BY Qway’s advice I started feeding my camels on _bersim_,
preparatory to our journey into the dunes. There are two kinds
of _bersim_ grown in the oasis: _bersim beladi_[1] and _bersim
hajazi_.[2] _Bersim hajazi_, however, should not be fed to camels
in its green state, as it very frequently causes them to get hoven.
The _bersim_ was bought off the natives by the _kantar_, of a hundred
Egyptian pounds. At first there was some difficulty in getting it
weighed. Abd er Rahman, however, proved equal to the emergency. He
discovered a rock, which was supposed to weigh a _kantar_, and which
was the standard weight for the whole oasis. He then rigged up a pair
of scales, consisting of two baskets fixed to either end of a beam,
suspended from a second beam.
In the evening of the first day I spent in Mut I climbed to the
top of a low hill close to the town to look at the dune field that
I hoped to cross. A more depressing sight it would be impossible to
imagine. Not only were the sand hills in the neighbourhood of the town
much higher than those we had encountered on leaving Kharga Oasis,
but they extended as far as it was possible to see to the horizon,
and obviously became considerably larger in the far distance, where
they were evidently of great height.
I returned to my rooms with the gloomiest forebodings, wishing I
had never been such a fool as to tackle the _belad esh Shaytan_,
or “Satan’s country,” as the natives call this part of the
desert, and wondering whether, when I attempted to cross those dunes,
I should not end, after a few hours’ journey, in having to return
completely beaten with my tail tightly tucked between my legs,
to the Nile Valley. I lay awake for most of the night in consequence.
But daylight as usual made things look more cheerful. Anyway I could
have a shot at it, and as my camels did not seem to be in very good
order I decided to give them a rest and to feed them up into the
best possible condition, before subjecting them to what appeared to
be an almost impossible task. In the meantime I thought I might as
well see something of the oasis, and at the same time collect what
information I could about the desert.
So a few days after my arrival at Mut I set off with the _mamur_,
the policeman and the doctor to stay for a night with the _’omda_
of Rashida, leaving the caravan behind me.
For the first two hours after leaving Mut, till we reached the village
of Qalamun, our road lay over a barren country largely covered with
loose sand, which proved to be rather heavy going.
Qalamun is rather a picturesque village, and seems to have been built
with an eye to defence. A great deal of land in the neighbourhood is
covered with drift sand, which in places seems to be encroaching on
to the cultivation, though not to be doing any serious damage. An
unusually large proportion of land in the neighbourhood is planted
with date palms, and, as the water supply seems to be fairly abundant,
the place has a prosperous well-to-do air. In some cases the wells
appear to be failing, as a few _shadufs_ for raising the water were to
be seen. These and a few Dom palms gave the neighbourhood a rather
distinctive appearance. Of course we visited the _’omda_. The
sheykhs of this village—the Shurbujis by name—claim to have
governed the oasis ever since the time of the Sultan Selim, “The
Grim.”
On leaving Qalaman we made straight for Rashida, most of our road
lying through cultivated fields, planted mainly with cereals. Before
reaching the village, we passed a large dead tree—a _sunt_,
or acacia, apparently—which is known as the “tree of Sheykh
Adam,” and is supposed to possess a soul. The wood is reported to
be uninflammable.
Shortly before reaching Rashida, we were met by the _’omda_ and some
of his family, who had ridden out to meet us, all splendidly mounted
on Syrian horses, gorgeously caparisoned with richly embroidered
saddles and saddle cloths. These joined on to our party and rode
back with us to Rashida.
[Illustration: KHARASHEF.
[Illustration: SAND GROOVED RIDGE.
The wind driven sand grooves away the rock, sometimes leaving large
ridges standing above its surface. (p. 308).]
[Illustration: IN OLD MUT.
This shows the fortified character of the houses formerly built in
the oases of the Libyan desert as a defence against raids. (p. 41).]
The village is one of the prettiest and most fertile in the
oasis. It is built on a low ridge lying at the south-east corner
of a very extensive grove of palms, in whose shade were planted
great numbers of fruit trees: figs, mulberries, apricots, oranges,
tangerines—known in Egypt under the curious name of _Yussef
effendi_, i.e. Mr. Joseph—bananas, almonds, pomegranates, limes,
lemons, olives and sweet lemons, the last bearing a large, tasteless,
but very juicy fruit, something like a citron in appearance.
[Illustration: THE TREE WITH A SOUL, RASHIDA.]
