MY EXPERIENCES AS AN INMATE OF A NATIVE HOSPITAL
I had placed my bed on a rock high enough to get the benefit of any
breath of cooler air which the north breeze might bring; the nightly
drop in the temperature usual in the desert does not obtain in like
manner on the edge of the Nile. Our exalted position on the roof of
Edfu temple had been conducive to sleep, and during the first three
nights I slept well, perched up on my rock. Strange dreams, however,
disturbed the fourth night. My identity got hopelessly mixed up with
that of Horus; the steam-launch and the ship I had copied at Edfu
temple became a composite craft, with the lassoed hippopotamus serving
as a drag anchor. I resented the anxiety shown by the goddess in the
prow to meet the handsome young king on the bank, and felt I was
handicapped in my courtship by having a hawk’s head. My divinity was
outweighed by the good looks of the mortal, and I was preparing to use
my spear in as effective a manner on him as I had on the hippopotamus,
when the boat bumped heavily against the bank and awoke me.
I was shivering on the rock, having fallen out of my bed, and was soon
conscious enough to know that I had fever. I never sleep out of doors
without having a blanket handy to pull over me in case of a sudden
drop in the temperature, and I made use of it now. I could not trust
myself to climb down the rock and get to the more sheltered place of my
companions, nor could I make any one hear me. Slowly the night went by,
shivering fits alternating with fantastic dreams--yet no inclination
to rise came with the dawn. I heard shouts from below that breakfast
was ready, but all the breakfast I wanted was a dose of quinine. My
friend climbed up bringing me the drug, and was anxious to see what was
the matter. Thinking it was a touch of the malarious fever which for
years I had been subject to, I hoped that in a day or two I should be
all right again. I could not, however, remain where I lay, for as the
sun got up, so my rock became untenable. Getting into the shade of the
tomb, which we called our living-room, ways and means were discussed, I
acquiescing in whatever my friend proposed.
Assuan was the nearest place where a doctor could be found, and a
four-mile ride would take us to the nearest station on the line. A
train left about two o’clock, and donkeys might be obtainable at the
nearest village. We drifted down the Nile to the nearest spot from
which we could ride to the station, and while writing these lines that
ride comes back to me as a horrible nightmare. The midday sun of June
in Upper Egypt is carefully avoided by those in the best of health,
even when a well-saddled donkey is obtainable. But ill as I was, with
nothing but a sack of straw for a saddle, the trials of that ride are
indescribable. My sketching umbrella and pith helmet were a protection
from the direct rays of the sun, but none from the scorching heat which
rose from the baked soil. When we left the sandstone rocks on our right
we got on to the cultivated land, and I could see the little station,
across the plain, trembling in the heated air. I managed somehow to
get there without tumbling off the straw sack, and I had that sack
taken off my donkey to use it as a pillow on the station floor. Some
fellaheen were lying about on the flags, and even they seemed overcome
with the oven-like heat of the station, on the flat roof of which the
vertical rays of the sun had been beating.
The train service in Upper Egypt is excellent while the tourist season
is on; but, as may be supposed, few trains crawl along the desert track
in midsummer. Happily there is generally one first-class car attached,
on the chance of some official being obliged to make a journey, and
in this car there is often a sunk well in the floor, which serves as
a small ice cellar. I had at other times unfavourably contrasted the
luxuriousness of the official car with the cattle trucks which seemed
good enough for the natives. I forgave them readily enough now, while I
greedily drank of the cold water obtainable by means of the ice cellar.
Fortunately, also, one decent hotel remains open at Assuan after the
more luxurious ones put up their shutters. I could, therefore, look
forward to a comfortable bed after the five long hours of the train
journey.
[Illustration: THE VILLAGE OF MARG]
When the proprietor seemed satisfied that I had neither the plague nor
cholera, a room was got ready for me, and the only European doctor
then in Assuan was soon at my bedside. He was a kind-hearted Swiss
missionary, who had still four days to remain here before he left for
Jerusalem, and should I not be well enough to move then, the permanent
medical man at the dam could be sent for from Shellal. He said I was
down with sunstroke, and ordered an ice-bag to be put to my head,
and told me I could put another on my chest if I liked. He looked in
again about midnight, and several Englishmen also called to offer any
assistance they could give. Who they were and what they said I only
found out when I returned to Egypt the following season. One sentence,
however, I understood, and that was that the thermometer had reached
124 degrees in the shade during the afternoon. I was also conscious
enough, when left alone, of a cutting pain in the right side of my
chest, and decided to dispense with the ice-bag there until I knew what
this pain meant. I heard voices in another room, and a declaration of
‘no trumps,’ also an argument about ‘going diamonds,’ and I felt a
certain comfort that countrymen of mine were near at hand.
