THE ABYSSINIAN CAMPAIGN.
Battle of Gallabat--Death of King John--The Revolt of Abu
Gemmaiza--Defeats of the Mahdists--Death of Abu
Gemmaiza--Preparations for the Invasion of Egypt--Execution of
Sixty-seven Batahin Arabs--More Letters from Home--My Family
send the Khalifa a Dressing-bag from Vienna--Immigration of the
Taaisha Tribe--They settle in the Nile Valley--Nejumi advances
into Egypt--Battle of Toski--Incidents during the Great
Famine--The Fall of Ibrahim Adlan--His Execution--The Khalifa
mistrusts me--I fall into Serious Danger--I become the Unwilling
Recipient of the Khalifa's Favours.
It was not, however, to be supposed that the Mahdist victories in the
east and west would remain entirely undisputed. King John, who had been
carrying on a war in the interior, now determined to avenge the attack
on Gondar, and therefore resolved to march against Gallabat, and utterly
destroy the enemies of his country and religion. On Abu Anga's death,
the Khalifa appointed one of his former subordinates, Zeki Tummal of the
Taaisha tribe, to take the command and to complete the fortifications of
Gallabat, which had already been begun. During Abu Anga's lifetime, his
army had been divided into five parts, under the respective commands of
Ahmed Wad Ali, Abdalla Ibrahim, Hamdan (one of Abu Anga's brothers),
while Zeki himself commanded some two thousand five hundred mulazemin.
The force of Yunes still remained under the command of Ibrahim Dafalla.
King John now collected an immense army, and moved towards Gallabat. The
Dervishes were in great consternation, and did all they could to
strengthen their fortifications. King John's army was divided into two
portions: one division was made up of his own tribe, the Tigré, and
King Menelek's troops, under the command of Ras Alula; whilst the other
portion consisted of the Amhara legions under Ras Barambaras. Arriving
almost within range of Gallabat, they pitched their camp, and began the
attack the following morning. The lines of Gallabat, which were some
fifteen miles in circumference, were defended only at intervals by
Zeki's troops; and the Amhara leader, being well informed by spies, made
a determined attack on the western side, which was weakly held. After a
short resistance, they succeeded in penetrating; and the remainder of
the garrison were in the unpleasant position of having to defend
themselves from the outside, whilst, within, the enemy was pillaging the
town. Had the Amhara, instead of looting, attacked the garrison from the
rear, they would no doubt have succeeded in capturing the position; but
they concerned themselves only with pillaging and driving out of the
town thousands of women and children. King John, who was in his tent,
having received news that the Amhara, whom he had frequently accused of
cowardice, had succeeded in entering the lines, whilst his own tribe,
the Tigré, had failed, fell into a passion; and, ordering his followers
to carry him on his seat--a small gold angareb covered with cushions and
carpets--he was brought into the midst of the fighting line. The
defenders, noticing a crowd of followers clothed in velvet and gold,
directed their fire on them; and when King John had almost reached the
defences, he was struck by a bullet, which, breaking his right arm above
the elbow, entered his body. The courageous man, declaring that his
injury was of no consequence, continued urging on his men, but soon fell
back unconscious on his couch, and was carried to the rear by his
followers, who had suffered great loss. The news that he was wounded
spread amongst his troops like wildfire; and, though on the point of
success, they retired. On the evening of the 9th March, 1889, King John
expired in his tent. An effort was made to keep his death secret; but
the news gradually leaked out, and the Amhara, deserting the camp in
the night with all their loot, returned to their homes.
Ras Alula, being the most important of the Tigré chiefs, nominated Hailo
Mariam as their temporary ruler; but fearing the possibility of
dissensions breaking out amongst his unruly troops, he thought he had
better return to his country, and therefore ordered a retreat.
In fear and trembling, the Mahdists awaited the renewal of the
Abyssinian attack the next morning; but when the sun rose, they found,
to their surprise, that the white tents which had been visible the
previous day had disappeared. Zeki Tummal now sent out troops to
reconnoitre; and they returned with the joyful news that the Abyssinians
had retired. They had also learnt from the wounded that King John was
dead. A council was immediately held, and, as the enemy had carried off
a number of the Mahdist women and cattle,--amongst them much of the late
Abu Anga's property,--it was agreed that they should be pursued. The
Abyssinians had pitched their camp about half a day's journey from
Gallabat; already half the army was on the move; and Ras Alula, Hailo
Mariam, the temporary Negus, and other chiefs were on the point of
breaking up the camp, when they were suddenly attacked by the Dervishes.
