of Barkal the desolate and barren hills again encroach on the river,
excluding fertile land and steppe alike. The last group of rapids
now lies before the traveller who is making his way up-stream. The
region of the third group of cataracts is not so unutterably poor as
the rocky valley. Well-tilled, though narrow, strips of land lie on
either bank, and there are fertile islands in mid-stream; thus there
is not that look of hopeless poverty which is characteristic of the
region already traversed. The masses of rock on the banks are more
broken up than those in the rocky valley, and there are many of the
so-called “stone-seas”, hillocks and walls of wildly jumbled blocks
and rolled stones, such as mighty streams leave behind when they dig
their bed deeper in the valley. On each side, usually on the top of
the cliff next the stream, there are great blocks of more than a
hundred cubic yards in bulk, which rest so loosely on their substratum
that they oscillate in violent wind, and could be hurled down by a
few men with levers. In many places these stone-seas present a most
extraordinary appearance. It seems just as if giants had for a whim
amused themselves by erecting cones and pyramids, mounds and ramparts
to form a weirdly-disordered parapet on the river’s rocky embankment.
But it is not so much to this strange natural architecture as to
ancient works of man’s own hand, that the third group of rapids owes
its characteristic appearance. On all suitable rock-projections, and
especially on the larger islands, rise buildings with inclosing walls,
towers, and jagged battlements, such as are not seen elsewhere in the
Nile valley. These are fortifications of ancient days, castles of the
river-chiefs, erected for protection and defiance, to secure life and
property against the invasions of hostile neighbouring tribes. The
ramparts and battlements are built of unhewn stones, rudely piled one
upon the other, usually cemented only with Nile mud; the thick walls
of the superstructure, roofed with sun-dried mud-tiles, have for the
most part fallen or are still falling. These fortresses impress one not
so much by their architecture as by the boldness of their position.
A naked, deep-black, glistening rock rises from the midst of the
rushing waters, and bears on its summit one of these forts. The waves
beat wildly around its base, but it stands absolutely unshaken by any
flood, and towers aloft, an impregnable refuge. On the down-stream
side, in the shelter of the rock, the life-giving stream has added
beauty to sublimity. For in the course of ages the mud accumulated in
the still-water, and an island gradually rose above the flood. On this
fertile island man planted palms and laid out fields; and thus, among
the rocks there arose a pleasing scene of security and comfort, all the
more impressive in its contrast to the wilderness of restless water and
barren rock.
At the southern boundary of the third group of rapids begin the steppes
and forests of tropical Africa, in which rocks are found only here and
there on the banks of the main stream and its great tributaries. For
over 450 miles the Bahr-el-Abiad and Bahr-el-Azrek, the White and the
Blue Nile, flow through a fruitful and almost flat country; thereafter
there are again some rapids. But they do not belong to the picture
whose chief outlines I have been endeavouring to sketch: Nubia alone is
the land of the Nile cataracts.
While it is difficult to tell to what degree the Nubian has been
influenced by his surroundings, or made by them the manner of man
he is, this at least may be safely said, that he is as markedly
differentiated from his neighbour, the modern Egyptian, as his home is
different from the land of Egypt. The truth is, they have nothing in
common, neither race nor speech, neither customs nor habits, scarcely
even religion, although both to-day repeat the creed, “There is but one
God, and Mohammed is His prophet”.
