MANY TRIBES
Hayoun the Jew "At Home"--Hayoun's largesse--Hindus, Parsees and
vaccination--Buralli's knowledge of legs.
The élite of our town is composed almost entirely of Arabs, Indians,
and Jews, who mix little with the Somals. Of course, money talks,
and Haji Abdi Kheiri, the rich Somal trader, is getting his foot
into the higher circles, but as yet he is little at ease amid the
gaiety of social gatherings. Yesterday Hayoun the Jew invited all
the notabilities, of whom I am one--I must speak up for myself--to
a gathering at his house. There were present the Indian customs
superintendent, the Hindu assistant-surgeon, the District Clerk, two
Parsees, a Goanese clerk, a few Arabs, Haji Abdi Kheiri, and myself.
Everyone was courteous and polite, and all were most obsequious to
me. As I climbed on to the flat open roof to join the party Haji
Abdi Kheiri fired off his gun five times. This in my honour, but
being unused to such displays I thought I had been drawn into an
ambush placed ready to take my life, and, for a second, I had an
instinct to jump back and down the steep steps. One acts hurriedly
on such occasions, I mean when one thinks there's danger, but,
fortunately for my reputation, I caught a glimpse of Hayoun's face.
He was cool and unexcited; so reasoning that he would not look like
that were there any trouble, as his date of decease in such a case
would not be many seconds later than mine, of which fact he would be
well aware, I advanced with a laugh and said, "Good afternoon."
The party--after my arrival--being all present, and correct, and
Haji Abdi Kheiri having put away his gun (much to my relief)
festivities commenced. I sat at the head of a table where tea was
served. The whole town had been ransacked for table-covers, the
colours of which gave me a pain in the head. I opened the ball by
drinking a bottle of ginger pop. My glass was at once replenished
with lemonade. Fruit--out of tins--was served, and this partaken of
Hayoun arose from his chair and made a speech, saying how rejoiced
the whole community were the great British nation had emerged so
successfully from the fiery ordeal of the greatest war in the
history of the world, and pointing out that at that table sat men
of five different creeds--Hindu, Parsee, Mahomedan, Jewish, and
Christian--who were entirely in agreement with the sentiments he had
expressed.
Then Haji Abdi went for his gun again.
"God knows," said I to myself, "whether, or not, he is going to
rectify the matter according to his lights, and make the party all
one religion--his--by disposing of the other four. In any case it is
time I took a hand."
"Haji Abdi Kheiri," said I, "put that gun down, sir, or you'll be
shooting someone before we break up."
"But Djibouti is firing salutes, and we must also fire," said Hayoun
the Jew. "I have especially arranged with Haji that he should do
this in honour of the signing of peace. Will not your honour grant
permission?"
As we listened we heard the Djibouti gun booming away, and what else
was to be done but to allow the salute to be fired. It could not
be heard as many hundreds of yards away as the French gun could be
heard miles. But at last I insisted on Haji putting away his firearm
for keeps, and thanked the party for the nice things their spokesman
had said about our nation. I told them how proud I was to find men
of five creeds, as far apart as five equal points of the circle,
able to meet under one flag, in friendship and unity, and to pay it
such a tribute.
After that a long silence, during which I drank another bottle of
ginger pop and ate more fruit. Clearly I'd had as much as was good
for me, so, jumping to my feet, I prepared to say "Good-bye." But
there were other things to be done. All the town's children had
collected under the walls of the house, and Hayoun sent for ten
rupees worth of pice, making a grand total of six hundred and forty
coins to be distributed as largesse. Had I any suggestions to make?
Yes, I had. It was a clear case for a scramble. The coins were
tossed from the roof, and you never saw such a confusion of legs and
arms as that which followed. Little girls, little boys, all mixed up
like fruit in a salad, and, with the usual luck that attends cats,
drunken men and little children, no one was seriously hurt.
Describe the men I met at that party? As well set out to describe
the ever-changing sea. Something about their worldly affairs. Yes, I
could do that if I cared to abuse confidences; also something about
their very private affairs. Whose wife is not above reproach; whose
daughter is causing him some anxiety; the main causes of sleepless
nights. But beneath it all--of the man's heart--I know nothing. What
his outlook on life is. What he really thinks about is as a sealed
book sewn up in canvas, weighted with lead and thrown into the ocean.
Sometimes I think I know, that I understand, but it is just at
such times I am farthest from the truth. When I realise my abysmal
ignorance, and trust to blind instinct to guide me along a course
inspired by a superficial knowledge, I know I am working on sound
lines.
