radishes and grapes.
We bared our right arms and buried our hands in the smoking flesh with
such good will, that in half an hour the dish contained nothing but a
beautiful skeleton. Abd-el Kader Bey honored me by tearing off a few
choice morsels with his own fingers and presenting them to me. A bowl of
rice cooked in milk and sweetened, completed the repast. At noon we went
on board the _sandal_, and after being shipped to the other side, took
leave of Abd-el Kader with an embrace and “God grant you a prosperous
journey!”—to which he replied: “God grant it!” He sailed off, up the
White Nile, for Tura, with a fine breeze, and we turned homewards. The
wind which blew across the plain in our faces, was as hot and dry as
the blast of a furnace, and my head reeled under the terrible intensity
of the sunshine. The Beys took every opportunity of displaying their
horsemanship, dashing over the bean-fields in wild zigzags, reining up in
mid-career, throwing their crooked canes into the air after the manner of
a jereed, and describing circles and ellipses at full gallop. The finest
of all was my handsome Albanian friend, Musakar Bey.
I called upon the Pasha the same afternoon, to give him an account of my
voyage up the White Nile, and was obliged to remain and dine with him. He
was very much interested in my adventures with the Shillooks, but gave
me to understand that the negroes had great fear of his power, and that
if they had not known I was under his protection they would certainly
have killed me. When I spoke of the giant stature of the Shillooks he
confirmed what I had already heard, that the Kyks and Baris are full
seven feet in height. He also stated that his predecessor, Achmet Pasha
Menekleh, had captured in the regions beyond Fazogl thirty blacks, who
were nine feet high and terrible to behold. They were brought to Khartoum
in chains, he said, but refused to eat, howled like wild beasts, and died
in paroxysms of savage fury. When I remembered that the Pasha had already
told me that there was a subterraneous passage from Alexandria to the
Fyoom (a distance of two hundred miles), made by Alexander the Great, and
that the Sultan at Constantinople had an ape which grew to be twenty feet
in height, I received this last communication with a grain of allowance.
He fully believed in the existence of the N’yàm-N’yàms (a horribly
suggestive name), or cannibals, who I have no doubt, are a fabulous
race. Dr. Barth heard of them in Adamowa, south of Lake Tsad, and Dr.
Knoblecher in the Bari country, but no one has ever yet seen them.
The expedition of Lattif Effendi had met with many delays, but on Monday,
the second of February, every thing was ready for its departure. It
consisted of two large _nekkers_ or trading-vessels, each armed with a
cannon, and carrying six soldiers in addition to the crew. It was also
provided with interpreters, who spoke the languages of the different
tribes. Fat Abou-Balta, who was the owner of one of the vessels, Dr.
Péney, Dr. Reitz and myself, made up a party to accompany Lattif Effendi
the first stage of his voyage. We took the same little _sandal_ in which
I had sailed, and pushed away from Khartoum at sunset, followed by the
nekkers. The relatives of the sailors were crowded on the bank to bid
them good-bye, and as the vessels weighed anchor, the women set up the
shrill “_lu-lu-lu-lu-lu_,” which they use to express all emotions, from
rapture down to despair. We had a light, but favoring wind, and at nine
o’clock reached a long, sandy beach about five miles above the mouth of
the White Nile, where we came to a halt. The vessels were moored to the
shore, fires kindled, pipes lighted and coffee made, and we gathered
into groups on the sand, in the light of the full moon. At midnight
the customary sheep made its appearance, accompanied by two bottles of
claret, whereat Abou-Balta affected to be scandalized, so long as any
Moslem attendants were in the neighborhood. When the coast was clear,
he sprawled out like another Falstaff, his jolly face beaming in the
moonlight, and took a sly taste of the forbidden beverage, which he
liked so well that he no longer resented the wicked nickname of “_gamoos
el-bahr_” (hippopotamus), which we bestowed upon him. We tried to sleep
a little, but although the sand was soft, the night air was chilly, and
I believe nobody succeeded but Abou-Balta, whose enormous belly shook
with the force of his snoring, as he lay stretched out on his back. By
three in the morning everybody was tired; the fires had burned out, the
meats of the banquet had grown cold, and the wind blew more freshly from
the north. Lattif Effendi called his sailors on board and we took leave
of him. The two nekkers spread their huge wings and sailed off in the
moonlight for the land of the Baris, while we made our slow way back to
Khartoum, where we arrived at daybreak.