Hailo Mariam was killed at the tent-door, within which lay King John's
body, already partly embalmed, in a wooden coffin. Ras Alula beat a
hurried retreat, leaving the camp in the hands of his enemies. The
Dervishes captured an immense amount of booty, including horses, mules,
arms, tents, coffee, etc.; they did not, however, succeed in
re-capturing the women, who had already been carried on ahead. In Hailo
Mariam's tent King John's crown was found. It is doubtful whether this
was the imperial Abyssinian crown, as it was made of silver gilt; his
sword also was taken, as well as a letter to him from Her Majesty the
Queen of England.
Neither the attack on Gallabat, nor the Dervish defeat of the rear-guard
the following day, had by any means broken the Abyssinian army; but,
owing to the accidental death of their king, the Dervish victory had
been most complete. The country now fell into a state of internecine
warfare; there were several aspirants for the throne, and dissensions
and quarrels put a stop to combined action. The Italians had been in
occupation of Massawa since the beginning of 1885, and had occupied some
of the adjacent country. This fact re-acted satisfactorily on the
Dervish occupation of Gallabat; for they were well aware that the
Abyssinians would be fully occupied with their European enemies; and
once more they began raiding the Amhara frontier.
Whilst the garrison of Gallabat was in danger of destruction at the
hands of King John, Osman Wad Adam was in considerable peril in the
west. On the death of Sultan Yusef, his troops raided the country in all
directions, and his Emirs were guilty of the greatest oppression and
cruelty. Thousands of women and children were declared to be ghanima
(booty), and dragged to Fasher by main force. The people were in
despair; and the distress and anguish extended to the limits of Dar
Tama. Here a youth resided who hailed from Omdurman, and probably
belonged to one of the riverain tribes, but had been driven from his own
home, and, under the shade of a wide spreading Gemmaiza (wild fig) tree,
sat and read the Kuran. He had intended proceeding to Bornu and the
Fellata country,--as far away as possible from the tyrannical
Sudan,--when some of the unfortunate people who had been robbed of all
they possessed, came and told him of their misfortunes. A party of
Dervishes, they said, had arrived at the neighbouring village, had
seized their cattle, and were about to carry them off, together with the
women and girls of the village, under the pretext that they had been
ordered to undertake a pilgrimage to Fasher, and had not done so. "If
you do not wish to fight for your wives and children, for what then will
you fight?" asked the young man. "Do you not know that he who falls
fighting for his women and children goes straight to Paradise?" The
effect of these words on the people resembled a spark falling into a
barrel of gunpowder. Hastening back to their village, they demanded the
instant liberation of their families; and when this was refused, they
fought for it. The Mahdists were annihilated; and the infuriated
villagers mutilated their bodies. Their example was followed by other
villages with equal success; and, in a few days, Dar Tama had shaken
itself free from its enemies. But who was the originator of this
movement which had already been so successful? It was the young man
under the Gemmaiza tree, who lived there as a hermit, subsisting only on
some dry bread and a little grain. A pilgrimage to see him was at once
organised; the people called him Abu Gemmaiza, adored him as a saint,
and looked upon him as the liberator of the fatherland.
The Emir Abdel Kader Wad Delil, who was then residing at Kebkebia, and
had heard of the massacre of his men, now advanced on Dar Tama,
determined to avenge it; but he was defeated, and barely escaped with
his life. Khatem Musa, on his way from Fasher, suffered a like fate.
Osman Wad Adam, furious at the losses he had sustained, resolved to
annihilate his enemies, and, with this object in view, despatched his
assistant, Mohammed Wad Bishara, and a large number of his mulazemin to
Kebkebia, to unite with Wad Delil and Khatem; but scarcely had he
arrived, when he was attacked by the hosts of Abu Gemmaiza, who were
marching on Fasher. Defeated with great loss, he fell back on that town.
Adam now fully realised the seriousness of the situation, and summoned a
council; several of the Emirs were for evacuating the province at once,
when the news suddenly arrived that Abu Gemmaiza was dead. As a matter
of fact, to the great good fortune of Fasher, he had been taken
seriously ill of small-pox at Kebkebia. The excited multitudes refused
either to return or disperse; and, electing his assistant as his
successor, they continued their advance on Fasher; but, in spite of
their former victories, their belief in their leader's success had waned
when he had fallen ill, and when he died, it vanished altogether.
