CUSTOMS, SUPERSTITIONS AND MAGIC
THE natives of the oases in Egypt are known as the Wahatys, and are a
feeble lot as compared with the inhabitants of the Nile Valley, with
whom they seem racially to be intimately connected. This deterioration
in the race is probably due to their poverty, insufficient food,
poorer housing accommodation and to the prevalence of the serious
form of malaria known as oasis fever.
In their customs the inhabitants of the oases closely resemble
the natives of the Nile Valley; but in some respects they are
peculiar. Until the railway into Kharga was constructed, the
oases were very much more cut off from the outside world than at
present. Consequently the inhabitants are in many ways much more
primitive than the _fellahin_ of the Nile Valley, and still follow
customs which in some cases may have been followed there, but which
have long since become obsolete. Many of their peculiarities in
this respect are probably confined to the oases, and may never have
existed elsewhere.
As an example of the primitive conditions of life in Kharga, it may be
noted that the old method of producing fire by rubbing two pieces of
wood together is still used by some of the older inhabitants, though
the introduction of matches is causing it to die out. Fire is produced
in this way by two methods. In one, a stick is held vertically upon
a block of wood and rapidly twirled between the palms of the hands;
in the other it is rubbed backwards and forwards in a groove on
the block with the action of a carpenter sharpening a chisel on a
hone. In both cases a pinch of fine sand is sometimes placed between
the two pieces of wood in order to increase the friction.
[Illustration: MARRIAGE PROCESSION IN DAKHLA OASIS.
Note the clown and band in front, the bride’s friends firing guns
and carrying flags, her tea things and her wedding dress on a cross
above the procession behind. She herself wears old clothes. (p. 252)]
[Illustration: VEGETATION IN HATTIA KAIROWIN.
This shows the neglected palms and scrub to be seen in a _Hattia_,
or uninhabited oasis. (p. 222).]
Auguries as to the future of a child are drawn by his parents from
events that happen about the time of his birth; thus, if his father,
or any member of his family should meet with an accident, or fall ill
at that period, it is considered that he will be unlucky. If, however,
some stroke of luck should fall to his father, such, for instance,
as his being able to conclude a good bargain, it is thought to be
a good omen for the child’s future.
It is said to be unlucky to be born on a Wednesday, for this day
of the week throughout the year is considered to be an ill-omened
one in the oases—the last Wednesday of the month of Safar being
considered to be the most unlucky of all.
As soon as a son has been born, in either Dakhla or Kharga Oases,
a little ceremony takes place, which cannot be described here, but
which is intended to cause the child when he grows up to become
a very fast runner. In both these oases, a very curious ceremony
takes place on the seventh day after his birth, which is known as
“sieving the baby.” A pinch of salt and a small quantity of
each of the grains—wheat, barley and rice—grown in the oases, is
placed in a round sieve. In this sieve, too, is placed the baby. It
is then shaken, as though it were being used in the ordinary way,
while a woman close by beats as loudly as possible with a pestle on
a mortar, as though she were pounding rice.
The grain and salt that pass through the sieve are then carefully
collected and taken by the father of the child and thrown into the
air to the north, south, east and west in various places throughout
his village. The ceremony is completed by the father taking the
sieve and bowling it like a hoop along the village streets.
The effect of this quaint proceeding is said to be as follows:
the grain and salt put into the sieve with the child are supposed
to protect him against want and cause him to have plenty to eat
throughout his life. The pestle and mortar are beaten close to
him to ensure that he will not be frightened by any noise when he
grows up. The seed is thrown to the four points of the compass in
his village to act as a charm to enable him to travel in security
in any direction should he leave it. The bowling of the sieve about
the streets is another charm intended to make him a fast runner.
These elaborate precautions, taken to ensure that the child shall
be able to travel safely, and that he shall turn out a fast runner,
seem quite out of character with such an eminently unathletic and
sedentary race as the dwellers in the oases. They seem to be more in
accordance with the character of the Arabs, from whom it is possible
that these ceremonies may be derived, or perhaps they may owe their
origin to some tribe in the Sudan. This sieving ceremony is said to
be also occasionally performed in the Nile Valley.
The first cutting of a child’s hair and finger-nails is attended
with some ceremony, and takes place when it is a year old. In the
case of a boy, a tuft of hair is left long on his forehead, to remind
his parents that they should be grateful to Allah for giving them
a son—a male child being always considered of much greater value
than a girl.
As it is for some reason considered to be unlucky to open a
pair of scissors before a child’s face—perhaps for fear of
accidents—its nails are always first cut with its hand behind
its back; more usually, however, they are bitten off short by its
parents. The ends of the fingers are then dipped into newly ground
flour to “prevent them from growing again.”
If a child is regarded as being unusually handsome or well
conditioned, so that the mother fears it may incur the evil eye
of other matrons less favoured in their progeny, a black cross as
a protection is smeared on its forehead, if it is its face that is
likely to be envied; or on the back of its hand if it should be its
plumpness that it is feared will cause heart burnings. This custom
is most probably derived from the Copts.
The fear of the evil eye is widely distributed, especially in the
East, and in the oases many precautions are taken to guard against
it. To ensure a good crop on a palm, for instance, an animal’s
bone—frequently a skull—or a piece of manure, wrapped up in
a cloth, is hung in its branches, and sometimes small doll-like
figures are used in the same way. Charms, in the form of texts,
or cabalistic signs, written either by a religious sheykh, or by
certain men who are supposed to have a special gift in this direction,
are sometimes done up in a little packet, made generally of leather,
and hung round the neck of a child or valuable beast as a protection
from the evil eye; but they are not very much in request.
They have also a charm that they recite before lying down to sleep, or
sitting down in a place they suspect to be infested with scorpions or
other poisonous creatures. Having recited it they spit to the north,
south, east and west, and then consider themselves to be safe from
attack. I attempted to get a copy of the spell that was given to
me translated, but was unable to find anyone who could do so. It
appears to be merely gibberish.
Boys in the oases are usually circumcised between the ages of three to
five years—the parents, if poor, wait till they have saved enough
to make the necessary feast; they also, if possible, endeavour to
make the circumcision coincide with a marriage in their village,
in order that expense may be saved to both parties by combining the
marriage and circumcision processions. The richer families for the
circumcision feast will kill a sheep, or even a cow, but with the
poorer classes a very much simpler meal suffices.
Girls are married at an extremely early age—sometimes when only
eight years old. But in these cases the wife probably merely acts
at first as an attendant upon her husband. When between twelve or
fourteen years old, however, they begin to have children, ceasing
to do so between forty and forty-five.