While I lay awake that night a curious sensation that I was two people
got hold of me. Was it I or my double who felt this cutting pain? And
whose turn was it to take the medicine the doctor had left? It was very
nasty, and I rather resented that my double had not fairly shared in
the taste. The _Ka_ (which the ancient Egyptians believed was born with
the body, as distinct from the soul) served as a guardian spirit or
‘double,’ who accompanied the mortal during his lifetime and tended to
his wants after death as long as his remains were preserved in their
mummy state. One of us must be this _Ka_, I thought; and whether I or
the other fellow was the ‘double’ exercised what little mind I could
bring to bear on the subject.
The Swiss missionary came early the next day, and was evidently not
satisfied that sunstroke was entirely my complaint. He sounded my
chest, and called out, ‘Oh, it is pleurisy.’ He seemed very excited,
and said that, though occupied most of his time with people’s bodies,
it was their souls which concerned him most. ‘As a doctor I can give
you no hope, but as a missionary I can tell you that everything is
possible with God. What is your name?’ I told him this, and, startled
as I was, I still puzzled whether the name applied to me or to my
‘double.’ I can just recall the good man going down on his knees, and
also his loud and earnest prayers; but owing to my semi-delirious state
I can recall nothing of the latter but the good man’s foreign accent.
Why pleurisy should have so much alarmed him I cannot say, as I can
recall many who have got the better of it. One good thing about it was
that I could be attended to by the hotel servants, who up till that
time would not answer my bell; they evidently were not satisfied till
then that I was not down with cholera. The fever abated somewhat with
the new treatment, and I was able to recognise Weigall and one or two
other acquaintances who looked in. The doctor was most attentive, and
advised my going with him as far as Assiout, where there is a good
hospital run by the American Mission. He called in the native medical
man to get a second opinion as to whether I could do the journey,
and between the two of them it was decided that I had better risk the
journey than risk remaining in the terrible heat of Assuan without any
means of proper nursing.
The Swiss doctor would accompany me as far as Assiout, and he would
wire to the mission to have me met at the station and take me to the
hospital.
We left Assuan after I had been there four days, and a friend who was a
manager of the line got a sleeping-car put on to the train. We started
in the morning, and after a thirteen-hour journey we reached Assiout in
the dead of night. Here I had to part company with the Swiss doctor,
who was on his way to Jerusalem. Now, whether the telegram ever reached
the mission or not I can’t say; anyhow, the doctor looked in vain for
any one connected with the hospital. A good Samaritan in the shape of
a Scot, connected with the government, had fortunately travelled down
in the same train, and by good luck Assiout was his destination also.
I can recall his carrying me to a carriage, and I can also recall his
slapping the cheek of a native who tried to force his way in while he
clamoured for baksheesh.
He rang up the hall-porter at the hospital, when we reached it, and
asked if I was not expected. The porter knew nothing about it, and said
every one had retired for the night; there was, however, an empty bed
in the room kept for occasional paying patients. I was then placed on
that bed while the porter was sent to inform the head of the mission of
my arrival. On his return he told us that the _hakim_ was dressing and
would be down in a few minutes; there was therefore no occasion for
the Scotsman, who had been such a friend in need, to wait any longer.
It was then about one o’clock, and I lay on that bed till half-past
seven in the morning before I saw another soul except that porter, and
he kept out of my way as much as he could, for I don’t believe he ever
went to the doctor’s rooms.
Never shall I forget that night, and how I regretted that I had not
spent it in the train and gone to a hospital in Cairo. The porter
snored in the passage until it was time for him to give out doses to
the patients, and then he rang a bell just over the entrance to my room
and bawled out the names of those who were to take their medicine.
