ARAFAT DAY: FORENOON AND AFTERNOON
Early in the morning, shortly after my visit to the Persian encampment,
the Turkish cavalry paraded and manœuvred. The troops were composed of
Turks, Kurds, Arabs, and Albanians. To see these men in the pride of
a soldier’s bearing, you must watch them as they rush into life and
motion; for with their ragged uniforms and unlikely-looking mounts,
they are at a disadvantage when standing at attention. But once let
them get in full swing, and they soon prove that they are trained
for use and not for show. To me this sudden change from unsoldierly
slovenliness to skill and daring activity, was a revelation. And
the horses--lean Arabs from Southern Arabia or wiry nags from
Egypt--responded spiritedly to every twist and turn of the bridle
wrist: they too were transformed. The feats of horsemanship performed
by the Albanians were the wonder and delight of every pilgrim. These
manœuvres of theirs, so different from those of European cavalry, are
doubtless aboriginal. They leave their cantonment in fighting array,
riding to the tattoo of a small kettle-drum called _nakus_. On a
sudden, at a beat of the drum, the regiment opens out, scattering in
all directions: each man pricks it in pursuit of the enemy, firing
incessantly into the air. The sound of the drum now changes, and the
men come galloping back, meeting in a dense column: then all is
ordered confusion and breathless expectation. The signal is given,
and then with impetuous fury the whole squadron hurls itself on the
spot chosen to represent the enemy’s position. The men, alternately
dispersing and reforming, advancing and retreating, obey every beat of
the drum, their horses being as intelligently alert as well-trained
polo ponies. So reckless were the Albanians on this occasion, that it
was a miracle that only a rider here and there came to grief. And all
the time this sham fight was raging, horsemen from every corner of
chivalrous Arabia galloped aimlessly about the encampment, waving their
tufted spears. In the hearts of the pilgrim bands watching their every
movement they struck an awe not unmixed with terror: for, as Seyyid
’Alí put it, the horses seemed shod with lightning as they flashed to
and fro; and lightning, may it not spare the guilty and strike the
righteous?...
You must not think that the pilgrims were idle all this while--not
even Seyyid ’Alí and myself. A party of us met about nine o’clock to
visit the holy places on the plain, Seyyid ’Alí acting as guide. My
companions were Sheykh Eissa, Mullá Ahmad, Mirza Yusúf, and Seyyid
Muhsin. The demeanour of these men is worth describing as a touch of
character. The tour being a religious duty, their mien was designed to
give expression to the earnestness of their devotion. The talkative
charm-monger, Sheykh Eissa, strode forward as in a trance; though he
rarely said a word, his lips moved constantly, as if he were whispering
in the ear of a jinn: he was spellbound. His companion, Mullá Ahmad,
looking neither to the right nor the left, tripped along with mincing
steps, reciting prayer after prayer in Arabic (classical style). The
man who walked at my side was Mirza Yusúf, than whom a deaf-mute of
ordinary intelligence had made himself better understood; for the
Mirza, having taken a vow to remain silent till he had repeated
the Verse of the Throne seven thousand times, replied to all my
questions by signs and nods and awkward contortions of the body. As
for the two Seyyids--Muhsin, a friend of mine from Central Persia,
and ’Alí, a man you already know--even they, though drawn together
by the law of affinity, yet felt constrained to conceal their innate
lightheartedness from each other, wearing in its place an expression of
sanctimoniousness more comical than insincere.
Well, the usual course is to proceed at once to a place called
Jammé-Sakhra, where the Prophet used to stand and say his Talbiyah;
but my friends, allowing themselves to be persuaded by me, had set
out instead in the direction of the Mountain of Mercy. There, with
even greater difficulty than on the previous night, I shoved my way
up the first flight of steps, using Seyyid ’Alí sometimes as a buffer
and sometimes as a wedge. The others had remained below, being afraid
to risk the dangers of the ascent; for even on the lowest skirts of
the Mountain the swarms of pilgrims were subjected to pretty rough
handling; while on a somewhat higher ridge the Wahhabis of Nijd were
quarrelling with the Bedouins of Al-Hejaz as to who should have the
best places for listening to the Kazi’s eloquence in the afternoon.