The village lies close to the cliff. The interior of the village was
of the normal type, and, beyond presenting an unusually prosperous
appearance and having the walls of some of its houses painted on
the outside in geometrical patterns, usually in red and white,
did not differ from the other villages in the oasis.
The _’omda’s_ house was delightfully situated, with palm trees
growing almost up to the walls. He took us up into his guest chamber,
a long narrow room neatly whitewashed and furnished almost entirely in
the European manner, with deck-chairs, sofas round the walls, a large
gilt hanging lamp, bent wood chairs and three-legged tables. The
windows were draped with European curtains and the floor covered
with Eastern rugs and carpets. A large mirror in a gilt frame and
an oleograph portrait of the Khedive completed the list of furniture.
On entering the room one’s eye was at once caught by the words
“_Ahlan wa Sahlen_”—welcome—painted on the opposite wall. And
welcome that hospitable _’omda_ certainly made us. The windows
had been kept closely shuttered all the morning to keep out the
heat and the flies; but these were opened on our arrival. Then the
_’omda_ entered and proceeded to spray the room and its inmates
with scent. Shortly afterwards the inevitable tea and cigarettes
made their appearance.
After compliments, enquiries as to the health of all parties present
and the usual polite preliminaries had been got through—a process
that took some minutes—the conversation turned upon horses. Only
a few of the richer natives of the oases are able to afford them,
and the remainder, when they do not walk, ride on donkeys. Powerful
quarters, round cannon bones and a small head, with an especially
small muzzle and widely distended nostrils, seemed to be the points
they valued most.
After luncheon, when the heat of the day was past, we were taken by
the _’omda_ to see some of the sights of the village. First we were
led to a big mud ruin known as the ’Der abu Madi. He told us he had
dug up a number of mummies about a mile to the north of the village,
which he said had been buried in earthenware coffins. Fragments of
one of these coffins that he produced showed that they must have been
about three inches thick and had evidently been baked in a kiln. Many
of the mummies had been wrapped round with a cloth of some sort,
with their arms lying straight along their sides, and had then been
wound tightly round with a rope. The remains of one of them was shown
us. It was, however, entirely knocked to pieces, as the _’omda_
and his family had stuck it upright on the ground and then amused
themselves by turning it into an “Aunt Sally.” One or two coins
and the skull of a gazelle had been dug up from one of the graves. The
coins unfortunately were so worn and decayed that they could not be
recognised. There seems to be plenty of work for an archæologist
in Dakhla—and still more for an inspector of antiquities.
We were next taken off to see the great sight of Rashida—the Bir
Magnun, or “foolish well.” When this well was being sunk about
forty years ago the labourers stopped working for the day, not knowing
that they had almost reached the water-bearing stratum, with the
result that the water forced its way through the small distance from
the bottom of the bore hole to the top of the water reservoir, and
gushed up with such violence that it forced the tubing, above the bore
hole, partly out of the ground and flooded the whole country round.
On first arriving in the oases, I made enquiries on all sides from
the natives for information as to what wells, roads or oases were
to be found in the unknown parts of the desert, beyond the Senussi
frontier. For a long time I could extract no information from any
of them, and it was not till I got to Rashida, and happened to ask
the _’omda_ whether he knew anything about the oasis of Zerzura,
that I got any information at all. There is no stopping a native
of Dakhla when he gets on that subject, and one begins dimly to
realise how very little the East has changed since the days when
the “Arabian Nights” were written.
Many of the wealthier natives of the oases, and also, I believe,
of the Nile Valley, spend an appreciable portion of their time in
hunting for buried treasure. The pursuit is an absorbing one, to
which even Europeans at times fall victims. Curious as it may seem
at first sight, the native efforts are not infrequently attended
with some success.
The reason is not far to seek. In former days, when the country was
ruled by a lot of corrupt Turkish officials, a native, who was known
to be possessed of any wealth, at once became the object of their
extortionate attentions. He consequently took every precaution to
hide his riches from these rapacious officials. The plan which he
very often adopted was to bury his valuables in the ground. Not
infrequently he must have died without imparting to his relations
the whereabouts of his cache. The treasure buried in this way in
Egypt would probably amount to an enormous sum in the aggregate,
if it could only be located.
Then, too, the sites of old Roman settlements are to be found
all over Egypt. The careless way in which the Romans seem to have
scattered their petty cash about the streets of their towns is simply
amazing. You can hardly dig for an hour in any old Roman site without
coming across an old copper coin or two.