The watchmen in the street, at intervals, called _wahed_ with a long
plaintive drawl on the last syllable, and this started every sleeping
dog barking once more. A fretful baby in a dormitory next to my room
put a treble to the bass notes of the watchmen and the howling of the
dogs. I tried to awaken the snoring brute of a porter so that I might
get something to drink; but my voice was not strong enough to have any
effect, and I had to lie there perishing with thirst till the time came
for that dreadful bell to be rung. When finally he brought me a glass
of milk my ‘double’ was once more keeping me company--and one small
glass for two people seemed a perfect mockery of my thirst. Thus I lay
in the clothes I travelled in till a vision of a ministering angel, in
white cap and pinafore, appeared in the doorway.
She asked the porter who I was and when I had arrived, for until that
moment no one in the hospital was aware of my existence except that
lying porter. She sent for the doctor, got a sleeping-suit out of my
trunk, and with the help of a male attendant she put me to bed.
Dr. Henry, an active, rather over-middle-aged American who has charge
of the mission, was about as great a contrast to the little Swiss
doctor as it is possible to conceive. He asked no questions till he
had sounded my chest, and then gave the ministering angel, otherwise
Sister Dora, orders to prepare a pneumonia jacket. ‘Ever had pneumonia
before?’ he jerked out, and on my saying that I had not, and also that
the Swiss doctor said I had pleurisy, he retorted, ‘Guess you’ve got
both.’ Possibly lying all night between the open window and door had
added this to the list of my complaints.
Dr. Henry was too practical a man to waste much thought on idle
speculations as to causes; here was something definite to go for,
and he went for it in good earnest. ‘That lung is clearing itself
tiptop,’ he would say with professional pride after the fourth or fifth
examination. The sunstroke was curing itself, unless my ‘double,’
who had left me, had gone off with it. The pneumonia jacket and the
night noises were my chief discomfort after a few days. Assiout was
distinctly cooler than Assuan, though there is plenty of room for heat
without reaching 124° of Fahrenheit in the shade. A cotton-wool jacket
about two inches thick was a severe trial and it stuck to me like a wet
hot sponge, and before it was thinned down to vanishing point I was
covered with prickly heat which I did not lose till after I had got
back to England.
I was very anxious to write home, as my wife must have been alarmed at
not having heard for some time. The Swiss doctor’s gloomy forecasts
might easily be correct, and I wished to put my affairs in order.
Writing was, however, such an exertion that I decided first to ask Dr.
Henry whether my chances of recovery were good, and if so to put off
correspondence until I could more easily manage it.
I asked him to tell me if I was likely to die, and his short ‘Guess
not’ acted as a stimulant, and one also which was not followed by a
reaction. Had I not had that irritating prickly heat I should have
enjoyed the feeling of daily gaining strength. Three other nurses used
to come and relieve Sister Dora; the head one was a fine strapping
American lady with a strong and cheery face which acted like a tonic.
There was also a sister from Holland who could wash me as clean as a
Dutch milk-can. I could chat with her in her own language, and while
we talked of the juicy green meadows of her country, it seemed to
make my room feel cooler. I saw least of the German sister, who had
some accident cases which took up most of her time. What a godsend to
have educated women who will devote their lives to alleviating the
sufferings of so many people!
The hospital was full to overflowing; but, being the only European
patient, I had the room allotted to them to myself. The two assistant
doctors were both ill themselves, and the whole burden fell on Dr.
Henry alone and his excellent nurses. No wonder he had not much time
for conversation.
Sister Dora had been in Morocco before she came to Egypt, and was able
to tell of her experiences while nursing the sick in Fez. I was also
interested to hear about this mission, and how it is supported; for it
is a large building, equipped for a hundred in-patients, which number
was at that time using it. It is a great work, and though Assiout has
a good government hospital, there is more than room enough for both.
Subscriptions to the mission fell off when statistics showed that
converts from Mohammedanism were few--a proof of Dr. Henry’s honesty;
for the converted Egyptian Moslem hardly exists, whatever other
statistics may attempt to prove. He did a great work amongst the Copts,
Assiout being more or less their headquarters, and a large proportion
of the patients in the hospital were Copts.