During my absence there had been three distinguished arrivals—Abou-Sin,
the great shekh of the Shukorees (the father of Owd-el Kerim), Melek
Dyaab, the king of Dar El-Màhass, and Ali, shekh of the Ababdehs—all
of whom had been summoned by the Pasha, for the purpose of consulting
with them on the condition of their territories. Abou-Sin was one of the
stateliest and most dignified personages I had ever seen. He was about
seventy-five years of age, six feet six inches in height, straight as
a lance, with a keen, fiery eye, and a gray beard which flowed to his
waist. Dr. Péney, who had visited the old shekh in Takka, informed me
that he could bring into the field four thousand warriors, each mounted
on his own dromedary. The Shukorees wear shirts of chain-mail and helmets
with chain-pieces falling on each side of the face, like their Saracen
ancestors. Their weapons are still the sabre and lance, with which they
have maintained their independence against all enemies, except the cannon
of Mohammed Ali. Dr. Reitz took me to visit the Shekh, who was living in
an humble mud building, not far from the Pasha’s palace. We found him
giving audience to a number of inferior shekhs, who were seated upon the
earthen floor, below his divan. His son, Owd-el Kerim, was among them.
The Consul took his seat at the shekh’s side, and I did the same, but,
although nothing was said, I saw that those present mentally resented
our presumption, and felt that I had been guilty of a breach of decorum.
The object of our visit was to invite the shekh to dine with us, and he
graciously complied. Owd-el Kerim was included in the invitation, but he
excused himself on the ground that he did not dare to eat at the same
table with his father, I was delighted with this trait, which recalled
the patriarchal days of the Old Testament, and justified the claim of the
Arabs to the blood of Abraham.
After my return the weather had suddenly changed, and every thing denoted
the approach of the hot and sickly season. The thermometer stood at 105°
in the shade, at noon, and there was an intensely hot wind from the
south. On account of the languor and depression consequent upon such a
heat, it required an extraordinary effort to make the necessary entries
in my journal. I barely succeeded in moving about sufficiently to shake
off the feverish humors which in that climate so rapidly collect in the
system. I always placed a cool earthen jug of water at my bedside, and
when I awoke in the middle of the night with a heavy head and parched
throat, would take a full draught, which immediately threw me into a
profuse sweat, after which I slept soundly and healthily until morning.
He who lives in Khartoum in the hot season must either sweat or die.
M. Drovetti, of Alexandria (son of the French Consul Drovetti, with
whom Belzoni had so many quarrels), arrived about this time and was
immediately prostrated with fever. Many of the Franks and Egyptians were
also affected, and Achmet, who felt plethoric symptoms, must needs go to
a barber and be bled in the head. He besought me to return to Egypt, and
as I had already accomplished much more than I anticipated, I began at
once to prepare for the homeward journey.
The route which I fixed upon was that across the Beyooda Desert to
Napata, the ancient capital of Ethiopia, thence to Dongola, and through
the Nubian kingdoms to the Second Cataract of the Nile, at Wadi Haifa.
The first part of the journey, through the countries of the Kababish and
the Howoweet, was considered rather dangerous, and as a precautionary
measure I engaged three of the former tribe, as guide and camel-drivers.
I purchased two large Shukoree dromedaries for myself and Achmet, at
three hundred and two hundred and fifty piastres respectively, and hired
three others from the Kababish, at fifty piastres for the journey to
Eddabe, on the Dongolese frontier, by way of Napata. The contract was
formally made in the presence of the shekh of Khartoum and Dr. Reitz,
both of whom threatened the Arabs with destruction in case they should
not convey me safely through the Desert. The Consul also did me good
service in the negotiation of my draft on Fathalla Musallee, a Coptic
merchant, who demanded twenty per cent. for the exchange. This, as my
funds were getting low, would have been a serious loss, but by some
arithmetical legerdemain, which I could not understand, the Consul so
bewildered poor Fathalla’s brain, that he was finally made to believe
that a discount of five per cent. would somehow profit him more in
the end than one of twenty per cent. Fathalla paid the money with a
melancholy confusion of ideas, and I doubt whether he has to this day
discovered in what way he increased his profits by the operation.
My provision-chests were replenished with coffee, sugar, rice, dates
and _mishmish_ (dried apricots), from the bazaar, and Achmet worked so
cheerily with the prospect of leaving Soudân, that every thing was in
readiness at a day’s notice. Rather than wait until the following Monday,
for luck’s sake, I fixed upon Thursday, the fifth of February, for our
departure. Many of the subordinate Egyptian officers prepared letters to
their families, which they intrusted to Achmet’s care, and poor old Rufaā
Bey, more than ever disgusted with his exile, charged me with a letter
to his wife and another to Mr. Murray, through whose aid he hoped to get
permission to return to Egypt. I paid a farewell visit to the Pasha, who
received me with great courtesy, informing me (what I already knew), that
he was about to be superseded by Rustum Pasha, who, he predicted, would
not find the government of Soudân an easy one.