Divorce is extremely common. I was shown a young girl in Dakhla,
whose age I was told was only twelve—she did not look to be
more—who had already been divorced three times. The state of
morality in these oases is very low indeed, and this, combined with
the very early marriages, probably has a good deal to say to the
feeble character of the inhabitants.
Marriages are celebrated with great pomp—especially in the case
of the richer inhabitants—and their ceremonies differ in some
noticeable points from those in the Nile Valley.
_Mahr_, or dowry, is paid by the man to the bride’s family in all
but the case of the very poor. This preliminary having been settled,
the ceremony of the _katb el kitab_, or “writing of the writ,” is
gone through, though, as in the case of the Nile Valley, it is seldom
that any written contract of marriage is drawn up. The bridegroom,
accompanied by a friend or two, goes to the house of his intended
bride, where he meets her representative, to whom he pays over the
portion of the dowry agreed upon. Everyone recites the _fatha_, or
first chapter of the Koran—from which proceeding the ceremony is
often alluded to as the “saying of the _fatha_”—and then the
bridegroom and the representative of the bride squat facing each
other on the ground, and, prompted usually by a religious sheykh,
take hold of each other’s hand and swear the marriage contract.
About a week later, the _Zeffet el Arusa_, the procession of the
bride to the bridegroom’s house, takes place shortly after noon. A
procession of this kind that I saw in Dakhla Oasis, was headed by
a _sutary_, or jester, who had tied the end of the long leaf of a
palm to his waist in front and then passed the other end through
his legs and up his back, so that it had very much the appearance
of a bushy tail. He carried a staff in each hand, and hopped about
on these in a most grotesque manner.
Behind him followed a man beating a drum of the kind known in Egypt
as the _tabl beladi_, beside him walked a blind man clashing cymbals
(_kas_). Then followed a crowd of the friends and relations of
the bride.
The bride herself, unlike those of the Nile Valley, does not wear her
wedding dress. This is borne behind her, held above the heads of the
procession so that all can see it, by being supported on a couple of
sticks lashed together to form a cross. She herself wears an ordinary
robe, and a shawl, usually red or of a bright colour, on her head.
The gala dress worn by the women of these oases differs somewhat
from that usually worn by the women of Egypt. It is generally either
black or of a very dark blue, and is worked on the front in coloured
wools—usually red and yellow—in a sort of “herring-bone”
pattern. The richer women usually cover a great part of the front of
their dress, down to rather below the waist, with silvered sequins
sewn closely together on to the material of which the dress is
composed, producing an effect much resembling old scale mail.
Their hair usually hangs down their backs in three or four long
plaits, which are frequently decorated at the end with strings
of beads.
Another peculiarity of the wedding ceremonies in the oases, is that
the bride’s _gahaz_, that is to say the articles contributed by her
to the joint household, are not, as in the case of the Egyptians,
sent to her future home in a separate procession, but are borne in
the _Zeffet el Arusa_. In the case of a rich bride these may consist
of tea and coffee cups, a huge kind of brass urn, not unlike the
Russian samovar, for heating water when making tea, and a brass
tray. These will be carried by one of her male friends on the tray
in the procession.
But in the majority of cases, amongst these poverty-stricken people,
the bride’s _gahaz_ only consists of a few bowls and water bottles,
made of the local terra-cotta, and in that case they are carried on a
stool, which the bride herself places on the top of her head when she
walks in the procession, to her future husband’s house. This stool
perhaps corresponds to the canopy under which the bride walks in the
Egyptian villages, or possibly it may be the representation of the
chair for the bridegroom to place his turban on, that Lane mentions
as usually forming one of the articles of the bride’s _gahaz_.
Two large flags, generally green in colour and covered with suitable
texts, are usually carried in the procession, which also includes
some male relations of the bride armed with guns, which they blaze
off at frequent intervals as it advances. At the rear of the _zaffeh_
is frequently a man beating a _tar_, or tambourine, and a boy dressed
all in white and riding on a horse, who has been introduced into the
_zaffeh_ to save the expense of a separate circumcision procession
for him alone.
The _zaffeh_ is followed by a feast at the bridegroom’s house, after
which the guests all offer presents, usually in the form of money,
to the bride. During this entertainment there is the usual native
band playing and sometimes a dancing girl performs—but this is
only in the case of the richer natives. Among the poorer ones, that
is to say a large majority of cases, there is no music or dancing,
and sometimes even no feast or presents.
The funeral procession to the grave presents some features not to be
seen, so far as I am aware, in the Nile Valley. While I was staying
in the Dakhla Oasis, quite a sensation was caused by the death of the
guardian of a sheykh’s tomb in the district, and I subsequently saw
his funeral procession, which much resembled that of a bride going to
her future home. The _buffoon_ at the head of it was of course absent,
but instead of the usual group of chanting men to be seen in Egypt,
there were the same men as in the case of a wedding, beating drums
and cymbals. These were followed by male friends of the deceased,
and the same flags that figured in the bride’s procession. Behind
them came the bier, covered with a shawl, after which followed the
usual crowd of wailing women, the rear being brought up by a woman
carrying a tray covered by a cloth, containing bread and dates for
distribution to the poor after the ceremony.
After the funeral, the female portion of the procession, accompanied
by the drum and cymbals, formed up again and returned to the house of
the deceased guardian in a sort of slow dance, occasionally emitting
short, shrill shrieks of the usual type.
In the evening the funeral feast and what is known as a _khatma_
is held at the deceased’s house, when one or more _fikis_—holy
men of a humble kind, frequently the village schoolmasters—chant
from the Koran the sixty-seventh chapter known as the _Surat el Mulk_
(the chapter of the kingdom) which deals largely with the punishments
that await unbelievers when they get to hell. Food is usually provided
for all present. That carried in the procession is distributed at
the grave.
The night following the funeral is usually called by Mohammedans
the _Leylet el Wahsha_, or night of desolation, though it is also
sometimes known as the _Leylet el Wahada,_ or “night of solitude,”
because Moslems believe that the soul remains with the body during
this first night after burial.
The female relations of the deceased go to visit the grave daily in
the oasis for fifteen days, and longer if he was much beloved.
The grave, I have heard—I have not looked into one—is of the usual
Moslem pattern, with the _lahd_, or recess at the side of the bottom,
in which the body is laid. They are so oriented that the corpse,
when lying on its side, faces towards Mecca. The recess is walled
up before the grave is filled in.
