IBRAHIM WAD ADLAN
A favourable opportunity here presents itself for referring to that
little-written-about, and, therefore, little-known strange character in
Mahdieh—Ibrahim Wad Adlan, the Amin Beit-el-Mal. Maybe in no one else
did he confide as he confided in me while we were fellow-prisoners,
and maybe he did so only because he knew that I was an avowed enemy
of Mahdieh, that I was at the time defying the Khaleefa to do his
worst against me, and that my interests lay elsewhere than in the
Soudan. There was also a lurking suspicion that I had been sent up as
a Government emissary, and that the letter of General Stephenson was
purposely couched in the language it was, so that, if it fell into the
hands of the Khaleefa, he would be led to believe that I had started
upon a trading expedition pure and simple. The friendship formed during
the two or three months, which Adlan and I spent as fellow-prisoners,
was to end in the not least interesting of my experiences, but it also
ended in a tragedy.
Wad Adlan, prior to the Mahdist revolt, had been |146| one of the
principal and richest merchants in Kordofan. His business connections
had taken him a number of times to Cairo and other parts of Egypt.
For intelligence, and as a man of the world, he was far and away
superior to all the “great” people who from time to time became my
fellow-prisoners; I should be inclined to place him on a higher level
than the best of the old Government officials; he read and wrote well,
and, as will be seen later, he was not deficient in certain qualities
which go far towards making a successful Oriental diplomatist. To
the end he was loyal to the core to the old Government, but he was
compelled to act a part—and well he acted it. Had there been one more
Adlan in the Soudan—and many had the opportunity of being such—the
rule of Abdullahi would have ended with the insurrection of Khaleefa
Shereef. That insurrection just missed being successful, but it was
through no fault of Adlan. Carefully and secretly he had paved the way
to it, but his task ended when he had paved the way; it was for others
to take the goal.
Adlan was the one man in the Soudan who had the courage of his
opinions, and expressed them to Abdullahi; he was a man himself,
acted as one, and despised heartily those who, in his opinion, were
carrying their obedience to the confines of servility. Failing to
induce Abdullahi to rule with some little semblance of justice and
equity, as laid down in the Quoran, he set about to undermine his
influence and power, but he had to carry out his work by subterfuge,
and single-handed. There were, he told me, a number |147| of people he
would have wished to take into his confidence, but some he was afraid
might betray him, and the others he could not trust with the little
discretion they could boast of. He feared they might unwittingly let
slip a few words prematurely, and then his and their tongues would be
silenced for ever.
As the director of the Beit-el-Mal, his first care was to keep the
treasury and granaries full to repletion. During the famine this was
an impossibility, but some grain and money had to be procured from
somewhere. The poor, and those who had come by their little stores
honestly, Adlan never made a call upon; indeed, he was the protector
of the poor and the Muslimanieh (captive Christians). It was Adlan’s
policy to create enemies of Abdullahi, so that was another reason for
his protecting the poor, who were already bitter enemies of their
savage ruler. On reporting to Abdullahi the depleted condition of the
treasury and granaries—and Abdullahi was aware that the doors of the
Beit-el-Mal and Adlan’s house were besieged night and day by thousands
of starving wretches—Adlan would be given a verbal order to search
for grain and bring it into the Beit-el-Mal. This order he would put
into immediate execution against Abdullahi’s particular friends and
adherents, for the whole of their stores were the proceeds of robbery,
and the plundering and murdering of weaker tribes and people. To all
remonstrances Adlan would reply that he was carrying out Abdullahi’s
orders, and every one knew that disobedience to these, or any attempt
to evade them, meant summary execution. Occasionally some |148|
“strong” man would enter a mild protest to the Khaleefa himself, who
would feign ignorance of having given any general orders to Adlan.
Adlan would be summoned, but, questioned as to his actions in the
presence of the complainant, he dare not reply that he had but obeyed
the general orders given him; he would be obliged to answer in such a
way that the “strong” man would believe that he had acted upon his own
initiative. After the audience, the “strong” man would follow Adlan to
the Beit-el-Mal, and demand the return of his grain and dollars; but
Adlan had distributed all on the Khaleefa’s orders—which the registers
proved, as nothing might leave the Beit-el-Mal without his sanction.
The “strong” man now was undecided as to whether Abdullahi was playing
with him or not, but his safest plan was to intrigue against Adlan. In
this he would be helped might and main by Yacoub, Abdullahi’s brother,
and the bitterest enemy of Adlan, for Yacoub, as the Emir of Emirs
(prince of princes), was insane with jealousy at the hold which Adlan
had on the masses. The respect and veneration paid to Adlan Yacoub
considered himself entitled to by virtue of his position and rank.