Haji Abdi Kheiri, the pure-blooded Somal, who has to-day fired
off his gun in my honour, and who sat with me at table looking as
harmless as a school miss about to partake of Holy Communion for
the first time, is not the same man who came alone to my bungalow,
puffed up with pride and prosperity, to donate twenty rupees to the
poor fund, as a small boy might who takes one sugar plum from a full
bag to present it to a street urchin, the while an admiring mamma
looks on. Neither is he the same Haji Abdi Kheiri who yesterday,
at the "Peace" sports, behaved like a maniac because the town team
was beaten at its first pull by the police in the tug-o'-war. I
had counted the men myself ere giving the signal, "Go," and was
satisfied that it was a fair pull. But he insisted otherwise. He is
no sportsman, and there were few of his breed at that sports meeting
who could lay claim to be so called. The second pull I stopped. The
spectators were surreptitiously giving a hand to whichever side they
fancied, and Haji himself I caught in the act. Finally, when I gave
the pull to the police, there was a scene I can liken to nothing
else so much as a pack of mad dogs barking and snarling at one
another, yet afraid to bite.
It is this sort of thing almost makes one lose heart. On this
occasion I said to myself, "If I had a machine gun and turned it
on to these canaille, no matter how guilty I might appear in the
eyes of man, God, Who understands human nature as He meant it to
be, and Who knows, would forgive and understand the act." At other
times I say to myself, "I know these people are devils, but they are
fascinating devils. I like them, and shall make allowances for their
devilries."
Then, there is always Mahomed Fara, and he is not quite an uncommon
type in Somaliland. To have met and known him makes one look for the
good side in his tribal brethren.
But even I, who owe much to Somals and have always championed them,
admit it is exasperating to have to watch them--hiding that better
side away. But such they are; in some cases men who will spend
their day praying, and then rise from their knees to smash in a
poor woman's skull--a woman who is within a month of giving birth
to a child, and because she refuses to hand over the skin of water
she has carried three miles on her back that her small children may
drink. Such men are almost past redemption.
My pen has run away with me. Since I sat down to write such an
incident as that of which I speak has been reported and so creeps
into the page. As for Hayoun the Jew, the Hindus, the Parsees and
myself, we have one point in common. We are strangers in a strange
land, so perforce try to understand one another, and work together.
Even then there are barriers between us.
A few days ago the assistant-surgeon came to my office and reported
smallpox in the town. I have already described Zeila so it is
unnecessary to point out how serious this outbreak might become.
"Of course everyone must be vaccinated," I said. "Call the
town-crier and let him tom-tom such an order through the town!"
"Women as well as men?" asked the surgeon.
"Women as well as men," I replied.
"We'll have trouble with the Indian and Arab purdah women," said the
surgeon, who is a Brahmin.
"Yes," I said, "but surely there is some way of overcoming that
difficulty."
"Let the doctor go in and vaccinate them all," said the helpful
Buralli. "If they are not afraid to show their bare legs, there's no
harm in showing their arms, and they need not unveil their faces to
show their arms rather than their legs."
"And pray what do you know about their legs, Buralli?"
"Just this," said he, "that you can see for yourself, any day you
like, that an Arab woman thinks nothing of tucking up her skirt
above the knees; and as she wears no stockings you can't help
seeing her legs if you have eyes in your head. And, given half a
chance, if you are a good-looking young fellow, she does not mind
showing her face; and what harm does it do her or anyone else? Let
the doctor go in and vaccinate them."
The District Clerk, a highly educated Indian Mahomedan, then said,
"I prefer to go to prison before I allow the surgeon to vaccinate my
wife."
"Here is a good subject to reason with," I reflected, and I produced
every conceivable argument I could think of to prove how stupid he
was to take up such a position. I might have been the Pope of Rome
trying to convince an Ulsterman that "Home Rule" was the best thing
that could happen to Ireland. It was left to me to solve the problem
by suggesting an old woman should be trained to vaccinate, and sent
in to the purdah women to operate on them. And this old lady is now
hard at work. God alone knows what diseases she is spreading through
the town with her dirty needles, for, of one thing I am convinced,
once she is out of sight of the surgeon she will never trouble to
clean them.
As for the clerk's wife, quite unknown to him, and possibly to
her, I have seen her unveiled and have not heard she has suffered
in consequence. I am not hankering to see her face again, for of
whatever charms she may be possessed this is most certainly not
one. It is the sort of face that can only be improved upon by being
covered up. She should therefore be encouraged to keep it well
covered.