Mohammedans believe that as soon as the mourners have left the
cemetery, the grave is visited by two coal-black angels with china
blue eyes, called _Munkar_ (the “Unknown”) and _Nakir_ (the
“Repudiating”) whose business it is to question the dead man
as to his belief in Mohammed and Allah, and if necessary to inflict
upon him the “punishment of the grave.” One of them seizes him
by the tuft of hair that most Moslems have on the top of the head,
and raises him into a sitting position, while the other puts the
questions. Should his answers prove satisfactory the grave is greatly
enlarged and filled with light, and the defunct is thrown into a deep
sleep that lasts until the Resurrection. But if the corpse proves
to be that of an infidel, he is beaten to a jelly with an iron club.
In view of the visit of these two angels, it is usual, before the
burial party leaves the grave, for a _fiki_ (holy man) to seat himself
before it, and proceed to instruct the corpse as to the answers he
is to give when they come.
The funeral processions I saw in the oases seemed to have little
of the solemnity associated with a European interment. That of the
guardian of the tomb already referred to—although the corpse was
that of a man who might have been supposed from his occupation to
have been somewhat of a saintly character—on seeing me standing by
with a camera, hesitating to take a photograph for fear of intruding
on such a solemn occasion, of their own accord came in my direction,
and one of them volunteered the information that I could photograph
them if I wished to do so. Unfortunately the light was too bad to
enable me to avail myself of the invitation.
It is curious to note that in Dakhla Oasis—though this is not
so apparently in Kharga—both funeral and circumcision feasts are
sometimes held at the tombs of the local religious sheykhs.
The methods of celebrating some of the religious festivals differ
slightly in the oases from the usages of the Nile Valley. The
tenth day of Moharrem, the first month of the Moslem’s year,
is the anniversary of several important events in their religion,
and is kept as a fête throughout Egypt; it is known as _Yum Ashura_
“the tenth day.”
It is said to be the anniversary of the day on which Noah first issued
from the ark after the flood; and Adam and Eve—who, according to
the Moslems, somehow lost sight of each other on their expulsion from
the Garden of Eden—are said to have met again for the first time
afterwards on this day. Some say that this is the day upon which Allah
created them, and also that heaven, hell, life and death, the pen
with which Allah wrote down the predestined actions of all mankind,
and the exact number of all things that were to be ever created and
the tablet upon which they were all recorded, were all created on
this day. But more especially it is the anniversary of the day upon
which El Hussein, the son of ’Ali, and the prophet’s grandson,
was killed in the Battle of Karbala.
On this last account it is held of much greater sanctity by the Shia
branch of Mohammedans, to be found in Persia and India, than by the
Sunni branch, to which nearly all Egyptian Moslems belong.
In both Dakhla and Kharga Oases it is customary on this day for
everyone to receive a present as on our Christmas Day. A boy is given
a chicken, a girl a pigeon, a man a cock turkey, duck or other large
bird, while a woman receives a hen bird of the same species. All the
eggs in the village are saved up for this feast, and for a week or so
before it is almost impossible to buy any. These eggs are hard-boiled
and dyed, and are used by the people to pelt each other with—this,
I believe, is also done in some parts of the Nile Valley, but not on
the occasion of this feast, but on that of _Shem en Nessim_. A sort
of game is also played by the men in the oases, who knock their eggs
together, the one that breaks first being taken by the owner of the
egg that broke it.
“Pace” eggs are used in Cumberland at Easter in a game exactly
similar to that described. “Pace” being supposed to be a
corruption of the French “Pasque.”
In these oases they believe, as the inhabitants of the Nile Valley
also do, that on the night following this festival a benevolent
_jinni_ (female spirit, or fairy) wanders sometimes round the
villages, in the form of a mule, known as the Baghallat el Ashar,
or “mule of the tenth,” bearing a pair of saddle-bags filled
with treasure to be bestowed upon some deserving Moslem. In order
that the mule may have every opportunity of selecting its inmates as
the recipients of its bounty, the door of every house in the village
is left open during the night.
In the Nile Valley they believe that the mule has a string of bells
round her neck, and the head of a dead man on her back between
the saddle-bags, and that on arriving at the house of the fortunate
individual whom she intends to enrich, she shakes her head, so ringing
the bells, at the door, and remains there until the owner comes
out and empties the saddle-bags and fills them up with straw. This,
however, he will be unable to do, unless he can muster up sufficient
courage to remove the dead man’s head from her back, a proceeding
made somewhat formidable by the fact that the head rolls its eyes and
scowls at him in what, I was told, was a most terrifying manner. I
could not, however, hear that this belief holds good in the oases.
At the beginning of summer comes the _Khamasin_—the “fifty
days,” during which the hot _simum_ wind may be expected to
blow. The first day of this is known as _Shem en Nessim_—“smelling
the breeze.” It is the day after the Easter Sunday of the Coptic
Church, and is kept as a festival throughout Egypt.
On this day in the oases, barley from the new crop is hung over
the outer doors of the houses to bring plenty in the following
year. Onions too—which overnight have been placed under the pillows
of the inhabitants of the house—“to make them energetic”—are
hung with the barley in order that they may “bring refreshment”
to the family till next season. The onions grown in the oases
appear to be unusually pungent, and I have several times seen
a native “refresh” himself by stuffing a small one up one of
his nostrils. Perhaps inhaling air through one of these odoriferous
bulbs in this manner produces a cooling sensation on the air passages
similar to that caused by peppermint.
In some cases branches of the _oshar_[14] tree are placed with the
barley and onions over the door in order to keep off scorpions,
reptiles and venomous insects, and to prevent the family from being
lazy. This use of _oshar_ I believe to be peculiar to Dakhla and
Kharga Oases.
It is also usual on this day for the natives to bathe before dawn in
order that they may be “refreshed,” till the following year—when
presumably they take their next bath. This custom I have heard also
obtains in the Nile Valley.
The _oshar_ tree, when cut, exudes sap freely, and this sap is
occasionally inserted by men, who wish to avoid enlistment, into
their eyes. It is said to set up violent inflammation for a few
days, resulting in more or less total loss of sight. Fibre from
the dried fruit of this tree is also used to stuff pillows with;
but I was unable to ascertain whether it was supposed to have any
peculiar properties.
The most interesting festival to be seen in Kharga, which is not,
I believe, held in Dakhla, is the _Aid el Mahmal_, or fête of the
_Mahmal_, which takes place on the 15th day of the Arab month,
_Sha’aban_. This day is a religious anniversary in the Nile
Valley, the night being known as “the night of the middle of
_Sha’aban_.”