Osman Wad Adam had taken up a position in the south end of the city; and
when the rebels advanced to the attack, they were driven back to Rahad
Tendelti with fearful loss. Abu Gemmaiza's successor was killed, and his
troops, dispersing in all directions, were pursued and slaughtered. The
whole country seemed covered with dead bodies; but Fasher and Darfur
were saved. There is a curious coincidence in the dates of these
momentous occurrences in the East and West Sudan: the previous year,
both armies had advanced--the one to Darfur and the other to Abyssinia;
both had been attacked by their enemies in their fortifications--the one
by King John, and the other by Abu Gemmaiza, in the same month; and both
had been unexpectedly successful.
Previous, however, to these occurrences, the Khalifa had again directed
his attention towards Egypt. He had questioned several persons regarding
the country; and they had excited in him an avaricious longing for the
grand palaces, large gardens, and immense harems of white women (he
himself had Black in abundance). Of course the most suitable man to
undertake operations against Egypt was Nejumi. He was an exceptionally
brave man, and, when a simple merchant, had travelled a great deal, knew
the country well, and, moreover, was an ardent devotee to the cause of
Mahdism, to which he had won over great numbers. The greater part of his
force consisted of tribesmen of the Nile valley; many had seen Egypt,
and had until recently much intercourse with the frontier tribes of
Upper Egypt. Such were the outward and visible reasons which the Khalifa
brought forward when selecting the chief; but, in reality, he was well
aware that a campaign against Egypt was a serious undertaking; and, on
this account, he was anxious not to involve in it his own relatives, and
the western tribes who were his special adherents. Nejumi, therefore,
with his Jaalin and Danagla, and a proportion of Baggaras, formed the
expedition; but the two former, being followers of the Khalifa Sherif,
Abdullahi always looked upon as his secret enemies. Should the campaign
be successful,--and he never for a moment doubted the capacity and
devotion of its leader,--then so much the better, he would have
conquered a new country; but should the Egyptian troops succeed in
repelling the invasion, then the remnant of his defeated forces would
retire on Dongola, with heavy loss, and would be so far weakened as to
be unworthy of further consideration.
He therefore despatched Yunes Wad ed Dekeim as Emir of the Dongola
Province, and to hold the country, whilst Nejumi was to receive his
orders from Yunes, and proceed with the advanced troops. The Dongola
Province, at this period, it must be remembered, was entirely under
Baggara domination. Amongst the reinforcements despatched thence were
Ahmed Wad Gar en Nebbi and some of the Batahin tribesmen, who came from
the country north of the Blue Nile, between the Shukria district and the
river. Many of this tribe had been previously despatched to Dongola and
Berber; and now the few who were left refused to comply with the
Khalifa's orders, in consequence of which Gar en Nebbi had deserted,
and, being pursued, had wounded one of the Khalifa's men. Abdullahi,
indignant at this disregard of his orders, had despatched Abdel Baki,
accompanied by Taher Wad el Obeid, to seize by force all the Batahin;
the latter now fled in all directions, but, with the exception of a very
few, were captured. During the pursuit Abdel Baki, guided by Wad el
Obeid, suffered severely from thirst; and this he imputed to the
ill-will of the latter, who, in consequence, was deprived of his
position and thrown into chains at Omdurman. Abdel Baki now brought in
sixty-seven men of the Batahin, with their wives and children. This
tribe was celebrated for its bravery during the Government days; and now
the Khalifa, who had already privately given his views on the matter to
the judges, ordered them to be summoned before the Court. It was
unanimously decided that the Batahin were mukhalefin (disobedient). "And
what is the punishment for disobedience?" asked the Khalifa. "Death,"
was the reply of the judges. They were sent back to prison, and the
Khalifa busied himself with carrying the sentence into execution. In
accordance with his orders, three scaffolds were immediately erected in
the market-place, and, after midday prayers, the ombeÿa was sounded and
the great war-drum was beaten, summoning all the Khalifa's subjects to
follow him. Riding to the parade ground, he dismounted and seated
himself on a small angareb, whilst his followers collected around him,
some sitting and some standing. The sixty-seven Batahin were now brought
before him, with their hands tied behind their backs, escorted by Abdel
Baki's men, whilst their unfortunate wives and children ran after them
crying and screaming. The Khalifa gave instructions that the women and
children were to be separated from the men, and, summoning Ahmed ed
Dalia, Taher Wad el Jaali, and Hassan Wad Khabir, consulted them in an
undertone; the latter then went forward to the Batahin, and instructed
the escort and prisoners to follow them to the market-place. After a
delay of a quarter of an hour, the Khalifa got up, and we all walked on
behind him. Arrived at the market-place, a terrible scene awaited us.
