the ground was clothed with dank grass, and around the trunks grew
thistles, daisies, and blue flowers which at a distance might well pass
for violets.
Presently we were summarily stopped by half a dozen Gallas attending upon
one Rabah, the Chief who owns the Pass. [30] This is the African style of
toll-taking: the "pike" appears in the form of a plump of spearmen, and
the gate is a pair of lances thrown across the road. Not without trouble,
for they feared to depart from the _mos majorum_, we persuaded them that
the ass carried no merchandise. Then rounding Kondura's northern flank, we
entered the Amir's territory: about thirty miles distant, and separated by
a series of blue valleys, lay a dark speck upon a tawny sheet of stubble--
Harar.
Having paused for a moment to savour success, we began the descent. The
ground was a slippery black soil--mist ever settles upon Kondura--and
frequent springs oozing from the rock formed beds of black mire. A few
huge Birbisa trees, the remnant of a forest still thick around the
mountain's neck, marked out the road: they were branchy from stem to
stern, and many had a girth of from twenty to twenty-five feet. [31]
After an hour's ride amongst thistles, whose flowers of a bright redlike
worsted were not less than a child's head, we watered our mules at a rill
below the slope. Then remounting, we urged over hill and dale, where Galla
peasants were threshing and storing their grain with loud songs of joy;
they were easily distinguished by their African features, mere caricatures
of the Somal, whose type has been Arabized by repeated immigrations from
Yemen and Hadramaut. Late in the afternoon, having gained ten miles in a
straight direction, we passed through a hedge of plantains, defending the
windward side of Gafra, a village of Midgans who collect the Gerad Adan's
grain. They shouted delight on recognising their old friend, Mad Said, led
us to an empty Gambisa, swept and cleaned it, lighted a fire, turned our
mules into a field to graze, and went forth to seek food. Their hospitable
thoughts, however, were marred by the two citizens of Harar, who privately
threatened them with the Amir's wrath, if they dared to feed that Turk.
As evening drew on, came a message from our enemies, the Habr Awal, who
offered, if we would wait till sunrise, to enter the city in our train.
The Gerad Adan had counselled me not to provoke these men; so, contrary to
the advice of my two companions, I returned a polite answer, purporting
that we would expect them till eight o'clock the next morning.
At 7 P.M., on the 3rd January, we heard that the treacherous Habr Awal had
driven away their cows shortly after midnight. Seeing their hostile
intentions, I left my journal, sketches, and other books in charge of an
old Midgan, with directions that they should be forwarded to the Gerad
Adan, and determined to carry nothing but our arms and a few presents for
the Amir. We saddled our mules, mounted and rode hurriedly along the edge
of a picturesque chasm of tender pink granite, here and there obscured by
luxuriant vegetation. In the centre, fringed with bright banks a shallow
rill, called Doghlah, now brawls in tiny cascades, then whirls through
huge boulders towards the Erar River. Presently, descending by a ladder of
rock scarcely safe even for mules, we followed the course of the burn, and
emerging into the valley beneath, we pricked forwards rapidly, for day was
wearing on, and we did not wish the Habr Awal to precede us.
About noon we crossed the Erar River. The bed is about one hundred yards
broad, and a thin sheet of clear, cool, and sweet water, covered with
crystal the greater part of the sand. According to my guides, its course,
like that of the hills, is southerly towards the Webbe of Ogadayn [32]:
none, however, could satisfy my curiosity concerning the course of the
only perennial stream which exists between Harar and the coast.
In the lower valley, a mass of waving holcus, we met a multitude of Galla
peasants coming from the city market with new potlids and the empty gourds
which had contained their butter, ghee, and milk: all wondered aloud at
the Turk, concerning whom they had heard many horrors. As we commenced
another ascent appeared a Harar Grandee mounted upon a handsomely
caparisoned mule and attended by seven servants who carried gourds and
skins of grain. He was a pale-faced senior with a white beard, dressed in
a fine Tobe and a snowy turban with scarlet edges: he carried no shield,
but an Abyssinian broadsword was slung over his left shoulder. We
exchanged courteous salutations, and as I was thirsty he ordered a footman
to fill a cup with water. Half way up the hill appeared the 200 Girhi
cows, but those traitors, the Habr Awal, had hurried onwards. Upon the
summit was pointed out to me the village of Elaoda: in former times it was
a wealthy place belonging to the Gerad Adan.
At 2 P.M. we fell into a narrow fenced lane and halted for a few minutes
near a spreading tree, under which sat women selling ghee and unspun
cotton. About two miles distant on the crest of a hill, stood the city,--
the end of my present travel,--a long sombre line, strikingly contrasting
with the white-washed towns of the East. The spectacle, materially
speaking, was a disappointment: nothing conspicuous appeared but two grey
minarets of rude shape: many would have grudged exposing three lives to
win so paltry a prize. But of all that have attempted, none ever succeeded
in entering that pile of stones: the thorough-bred traveller, dear L.,
will understand my exultation, although my two companions exchanged
glances of wonder.
Spurring our mules we advanced at a long trot, when Mad Said stopped us to
recite a Fatihah in honor of Ao Umar Siyad and Ao Rahmah, two great saints
who repose under a clump of trees near the road. The soil on both sides of
the path is rich and red: masses of plantains, limes, and pomegranates
denote the gardens, which are defended by a bleached cow's skull, stuck
upon a short stick [33] and between them are plantations of coffee,
bastard saffron, and the graceful Kat. About half a mile eastward of the
town appears a burn called Jalah or the Coffee Water: the crowd crossing
it did not prevent my companions bathing, and whilst they donned clean
Tobes I retired to the wayside, and sketched the town.
These operations over, we resumed our way up a rough _tranchee_ ridged
with stone and hedged with tall cactus. This ascends to an open plain. On
the right lie the holcus fields, which reach to the town wall: the left is
a heap of rude cemetery, and in front are the dark defences of Harar, with
groups of citizens loitering about the large gateway, and sitting in chat
near the ruined tomb of Ao Abdal. We arrived at 3 P.M., after riding about
five hours, which were required to accomplish twenty miles in a straight
direction. [34]
Advancing to the gate, Mad Said accosted a warder, known by his long wand
of office, and sent our salams to the Amir, saying that we came from Aden,
and requested the honor of audience. Whilst he sped upon his errand, we
sat at the foot of a round bastion, and were scrutinised, derided, and
catechized by the curious of both sexes, especially by that conventionally
termed the fair. The three Habr Awal presently approached and scowlingly
inquired why we had not apprised them of our intention to enter the city.
It was now "war to the knife"--we did not deign a reply.