It is believed that there is a lote tree in Paradise known as the
“Tree of Extremity,” which bears as many leaves as there are human
beings living in the world, and that each leaf has the name of the
being it represents written upon it. On the night of the middle of
_Sha’aban_ this tree is shaken and the leaves inscribed with the
names of those who are going to die during the year fall off. Many
pious Moslems accordingly spend a great part of the night reciting
a special form of prayer in the Mosque. But, so far as I know,
no other ceremonial takes place in the Nile Valley on this day, so
although the date is identical with that of the _Aid el Mahmal_ of
Kharga Oasis, there does not appear to be any connection between them.
Nor does this Kharga festival appear to be in any way connected with
the _Mahmal_, whose annual departure from Cairo for the pilgrimage
to Mecca is such a well-known sight for the tourists in Egypt. The
Kharga _Mahmal_ in appearance much resembles the Cairo one, but its
red and green covering is not so gorgeous. It is carried in procession
round the village of Kharga, accompanied by the usual crowd bearing
flags, beating drums, banging off guns and carrying on the _fantasia_
usual to ceremonial processions.
Instead of being merely an empty litter, as in the case of the
Cairo _Mahmal_, a man sits in it, who collects _bakhshish_ from the
inhabitants of the village. Each gives him a handful or two of dates,
grain or the produce of some other crop of the neighbourhood. This
_bakhshish_ he keeps as a perquisite.
I was unable to find out the origin of the custom. The Kharga natives
claim that their _Mahmal_ is a much older institution than the Cairo
one, which they say was copied from theirs. They say it dates back to
the time of the Fatimide dynasty, who ruled over Egypt from A.D. 908
to A.D. 1171, while the Cairo _Mahmal_ is only supposed to date from
about A.D. 1265. The privilege of riding in the Kharga _Mahmal_ is
hereditary; the family enjoying the right to do so being described
to me as a family of _fikis_.
When I was in Kharga, the representative of the family was the
village schoolmaster—Khalifa Zenata by name—and may possibly
be the descendant of some petty sultan who ruled over the oasis,
or perhaps of some holy sheykh.
In the latter case possibly the _Aid el Mahmal_ is a form of _mulid_,
or anniversary birthday fête; but I could hear of no other _mulids_
for any of the local sheykhs in either Kharga or Dakhla. _Mahmals_,
however, are used at a few places in the Nile Valley for carrying
a carpet to the tomb of a deceased sheykh on his _mulid_.
The _Mahmal_ that is taken on a camel from Egypt on the pilgrimage
to Mecca, consists of a square box-like structure, about five feet
square, surmounted by a pyramidal top, and is covered all over with
richly embroidered black brocade. It is quite empty, being merely
an emblem of royalty.
It has an interesting history. The Sultan, Es Saleh Nejm ed Din,
owned a lovely female Turkish slave—Shagher ed Durr—who eventually
became his favourite wife. When his last son died, the dynasty of the
house of Aiyub, of which he was the last representative, came to an
end. Shagher ed Durr then managed somehow to get herself acknowledged
as Queen of Egypt; and in that capacity performed the pilgrimage to
Mecca, borne on a camel back in a gorgeous covered litter. During the
remainder of her reign, she sent this litter empty on the pilgrimage,
as an emblem of her sovereignty. This custom of sending an empty
litter with the pilgrims to Mecca has been kept up by the rulers of
Egypt ever since.
A native doctor in Mut kindly supplied me with the following
particulars. During the three years he was in the oasis, 1906-1908,
there were 110 male children born in Mut and 106 female, the males
consequently being in the proportion of 100 to 96.36 females. In the
same period there were 76 male deaths to 70 female, the male deaths
being in the proportion of 100 to 92.1 females.
The women appear to be very careless mothers, leaving the children
very much to look after themselves. It is noticeable that swing
cradles, such as are to be seen in some other parts of North Africa,
are quite unheard of in Dakhla Oasis.
Crime, in its more serious forms, is very rare indeed. The chief
misdemeanours are petty thefts of food, the result probably of extreme
poverty. Squabbles about the irrigation water sometimes lead to
assaults, but weapons are scarcely ever used. Illegitimate children
are very numerous and are occasionally destroyed. A very large
percentage of the women are immoral, but this, as a rule, is taken
as a matter of course, and little jealousy results in consequence.
Albinos, epilepsy and deafness were said by one doctor to be unknown;
but the man who followed him in office knew of one case of epilepsy
at Qasr Dakhl.
There were one or two cases of insanity known in the oasis, and one
instance of St. Vitus’ dance, in the case of a partial idiot.
There were said to be four or five cases of dumbness among the
population of Mut.
There was only one case of phthisis—a man who had been for some time
in the Nile Valley, but who had fallen ill on his return to Dakhla.
The commonest complaints were malaria, chronic bronchitis and
emphysema, the last two being largely due, according to the native
doctor, to weakness of the lungs caused by smoking _hashish_ and in
some cases opium. Bronchitis and bronchial pneumonia were also among
the commonest complaints among children. Venereal cases, considering
the character of the population, were extremely rare, the natives
apparently being almost immune from them. Digestive troubles were
extremely common, and were largely due to the extremely strong tea
they consume at every opportunity.
As might be expected with such a primitive race as the natives of
these oases, the remedies used in case of disease are sometimes
rather curious. If a man, for instance, has an attack of fever,
one of his friends will sometimes invite him to come for a walk,
during the course of which he will lure him unsuspectingly to a pool
of water and suddenly push him in. It is said that the nervous shock,
combined with the sudden immersion in cold water, not infrequently
effects a cure—but it sounds a drastic remedy.
Ophthalmia—a rather common complaint in these “islands of the
blest”—due probably to dirt and the irritation to the eyes caused
by the dust during the frequent sand storms, is treated by poultices
formed of onions and salt, or of raw tomatoes; occasionally, too,
a vegetable called _borselain_, that I was unable to identify,
is used pounded in the same way.
A plant called khobbayza[15] is sometimes pounded and applied as a
poultice to a sting of a scorpion in Dakhla, and is said to give
considerable relief. It is interesting to note that in the oases
they say that the sting of a “thirsty” scorpion, i.e. one that
lives far from water, is much more likely to prove fatal than the
sting of one living near a well. It is possible that this may point
to the existence of two different varieties.
The families in the oases are usually large, seven to eight
children being, I was told, about the average. A childless woman,
as is usual throughout the East, is much looked down on by her more
fortunate sisters, and many expedients and charms are in use in
order to remove the disgrace. It is only possible to mention one of
them. Near Mut in Dakhla Oasis is a well, known as ’Ain el Masim,
which runs into a small pool. A childless woman will repair there
on Friday afternoon, taking with her a _gula_—earthenware bottle
used for cooling drinking water—filled with water taken from seven
different wells. She throws small pieces of bread, grain, etc.,
into the pool and then bathes in it. On her emerging from her bath,
a second woman, who accompanies her, smashes the _gula_ over her
head. This is said to be a sovereign remedy.