It may, or may not, be the case that Abdullahi himself was growing
jealous of Adlan. As Khaleefa, his power was so absolute that he could
remove any dangerous person by a suggestive motion of the hand, so
that when he sent Adlan into prison for a time, it was, in Adlan’s
opinion, only to appease his enemies, to prevent any wavering in
their allegiance, and to |149| stem the rapidly approaching tide of
discontent. But Adlan’s committal to the Saier left a clear field for
his enemies to intrigue against him, and being kept informed of every
charge made, and the Khaleefa’s varying moods towards him, Adlan saw
serious danger ahead.
Reports reached us that the Beit-el-Mal was in sore straits, and that
the Khaleefa had already expressed his intention of reinstating Adlan
if matters did not improve. Then it was that Adlan unbosomed himself
to me practically unreservedly. Gradually, but surely, he gave me to
understand that if ever he was reinstated he would do all in his power
to secure my release, and he so often told me _not_ to attempt flight,
if I was released, that I saw clearly he meant to assist me in doing
so. As the Beit-el-Mal went from bad to worse, Adlan’s spirits rose,
and he appealed to me to advise him what to do in the event of his
being reinstated. He saw that for a time, at least, he should have to
abandon his old policy, and he did not know in what direction he might
turn to revive the fallen fortunes of the treasury and granary.
Trading had been permitted to a certain extent, so I suggested its
extension, but Adlan at first would not hear of this. Abdullahi’s
purpose was to keep the Soudan as much a _terra incognita_ as possible,
and the further opening up of trade routes would defeat this object. My
next suggestion was that the Beit-el-Mal should hand over to merchants
gum, ivory, feathers, etc., at a fixed rate, to be bartered against
specified articles required at Omdurman, which, being received |150|
into the Beit-el-Mal to be distributed from there, would allow of it
making double profits on the transactions. At first he scouted the
idea, for there was not a single man he could trust, and if he gave
merchants any goods and they did not return with the proceeds of their
barter, Adlan would be held responsible. It was then I suggested that
he should only advance goods to people who had families in Omdurman,
which would ensure their returning; but he foresaw that the Khaleefa
would raise objections, as these people might give information to the
Government. As a matter of fact, they did do so eventually, returning
to Omdurman and giving to Abdullahi as incorrect information of the
Government as they had given the Government concerning him and affairs
in the Soudan.
In the end, I drove home my point by falling into figurative language,
a means of argument as general and effective in the East now as it was
in ancient days. “Adlan,” I said, “you have been feeding Abdullahi on
his own flesh; he is sick, but he is hungry; you have cut all the flesh
from his bones; if you try to feed him on his bones, he will kill you,
for he wants flesh to eat; you must cut flesh from some one else to
feed him, and cover his bones again.” Adlan then jumped at the idea of
trading, and said that as soon as his release came—for he felt sure
he would be released—he would ask the Khaleefa to release me so that
I might assist him in the work. The first essential, though, he told
me, was to abandon my present attitude towards Mahdieh, and offer to
become a Muslim. |151| I agreed to do so, and Adlan reported to the
Saier, who in turn reported to the Kadi, that I was willing to embrace
the faith. “What,” said the Kadi, “Abdalla Nufell a Muslim? No, his
heart is the old black one; he is not with us; he is deceiving; his
brain (head) is still strong; he is a deceiver; tell him so from me.”
The Kadi had not forgotten my old discussions with him in the presence
of others, where he perhaps had the worst of it, and would not forgive
me. Failing my “conversion,” he knew that I should have to suffer the
tortures of the Saier, and he intended that I should suffer them. Soon
after this, Adlan was released and reinstated in his old post; but he
sent word that I must be patient, as he could not speak to the Khaleefa
about me until he had got back fully into favour.
I should have mentioned before, that on the Khaleefa asking for designs
for the proposed tomb of the Mahdi, Kadi Hanafi and others suggested
that I should prepare designs in the hope they would be accepted, when
I should have to be released to see to their execution. Remembering the
old tombs of the Khaliffs at Cairo, I had little difficulty in drawing
a rough sketch of one, which I had submitted to Abdullah, as being an
entirely original design. I was told by the Saier to make a clay model,
and spent some three weeks in making one about two feet high. Hundreds
came to see it, until it was knocked to pieces by a presumed fanatic,
who objected to a dog of an unbeliever designing the tomb of the holy
man; but from what I learned later, it was only kicked to |152| pieces
after it had been copied. Adlan, knowing of this incident, sent me
word to prepare designs for the mural decorations of the interior,
and I spent some weeks over these; when they were finished, I sent
them direct to the Khaleefa, who sent for Adlan, and told him to make
inquiries as to how long the transfer of the designs to the walls would
take, and how much the work would cost. I gave an estimate of sixty
days for the completion of the work. Adlan said the cost would be nil,
as he had the paint.