The modern Egyptians are of mixed blood, being descended from the
ancient Egyptians and the immigrant Arabic hordes from Yemen and
Hedjaz, who amalgamated with the earlier inhabitants of the lower Nile
valley. The Nubians are descendants of the “wild Blemyes”, with whom
the Pharaohs of the ancient, middle, and more recent dynasties, as well
as the Egyptian governors of the Ptolemies, contended ceaselessly, and
by no means always successfully. The former use the language in which
the “Revelations” of Mohammed are recorded, the latter use an old
Ethiopian speech now split up into several dialects; the former employ
an ancient mode of writing, the latter never have had any which has
taken organic root in their own language. The former still preserve
the seriousness at once characteristic of the old Egyptians, and of
the sons of the desert from whom they sprang. Like all Orientals they
give themselves, throughout their whole life, deep anxiety about the
world to come, and order their customs and habits according to their
fantastic notions of it. The Nubians, on the other hand, have preserved
the cheerful joyousness of the Ethiopians, living like children for the
present, taking what is pleasant without thanks and what is painful
with loud complainings, and under the influence of the moment readily
forgetting both. The yoke of foreign masters rests heavily on both
alike; the Egyptian bears it with groaning and grumbling, the Nubian
with equanimity and without resistance; the former is a sullen slave,
the latter a willing servant. Every Egyptian fancies himself high above
the Nubian, regards himself as nobler in race, speech, and customs;
boasts of his culture, though that is restricted to but a few of the
people, and seeks to oppress the dark-skinned race as completely as
he himself is oppressed. The Nubian recognizes the general physical
superiority of the Egyptian, and thoroughly acknowledges the
intellectual culture of the prominent members of the neighbour-people,
but he seems to be scarcely conscious of his own deficiency in culture,
and is even inclined, in his turn, to enslave the less strong or less
gifted people of the interior. Yet even with the purchased negro he is
on a brotherly footing, and seems to have patiently submitted to his
burdensome fate, after having tried in vain to contend successfully
against a superior force. In every fibre of his being he is still a
child of nature, while the Egyptian seems the sad type of a decayed
and still decadent people. The Nubian, in the most barren country in
the world, still retains a measure of freedom; the Egyptian, on the
richest of soils, has become a slave, who is not likely ever to venture
to shake off his chains, though he still talks vaingloriously of the
greatness of his past.
In point of fact, the Nubian has as much right, if not more, to glory
in the exploits of his ancestors and to fortify his soul in recounting
their prowess. For these ancestors fought bravely not only with the
Pharaohs and the Romans, but also with the Turks and the Arabs--the
governing and subject races of modern Egypt[79]--nor would they have
been overcome had they not been without fire-arms. At the time of my
first visit to the Nile, eye-witnesses of some of the last battles were
still alive, and from their lips I learned enough to enable me to do
justice, in one respect at least, to a manly, much misjudged people.
The events to which I refer took place in the beginning of the third
decade of this century.
After Mohammed-Aali, the energetic but unscrupulous and even cruel
founder of the family now ruling in Egypt, had, in March 1811,
treacherously fallen upon and massacred the chiefs of the Mamelukes
whom he had invited to meet him, his mastery of the Lower Nile seemed
assured. But the proud warriors, whose leaders had been done to
death by shameful stratagem and unworthy breach of faith, were not
completely subjugated. Brooding revenge, the Mamelukes chose new
leaders and betook themselves to Nubia, there to collect their forces,
to renew the combat with their artful foe, or at least to threaten
him. Mohammed-Aali recognized the danger, and delayed not to meet
it. His army followed the still-scattered troops of the Mamelukes.
The latter, too weak to venture open battle, were forced to take to
the river-forts, where, fighting desperately and defiant of death,
they fell to a man. The Nubians were conquered at the same time,
and, submitting to their fate, were condemned to servitude. Only
the brave race of the warlike Sheikier resisted. In 1820 they met
the Turkish-Egyptian army near the village of Korti--an heroic but
undisciplined people, accustomed to win victory with lance, sword,
and shield, against well-drilled soldiers equipped with fire-arms.
According to ancient custom the women were present at the battle to
stimulate the combatants with their shrill battle-cry, to raise the
children aloft in their arms, that the fathers, seeing them, might be
fired to deeds defiant of death.
The Nubians fought in a manner worthy of their sires; bravely they
pressed forward against the artillery, which wrought fell destruction
in their ranks. Mightily they smote with their long swords at the
supposed monsters, leaving the deep impress of their sharp blades on
the brazen barrels of the cannons; but the Egyptians conquered. Not
bravery, but superiority of weapons won the day. Amid screams of woe
from the women, the brown warriors took to flight. But the former,
possessed by a wild despair, preferring glorious death to shameful
servitude, pressed their children to their breasts and threw themselves
in hundreds into the river, which the blood of their husbands had
reddened. The deserts on both sides of the stream prevented the
fugitives from reaching any refuge, and finally there was nothing left
to them but to surrender and to bend their hitherto unbowed necks under
the yoke of the conqueror.