We had skirted the angry disputants and reached the steps not much
the worse for wear; but despite all our efforts we found it quite
impossible to mount higher than the first enclosure whence the sermon
is preached. There we might have stayed till sunset, a prey to the
rapacity of paupers, had not the pilgrims on the plain learned wisdom
from our plight, and stayed where they were. This lessened the pressure
round the platform: and the number of pilgrims coming up being now
less than the number going down, we took advantage of this opportunity
without a moment’s hesitation, and allowed ourselves to be carried
away by the downgoing stream to the foot of the Hill.
On reaching the bottom, we turned to the right and made for the
Ainé-Zobeideh--Zobeideh, wife of Caliph Harun-ur-Rashid. To this spring
has been given the power of working miracles: merely dip a black cloth
in it, and it will be washed as white as milk. No dye can resist its
cleansing property, no stone withstand its charm. I might believe this
or not as I liked, said Seyyid ’Alí; for his part, he would demand
no greater wonder than that it should quench his thirst--a thirst
that was insatiable, he begged Zobeideh Khanum (Lady Zobeideh) to
believe. Throwing himself on his stomach, he wriggled through the
crowd to the water’s brink; I did likewise; and then, having washed
our hands and feet and quenched our thirst, we crawled back and said a
two-prostration prayer out of the gratitude of our hearts.
“God bless Zobeideh! May her fountain never run dry!” cried Seyyid
’Alí; then off we went at last to where the Prophet used to recite
his Supplication before preaching his sermon on the Mount. This
place, as already mentioned, is called Jammé Sakhra: it is a small
enclosure standing within whitewashed walls, and is divided into two
compartments--one for men and one for women--both of which contain
prayer-niches. Here our friends were awaiting our arrival, having said
their prayers--a duty which they discharged a second time (God will
increase His kindness!) by way of returning thanks for our safety.
By this time the sun shone in the zenith, and the whole plain was
covered with worshippers, saying their mid-day prayers: the angels,
as they believed most fervently, lending ear to their entreaties and
responding to such as were sincere with an approving Amen.
Now, a Mussulman believes in earnest; watch him as he bows himself
in praise or supplication, and you will not doubt his sincerity. His
faith is unquestioning, for is it not to him as an elemental force, as
necessary as the air he breathes? Why, it warms him like fire, this
faith of his, and refreshes him like water, nor is the earth than it
more solid and indestructible. The East has many things still to learn
from the West, but faith is not one of them. Surrounded by the dying
and the dead, these terror-struck pilgrims, at the first cry of the
muezzin, regained their presence of mind. They had been stricken with
fear as with an ague, they had fled from death as from a scourge, but
at the first sound of that devotional summons, they stood at attention
before their Creator, like soldiers awaiting the word of command. And
then, as though God had spoken, they bowed their bare heads--then
they sank on their bare knees--and then they prostrated themselves on
the ground. Do you doubt their sincerity still? And if their faith is
unimpeachable, can you deny that the Prophet was less magnificently
sincere?
With these thoughts in my mind, I hurried to our tents to read a few
chapters of the Kurán and to say the prescribed prayers, before setting
out again to witness the Sheríf’s procession and attend the Kazi’s
sermon. This day, the 9th of the moon, was a day of fasting; but a good
many pilgrims found pretexts for breaking their fasts, and I, being
worn out after the long journey of the preceding day and the exciting
vigil of the night, was among the number. Having eaten my fill, I
dropped fast asleep, to be awakened about three o’clock by the firing
of guns. Our party at once left the tents, giving full instructions to
the servants to have everything in readiness for the rush from Arafat
at sundown.
[Illustration: PERSIAN PILGRIMS FROM TABRIZ, HAVING TEA ON BOARD THE
STEAMER.]
Then out once more into the plain, weltering in the sunshine, to
stand, bare-headed and with naked feet, until the sun should sink
behind the horizon....
The Egyptian Mahmil had already passed on to its appointed place on the
mountainside; but, fortunately, we were not too late to see the passing
of its Syrian rival which, draped in its covering of gold and green,
now threaded its way across the plain. The Mahmil headed by a dozen
led horses of the purest Arabian strain, all richly caparisoned with
embroidered cashmere shawls, was surrounded by a squadron of horsemen
and camel-riders; while immediately in front of the prancing Arabs,
came heralds in white headgear and red coats, bearing silver batons in
their hands. And thus the green badge of Syria moved on to its allotted
place on the skirts of the Mountain of Mercy.