One Sunday afternoon a chorus of men singing in the next ward surprised
me. The tune seemed familiar, and tunes rendered by unassisted
Egyptians are not always easy to follow. It was an Arabic version of
Sankey’s ‘Safe in the Arms of Jesus.’ Loud prayers to Allah followed,
asking Him to look down in compassion on these sick people. It was
very touching to hear the afflicted ones calling out _Ameem! Ameem!_
whenever there was a pause in the deep voice of the Elder. I was
informed by Sister Dora that a Coptic Plymouth brother visited that
ward (which was set apart for the Christian patients) every Sunday, and
held a service. A sermon in Arabic with no mention of Mohammed was new
to me, and familiar texts in that sonorous language sounded very much
as they must have sounded to Hebrew ears. The Arabic of an educated
Egyptian has a strong affinity with the original language of the Old
Testament.
After about ten days Dr. Henry told me that my lung was cleared, ‘and,
mind you, if you had not been a teetotaller, you could never have
pulled through this.’ I had to disappoint him by telling him that I
had never taken the pledge; the disappointment did not abash him, as
I expected it would. ‘The little you’ve taken has made no difference,
anyhow,’ was his answer. I seldom feel the want of stimulant, but I
felt it strongly then. I longed for a glass of port, and I told him
so. He shook his head: total abstinence was the rule of the mission.
There was something, however, in my next medicine that proved that the
word ‘total’ must not always be taken too literally. It tasted very
like a favourite prescription friends in Oporto order on the least
provocation. I drank Sister Dora’s health in it, likewise that of the
three other ladies who brightened the lives of all who entered this
hospital. The only health the three doctors seemed to neglect was their
own. One had to leave, during my stay, to try to recruit in a cooler
climate, another was awaiting an operation, and Dr. Henry looked as if
the strain of overwork was telling on him.
I left Assiout by the same night train which had brought me there from
Assuan, and recruited sufficiently during ten days in Cairo to enable
me to take the homeward voyage.
Having arrived at Assiout and having left it also during the night, I
have seen no more of what is considered the capital of Upper Egypt
than I could see from my bedroom window in the hospital.
I often feel indignant at the sneers the very word missionary provokes
amongst the self-indulgent people I meet in the hotels in eastern
countries; for whatever the religious or moral convictions of these
critics may be, their self-indulgence contrasts unfavourably with the
self-denial of the many missionaries I have happened to meet.
After a stay of three months in England, I was ready to return to Egypt
to complete a series of water-colour drawings for a future one-man
show in London. The incidents related in this volume have not always
followed a consecutive order: some took place after my return to Cairo,
when also several of the illustrations to this book were painted. At
Luxor I ran across my Scottish good Samaritan, whom I had not seen
since he left me to the care of the hospital porter. He asked me if I
remembered his slapping the face of the man who had importuned us while
we drove from Assiout station, and on my replying that I did, he told
me that on the following day he received a summons to appear before the
Mamoor for assault and battery. This might have led to very serious
consequences had the Mamoor reported him to his chief in Cairo, for to
strike a native is as much as an Englishman’s place in a government
office is worth. It would also have been an easy way for the Mamoor
to gain popularity with the Moslems, to have got a British official
dismissed for such an offence. Fortunately the Scotsman had made the
Mamoor’s acquaintance on a previous visit to Assiout, and both men
liked each other. When the native had told his version of the services
he had rendered and the brutal reward he received, my friend explained
what really happened, namely, that while he was lifting an apparently
dying compatriot into the cab, this man, who had done no more than to
pick up the hat which had fallen off the sick man’s head, tried, in his
greed for baksheesh, to force his way into the cab as it was driving
off. For this impertinence he received his slap in the face.
‘Come here,’ said the Mamoor, ‘and show me exactly where you were
struck.’ The man approached and showed his left cheek, whereupon the
modern Solomon gave him a smart slap on the right one, and told him
that neither cheek could then be jealous of its fellow.
For once I left Egypt before the exodus of the tourists, as I was due
in Japan before the cherry-trees had shed their blossom. As the ship
slowly moved through the Suez Canal, the remembrance of unpleasant
hours I had spent in Egypt vanished with the smoke from the funnel, and
only happy recollections sped me on my voyage from the Near to the Far
East.
INDEX
Aahmes, Queen, 182.
Ababdi, 212.
---- guide, 208, 229, 237.
Abbas, Prince, 34, 36, 40-1, 76-7, 139.
---- murder of, 142-4.
---- his post-mortem honours, 148.
Abydos, 90.
