COMMERCE
Trade sources and commodities--A typical manifest--The old Jew
goldsmith.
I call this chapter commerce. Not the commerce so dryly described
in the mass of Zeila tabulated customs' returns that lie before me
on the desk as I write. Into these figures, at a first glance, it
would seem almost impossible to weave the slightest suspicion of
adventure or romance. Yet the pursuit of our trade is not without
adventure; often adventure of the good old-fashioned kind--well
spiced with danger. But the main, and practically the only, industry
of Somaliland is cattle raising, unless one includes the pursuit of
war as an industry. If so it is a dying one. With the proceeds of
the sale of his surplus cattle the Somal buys goods from all parts
of the world. Cloth from America, Europe, Arabia, and India; bowls
and other knick-knacks from Japan; the bulk, or all, of which comes
to him through the great clearing house of the near east, Aden.
Although a couple of small coastal steamers owned by an Aden firm
visit our port at stated intervals, most of our sea-borne trade is
carried in the holds of dhows. The Zeila fleet is not a large one,
and plies between the comparatively near ports of Berbera, Aden,
Jibouti, Perim, towns on the Arabian coast; Assab, an Italian port
in the Red Sea, and several other unimportant places. From Assab
come mats for covering the huts and tents; string, and the leaf of
the doum palm. This latter the women of Zeila plait in their spare
time, as our women do knitting, into long flat strips, which are
afterwards sewn into bags and mats. But the best mat grass comes
from Berbera, and I have one mat plaited from this grass which is
truly a work of art. Interwoven with the plaited grass are thin
strips of red and blue cloth, forming a diamond pattern of tasteful
design; the result being an article that pleases the most fastidious
eye.
Apart from cloth, dates, rice, and sugar are our chief imports.
Dates are a splendid and highly nutritious food, eaten daily if
procurable. They come to us from Mokulla, Muscat, and Basra, and
are, more often than not, transhipped at Aden. But our dhows are
enterprising craft and go a-trading themselves. Here is the manifest
of one that arrived home to-day:
"Dhow Fathal Kheir, Master Said Musa; cargo:
250 packages of dates
30 bags of lime
2 bundles of mat bags
1 package of sweets
6 bundles of coir rope
--all from Mokulla."
From Basra come, in addition to the dates, grain, carpets, and
sweetmeats, the latter being the well-known Turkish delight. The
carpets are disappointing, and it is to be feared that, though
they actually come from Basra, the majority are made in Europe. I
have only been able to secure one drugget of undoubtedly eastern
manufacture, but it is so fiercely coloured that it will swear
at everything in a civilised room. In the old days real, genuine
carpets found their way here from Basra, and other ports. I have
seen one such, though over fifty years of age, whose colours are as
bright and fresh now as on the day it was made.
The dhows bring all sorts of delightful things to gladden the heart
of the European collector. I picked up two lovely old brass-bound
chests made from a rich black wood, finely carved by a delicate
hand. None of your barbarous eastern designs. I have seen many old
chests, but these of mine are, in my opinion, incomparable. They
are to me a perfect joy, but can only be described by an artist,
and I am not one. Sometimes I turn the massive brass key of one,
and throw open the lid, when the faintest and most delicate smell
of incense steals forth to tell how, long before these boxes came
into my hands, they were used by Arab ladies to store their delicate
silks and fripperies. What is their history? I know not. I was lucky
to acquire them, for the old Arab families rarely part with such
heirlooms, for heirlooms they are, or were.
And then, sometimes, one finds the most wonderful old pottery.
Plates that the old Arab grandmothers, years ago, hung upon their
walls for ornament, and, incidentally, to prove their very good
taste. That these people do have good taste, and some cultivation,
is shown by their high appreciation of such articles, all of which
came to our shores in the dhow holds. Who dares to say that our
commerce has not its spice of romance?