The unfortunate Batahin had been divided into three parties, one of
which had been hanged, a second had been decapitated, and a third had
lost their right hands and left feet. The Khalifa himself stopped in
front of the three scaffolds, which were almost broken by the weights of
the bodies, whilst close at hand lay a heap of mutilated people, their
hands and feet lying scattered on the ground; it was a shocking
spectacle. They did not utter a sound, but gazed in front of them, and
tried to hide from the eyes of the crowd the terrible sufferings they
were enduring. The Khalifa now summoned Osman Wad Ahmed, one of the
Kadis, who was an intimate friend of Khalifa Ali, and a member of the
Batahin tribe; and pointing to the mutilated bodies, he said to Osman,
"You may now take what remains of your tribe home with you." The poor
man was too shocked and horrified to be able to answer.
[Illustration: The Execution of the "Batahin."]
After riding round the scaffolds, the Khalifa proceeded along the street
leading to the mosque; and here Ahmed ed Dalia had been continuing his
bloody work; twenty-three decapitated bodies lay stretched along the
roadside; these unfortunates had calmly met their death, submitting to
the inevitable. Several of them, as is the custom amongst the Arabs, had
given proof of their courage by uttering a few sentences, such as:
"Death is ordained for every one." "See! to-day is my holy day." "He who
has not seen a brave man die, let him come and look here." Each one of
these sixty-seven men had met his death heroically. The Khalifa's work
was done; he was satisfied with it, and rode home. On his arrival there,
by way of an act of clemency, he sent one of his orderlies with
instructions that the women and children of the murdered men should be
set free; he might just as well have distributed them as slaves.
In spite of all these horrors, I was secretly rejoicing, for I had heard
that letters from home were on their way; not only were there letters,
but I had also been told, confidentially, by some merchants who had come
from Berber, that there were two boxes of money for me. I scarcely dared
think about it, and to wait patiently was no easy matter. One morning,
whilst I was sitting at the door, a camel laden with two boxes was
brought up; and the man asked to be taken before the Khalifa, saying
that he had arrived with letters and goods from Osman Digna. The
Khalifa, being apprised of this, ordered the boxes to be sent to the
Beit el Mal, and the letters to be given to his clerks. I was wild with
impatience; but it was the Khalifa's pleasure not to summon me till
after sunset, and then he handed me the letters. They were, as I
expected, from my brothers and sisters, expressing their great delight
at having at last received news direct from me. One letter was written
in Arabic, and addressed to the Khalifa, and contained profuse thanks to
him for his kindness to me, recommending me to him for further
assurances of his good-will, for which they sent many expressions of
gratitude. This letter, which had been written by Professor Dahrmund,
was composed in such flattering terms that the Khalifa had it read aloud
the same evening in the mosque; and so gratified was he, that he ordered
the boxes to be made over to me. Meanwhile, I translated to him my
letters, which contained only private and personal information, and in
which my brothers and sisters told me they had sent a travelling-bag for
the Khalifa in token of their devotion to him, begging him to accept
this trifling present, which was quite unworthy of his exalted position.
He expressed his readiness to accept it, and ordered me to bring it to
him the next morning. He then sent two of his people, so that the boxes
might be opened in their presence; and, late that night, we went to the
Beit el Mal, and there opened them. They contained £200, twelve ordinary
watches, some razors and looking-glasses, some newspapers, a German
translation of the Kuran, and the Khalifa's present. These things were
all handed over to me; and, having read my letters once again, I
literally devoured the newspapers. News from home!
There were only a few numbers of the "Neue Freie Presse," but quite
sufficient to afford me, who had had no news for six years, the pleasure
of reading at night-time for months. I gradually got to know them by
heart, from the political leader down to the last advertisement, in
which an elderly maiden lady advertised that she was anxious to find a
kindred spirit with a view to matrimony. Father Ohrwalder came to me
secretly by night to borrow the papers, and studied them just as
conscientiously as I did,--only I do not suppose that he paid quite so
much attention to the last advertisement!
