THE PEOPLE
Beyond everything else Egypt is an agricultural country, and the
"fellahin," or "soil-cutters," as the word means, its dominant
type, and in order to form any idea of their character or mode of
life, we must leave the towns behind and wander through the farm-lands
of the Delta.
Trains are few, and hotels do not exist, and anyone wishing to see the
people as they are must travel on horseback, and be content with such
accommodation as the villages afford. The roads are the canal-banks,
or little paths which wind among the fields; but, as we have already
seen, the country has many beauties, and the people are so genuine in
their simple hospitality that the traveller has many compensations for
the incidental hardships he may undergo.
What will perhaps first strike the traveller is the industry of the
people. The luxuriant crops give evidence of their labour, and the
fields are everywhere alive. From dawn to dark everyone is busily
employed, from the youngest child who watches the tethered cattle or
brings water from the well, to the old man so soon to find his last
resting-place in the picturesque "gabana"[9] without the village.
Seed-time and harvest go side by side in Egypt, and one may often
witness every operation of the farm, from ploughing to threshing,
going on simultaneously. The people seem contented as they work, for
whereas formerly the fellahin were cruelly oppressed by their
rulers, to-day, under British guidance, they have become independent
and prosperous, and secure in the enjoyment of the fruits of their
labour.
[Footnote 9: Cemetery.]
Another impression which the visitor will receive is the curiously
Biblical character of their life, which constantly suggests the Old
Testament stories; the shepherds watching their flocks, ring-streaked
and speckled; the cattle ploughing in the fields; the women grinding
at the handmill, or grouped about the village well, all recall
incidents in the lives of Isaac and Rebekah, and episodes of
patriarchal times. Their salutations and modes of speech are also
Biblical, and lend a touch of poetry to their lives. "Turn in, my
lord, turn in to me," was Jael's greeting to flying Sisera, and
straight-way she prepared for him "butter in a lordly dish." So to-day
hospitality is one of their cardinal virtues, and I have myself been
chased by a horseman who rebuked me for having passed his home without
refreshment.
Steam-pumps, cotton-mills, and railways may have slightly altered the
aspect of the country, but to all intents and purposes, in habit of
thought and speech, in costume and customs, the people remain to-day
much as they were in those remote times pictured in the Book of
Genesis.
Fresh fruit or coffee is frequently proffered to the traveller on
his way, while his welcome at a village or the house of some landed
proprietor is always sure. On approaching a village, which is often
surrounded by dense groves of date-palms, the traveller will be met by
the head men, who, with many salaams, conduct him to the village
"mandareh," or rest-house, and it is only as such a guest, resident in
a village, that one can form any idea of the home-life of the people.
[Illustration: A NILE VILLAGE.]
From the outside the village often has the appearance of some rude
fortification, the houses practically joining each other and their
mud-walls having few openings. Within, narrow and tortuous lanes form
the only thoroughfares, which terminate in massive wooden doors, which
are closed at night and guarded by the village watchman. The huts--for
they are nothing else--which compose the village are seldom of more
than one storey, while in many cases their small doorway forms their
only means of ventilation. Their roofs are covered with a pile of
cotton-stalks and other litter, through which the pungent smoke of
their dung fires slowly percolates, while fowls and goats, and the
inevitable pariah dog roam about them at will.
Windows, when they do occur, are merely slits in the mud wall, without
glass or shutter, but often ornamented by a lattice of split
palm-leaves. Light and ventilation practically do not exist, while a
few mats, water-pots, and cooking utensils comprise the only
furniture; yet the people are well-conditioned and content, for their
life is in the fields, and their poor dwellings are little used except
at meal-times or at night.
The guest-house is little better than the huts, except that one side
is entirely open to the air; here at least the visitor may _breathe_,
even though his slumbers may be disturbed by the sheep and cattle
which wander in the lanes. At night a fire of corn-cobs is lit, and
while its smoke serves to drive away the swarms of mosquitoes and
flies with which the village is usually infested, its warmth is
grateful, for the nights are cold, and by its light, aided by a few
dim lanterns, the simple evening meal is shared with the head men, who
count it an honour to entertain a guest.
I have described one of the poorest of the "fellah" villages, but the
traveller is often more luxuriously housed. Many of the native
landowners occupy roomy and well-appointed dwellings, often surrounded
by pretty and well-stocked gardens, where one may rest beneath the
vines and fig-trees, and enjoy the pomegranates, apricots, and other
fruits which it supplies. These houses are generally clean and
comfortably furnished after the Turkish manner. The host,
prosperous-looking and well clothed, meets his guest at the doorstep
or assists him to dismount, when, with many compliments and
expressions of delight at his visit, he is conducted to the
guest-chamber. Coffee and sweet meats are then presented, a foretaste
of the generous meal to follow, for in the homes of the well-to-do a
feast is usually provided for an honoured guest.
The food is served on the low "sahniyeh," or tray, which forms the
table, on which several flat loaves surrounded by little dishes of
salad and other condiments, mark the places of the diners; but before
eating, each person present ceremoniously washes his hands and mouth,
a servant bringing in the copper "tisht wa abrik," or jug and
basin, kept for that purpose.
