COURT WORK
The Court opens--Sultan Mahomed Haji Dideh--Petitions--A case of
"being found out"--Gambling--Mr Gandhi.
As I enter the office there is a slight commotion: Buralli,
Mahomed the interpreter, and Mahomed Auwit have already arrived,
and hurry from the desk of the last named to bid me good morning.
We are a polite community. Mahomed Auwit has practically finished
his morning's work, as a small pile of petitions prepared by his
hand, and placed ready in my basket, testify. When I have taken my
seat Buralli informs me that the Sultan of Zeila is waiting to be
received. I assent, and a fine old grey-beard is ushered in. His
feet are innocent of shoes or sandals, but his cotton shirt and
pantaloons are spotlessly clean. A pleasant intelligent looking man
is my mental note. He fumbles with a bundle of papers, from which he
extracts one and hands it to me.
"Sultan Mahomed Haji Dideh," I read, "was born at Zeila, and is
not in a sound state of mind. He is under the delusion that he
is king of all the kings. His dominions, he says, extend even
beyond the limits of this earthly planet.
"(Signed) ISHER DASS,
"_Sub-assistant Surgeon_."
What can I do for you I asked the old man. Buralli explains that
the Sultan sometimes visits the custom-house on an imaginary tour
of inspection. As a rule Harrichand, the customs superintendent,
is very good natured and puts up with the old man's nonsense. This
morning Harrichand was busy, and when the Sultan called could
spare him no time and became cross. Sultan Mahomed Haji Dideh was
summarily ejected onto the street.
Concerning this insubordinate conduct on the part of one of his
officers the old man is here now to complain. I look round the court
for inspiration. A crowd has collected near the door hoping to hear
the old fellow baited. He himself looks so dignified, so like what
he professes to be, that I have not the heart to hurt his feelings.
I seize his certificate of insanity, copy it, and hand it back,
saying that I have made a note of his complaint, and that it will be
attended to. The Sultan is sane enough to realise there is nothing
to be gained by prolonging the interview; he accepts his paper, bows
condescendingly, and, turning about, struts majestically out of
court.
I turn to the petitions.
"I most humbly beg to state," I read, "that one Abokr Fahia of
the Gadabursi, Abrian, had looted a pregnant she-camel from
Wais Kurmaneh of the Issa Rer Kul. And then, instead of this
she-camel, Issa Rer Kul had taken a camel from Abokr Fahia. Now
the Gadabursi Abrian want their camel from the Issa Rer Kul and
do not wish to settle the claim of the she-camel Issa Rer Kul. I
therefore pray your honour to order him, Akil Wairreh Yunis, who
filed the complaint, to restore the camel of the Issa Rer Kul.
By doing me this act of kindness I shall ever remain grateful.
Signed, Hersi Ahamed, his mark, of the Issa Rer Kul."
Now Wairreh Yunis is the Akil of the Abrian section of the Gadabursi
tribe, and Hersi Ahamed is the Akil of the Rer Kul Issa tribe. In
Political Case No. 17, of 1918, judgment was given against the Rer
Kul in favour of the Abrian for two camels, one of which had been
paid according to the Abrian statement, and the other remained as
yet unsettled for. This camel Wairreh Yunis was now demanding, and
Hersi Ahamed in his petition pleaded it was paid for by one camel
owed to the Rer Kul by the Abrian. Rather confusing but that was
what was meant. It will be observed in the petition above that the
camel taken from Wais Kurmaneh is described as having been pregnant.
When case No. 17, of 1918, was heard neither Hersi Ahamed nor Wais
Kurmaneh attended to defend it, hence judgment was given against
them in default. The present case, numbered sixty-seven of 1919,
however, brought some facts to light concerning this old case. It
would be hopeless to attempt to write down the tortuous statements
made by the various witnesses, and the following is what we arrived
at, after sifting the evidence, as a correct appreciation of the
origin of the dispute.
Last year drought conditions obtained in Somaliland, and many
people, among others Abokr Fahia, were hard put to it to procure
food. All Abokr's milk camels were dry, and it was a case of
having to slaughter an animal. His choice fell on Wais Kurmaneh's
she-camel, which he looted and killed. He does not attempt to
deny that he looted this camel, but he denies it was pregnant.