Women also sometimes go to a disused cemetery to pray for children,
or to a tomb of one of the local sheykhs and vow _bakhshish_ to the
sheykh in the event of their prayers taking effect.
During five visits to the western oasis, I never remember to have
seen a single case of baldness. Perhaps this is due to the frequent
shaving of the head having a strengthening effect upon the hair. But
cases of premature greyness due perhaps to dirt and the excessive
dryness and heat of the climate, seemed to be unusually common. It
is possible that these may be racial characteristics.
There are some curious superstitions about the sand dunes in
the oases. In both Kharga and Dakhla they say that there were no
sand belts in the oases in Roman times, but that they have come
down since from the north. In this they are probably correct, for
remains—apparently of Roman origin—are to be seen in several
places underneath the dune belt to the west of Kharga. A native, too,
told me that he had once ridden for a long half-day on a _hagin_
(riding camel) to the west from Dakhla Oasis, when, after passing
extensive ruins among the dunes at several places on the way, he
found some rock-cut tombs. I have heard reports of ruins in this
direction from several people, and, though the size of them may have
been exaggerated, have little doubt that they exist.
On the plateau to the north of Qasr Dakhl, there is said to be
a place where the sand gives out a loud “bur-r-r-r-”ing sound
when stroked, which can be heard for a long distance to the south. I
have also heard that it gives out a musical sound when struck, so
apparently it is a case of the ordinary “musical sands” that
have been found in many parts of the world.
It is said that there used to be a Roman _tulsim_ (talisman) here that
stopped the dunes from entering the Dakhla depression. The talisman
in question may very possibly have been a wall, intended to stop the
drifting of the sand, as remains of one, built of unmortared stone,
are said to be still visible here.
In Kharga Oasis they say that the Romans had another talisman in
the shape of a brass cow on the top of the scarp to the north of the
depression that—until it was removed—swallowed up all the sand
that was blowing into the oasis and kept the Kharga depression free
from dunes.
In the neighbourhood of the village of Rashida in Dakhla Oasis, there
is 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.
There is another _sunt_ tree in Dakhla that has curious attributes
attached to it, and possibly the superstitious views of the natives
with regard to these trees may be a relic of some very old form of
tree worship, such as exists at the present day, I believe, among
the Bedayat of the south of the Libyan Desert.
This second tree is at Belat, and is known as the “Sunt ’Abd
en Nebi.” When a man in the oasis hears that an enemy of his
has died, he exclaims “_Kabrit wa Sunt el Belat_”—“a match
and the acacia of Belat”—meaning that he wishes he had a match
and the _sunt_ tree of Belat to burn him with. Sometimes he will
also say “_Wa Jerid el Wa_”—“and the palm leaves of the
oasis”—meaning that he would like to add them to the fuel as well.
The agricultural appliances used in the oasis are naturally of a very
primitive character. The whole of the cultivation, so far as I saw,
was done with the ordinary _fas_, or hoe, to be met with in the Nile
Valley. In reaping and pruning a curious toothed sickle is used. The
actual blade is pointed and almost at right angles to the iron shaft,
the end of which is inserted into a wooden handle. Ploughs are,
so far as I saw, never used.
[Illustration: FLOUR MILL, RASHIDA.]
At Rashida I was shown a flour mill belonging to the _’omda_
which was of a rather interesting type. The two stones between
which the grain was ground were of unequal size—the upper one
being considerably smaller than the lower. The bottom stone was
hollowed out, and the upper one, rotated by an ox walking round
and round in a circle, revolved in the recess in the lower stone,
which was fixed in the ground. Suspended over the millstones, by a
four-legged wooden frame, was a box in which the grain to be ground
was poured, a tube from the bottom of the box delivering the grain
to the junction between the upper and lower millstones. The flour
was drawn off through a hole in the lower stone into a basket placed
in a cutting in the ground in which this stone was embedded.
A large part of the grain consumed in the oases is not ground in a
mill, but prepared by the women in a much more primitive manner—this
is especially the case with rice, which is largely consumed by the
poorest inhabitants. Basin-shaped hollows, about a foot in diameter,
are roughly scooped in the rock, frequently by the roadside, the
grain is placed in these and pounded to powder by means of a large
stone wielded with both hands.
Rashida is one of the few villages in the oasis which grows any
number of olives. These are cultivated in sufficient quantities to
warrant the erection of appliances for extracting the oil.
The olives are first crushed in a mill, a somewhat primitive
arrangement consisting of an enormous stone wheel, about five feet in
diameter, by eighteen inches thick, which is made to travel on its
edge round and round a circular trough about six feet in diameter,
by a man pushing against a beam, revolving the vertical pivot to
which it is attached.
The mass of crushed olives when taken out of the trough is placed
in a bag and squeezed under a screw press, also worked by a man
pushing a bar on the principle of a capstan, the oil as it oozes
out being collected in earthenware pans, or rather basins, placed
below the press.
Butter is made by shaking the cream in a skin bag. A stick about
ten feet long with a fork at the top is leant against a wall, and a
goat-skin full of cream suspended by a rope from the fork. This is
swung to and fro with a jerky motion until the butter has formed.
Unlike the natives of Dakhla and Kharga, who have no pretensions to a
sporting character, those of Farafra Oasis are keen hunters. While in
that oasis I saw several most ingenious appliances for catching game.
The most interesting of these was a trap for catching gazelle. It
consisted of a basketwork funnel, open at top and bottom. This was
7 inches long, 5½ in diameter at the top, tapering down to 2½
inches at the bottom. The trap is set at the foot of a bush where
the gazelle are accustomed to feed. A hole is first excavated in the
ground, and the funnel buried in this with the large end flush with
the surface of the soil.
[Illustration: OLIVE MILL, RASHIDA.]
Into its open end is fitted an arrangement like a hubless wheel,
the rim of which is formed of plaited palm leaf, through which about
thirty strong thorns from a date palm, representing the spokes, are
passed; the points of these meet together in the centre. Resting on
this wheel is placed a noose, at the end of a cord, the other end
of which is tied to a small log of wood.
The trap is concealed by covering it with asses’ manure; the rope
is covered with sand.
On putting its foot on the wheel, the gazelle goes through it where
the hub should be, its foot is then held by the thorns till the noose
has had time to tighten round it. The wheel then generally falls off,
but the log attached to the rope so hampers the gazelle’s movements
that it can be easily run down and caught.