Let a native find a few coins in this way, and he will spend weeks,
when no one is looking, in prowling around the neighbourhood in
the hopes of finding more. Should he be lucky enough to find an
earthenware pot containing a handful or two of old coins hidden in the
past from a Turkish pasha, it is pretty certain that he will become
a confirmed fortune-hunter for the remainder of his life. There is
no doubt that quite considerable sums—several pounds’ worth
at a time—are occasionally found in this way. The natives are
extraordinarily secretive about this kind of thing, and have been so
long under a corrupt Government that they can hold their own counsel
far better than any white man—for even now in out-of-the-way
districts such as the oases, where the English inspectors cannot
properly supervise the native officials, the extortionate ruler is
at times most unpleasantly _en evidence_.
In their hunts for buried riches the natives are frequently guided
by old “books of treasure.” Every self-respecting native, who
is wealthy enough to procure one, possesses at least one copy.
Before leaving Kharga I was fortunate in meeting E. A. Johnson Pasha,
so well known as the translator of the whole of Omar Khayyám’s
“Rubaiyat” into English verse—Fitzgerald, of course, only
translated a portion of it. He was the proud possessor of the only
complete copy known to exist of a book of this description, dating
from the fifteenth century.
One of the problems of the Libyan Desert, beyond the western frontier
of Egypt, is that of the oasis known as Zerzura, or “The oasis
of the Blacks.” It was, I believe, first heard of by Rohlfs, who,
in his attempt to go westward from Dakhla Oasis to Kufara, found the
sand dunes impassable for his big caravan, and so had to turn up to
the north and make for the oasis of Siwa instead. During this journey
he encountered three blacks, who said that they were escaped slaves
from the oasis of Zerzura, a place that they described as being some
distance to the west of his route.
On mentioning this place to Johnson Pasha, he told me of this old
book, and said that it contained a description of the road to this
oasis, and of what might be found there by anyone who was fortunate
enough to reach it. His book also described the road to the mines
of King Cambyses.
He very kindly gave me a translation of the portions of this queer old
volume that related to these two places. There were two descriptions
of the road to Zerzura in a section of the book headed “In the
Oases” They ran as follows:—
“Go to the Der el Banat (the girls’ convent), near it you
will find a hollow place, three _mastabas_ (platforms), a round
hill and three red stones. Burn incense here.” Then follow two
lines of cipher writing and cabalistic signs, which presumably give
instructions for following the road, and the description ends.
The second reference was much more to the point. It was as follows:
“Account of a city and the road to it, which lies east of the
Qala’a es Suri, where you will find palms and vines and flowing
wells. Follow the valley till you meet another valley opening to
the west between two hills. In it you will find a road. Follow
it. It will lead you to the City of Zerzura. You will find its gate
closed. It is a white city, like a dove. By the gate you will find
a bird sculptured. Stretch up your hand to its beak and take from
it a key. Open the gate with it and enter the city. You will find
much wealth and the king and queen in their palace sleeping the
sleep of enchantment. Do not go near them. Take the treasure and
that is all.”
The book also contained two separate directions for finding the mines
of King Cambyses. One of them instructed the reader thus: “Go to
the Der el ’Ain, west of Esna, where there is a medical spring,
and go north from the Der and the well five farasangs, which make a
barid and a quarter, to where there is a red hill with a beacon mark
on the top of it. You are to go up and look towards the east. You
will see a pillar divided into two halves. Dig there.” Then the
aggravating book—just when it comes to giving the final definite
directions for finding the mines, breaks off into line upon line of
cabalistic signs, as it did in the case of Zerzura.
The second instruction for finding the mines, however, is much more
explicit, and goes into minute details of the road to be followed, so
much so that it would appear to be impossible for anyone to miss it.
It runs as follows: “By the town of Esna, north of Edfu. If you go
there seek the mines of King Kambisoos (Cambyses). Ask for the Holy
Der, which is called ‘———’ but to give away directions
for finding such wealth of treasure would be foolish. King Cambyses
was a son of Cyrus the Great—the Conqueror of Babylon—and ruled
over the Medes and Persians when the Persian Empire was at about its
height. He was a real big King, and the much-vaunted mines of King
Solomon—a mere petty Sultan by comparison—probably bear about the
same relation to those of King Cambyses as a threepenny-bit bears to
the present National Debt. The mere description of them in Johnson
Pasha’s book of treasure makes one’s mouth water.”