Hardly had it reached its destination, than the band of the Sherífian
procession crashed out a march: and soon afterwards the cavalcade
drew near. A score or two of men on foot cleared the course, making
vigorous use of the long staves they carried in their hands. A number
of mace-bearers, who came next, were followed in turn by a regiment
of Sherífian cavalry, barbarously dressed and gallantly mounted, each
man prepossessing the spectator in his favour. Even more popular was
the appearance of the magnificent body of men which next excited our
admiration. It was a staff of Arab chieftains, the pick of the country,
riding on mettlesome thoroughbreds, and combining in their persons
all the chivalry and the dash of their indomitable race. Then a blaze
of crimson-red--the Sherífian state colour: this struck my eye on the
flowing saddle-cloths of the led horses of His Holiness, the Sheríf of
Mecca, who, meekly riding on a white mule, quite alone in the line, was
clad, like the poorest of the poor among the pilgrims, in Ihrám. Behind
him walked his courtiers and the members of his Household, while a
crowd of Bedouin Sheykhs on horseback or on camels brought up the rear.
When the cavalcade was stationed near the Mahmils, guns were fired
again and again to announce that the sermon was about to begin. Then,
amid the sighs and sobs and tears of that vast congregation, the Kazi
of Mecca, sitting on a dromedary, began to preach, or (perhaps more
correctly) to pray. Speaking in Arabic verse, each line being repeated
about a dozen times by the pilgrims, he intoned the rhythmic psalm in a
deep but ringing voice. The opening passages ran as follows:--
Thou, O Lord, no mate possessest:
Thou, in truth, the King of kings!
I am here for Thee--for Thee:
I am here with praise for Thee.
Thou no compeer hast, O Allah!
Nights are darkened at Thy command:
Stars are shining in obedience:
Angels praise Thee round Thy Throne.
Prophets come at Thy beck and call:
The sun goes round to sing Thy praises:
Thou art holy and Thy name is holy:
Thou art merciful, magnanimous, and compassionate!
* * * * *
May the end of our life come with heavenly blessing!
May the angels of punishment pass by from our doors!
We glorify and praise Thee, Lord!
May the angels of mercy show their grace to us!
May our humble supplications be acceptable to Thee!
We glorify and praise Thee, Lord!
At first the pilgrims held their breath, afraid of missing a word; but
as the prayers and psalms and exhortations proceeded, their enthusiasm
grew more and more unrestrained. No longer content with repeating the
Kazi’s words, line by line, they burst into tears, and from tears
into shrieks. They beat their breasts, sobbing from sheer excess of
joy; they could be seen, on the plain, whirling round and round, as
they sang the Labbaik. Some swooned, partly from delirium of religious
emotion, and partly from the effect of the sun’s excessive heat. One
moment--and your blood seemed to boil and your brain to swim in liquid
fire; then came relief: you were drenched in sweat, reduced to liquid
that alternately evaporated and gushed out of every pore. I was wedged
so tight in a compact mass of pilgrims, within a stone’s throw of the
preacher, that there was no chance of my reaching the haven of my one
desire--the cooling spring where I had slaked my thirst at noonday. And
so one hour wore on.
What had happened among the pilgrims out there in the dancing glare of
the sunlit plain, I cannot say; but the least said about the reports
of the behaviour of some of them, the better. No good purpose can be
served by emphasising the exceptional and parading the obscene. Where
I stood, longing for the sound of running water, there, at least, the
solemnity and the fervour of the congregation were of a sort to take
one’s reason captive, overcoming, by sheer repetition of appeal, even
the craving I had to swill my gullet with a draught of water.
Another hour went by: the sun was sinking in the west: the eastern
horizon turned colour, passing from a purple shade to a tone of deepest
crimson. The green flag on the mountain-top still floated high in
air; still the preacher gave out his message, to the ever-increasing
excitement of his people; and then at last, just as the sun dipped in a
pool of red, the signal of Essraf was given. The sermon was over, and
the night of another day begun. We were now entitled to call ourselves
Hájís.
“_Aydákum Ghebúl_ (May your festival be accepted),” cried Seyyid ’Alí,
kissing me three times on the cheeks, in accordance with the practice.
And I returned the kisses, saying--
“_Tebarik-Allah!_ (May God be glorified).”
I now pass on to the Day of Sacrifice and the Days of Drying Flesh.