[Illustration: OLIVE PRESS, RASHIDA.]
There were several traps for catching birds; these seemed to be
chiefly set for quail. One consisted of a hole in the ground with a
slab of rock or a large clod, supported in position to form a sort
of lid by an arrangement of sticks, like the familiar trap made of
four bricks used in England. A few grains of wheat seemed to be the
usual bait.
There was also a very ingenious net trap. This consisted of two
semicircular nets, about eight inches in diameter, A and B, which,
when the trap was set, were at right angles to each other. The curved
portion of the frames of these nets were of _jerid_ (mid ribs of the
palm leaf), while the straight side of the semicircle was made of
palm fibre rope. The framework thus formed was filled in with net,
made of narrow strips from a palm leaf.
A long stick, C, held the two frames together, by passing underneath
the frame, A, through the meshes of the net and through the rope of
the frame, B, in such a way that, when B was raised at right angles
to A, the rope became twisted sufficiently to cause B to fly back on
to A when released, and so catch the bird between the two nets. B was
held perpendicular by a stick, D, the lower end of which was pointed
and fitted into a ring, E. The bait, F—a large yellow grub in the
trap I saw—was tied to the ring. The upper end of D was tied back
by a string, G, on to the end of C. A pull at the bait dragged down
the ring, E, thus releasing D, and leaving B free to fly down on to A.
I saw many small boys in the oasis using a very primitive
crossbow. The “stock” of this was simply a stout _jerid_,
near one end of which a large slot had been cut. The bow, another
_jerid_, fitted loosely into this slot and was not secured to the
“stock” in any way. When bent the string of the bow caught in
a notch on the upper side of the “stock,” on the top of which
the arrow was kept by being held between the finger and thumb of the
left hand. The string was released from its notch by being pressed
upwards by the first finger of the right hand.
When loading the camels the men nearly always struck up a chanty. I
managed to get the words of a few of them. In some cases it is
doubtful if they had any meaning, but, where they seemed to admit
of a translation, I have inserted one as a suggestion. The men,
for some reason, disliked being questioned about them, and I am not
sure that I have always got the words quite correctly.
In loading, one man stood on each side of the kneeling camel, and
they usually placed a portion of the baggage on his back in turns,
singing a line of the chanty as they did so. The commonest chant was
“_Elli hoa li al li_” (this is higher than that?). This they would
go on singing over and over again till the loading was completed.
Another was in three lines, which they sang alternately _ad
infinitum_. It ran as follows:
_Ya tekno ni_
_Ya lobal li_
_Ya tawal li_
A more complicated chanty had five lines, which when finished was
repeated. The first two lines were sung over twice by each of the
two men, then the third line was repeated in the same way once,
the fourth line was sung twice by each man. They then began with the
first two lines again and repeated the whole process. The last line
was only chanted once, by the man who added the last package to the
load. The whole song ran as follows:
_Ana wahdi_ (I am alone).
Repeated twice by each man.
_Wa Nawar hade_ (and I will teach you something).
Repeated twice by each man.
_Shufi jebbi di_ (Look! I bring you this).
Once only by each man.
_Ya ho debbi di_ (Oh! Ho! I pack this with it).
Twice by each man.
_Ma saffi an_ (Do not arrange any more for me).
Once only as the last pack is put in place.
During the march the men often burst out singing, but on these
occasions it was in a shrill falsetto and quite different from
the loading chanties, which were in their normal tone of voice. I
was never able to catch the words of any songs to the camels on the
march, and the tunes, being in a different scale from that used in
Europe, were still more baffling. Once or twice, however, during a
long night march, I heard Abdulla, who was said by the men to have
come from somewhere Abyssinia way, start crooning to himself a song,
in what sounded like the European scale. It was a low, plaintive
ditty that bore a faint resemblance to the old British song, “The
Bailiff’s Daughter of Islington.” I tried to pick up the tune, but
being distinctly “slow in the uptake,” where anything musical is
concerned, I foolishly asked him to sing it over, so that I could get
hold of it. But Abdulla was evidently very sensitive on the subject,
and never sang again. Even to my European ears it was a distinctly
pretty song, very different from the discordant squalling one usually
hears from the Arabs.
The camel drivers’ singing is supposed to help their
charges on their way, and does seem to have some effect in this
direction—presumably because the beasts know from experience that,
if the singing fails to take effect, it will be followed up by a
whack from the _kurbaj_.
The Egyptians are a superstitious race, and the inhabitants of the
oases are probably the most credulous of all Egyptians. I was able
to learn a good deal about the native beliefs and occult practices
from the Coptic doctor in Dakhla, Wissa—previously mentioned.
One day he got on to the subject of the Coptic priests, and, being a
Copt himself, probably knew what he was talking about. He said that
they were all very good astrologers, but were very cunning and would
never own to knowing anything about the subject.
They work by means of the signs of the Zodiac, used in conjunction
with tables. He himself had one of the tables, but was unable to use
it, as he had not got the key. There are a number of these tables,
each compiled by one of the great philosophers—Solomon, Socrates
and so on, after whom it is called.
The tables and key are generally written in Coptic. By means of
the key an answer to a question can be got from the table in rhyme,
which he said is generally correct. His family owned an answer drawn
up for his grandfather in which Arabi’s rebellion and the British
occupation of Egypt were foretold—presumably in very vague terms.
Magic and clairvoyance were subjects in which he was deeply
interested. At Qasr Dakhl he said there was a boy, about twenty-three
years of age, who was much consulted by the natives of the oasis
when they had lost anything, wanted information about treasure or
wished to have the future foretold.
The boy had a familiar—a female _afrit_ (spirit)—who sometimes
appeared to him during the night. He always knew when she was coming,
as he felt drowsy and stupid for a day or two beforehand. After
her visit he remained in a clairvoyant state for some hours. He
would let it be known beforehand that he was expecting a visit from
his _afrita_, and those who wanted information would then apply to
him. When she arrived he would question her. Sometimes she replied
verbally, but usually he saw or heard the answer to the question
while in the clairvoyant condition following her visit. The doctor,
who had seen the medium, said he judged him to be epileptic.
He told me the following extraordinary story, which I am sure he
believed himself. He was once called in to see the wife of a famous
_Sheykh el Afrit_ (magician) living near Cairo—at Zeitun. She
complained to him that her husband neglected her in favour of his
familiar spirit, a male _afrit_, to whom he was always speaking. The
doctor, when he saw the husband—an old Maghrabi Arab, called ’Abd
ul Atif—began chaffing him about this, and asked him to foretell
something that he wanted to know. ’Abd ul Atif promised to do so,
if he would come round some day and bring a young boy with him. The
doctor selected a boy that he knew, and took him round to the
magician’s house. The _Sheykh el Afrit_ sat him down on a divan,
and placed the boy on another facing him at some distance away. He
then seated himself at the other end of the room, where he began
banging the end of his staff in a rhythmic manner on the floor.