Only once again did the old heroic spirit burst into clear flames. One
of the chiefs, who is already celebrated in the saga of Melik el Nimmr,
or “the panther-king”, collected his people at Shendy in South Nubia,
for the lash of the cruel conqueror had become unbearable. Suspicious
of his intentions, Ismael Pasha, son of the Egyptian governor and
commander of the forces, set out against him, and making use of all
available boats, appeared at Shendy before Melik Nimmr had by any means
completed his preparations. Impossible demands were made in order
to compel Melik Nimmr to absolute subjection. He, recognizing the
impending ruin, braced himself for action. While he feigned submission,
his messengers hastened from hut to hut stirring into flames the sparks
of insurrection which glimmered everywhere beneath the ashes. By crafty
representations he induced Ismael Pasha to leave the security of his
ship. He lured him to the roomy though straw-thatched royal dwelling,
surrounded by a thick hedge of thorns and by immense heaps of straw
which, according to the panther-king’s assurance, were intended to
supply the camel-fodder which the Pasha demanded.
A splendid feast, such as Ismael has never seen, will Melik Nimmr
give to his lord and master. He begs leave to invite all the officers
of the Egyptian army, and receives the Pasha’s permission. Captains,
officers, and staff are gathered to the feast in the king’s humble
palace. Outside the fence of thorns sounds the tarabuka, the drum
of the country which calls to the dance, as also to the battle. The
young folk, festively anointed, engage in a merry war-dance. Hurled
lances whirr through the air, and are deftly caught on the small
shields of the company of dancers ranged opposite. Long swords are
whirled dexterously, and as skilfully warded off. Ismael is mightily
delighted with the handsome, dusky youths, the graceful movements of
their supple limbs, the boldness of their attack, the security of their
defence. Thicker and thicker becomes the whirling throng in front of
the banquet-hall, more and more sword-dancers appear, more violent and
riotous become their movements, and more rapidly beat the drums. Then
suddenly the tarabuka changes its tone; it is echoed a hundred-fold in
all quarters of Shendy, and not less in the neighbouring villages on
this side and on that side of the river. A great cry of rage in the
highest notes of women’s voices fills the air; and women naked to the
loins, with dust and ashes on their oil-soaked hair, bearing firebrands
in their hands, rush upon the king’s hall, hurling their brands on the
walls and on the surrounding heaps of straw. A monstrous sheaf of fire
shoots up to heaven, and amid the flames, resounding with cries of
horror and woe, of execration and rage, the death-dealing lances of the
dancers fly in thousands. Neither Ismael Pasha nor any of his feasting
comrades escape a horrible death.
It was as if champions of the down-trodden people had risen from the
ground. Whoever could bear weapons turned against the cruel enemy;
women, forgetful of their sex, joined the ranks of the combatants;
girls and boys strove with the strength and endurance of men towards
the common end. Shendy and Metamme were in one night freed of all their
foes. Only a few of the Egyptians, quartered in the distant villages,
escaped the bath of blood, and brought the gruesome news to the second
commander, then stationed in Kordofan.
He, Mohammed-Bei el Defterdar, still spoken of by the Nubians as “el
Djelad” or the devil, hastened with all his forces to Shendy, defeated
the Nubians for the second time, and glutted his revenge by the
slaughter of more than half the population of the unhappy country. The
“panther-king” succeeded in escaping to Abyssinia; but his subjects had
to bow under the foreign yoke, and their children “grew up”, to use
the expression of my informant, “in the blood of their fathers”. Since
these misfortunes the Nubians have remained submissive thralls of their
oppressors.