First the directions lead you—in the clearest possible way—to
a valley called the Wady el Muluk (the valley of the kings). Here
you find the crucibles and all the apparatus and tools necessary for
smelting, merely waiting to be used. You go a little farther on and
you come to the “high class mine”—and very high class it is. You
have only to dig half a cubit deep into it and you come at once on
to a mineral “like yellow earth in stony ground.” First you find
it in lumps the size of beans, which “is sent by Allah,” and you
are directed to take “His good fortune.” Then if you dig deeper,
you will find it in lumps the size of melons. This you are explicitly
told “is gold of Egypt. There is none better”—a statement it
would be rash to contradict.
Having dealt with these particular mines, the old Arab astrologer
directs his son, to whom the book is addressed, to go on to where
two great rocks stand up, with a hollow before them, stating that
in the hollow will be found “a black earth with green veins
like silver rust,” and directs him to take it. It is “sent
by Allah.” Unfortunately he omits to mention the nature of this
mysterious mineral.
He then directs his son to “go with the blessing of Allah” to
another place, where he states “You will find, oh! my son, before
you a high hill in which they used to get the peridots.” Next he
tells him how to go on to the “Emerald pits which are three in
number,” and after that, directs him to the “Copper mine which is
in a cave closed by a door,” adding that the copper ore is “green
earth very like green ginger and having veins in it like blood.”
With the dazzling prospect of acquiring such untold wealth as that to
be obtained in the very “high class mines,” described in books
of treasure such as this, is it to be wondered that the natives of
Egypt spend so much time in looking for them?
Treasure hunting must be a most fascinating pursuit. But it is seldom
a remunerative one. Still it is a curious fact that peridots used
formerly to be known in the trade as “Esna peridots,” which
rather points to the fact that they were brought in to be marketed
in that town, perhaps by the road alluded to in this book.
When I broached the subject of Zerzura to the _’omda_ of Rashida,
he said he did not know of any place called the Der el Banat (convent
of the girls), but the old name of the Der Abu Madi was, he said,
the “der el Seba’a banat” (convent of the seven girls), and
that there was supposed to be a book and a mirror buried somewhere
near there. By following the directions contained in the book, and
then looking in the mirror the way to Zerzura would, he said, appear.
He told me—I don’t guarantee his veracity—that three years
before, while he was staying in an hotel in Egypt, a waiter had come
up to him and asked him if he were not the _’omda_ of Rashida. On
hearing that he was, he told him that he wanted to go to the “Der
el Seba’a Banat,” as he had read in a book of treasure that seven
hundred cubits to the north of the Der, there were three _mastabas_
round a round hill, and that under each of them was buried a pan
of large gold coins called _gurban_. He then showed him a specimen
which the _’omda_ said was very old, larger than a five-piastre
piece and very thick and heavy. The waiter told him he had found the
coin in the Nile Valley by following the directions given in his book
of treasure, and offered, if he would go into partnership with him,
to give him half of anything they found.
The _’omda_ had apparently refused this offer, and started digging
on his own account; but having failed to find the treasure, he was
very anxious for me to go into partnership with him, and said that by
combining our instructions we ought to be able to find something. I
was not, however, sufficiently sanguine as to the result to feel
justified in entertaining his offer—still three pans full of
_gurban_. . . !
After a night spent at Rashida we started for Qasr Dakhl, stopping
on our way to visit Budkhulu, a poor little place with but a scanty
water supply. Like Rashida it lies close to the cliff that bounds the
oasis; but being situated at a considerably higher level than either
Qasr Dakhl or Rashida, the number of modern wells sunk in these two
districts are said by the inhabitants to have greatly diminished their
water supply. Its _’omda_ was only noted for his drunken habits.
On leaving Budkhulu we rode past the little hamlet of Uftaima, and
soon afterwards entered a stretch of soft sandy ground, a mile or
two in width, beyond which we could see Qasr Dakhl with its palms
and fields. This is the biggest town in the oasis, and is said by
its inhabitants to produce the richest dates in Egypt.
Approached from the south-east, Qasr Dakhl looked a singularly
picturesque and fertile place. The view of it from this side, across
a reed-grown pool, reflecting the palm plantation with the village
and blue scarp in the background, was one of the prettiest to be
seen in the oasis.
[Illustration: THE GATE OF QALAMUN.
The houses all join up to form a continuous wall as a defence against
raids, having palm leaf hedges round some of the roof tops. (p. 48).]
[Illustration: THE ’OMDA OF RASHIDA AND HIS FAMILY.
The natives spend a great deal of their time on the flat house
tops. Note the painted decoration of the wall in the background and
the open work crest of the walls. (p. 50).]