While these designs were being sketched out, I made preparations for
flight as soon after my expected release as possible, and having paper
and ink in comparative abundance, I was enabled to write letters
surreptitiously. On October 12, 1888, I sent my servant to a Greek
captive, asking him to write me a letter in Greek to my old friend,
Mankarious Effendi, station-master at Assouan. The original letter is
before me, and the following is a literal translation:―
“Mr. Neufeld has asked me to write this letter because he could not
write it himself; you cannot know what a difficult position he is in;
since he came here he was taken twice to the gallows, but was not
hanged, and is still in chains, and subject to their mercy. He wants
you to take over his business, and to act forthwith as his agent. He
borrowed from the bearer a hundred medjedie (dollars), which refund
to him, and give him something for his trouble, and try and send him
back with two hundred pounds which he might buy his liberty for. This
letter is to be kept secret, as there are people who carry all news
here, so if the authorities got to know anything about it Mr. Neufeld
will grow from bad to worse.
(Signed) “NIROGHOPOLO.”
On November 10, 1888, hearing that another old |153| acquaintance
was in Omdurman, I got another Greek captive to write another letter
to Mankarious Effendi. This letter also was delivered, and Mankarious
Effendi hands it to me along with a number of other documents which he
has carefully preserved. I again translate literally―
“MR. MANKARIOUS BEY,―
“I wish you will be kind, and have all my things made over to you by
Mr. Möller (my manager), and I pray you to act as my wakeel (agent);
also please try and send me some money which I may help myself with,
say two hundred or three hundred pounds; this money will be for my own
use. As I was in need, I have taken from the bearer a sum of a hundred
medjedie, which you will refund him and something as well, because he
has done me a favour, and his name is Akkar (the real name—Karrar,
was doubtless purposely changed). The money you can give the bearer
of this, please take a receipt for and keep it with you; write me a
letter, and send it to Ahmad Abou Idris, or his brother Kabbassi, and
mention the sum you have sent me; also give bearer any assistance he
may want.
(Signed) “PROTHOMOS” (I am ready).
I had heard from people who had come to Omdurman of strange doings
in connection with my business, and in order that my manager should
understand that the letter was authentic, I also signed the letter, and
used our cypher for payment of £200—“u.r.r.”
While in a fever of excitement and anxiety over the despatch of these
messengers, Adlan sent me a secret messenger to say that Sulieman
Haroun, of the Ababdeh tribe, then living at Omdurman, was sending his
son Mohammad Ali to Cairo. Divining that Adlan wished me to communicate
with Sulieman, I sent out word that I wished to see him. In a few
|154| days’ time he gained admittance to the prison to see me, and
I at once set to business, and asked him if he would undertake the
arrangements for my escape. This he agreed to do, but only on condition
that I succeeded in getting outside the prison walls. So that he should
have some confidence that I would assist also, I asked him to call
and see Adlan, and I believe it was Adlan who advanced to Sulieman
the two hundred dollars he brought me, and for which I gave a receipt
for £100. I gave him a letter for his son to deliver to my manager at
Assouan, enclosing a receipt for £100, and an order for payment of a
further £200. On receiving the money, he was to buy goods, arrange for
relays of camels on his return journey, and bring the goods to the
Beit-el-Mal, where Adlan assured him he would find me. Mohammad Ali was
to leave immediately, and return to Omdurman at the earliest possible
moment.
[Illustration: MOUSSA DAOUD EL KANAGA.]
Within a few days of the despatch of this messenger, Moussa
Daoud-el-Kanaga, also of the Ababdeh tribe, and an old acquaintance
of mine, came to see me, and I enlisted his services. I told him of
the other arrangements I had made, and asked if he would go partners
with Mohammad Ali in effecting my escape. To Kanaga I gave a letter
telling my manager that I had drawn against him a draft for £200, and
instructing him to honour it; but, in case of accidents, I instructed
Kanaga to see Mankarious Effendi at Assouan, and, failing to find him,
to make his way to Cairo, and hand the letter to the German Consul.
Kanaga left Omdurman about December 30, 1888. |155|
After my remarks anent the _reliable unreliability_ of every one in
the Soudan, the deceptions practised one against the other, and the
absolute necessity for secrecy, it will naturally be wondered that I
entrusted my secret to so many, if secret it could be called when so
many knew of it. The explanation is simple. I _knew_ the people I had
to deal with, and have you noticed the seemingly insignificant fact
that I _borrowed money from each of the people I employed_? Later in my
narrative I will explain these peculiar transactions.
While these different messengers are on their journeys, being “held
up” at one place or the other, and at others pretending that they were
gradually working their way to Berber or Dongola for trade, I relate
what is happening in Omdurman.
News filtered through that the “faithful” had won a great victory over
the English at Suakin; but as the Saier filled with prisoners who
were present at the fight, and who gave different versions to that
ordained by Abdullahi—hence their imprisonment—we learned the truth.