The Nubians, or, as they call themselves, the Barabra, are a people
of medium height, slim, and well-proportioned, with relatively
small, well-formed hands and feet, with generally pleasant features,
characterized by almond-shaped eyes, a high, straight or curved nose,
slightly broadened only at the lobes, a small mouth, fleshy lips,
an arched forehead, and a long chin. Their hair is fine, slightly
curled but not woolly; the colour of their skin varies from bronze
to dark-brown. They have a good carriage, their walk is light and
elastic, and their other movements nimble and graceful. Thus they
contrast very favourably with the negroes of the Upper Nile valley,
and even with the Fungis of Eastern Soudan. The men shave the hair of
the head either altogether, or all but a tuft at the top, and wear a
tightly-fitting white cap, the _takhie_, over which on holidays a white
cloth may be twisted like a turban. The clothing consists of a shawl,
six to nine yards in length, wound around the upper part of the body,
short breeches and sandals, and an additional blue or white robe-like
garment on holidays. A dagger is carried on the left arm, and, when
journeying, they also carry a lance. Leather rolls, which are said to
contain amulets, and a little pocket, hung round the neck with cords,
are the only ornaments worn by the men. The women arrange their hair in
hundreds of small thin plaits, which they soak with mutton fat, butter,
or castor-oil, thus diffusing an odour which to our nostrils seems
almost unendurable; they tattoo various parts of their face and body
with indigo; their lips are often dyed blue, and their palms always
red. They adorn their necks with beads of glass, amber, and cornelian,
amulet-pockets, and the like, their ankles with bangles of tinware,
ivory, or horn, their ears, nostrils, and fingers with rings of
silver. An apron reaching to the ankle is worn round the loins instead
of trousers, and the shawl is wound in picturesque folds around breast
and shoulders. The boys go naked until their sixth or eighth year; the
girls wear from their fourth year an exceedingly becoming tassel-apron,
made of fine strips of leather, and often decorated with glass-beads or
shells.
[Illustration: Fig. 55.--A Nubian Village on the Nile.]
All the Nubians settled in the valley of the river live in
four-cornered huts, more or less cubical in form. The walls are
sometimes built of sun-dried bricks, and then they slope slightly
inwards as they ascend, or the house may consist of a light wooden
framework covered with straw. Usually there is but one room with a low
door, and often the windows are represented only by air-holes: in fact
the whole arrangements are of the simplest. The furnishings consist
of a raised couch--the _aukareb_--with a cover of interwoven strips
of leather or bast; simple chests; well-finished, even water-tight
baskets; leather-bags; vessels for holding water, dhurra beer, and
palm wine; hand-mills or stones for grinding the grain; iron or earthen
plates, slightly hollowed on the surface, for baking bread; hollow
gourds, a hatchet, a gimlet, several mattocks, and the like. Mats,
curtains, screens, and coverlets are accessories; bowls, flat woven
dishes and their lids are luxuries which not every house possesses.
The food consists chiefly, sometimes almost exclusively, of vegetable
produce, milk, butter, and eggs. The grain, which is more frequently
rubbed than ground, is worked into dough, and baked into a doughy
bread. This may be eaten alone without any relish, or along with milk,
or with thick mucilaginous soups made of various plants. To the latter
may be added numerous pungent spices and some shreds of flesh, which
has been dried in strips in the sun. The Nubian is more keen for drink
than for food, and of every intoxicating liquor, whether of native
or foreign origin, he always shows an eager, not to say excessive,
appreciation.
The habits and customs of the inhabitants of the middle Nile valley
display a remarkable amalgamation of inherited and acquired characters.
Taciturn and carelessly pliant, the Nubian seems as willing to adapt
himself to what is new as to forget the traditions of his home.
Worshipper of Islam more in name than in reality, he is as innocent of
strict adherence to the tenets of his creed as of intolerance towards
those of another faith. Until he has reached mature manhood or old
age, he seldom or never respects the commandments of the Prophet with
the conscientiousness of Arab or Turk. He circumcises his boys, gives
his daughters in marriage, treats his wives, buries his dead, and
celebrates the feasts according to the laws of Islam; but he thinks
that he has done quite enough if he observes the external regulations
of his cult. Song and dance, amusing conversation, jokes, and a
drinking revel, please him better than the precepts and commandments of
the Koran; he has no mind to engage in monastic exercises of faith and
penitence, nor even in the fasts which other Mohammedans hold so sacred.
At the same time, no one can call the Nubian weak-willed, fickle,
servile, untrustworthy, treacherous, or, in short, bad. In lower Nubia,
where he constantly meets with hundreds of travellers, rich in his
eyes, and free-handed, he of course frequently becomes a shameless,
indeed an unendurable beggar; and the strangers whom he importunes,
because his poor land will not support him, do not tend to ennoble
him. On the whole, however, he may fairly be called an honest fellow.