The meal always begins with soup, which, greasy to begin with, is
rendered more so by the addition of a bowl of melted butter. This is
eaten with a spoon, the only utensil provided, each person dipping
into the bowl, which is placed in the centre of the table. The rest of
the meal, which consists of fish, pigeons, and various kinds of stews
and salads, is eaten with the hands, the diners often presenting each
other with choice morsels from their portion; a baked turkey stuffed
with nuts, or on important occasions a whole sheep, forms the
principal dish, which is cleverly divided by the host or principal
guest without the aid of knife or fork. Water in porous jars, often
flavoured with rose-leaves or verbena, is presented by servants as the
meal proceeds. The final dish always consists of boiled rice and milk
sweetened with honey, a delicious dish, which is eaten with the same
spoon by which the soup was partaken of.
Such fare as I have described is only for the wealthy. In general the
"fellahin" live on rice and wheaten bread, sugar-cane, and
vegetables, with the occasional addition of a little meat, or such
fish as may be caught in the canals. Their beverage is water, coffee
being a luxury only occasionally indulged in, and their use of tobacco
is infrequent.
Theirs is a simple life whose daily round of labour is only broken by
the occasional marriage feast, or village fair, or, in the more
populous centres, by the periodic "Muled," or religious festival.
In Cairo and other large cities, these "Muleds" are very elaborate,
and often last for days together. Then business is suspended, and, as
at our Christmas-time, everyone gives himself up to enjoyment and the
effort to make others happy. Gay booths are erected in the open
spaces, in which is singing and the performance of strange Eastern
dances. Mummers and conjurers perform in the streets, and
merry-go-rounds and swing-boats amuse the youngsters, whose pleasure
is further enhanced by the many stalls and barrows displaying toy
balloons, dolls, and sweetmeats.
All wear their gayest clothing, and at night illuminations delight the
hearts of these simple people.
The principal feasts are the "Muled-en-Nebbi," or birth of
Mohammed, and "El Hussanen," in memory of the martyred grandson of the
Prophet, and although they are Mohammedans the "Eed-el-Imam," or birth
of Christ, takes a high place among their religious celebrations.
But they have their fasts also, and Ramadan, which lasts for four
weeks, is far more strictly observed than Lent among ourselves, for
throughout that period, from sunrise to sunset, the Moslem abstains
from food or drink, except in the case of the aged or infirm, or of
anyone engaged upon work so arduous as to render food necessary, for
the Mohammedan does not allow his religion to interfere with his other
duties in life.
On the last day of Ramadan occurs a pretty observance similar to that
of All Souls' day in France; then everyone visits the tombs of their
relatives, laying garlands upon the graves and often passing the
night in the cemeteries in little booths made for the purpose.
You will have noticed how large a place _religion_ takes in the life
of the people, and in their idle hours no subject of conversation is
more common. To the average Mohammedan his religion is a very real
matter in which he fervently believes, and Allah is to him a very
personal God, whom he may at all times approach in praise or prayer in
the certain belief of His fatherly care. Nothing impresses a traveller
more than this tremendous belief of the Mohammedans in their Deity and
their religion; and though many people, probably from lack of
knowledge, hold the view that the Moslem faith is a debased one, it is
in reality a fine religion, teaching many wise and beautiful
doctrines, and ennobling the lives of all who live up to the best that
is in it.
Unfortunately the teaching of Mohammedanism is so largely fatalistic
that it tends to deprive the individual of personal initiative. "The
Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away, blessed be the name of the
Lord," is a general attitude of mind, and this, combined with their
long centuries of servitude, has had so much effect upon the national
character of the Egyptian that they almost entirely lack those
qualities of alertness, confidence, and sense of personal
responsibility without which no race can become great or even, indeed,
be self-respecting.
The higher education now general in Egypt has already had its effect
upon the present generation, among which a feeling of ambition and
independence is growing, while the Egyptian army has shown what
wonders may be wrought, even with the poorest material, by sustained
and honest effort in the right direction; and if the just and
sympathetic guidance which it has enjoyed for now a quarter of a
century is not too soon withdrawn, Egypt may once again become a
nation.
As it is, to-day the great mass of the people remain much as they have
been for ages; a simple, kindly people, ignorant and often fanatical,
but broadly good-humoured and keenly alive to a joke; fond of their
children, and showing great consideration for age, they have many
traits which endear them to those who have lived among them, while
their faults are largely on the surface, and due in some measure to
the centuries of ignorance and slavery which has been their lot.
The greatest blot upon the Egyptian character is the position accorded
to their women, who, as in all Mohammedan countries, are considered to
be soulless. From infancy employed in the most menial occupations,
they are not even permitted to enter the mosques at prayer-time, and
until recently the scanty education which the boys enjoyed was denied
to their sisters. It is no wonder, therefore, that these often
beautiful girls grow up much like graceful animals, ignorant of the
higher duties of life, and exercising none of that refining and
ennobling influence which have made the Western races what they are.