Arab nomads from the Hedjaz, 241-2.
Ashura, the festival of, 164-7.
Assiout, 280.
---- hospital at, 275-80.
Astrologer, the court, 142.
Azhar, el-, 73, 107.
Bab en-Nasr, 19.
---- Zaweyla, 105.
Babylon, Roman castle of, 121-2.
Baird, General, 242.
_Baksheesh_, 49, 185.
Barber, primitive procedure of the, 192-3.
Baths. See Hammám.
Bazaars, 4, 7, 8, 31, 58.
Beiram, 163.
Beit-el-Kadi, 2.
_Below the Cataracts_, 11, 121, 178, 224.
Birds seen in the desert, 211, 219.
Blue Mosque. See Mosque of Aksunkur.
Bougainvillea, 171.
Bowden Smith, Herman, 50, 56.
Bride, Mohammedan, 14.
British troops in Cairo, 131-4.
Butler, Dr. A. J., author of _Ancient Coptic Churches of Egypt_, 122.
Camels, 132, 183, 208-9, 213-14.
---- skeletons of, 221-2.
Carter, Howard, 198, 200.
Characteristics of the modern Egyptians, 185.
Clothes, 8, 11, 16, 114-15, 126.
Cobra, 198-9.
Cock-fighting, 79.
Coffee, 80, 98.
---- shops, 17, 18, 78.
Copts, 90-103, 124-5, 279.
---- their churches, 118-21.
---- Catholic, 124-5.
Coral reefs, 253-6.
Crayfish, 253-6.
Currelly, Professor C. T., 157, 178.
Defterdar, Ahmed el-, 74.
Der el-Bahri, 178, 194.
Dervishes, 26-30.
Desaix, General, 242, 249-50.
Desert, the Sahara, 92, 95.
---- antiseptic air of, 186, 190-1.
---- journey in the Arabian, 206-244.
_Diwaan_, or divan, 52.
Doctors, Missionary, 273-5, 277-80.
---- Native, 203-4.
---- the Syrian _hakim_, 252-3.
Dogaan, el-, 141, 143.
Dóseh, the, 167-8.
Dragomans, 11, 58-9.
Drink, the consumption of, 80.
_Durkááh_, 52.
Edfu, camping in temple of, 259-66.
Egyptian Art, beauty of early, 182, 233-4, 262, 265.
---- Exploration Fund, 157, 178-9.
Elfy Bey, 141, 147-8.
Esbekiyeh gardens, 171.
Eye-doctor, 190.
Eyth, Max, 34, 139, 142.
Fakirs, 25-6.
Fatimid Khalifs, 71-3, 106.
Fellaheen, 182-5.
Festivals, 153-168, 170-1.
_Fikee_, or schoolmaster, 109-10.
Flies, 195, 197.
Foreigners, as regarded by natives, 185-6.
French Agency in Cairo, the, 176.
---- army in Egypt, 241-2, 249-50.
Funerals, Mohammedan, 18-20, 45.
Gamalieh, el-, 48.
Games, 81.
Gawhar, 71.
Gebel-Silsileh, 259, 267-9.
Graffiti, 220, 222-4.
‘Guarded city,’ 71.
Gurna, 184-5.
Halim Pasha, 144.
_Hammám_, 53, 143.
Hamseen, 136, 141, 164.
Hareem, 5, 14, 52, 84.
Hasaneyn, festival of the, 31.
---- quarter, 7.
_Hasheesh_, 248.
_Hashshah_, 69, 70.
Hatshepsu, temple of, 179, 181-2.
Henry, Doctor, 277-80.
Herodotus, saying of, 208.
Herz Bey, 22, 175-6.
_Hinter Pflug und Schraubstock_, 34, 139.
Holy Carpet, festival of the, 153-5.
Holy Family, journey of the, 119.
Hoseyn, 32-3.
Hospitals of the American Mission, 188, 277-80.
---- natives’ fear of, 187, 203.
Insane fellah, experiences with an, 200-2.
Insanity regarded as a form of saintliness, 26.
Inscriptions, 220, 222-4, 233-5, 239.
Ismael Pasha, 49, 89, 176.
Jacaranda, the blossom of the, 172-3.
Jones, Mr. Palmer, 90, 98-9.
‘Kahira-el-Mahrusa,’ 72.