I was sorry to part with Vicar Knoblecher and his brethren. Those
self-sacrificing men have willingly devoted themselves to a life—if life
it can be called, which is little better than death—in the remote heart
of Africa, for the sake of introducing a purer religion among its pagan
inhabitants, and I trust they will be spared to see their benevolent
plans realized. They are men of the purest character and animated by the
best desires. Aboona Suleyman, as Dr. Knoblecher is called, is already
widely known and esteemed throughout Soudân, and although he can do but
little at present in the way of religious teaching, he has instituted
a school for the children of the Copts, which may in time reform the
(so-called) Christian society of Khartoum. If he should succeed in
establishing a mission in the country of the Baris, the result will be
not less important to Science than to Christianity, and the experiment is
one which should interest the world.
On the evening before my departure the shekhs Abou-Sin, Ali, the Ababdeh,
and Melek Dyaab came to dine with Dr. Reitz. Abou-Sin was grave and
stately as ever, and I never looked at him without thinking of his four
thousand mailed warriors on their dromedaries, sweeping over the plains
of Takka. Shekh Ali was of medium size, with a kind, amiable face, and a
touch of native refinement in his manner. King Dyaab, however, who wore
a capacious white turban and a robe of dark-blue cloth, was the “merry
monarch” of Central Africa. His large eyes twinkled with good humor and
his round face beamed with the radiance of a satisfied spirit. He brought
a black Dongolese horse as a present for Dr. Reitz, and requested me to
put him through his paces, on the plain before the house, as it would
have been contrary to African etiquette for the Doctor himself to test
the character of the gift. I complied, but the saddle was adapted only
for the short legs of the fat king, and after running a circular course
with my knees drawn up nearly to my chin, the resemblance of the scene to
the monkey-riding of the circus struck me so forcibly, that I jumped off
and refused to mount again, greatly to the monarch’s disappointment.
Shekhs Abou-Sin and Ali took their departure shortly after the disposal
of the roast sheep and salad which constituted the dinner, but King
Dyaab and Dr. Péney remained until a late hour, smoking a parting pipe
with me, and partaking of a mixture of claret, lemons, pomegranate juice
and spices which the Consul compounded into a sherbet of the most
delicious flavor. King Dyaab drank my health with a profusion of good
wishes, begging me to remain another week and accompany his caravan. His
palace in Dar El-Màhass, he said, was entirely at my disposal and I must
remain several weeks with him. But there is nothing so unpleasant to me
as to postpone a journey after all the preparations are made, and I was
reluctantly obliged to decline his invitation. I take pleasure, however,
in testifying to the King’s good qualities, which fully entitle him to
the throne of Dar El Màhass, and were I installed in his capital of
Kuke, as court-poet, I should certainly write a national ballad for the
Mahassees, commencing in this wise:
“El Melek Dyaab is a jolly old King,
And a jolly old King is he,” etc.
After the Melek had bestowed a parting embrace by throwing his arms
around my waist, and dropping his round head on my shoulder like a
sixty-eight pound shot, he was sent home in state on the back of Sultan,
the Dar-Fūr stallion. The moonlight was so beautiful that the Consul
and I accompanied Dr. Péney to his residence. The latter suggested
another pipe in the open air of his court-yard, and awoke his Shillook
slaves, who were lying asleep near the house, to perform a dance for our
amusement. There were three—two males and a female—and their midnight
dance was the most uncouth and barbaric thing I saw in Khartoum. They
brandished their clubs, leaped into the air, alighting sometimes on one
foot and sometimes on both, and accompanied their motions with a series
of short, quick howls, not unlike the laughter of a hyena. After the
dance, Dr. Reitz effected a reconciliation between one of the men and
the woman, who had been married, but were about to separate. They knelt
before him, side by side, and recounted their complaints of each other,
which were sufficiently ludicrous, but a present of three piastres
(fifteen cents!), purchased forgetfulness of the past and renewed vows
for the future.
I felt a shadow of regret when I reflected that it was my last night
in Khartoum. After we walked home I roused the old lioness in her
corner, gave her a farewell hug and sat down on her passive back until
she stretched out her paws and went to sleep again. I then visited the
leopard in the garden, made him jump upon my shoulders and play his
antics over once more. The hyenas danced and laughed fiendishly, as
usual when they saw me, but the tall Kordofan antelope came up softly
and rubbed his nose against my leg, asking for the dourra which I was
accustomed to give him. I gave him, and the gazelles, and the leopard,
each an affectionate kiss, but poked the surly hyenas until they howled,
on my way to bed.