The boy almost at once began to get drowsy, and after about two
minutes shrieked and fell to the ground. The doctor rushed across
to examine him; found that he showed every sign of asphyxiation and
thought that he was dying. But the magician assured him that he was
in no danger, and told him to question the boy in any language that
he liked. The doctor began to interrogate him in English—that he
knew for certain that the boy was unable to speak. The boy replied
in the same language, and the answers to the questions that he gave
came true, except for some minor particulars. After this séance
the boy was ill for a month, during which time he attended him!
Through the agency of the doctor, I was able to see a performance of
the _mandal_, or clairvoyance by means of a pool of ink, performed
by the magician from Smint previously mentioned.[16] I suggested
that we might get hold of him and make him do the _mandal_, so he
undertook to interview him and arrange it.
Soon after the magician and doctor came round to my house
together. The _Sheykh el Afrit_ carried a staff in one hand and
a rosary in the other. He came up the stairs on to the housetop
muttering what I presumed were incantations. He was a burly looking
individual, with a large flabby face and small cunning eyes. He
condescended to partake of some tea, and then we got down to business
and I asked whether he would perform the _mandal_.
He expressed his willingness to do so, and promised that he would go
through the performance provided that there was a bright sun and no
wind—conditions that he said were indispensable for a successful
séance. He suggested that we should have a young boy brought round
to meet him, to play the part of the _tahdir_, i.e. the one who
gazes into the magic mirror.
The magician was at great pains to explain that he did not deal at
all in black magic, though he said that he knew all about it.
We were anxious for him to start doing his magic art at once; but
that he declared to be impossible, as he had not got the right kind
of incense with him to use in the _dawa_ (invocation). He told us
that it was of the first importance that the correct sort should be
used, as otherwise the Genii would get angry and might kill him, or
even destroy the whole house. He explained that there were many kinds
of perfume employed in magic, according to the nature of the _dawa_
(invocation) for which they were intended.
[Illustration: FIRST SIGHT OF THE “VALLEY OF THE MIST.”
The Oases of the Libyan desert lie in depressions several hundred
feet deep in the main plateau. This huge depression had not previously
been reported. (p. 95).]
[Illustration: TRAP FOR QUAIL AND SMALL BIRDS. (268)]
[Illustration: GAZELLE TRAP. (266)
These two ingenious traps are used by the people of Farafra Oasis,
many of whom are great hunters.]
After some discussion, during which he displayed much learning in
his occult science, it was at length arranged that he should go
through the performance on the following day.
The next morning he arrived with his staff and rosary and came up
the stairs muttering prayers, or incantations, as before.
After he had drunk the usual tea, and approved of the boy that had
been provided, he declared himself ready to start work. He asked for
a charcoal fire in a brazier, some paper and ink. He then retired
to the room that had been cleared for him, and, having closed the
door and shutters, so as to produce an imposing dim religious light,
seated himself in the darkest corner on a black sheep-skin, with the
brazier beside him, and requested to be left alone while he went
through the preliminary ceremonies. The doctor and I accordingly
retired to another room, taking the boy with us.
Soon a faint smell of incense that reached us from next door, the
sound of much muttering and an occasional shout, as the magician
invoked the spirits, told us that he had got to work.
After his _dawa_ had been going on for some ten minutes the magician
called out to us that he was ready, and that we could bring in the
boy. He made him sit down on the sheep-skin cross-legged in front
of him, patted him and told him there was nothing to be afraid of,
if he only did as he was told, and at length soothed him sufficiently
to enable the performance to be continued.
The magician first drew in ink the _khatim_ (seal) on the palm of
the boy’s right hand. He then put a written slip of paper on his
forehead, licking it to make it stick to his skin, and finally,
as that did not make it adhere, slipping the top edge of it under
the rim of his cap. He then proceeded to complete the _khatim_
by putting a large blot of ink in the centre of the square he had
drawn—the whole when completed having the following appearance:
[Illustration]
The magician told the boy to gaze in the pool of ink in his hand
and to fear nothing, and started again with the spells.
He soon got seriously to work, repeating his incantations over and
over again at an extraordinarily rapid rate, swaying himself to
and fro, sometimes dropping his voice to a whisper that was almost
inaudible, then suddenly raising it to a shout as he called upon
Maimun, or some other _afrit_. At length he worked himself up to such
a pitch that the perspiration fairly streamed from his face. Now and
then he dropped pieces of incense into the earthenware dish that he
used as brazier; once he pulled out a leather pouch and produced a
knife and pieces of stick, from which he cut off shavings to drop
into the fire. Soon the whole room was filled with the sweet sickly
smoke of burning perfumes.
Occasionally he peered through the smoke at the boy to judge how
far he had been affected by his magic. After a time he apparently
concluded that the end of the incantations was close at hand. He
redoubled his efforts, jabbering at such a pace that it was impossible
to catch a single word and working himself up to an extraordinary
pitch of excitement. Then he suddenly dropped his voice till it became
almost inaudible, and followed this up by shouting out something
as loud as he could bawl. He stopped abruptly; leant back panting
against the wall, mopped his streaming face and told the boy to
say “_Ataro_.”
The boy repeated the word after him. The magician, evidently
considering that his labours were over, then asked the boy to tell
us what he saw in the ink.
The experiment, however, proved a distinct failure. The boy was
unable to see anything, and, though the magician tried again to
reduce him to the clairvoyant state, he was equally unsuccessful on
the second attempt.
On a subsequent occasion, when I met this magician, I induced him
to write out the necessary incantations, etc., required for the
performance of the _mandal_. The translation of what he wrote on
the paper that he placed on the _tahdir’s_ forehead was as follows:
“We have set forth your propositions, and according to the Koran
we beg our Prophet Mohammed to answer our prayer.”
He commenced the incantations by calling on the spirits he was
invoking thus:
“_Toorsh, toorsh, Fiboos, fiboos, Sheshel, sheshel, Koftel, koftel,
Kofelsha._”
The first four names, which are each repeated twice, are those
which are written so as to form the frame of the _khatim_, the first
being that at the top, the second the one on the left, the third the
bottom one and the fourth that on the right-hand side. The last word,
“_Kofelsha_,” does not appear in the _khatim_, and may be some
word used in magic.