One misses, it is true, the strength of will characteristic of his
fathers, but spirit and courage are by no means lacking. He is gentler
and more good-natured than the Egyptian, and not less trustworthy and
enduring when he has to face difficult or dangerous tasks. In his poor,
unproductive country his whole being is rooted. Of it he thinks with
pathetic constancy when in a strange land; he labours, pinches, and
saves with the one desire to pass his manhood and old age at home; and
this desire, which compels him to a ceaseless struggle for existence,
gives strength to both body and soul. The raging stream, with which he
contends not less persistently than with the rocky land, arouses and
preserves his courage and self-reliance, just as it develops his calm
confidence in face of danger. Thanks to the qualities thus acquired,
the Nubian is a trusty servant, a reliable companion, a restless
_djellabi_ or merchant, and, above all, an adventurous, fearless
boatman.
It almost seems as if the parents disciplined their sons from their
earliest years in all the services which they may have to discharge
when grown up. As in Egypt, so in Nubia the children of the poor are
hardly educated at all; they are at most urged to work, or rather are
utilized according to the measure of their strength. However small
the boy, he must do his work and fulfil his allotted task; however
tender the girl, she must help her mother in the many duties which are
laid upon the women of the land. But whereas in Egypt they scarcely
allow the children any recreation, in Nubia merry games are as far as
possible encouraged. In Egypt the boy becomes a thrall and the girl his
slave, without ever knowing the joys of childhood; in Nubia even those
who are more than half grown-up are often still children alike in their
disposition and in their ways. Thus the Egyptian youths seem to us as
unnaturally serious as their fathers, while the Nubians are as joyous
as their mothers.
[Illustration: Fig. 56.--Nubian Children at Play.]
Every traveller becomes familiar with a favourite game, which he
cannot watch without delight, for it displays agility and grace of
movement in combination with endurance and the spirit of adventure.
It is the universal game of “Hare and Hounds” or “Follow my leader”.
After their work is done the boys and girls unite in play. The boys
leave the water-wheel around which they have driven the oxen from early
morning till dusk, or the field in which they have worked with their
father, or the young camel which they have been teaching to trot. The
girls leave the younger brothers and sisters whom they have dragged
rather than carried about all day, or the dough whose leavening they
had to superintend, or the grinding-mill over which they have exerted
their young strength. All hasten to the bank of the river. The boys
are naked; the girls wear only their tasselled aprons. Laughing and
chattering they go; like black ants they swarm on the golden yellow
sand, running over and between the dark rocks. Those who are to chase
stand picturesquely grouped, until the fugitive gets the requisite
start. He gives the sign for the chase to begin, and they are all
at his heels. Like a gazelle he speeds over the sandy plain to the
nearest rocks, and like hounds in full cry his comrades give chase;
like a chamois he climbs aloft upon the rocks, and not less nimbly
do his pursuers follow; like a startled beaver he plunges into the
stream to hide himself by diving, to escape by swimming, but there
too they follow excitedly, both boys and girls, kicking like swimming
dogs, halloing and screaming, chattering, laughing, chuckling, like a
flock of gabbling ducks. For long the result remains undecided, and
it not unfrequently happens that the bold fugitive swims right across
the broad river before he falls into the hands of his pursuers. The
parents of the merry company look on from the banks, and rejoice in the
agility, courage, and endurance which their children display, and even
the European is compelled to admit that he never saw creatures more
joyous or more vigorous than those slim, dusky, sleek-skinned Nubian
children.
From boys who play thus boldly come the men who dare to ply the
boatman’s craft among the rapids, to steer their boat down the river
hurrying through the valley, with rushing, swirling, boiling, raging
waves, and even to sail upwards against these. On many of their
journeyings they do not even use a boat, but trust to frail floats of
dhurra-stems, or swim with the help of inflated, air-tight skin-bags.
These Nubian boatmen and swimmers have looked danger in the face so
firmly, and so often, that the waves have never whispered either myth
or saga in their ears. They know of no nixies or water-sprites, of
no genii, good or bad, and the protecting powers whose help they ask
before or during dangerous journeys have but the solemn might of fate,
none of the spite of fickle spirits. Thus the saga is dumb in the
rapids, in “the Belly of the Rocks”, in the plunging, whirling “Mother
of Stones”, in the “Shatterer”, the “Camel’s Neck”, the “Coral”, or
whatever the rapid may be called; the saga is dumb, though the whole
region seems the fittest home of legends, and the boatman has too often
reason to be tempted to believe in spirits who wish ill to human kind.