Just before entering the town, we passed the Bir el Hamia, one of
the chief wells of the district, and the one from which most of
the drinking water of Qasr Dakhl is drawn. The water from the well,
effervescing strongly, rushed from beneath a stone platform that had
been built over its mouth into a large clear pool, in which a number
of the inhabitants were bathing as we passed, the water from this
well being hot, is considered to have medicinal properties. It is
said to have formerly been much hotter than at present; it is even
stated that eggs could be boiled in it.
The _’omda_ invited the whole party to lunch with him, and an
excellent lunch it proved to be. The sheykhs of this village claim to
be descended from the Qoreish tribe of Arabia, to which the prophet,
Mohammed, belonged, and state that they settled in the oasis about
A.D. 1500. They give themselves no small airs in consequence.
After lunch, from which for a wonder Qway excused himself on the
plea that he wished to go and call on a friend, the inevitable tea
was brought in, and with it arrived several of the leading men in
the place, who all sat down on the floor in a line along one of the
walls of the guest chamber.
Hoping to elicit some information, I asked if anyone had ever heard of
the oasis Zerzura. Hadn’t they! Half a dozen of them began to tell
me all about it at once. Cows, I was told, had several times come into
the oasis from the desert. They were very wild, but otherwise exactly
like the cows of the oasis. They came from Zerzura. _Kimri sifi_ (palm
doves) and crows came into the oasis in the spring. They also came
from Zerzura. Both the _kimri_ and the cows came from the south-west;
but the whole desert there was covered with sand and no one could
go there. The last cows had come in only seventeen years before.
Another man told me that a woman leading a boy had once staggered
into the oasis from the south, nearly dead from thirst, and that the
descendants of the boy were still living in Mut. The woman and boy
came from Zerzura too. In Mut, however, I was told practically the
same story; but was there most positively informed that the boy’s
descendants were not living in Mut, but in Qasr Dakhl, so I found
it a little difficult to know what to believe.
Having exhausted the subject of Zerzura we got on to that of Rohlfs,
who had visited the oasis in 1874. An aged individual said he saw
Rohlfs—or “Ro-hol-fus” as he called him—and remembered
him quite well. He knew all about him. He had got a “book of
treasure,” and had come out to Dakhla to dig for buried riches in
the Der el Hagar—a stone temple near Qasr Dakhl—and had employed
a great many men in the excavation. But the treasure was guarded by
an _afrit_ (spirit), and for a long time he was unable to find it,
and he got very angry and disappointed. At last, one day he sent
everyone out of the temple, except a black man whom he kept with
him. The rest of the men went and sat on the ground a little way off
waiting developments, as they were sure that he was going to write
a talisman or do something to propitiate the _afrit_.
[Illustration: DER EL HAGAR, DAKHLA OASIS.]
For a long time nothing happened. Then loud cries for help, followed
by the most piercing and blood-curdling shrieks were heard coming
from the temple, and they knew that the talisman must be working,
and guessed that the _afrit_ was getting the worst of it.
Nothing more happened for some time. Then they heard a crackling
sound, followed by dense clouds of black smoke arising from the
temple. The crackling sound and the smoke continued for some time,
and then Rohlfs emerged from the temple, looking very pleased and
smiling, announced that he had found the treasure at last, and
invited them all to come and see it.
They all trooped in and found that he had discovered the opening
to the treasure chamber, which was a trap-door covering a flight of
steps that led down into a vault that was filled with gold and silver
and diamonds and treasure of all kinds, and Rohlfs was very pleased.
Then they looked for the black man, but could not see him. At last,
in another part of the temple, one of them discovered the glowing
embers of an enormous fire, and in it were the charred skull and some
bones—the black man had been sacrificed by Rohlfs to propitiate
the _afrit_!
Several of the men present concurred in this story. None of them,
though they were living in Qasr Dakhl, had been present on the
occasion; but they had heard of it, and everybody in the oasis knew
about it.
They did not quite know what had happened to the treasure, but Rohlfs
had a very large caravan with him, and all the camels were loaded
when he left, so they supposed he took it all away with him.
All this was told with the utmost gravity, and with considerable
detail, and they all unquestionably believed the story themselves. Yet
it was all supposed to have happened close to their own village,
and many of them were not only living at the time, but must have
been young men and not children. They, none of them, thought any the
worse of Rohlfs for this sacrifice—in fact they seemed to think
all the better of him for having overcome the _afrit_.