Wais Kurmaneh says it was, but how is he going to prove it; the
camel is dead. When the latter found out what had happened to
his she-camel he lay in wait near Abokr Fahia's kurria until a
favourable opportunity presented itself, when he looted one of his
she-camels in revenge. But this camel he did not kill, and, shortly
after he had seized it, it gave birth to a baby camel; therefore the
Gadabursi claim that the Rer Kul man looted two camels from their
man and must return the baby, which they have claimed for as one
camel. They consider they hold a strong position as the original
camel looted being dead (and dead camels tell no tales) it cannot be
proved to have been pregnant.
But their reasoning is not my reasoning. They find it hard to
explain why they hid the true facts of the case a year ago, and
neglected to explain, until it was dragged out of them, that
the whole case was trumped up on an affair of cross-looting.
Nevertheless both parties considered they had a _bonâ fide_ case,
and both parties felt aggrieved that they got nothing out of it all
but a sound wigging. Never mind, better luck next time.
I go through the rest of the petitions; nearly all claims for
ordinary debt, and settled in much the same way as similar cases
are settled in England. There are the usual petitions from divorced
women for payment of their mehr, or maintenance, for their children,
with a request that the D.C. will put the screw on, and, as an
inducement to do so, he is assured of the lifelong prayers of the
petitioners in reward.
Buralli has one or two criminal cases to settle. A small boy about
five years old is placed in the dock, and charged with the theft
of two rupees from the old lady who makes the earthenware pots.
According to her the baby prisoner is a desperado of the deepest
dye. Has he not been the cause of her losing two silver rupees?
But when we turn him upside down, and the stolen money falls with
a jingle on the floor, she says: "He is only a child, Sahib, let
him go." And I let him go. He is branded for ever, child as he is,
as a sneak thief. Had he waited until he was older, and held up an
old woman on the road with his spear, threatening to take her life
unless she handed over her one and only camel on which was packed
all her worldly possessions, he would have been regarded as a hero,
and might lord it with the best of his brigand friends in the mosque
or in the town. But now he is only a thief who stole two rupees, and
was arrested by the police. Decent people will hound him from their
doors. A strange thing, public opinion!
Then comes a "grievous hurt" case. Husband, wife, and the other
man. How the wife fights to save her reputation. She is prepared to
sacrifice her husband if only that can be spared. But facts are too
strong for her. One after the other they are uncovered, and shred
by shred the woman's reputation goes, until only rags are left.
Yesterday how highly she held her head, and how disdainfully she
scorned her more unfortunate sisters, whose ranks she joins to-day.
But she fights on, as no queen ever fought for her crown, until
she is forcibly removed. Her morals have nothing to do with the
present case beyond having provided a provocation for her husband's
offence. And yet, serious as is the matter for her, she is no worse
than hundreds of the other townswomen. She has only committed the
unpardonable offence of having been found out.
[Illustration: SCENE OUTSIDE ZEILA COURT-HOUSE.]
The last case of any importance is one in which a number of lads are
charged with gambling. There has been a police raid, and the usual
paraphernalia of such cases is produced. A dirty old pack of cards,
some small silver coins, and a number of coppers. Police Constable
No. 13--unlucky number, he has a beautiful black eye--deposes that
he caught the prisoners red-handed, playing cards in one of the
numerous coffee shops in the town; seized the cards and the coins,
and arrested the men.
"And did they come quietly, Constable?"
"Yes, Sahib."
"Then whatever on earth has happened to your eye?"
No answer, and I do not press the question. As a matter of fact P.C.
No. 13 set out last night to administer a little corporal punishment
to his wife. His wife chastised him instead.
The prisoners plead guilty to playing cards, but state they were
only playing for cups of coffee. That is an old yarn, and does not
go down. Fined one rupee each, and cautioned that they will not get
off lightly next time.
And now comes Mr Gandhi, the public superintendent. His coolies have
actually gone on strike. For what? More pay? No. for what? More
water. Well, Mr Gandhi can settle this strike by giving them as much
as they want, and hang the expense.
The court work is over; I go to count pick shovels at the prison,
and say "salaam" to the mean unhappy wretches I have sentenced to of
durance vile.