The _dawa_, or invocation proper, ran as follows:
“Descend this day, Oh! Celestial Spirits, so that he here may see
you with his own eyes and talk to you with his own mouth and set
before you that which he desires. Descend quickly, and without delay,
this very minute. I call on you in the name of Solomon, in the name
of Allah the clement and gracious, to obey and to submit yourselves
to my orders for the love of Allah. _Zaagra zagiran zaafiran hafayan
nakeb, Zaagra Zagiran Zaafiran hafayan nakeb, zaagra zagiran zaafiran
hafayan nakeb._”
This _dawa_ was repeated over and over again, punctuated occasionally
with a loud shout of “_Maimun_,” which was presumably the name
of his own familiar spirit.
The last part of the _dawa_, which it will be seen is a series
of words three times repeated, is untranslatable. It is either the
names of some fresh spirits or, more probably, some magical gibberish
designed to impress the _tahdir_ and spectator.
He told me that if the séance had not been a failure, and he
had been able to get the spirits under his control when summoned,
that it would have been necessary for him to have liberated them
afterwards by means of a second incantation which he called a _saraf_
(change?), the form of which was as follows:
“In the name of Allah who has sent you, subdued to my orders, I pray
you, Oh! spirits, to go back whence you came. I pray Allah to preserve
you for ever to do good and to fulfil all that is asked of you.”
Later on, while staying at Luxor, I made another attempt to witness
the _mandal_. This time I was rather more successful.
The _dawa_, so far as I could see, was practically the same as the
invocation of the magician in Dakhla; but the _Sheykh el Afrit_ made
no attempt to be impressive, and went through the performance in the
most perfunctory manner. The boy appeared to be merely bored, and
anxious only to earn his _bakhshish_, and to get away again and play.
When he had finished the incantations, the magician asked the boy
what he saw in the ink. He replied that he saw a broom sweeping the
ground. The magician told him that, when the sweeping was finished,
he was to tell “them” (presumably the spirits) to pitch a tent.
After a short interval, during which the boy attentively watched
the ink, he said that the tent was pitched. He was then told to
command them to place seven chairs in it. When the boy declared that
this had been done, he was told that they were to summon the seven
kings. Shortly after, the boy declared that the kings had arrived
and were seated on the chairs.
The _Sheykh el Afrit_ then asked me what it was I wanted to know. I
told him I wished the boy to tell me of what I was thinking, and I
pictured to myself a young man of the Tawarek race I had once met
in the desert.
The boy peered into the ink for some time before answering. Then,
in a rather hesitating voice, said that he saw a woman.
I asked if she were veiled. The boy replied that she was. I told him
to describe the veil. He said it was black, and in two parts, one
covering the lower part of her face and the other the upper portion.
This was correct. The man I had seen was wearing the usual _litham_,
or mask, carried by his race, consisting of a long strip of black
cotton, wrapped twice round his head, the lower strip covering his
face up to the level of his eyes and the upper one concealing his
forehead, a narrow opening being left between the two through which
he could see.
I next asked the boy if he could see the woman’s hair. It was
a long time before he replied to this question. Then, in a very
doubtful tone, as though he felt he were not describing it properly,
he said he could see it sticking up from the top of her head.
This was also correct, as the _litham_ the man had been wearing
did not cover the crown of his head, and consequently his hair was
exposed. It was remarkable, owing to the fact that Moslem women are
even more particular to conceal the top of their heads than to cover
their faces. The crown of their head must not be seen by their own
father, or some say even by the moon.
I then told the boy that his description was perfectly accurate,
except that, as the figure he saw was veiled, he had very naturally
concluded it to be that of a woman instead of a man. I asked him
whether the man carried any weapons, and pictured to myself a curious
dagger he had been wearing, which lay along the under side of his
left forearm, secured to it by a band round his wrist, with the hilt
lying in the palm of his hand.
The boy replied that he carried a sword. This was true, though I
was not thinking of it at the time. I asked him to tell me what he
was doing with it. He said he could see a drawn sword, and the man
was holding it in his left hand. He again seemed doubtful in making
this statement.
The left hand is considered as unclean among Moslems, and consequently
left-handed natives are very rare, so, although his statement as
to his holding a drawn sword in his hand was wrong, the connection
with the left hand, on which the man had been carrying the sheathed
dagger I had had in my mind, was rather curious, unless he were seeing
his image reversed, as he would have done if he had seen him in a
mirror. I asked him whether he was sure that it was a sword that
he saw, and not a dagger, but he was quite positive on the point,
and added that it was an unusually long one. This would have tallied
well with the sword, which was a long and straight one, much like
the ordinary Dervish type from the Sudan. But I had been thinking
of the dagger and not of the sword, so on this point he was wrong.
At this point in the proceedings the wretched dragoman from the hotel,
who had led me to the magician, shoved in his oar, asked the boy
some stupid question, causing him to look up from the ink to reply,
and the magician declared it would be useless to ask him any further
questions, as the spell had been broken.
This method of clairvoyance, if such it be, has been seen by several
reliable Europeans—Lane, for instance, gives an account of it in his
book on “The Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians”—and
there can be no doubt at all that, in some unexplained manner,
correct answers have often been given to the questions asked of the
boy when the possibility of collusion was out of the question.
The phenomena of thought transference have been considerably
investigated of late years, and many serious scientists believe in the
possibility of communicating ideas in this way, without the medium
of either speech or hearing. Assuming this to be feasible, thought
transference affords a ready means of explaining the phenomena of
the _Derb el Mandal_ in a case like that I have just described.
But the _mandal_ is said to be used with success for other purposes
besides the mere reading of another person’s thoughts. The finding
of hidden treasure, or articles that have been lost, is a very
frequent reason for it being employed, and I have been assured,
by natives, that the results are often satisfactory; but reliable
evidence on this point is certainly desirable.
One of the railway guards in the Nile Valley used to have a great
reputation for doing the _mandal_. He was once called in to diagnose
the case of the young daughter of a man I knew, and to prescribe
treatment. This, I was told, he did successfully, and the girl
completely recovered. There is nothing, however, remarkable in this,
as most complaints will cure themselves if doctors and other magicians
will only leave them alone. The influence, too, of faith-healing
and suggestion in this case would also have to be considered.
The railway man used a small mirror instead of a pool of ink. The
boy, who was looking into it, stated subsequently that, after gazing
at it for some time, it appeared to become greatly enlarged, and a
room seemed to be reflected in it. This he was told to order to be
swept and then sprinkled. I have seen a glass of water used instead
of a pool of ink, and believe that a basin of oil is also sometimes
employed. The whole question is an extremely curious one, and might
possibly repay investigations on the ground that it is _not_ magic.