Of our exports skins are the most important. Horned cattle come
next. From Abyssinia has been known to come, in one consignment,
ivory, coffee, and civet. The coffee is from Harrar; famous for
its long berry and delicate flavour. For the latter quality I can
vouch. My cook buys the berries at eightpence the pound and has
them roasted and ground by a woman expert in the town. Gums and
frankincense, gathered from the wild trees, are also valuable
products that find their way hither in small parcels, hidden among
the camel loads of grain and skins. Large caravans of the "ships
of the desert" enter the town daily, and many are the stories of
"loots" and wild doings they report of the hinterland through
which they have passed. With the exception of a little of the
coffee, incense, ghee (rancid butter), and grain, this latter from
Abyssinia, all they bring goes to the dhows for export.
The incense is used by Somal and all Mahomedan women to perfume
themselves. A small earthenware brazier is filled with burning
charcoal, on which is sprinkled the incense. Over the brazier the
lady stands, covering it and the smoke with her petticoat, should
she wear one, or the sheet-like robe that drapes her body. As a
result she is well fumigated, and if, afterwards, to the European
nostrils she exhales a sickly smell of stale incense what matters
it; for European prejudices she cares but little, and her husband
has, I regret to state, an abominable taste in scents, and thinks
she smells fine. Perhaps she does.
In our town the manufactures are few but interesting. There is the
old Midgan woman who makes the earthenware pots and water ewers.
She is a marvel of expertness. With her fingers she will mould a
pot from a piece of mud whilst you are looking at her. There is
no wheel, no model; it is all done with the fingers alone. A water
vessel with a slender neck appears as if by magic. It is as if she
were making passes in the air with her hands, and the thing appears
like the Indian conjurer's mango tree. Our pot woman would make her
fortune on a London music-hall stage, and she is such a friendly
soul; her smile is like a tonic.
Then we have iron, silver, and goldsmiths. The former make knives,
daggers, spearheads and arrowheads for men, and little household
utensils for the women. The silversmiths squat on their mud floors
and mould and hammer out all kinds of ornaments: silver anklets,
chains, bracelets, neck-amulets, and huge silver beads for the
women; silver rings set with huge moon and other cheap stones, the
bigger the better, for the men. Terrible affairs these rings, that
set one's teeth on edge; but the other ornaments are well made and
not at all inartistic. The little silver vessels, covered with
filigree work, used to hold the black paint with which the women
accentuate their eyebrows, and the henna for staining their fingers,
always appeal to me. One silversmith has a box full of every kind of
second-hand ornament. One day I was present when he turned it out
and I pounced upon one of these paint vessels which he refused to
sell. It was in pawn, as were the other articles.
The old Jew goldsmith has bars of gold shaped like small sticks
of solder. Pure Abyssinian gold it is, too. He has old, old dies
for making medallions, the inscriptions on which neither he nor
anyone else in Zeila can read. These medallions, always of gold,
are fashioned with tiny connecting links of chain into handsome
necklaces. How I'd love to rummage through his boxes, but he is
discouraging, and barely allows me a glimpse of the wonderful old
things he owns, or perhaps holds in trust. He is our fashionable
jeweller, but he, too, squats on his haunches on the floor to beat
out the most beautiful things with his hammer, on an anvil no bigger
than six inches of steel railway rail. He is anxious that I should
commission him to make a pair of ear-rings for "Madam." I am to
provide pearls and design, he the gold and craftsmanship. But then I
am no draughtsman, and I am not sure whether "Madam" would after all
appreciate our combined efforts! I have suggested that we let the
matter stand over until I hear from "Madam," to whom I have referred
it. He says it is a waste of time to wait. "Madam" is sure to say
"Yes," and, if she does, I shall get good value for my money. If all
is as it appears to be I most certainly shall. A golden trinket,
when completed, he places in one balance of a tiny pair of scales,
and balances it with silver four anna-bits. For every silver coin
in the scale one pays him three and a half rupees in settlement
for the gold; then, for every rupee you have paid for the gold you
add a quarter rupee for his work--and the article is yours ... or
"Madam's."