The “faithful” had received a severe defeat. Soon after this, the army
sent against Abyssinia won its great victory over the forces led by
King John, and the fortunes of the Beit-el-Mal took a turn for the
better from the proceeds of the sale of slaves and the loot brought
in. Adlan was coming into favour again, but Abdullahi was too much
occupied in goading on Nejoumi to attack Egypt to give any attention
to the decoration of the Mahdi’s tomb or the extension of trade. He
was still less inclined to give |156| any attention to such matters,
when the news arrived—and it arrived very soon,—that Nejoumi’s army had
been almost annihilated at Toski. My evil star was certainly in the
ascendant, and was mounting higher and higher, for it was at this time
that Joseppi received a flogging for his vocal exercises, and having
a severe fit of mental aberration in consequence, he went off to the
Saier, and told him that he knew I was a great military general, and
that I was maturing plans for the overthrow of Abdullahi. I do not for
a moment believe the poor fellow knew what he was saying, for he came
back to share my scanty meal as usual.
Kanaga and Mohammad Ali we had calculated would reach Omdurman some
time in December or the early days of January, and as the time for
their return approached, Adlan evidently became more earnest in his
entreaties for the work of decorating the Mahdi’s tomb to be put in
hand. My flight would have to take place as soon as possible after the
return of my messengers, otherwise the desert relays would disperse,
believing that the scheme had fallen through; so it was necessary that
I should have been at work for some time before their arrival, that is
to say, long enough for my guards to grow lax in watching my movements.
Day after day Adlan sent in to inquire, “Have you any news from the
Khaleefa?” and each day the messenger took back my reply, “No; have
you?” but my inquiry referred to news of the messengers. At last the
joyful news came; the work was to be done, and two guards came to the
Saier, |157| and conducted me to the Mahdi’s tomb. There I discovered
that my clay model had been faithfully copied, with the exception that
the builders had shaped the dome conically. Adlan came to me there,
and congratulated me on this being my last day in makkiehs (chains).
Telling me to remain at the tomb until his return, he went off to the
Khaleefa to receive his order for my transfer to the Beit-el-Mal,
and at the very moment he was receiving it, the deputation of the
Muslimanieh put in its appearance to report the disappearance of
Joseppi. I was hurried back to prison, and an extra makkieh fitted to
me. How I cursed Joseppi, but I did not know then that the poor fellow
had been murdered. It was not long after this when I saw Adlan brought
into the prison, heavily weighted with chains, and taken to a hut some
distance from all the others, the prisoners being forbidden to approach
or speak to him.
During the night, on pretence of going to the place of ablution, I
shuffled towards his hut, and when a few yards distant, lay on the
ground and wriggled close up, stretching my chains to prevent their
rattling and attracting the notice of the guards. Asking in a whisper,
“What has happened?” he replied in a startled voice, “Imshee, imshee
(go away, go away), do not speak to me; a big dog has me by the leg
this time; go away, or he will get your leg.” I tried again to learn
what was the matter, but Adlan’s entreaties for me to go away were
so earnest that I wriggled off, and gained my hut without being
discovered. Soon afterwards Adlan’s slave boy, when |158| walking past
my hut, said, “Do not speak to my master; if you do, you will hear
the ombeyeh.” The whole night through the boy passed backwards and
forwards between Adlan’s hut and his house outside. Asked as to what he
was doing, he gave the same reply each time I put a question to him,
“Burning papers; do not speak to my master.” I had learned from Adlan
that he had been in communication with “friends,” and understanding
from him that, in the event of my ever returning to Egypt, I was to
be his “friend at court” with the Government, I suspected that he
was destroying all evidences which might be used against himself
and others. That the Khaleefa himself had received word of some
correspondence is evident from the rage he exhibited when Adlan’s house
was searched, and no incriminating documents found. Idris es Saier
nearly lost his head over the matter, for the Khaleefa accused him of
having assisted Adlan in disposing of the papers in some way.
On the morning of the third or fourth day of Adlan’s imprisonment, we
saw him led out of his hut bound, and taken to the anvil to have his
chains struck off. We all knew what this meant—an execution, but most
of us believed that the Khaleefa was only doing this to frighten Adlan,
and impress him with this evidence of his power. We were not allowed to
approach him, but Adlan called out, “This is my day; have no fear, any
of you. I am a man. I shall say and do nothing a man need be ashamed
of. Farewell.” While extra chains were being fitted to |159| my
ankles, the ombeyehs were announcing the death of Adlan. The mourning
for his death was general, but few if any knew the reasons which
actuated the Khaleefa in ordering his execution. Maybe the fugitive
Khaleefa himself only knows, but it is possible I can throw a little
light on the matter. To coin a word, Adlan had been “Gordonized;” about
the time of the anniversary of Gordon’s death, Adlan met with his, and
while waiting for that help which, as will be seen, started “too late.”
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