‘Kasr-esh-Shema,’ 121.
‘Khaleeg, el,’ 43, 70.
Khan Khalil, 4, 7, 8, 31, 58.
_Kisweh, el._ See Holy Carpet.
Kosseir, 245-57.
---- mosque at, 249, 251-2.
Lakéta, oasis of, 217-20.
Lane’s _Modern Egyptians_, 16, 111.
_Liwán_, 52, 106.
Mahmal, el-, 153-55.
Mahmood Hanafy, 67.
Mamelukes, 36, 40, 142, 144, 148-50.
_Mandarah_, 51.
_Mankaleh_, 81, 107.
_Manners and Customs of the Ancient Egyptians._ See Wilkinson.
Mansoor, 58, 65.
Mariette, 263.
Marriages, Mohammedan, 12, 13.
_Mastaba_, 7, 8, 33.
Missionaries, 125, 281.
Modiste, French, 86.
Mohammed Ali, 34, 41, 74, 76, 85, 139.
Mohammed Brown, 11, 57.
Mo’izz, 71-2.
Mosques of Cairo--
Aksunkur, 116.
Ayyub es-Salih, 24.
Barkûk, 2, 21.
Beybars, 48.
Hassaneyn, 31, 165.
Kalaûn, 2, 21-4.
Sâlih Talái, es-, 105.
Tulún, 118.
Restorations of, 23, 107.
Mousky, the, 1, 46.
Mu’állaka, el-, 121.
Mudir of Kosseir, 245-52.
Muristân, el-, 4.
Mushrbiyeh, 5, 6, 47, 52, 176.
Nahasseen, 2, 18.
Nakht, tomb of, 183.
Nicol, Erskine, 200, 207, 212.
O’Donald, Captain, 34-42, 134.
---- Miss, 35, 39, 42.
Omdeh of Gurna, 202.
Parker, Herbert R., 258-9.
Petrie, Professor Flinders, 198.
Pilgrims, 95, 154-5.
Polygamy, 16, 17.
Ptolemies, period of the, 180, 233-4, 261, 265-6.
Pyramid Bedouins, 127.
Pyramids, 127.
Queen Thiy, 178, 222-3.
Ramadan, the fast of, 156-7, 160-2.
Rames, 142, 146, 148.
Red Sea, 243.
Reliefs, 262, 265, 268.
Saheime, Sheykh Ammin, 50.
Said Pasha, 140, 145;
accession of, 147.
Salih, es-, 151.
Salt and Soda Company, 91, 93.
Saracenic Art, 73.
Schools, 117.
Scorpions, 187-90, 260.
_Shadoof_, 218.
Sharks, 244, 251.
Shauwâl, month of, 163.
Sheea Heresy, 73, 106.
Sheeas, 32-3, 164-7.
Sheger-ed-Durr, 151-2.
Shiites. See Sheeas.
_Shoara_, 76, 151.
Sladen, Douglas, 118.
Smells of Cairo, 46.
Sphinx, the, 127-34.
‘Spray of Pearls.’ See Sheger-ed-Durr.
Surgery, amateur, 191.
Tarbouch, 8.
Temples of--
Denderah, 261.
Edfu, 259-66.
Hatshepsu, 179, 181-2.
Medinet Habu, 179.
Philae, 259.
Thebes, 178, 258.
‘Tommy Atkins,’ 131-4.
Tourists, 59, 194-6.
Tramways, 70, 127.
Tristram, Canon, 199, 227.
Tumbakiyeh, el-, 47.
Ulema, an Azhar, 141, 147.
Villa Victoria Hotel, 83.
Wadi Natrun, 92.
Wakfs’ administration, 22, 44.
Weigall, Arthur, Preface, 207, 220, 223, 231-2, 274.
_Welee_, 18, 19.
Whymper, Charles, 207, 211.
Wilkinson, 79.
Zikr, 26-28, 32, 164.
Zogheb, Count, 174-6.
Zohra, Story of the Princess, 34-42, 74-7, 84, 85, 139, 151-3.
Printed by T. and A. CONSTABLE, Printers to His Majesty at the
Edinburgh University Press
Transcriber’s Note:
Attempts have been made to retain variations in hyphenation, spelling,
capitalisation, and accented characters as they appear in the original
publication.