Early the next morning, taking the present with me, I went to the
Khalifa; he told me to open it, and when he saw all the little crystal
boxes, silver-topped bottles, brushes, razors, scissors, etc., etc., he
was greatly surprised. I had to explain to him their various uses; and
he then sent for the Kadis, who, in duty bound, were obliged to express
even greater astonishment than he, though I had no doubt that several of
them had seen such things before. Then, without any further delay, he
sent for his clerk, and ordered him to write a letter to my brothers and
sisters, in which he himself informed them of the honourable position I
held in his service; he invited them to come to Omdurman and visit me,
and gave them the assurance that they would be free to return. He also
ordered me to write in the same strain; and, although I knew perfectly
well that my people would never avail themselves of such an invitation,
which was merely a spontaneous outburst of delight, I took good care to
warn them fully against thinking of it for an instant. The letters were
then returned by the man who had been sent by Osman Digna; and the
latter was instructed by letter to forward them. The real reason,
however, for the Khalifa's good-humour lay in the fact that his own
tribe, the Taaisha, had arrived in Omdurman. They had marched through
Kordofan to the White Nile at Tura el Hadra. The Khalifa had written to
them that they should come to take possession of the countries which the
Lord their God had ordained to be theirs; and on their arrival they
certainly behaved as if they were sole masters. They appropriated
everything they could lay their hands on: camels, cows, and donkeys were
forcibly carried off from their owners; men and women who had the
misfortune to cross their path, were robbed of their clothing and
jewellery; and the populations of the countries through which they
passed bitterly rued the day which had made a western Arab their ruler.
For their convenience, the Khalifa erected immense grain depôts all
along the roads by which they travelled; and, on their arrival at the
river, ships and steamers were ready to transport them to Omdurman. But,
before they reached the city, the Khalifa ordered them to halt on the
right bank of the river; and, dividing them into two sections, he had
all the men and women freshly clothed at the expense of the Beit el Mal;
and they then were brought in detachments, at intervals of two or three
days, to Omdurman. In order to make the populace thoroughly understand
that the new masters of the country had arrived, Abdullahi drove out of
their houses all the inhabitants of that portion of the city lying
between the mosque and Omdurman Fort, and handed it over to the Taaisha
as their residence. Other ground was allotted to those who had been
forced to give up their houses, and they were promised assistance from
the Beit el Mal in order to rebuild; but, of course, this was mere empty
form, and resulted in their having to shift entirely for themselves.
In order to facilitate the maintenance of his tribe, and as grain began
to rise in price, the Khalifa issued an order for all grain stored in
the houses to be taken to the meshra el minarata (grain docks), under
pain of confiscation; and, having obtained the services of some of his
own myrmidons, he ordered them to sell this grain at the lowest possible
rate to the Taaisha; and the money thus obtained he divided amongst the
original owners, who, in their turn, were obliged to re-purchase at the
high rates from other sources. This wholesale robbery can be better
understood, when I explain that the money paid by the Taaisha for ten
ardebs of grain would scarcely pay for two ardebs purchased in the
ordinary manner.
When the supply of grain at Omdurman was diminishing, he despatched
messengers to the Gezira to confiscate what was still there; and, in
this manner, by publicly showing his preference for his own tribe, he
completely estranged himself from his former followers. This, however,
was a matter of little concern to him, as, by the advent of the Taaisha
Arabs, he had acquired a reinforcement of several thousands of warriors.
After the Mahdi's death, the Khalifa had sent four messengers to Cairo
with letters addressed to Her Majesty the Queen of England, His Majesty
the Sultan, and His Highness the Khedive, in which he summoned them to
submit to his rule and to adopt Mahdism. The messengers returned from
Cairo, where due note had been made of this insolent demand, without any
answer; and the Khalifa was greatly offended. Early in 1889, however,
when he had decided to send Nejumi to invade Egypt, he again despatched
four messengers to Egypt, conveying his final warning; but these were
kept for a time at Assuan, and again sent back without any answer.
The campaigns in the east and west having been successfully concluded,
the revolt of Abu Gemmaiza having been suppressed, and King John of
Abyssinia having been killed, and his head despatched with others to
Omdurman, the Khalifa now sent it to Yunes at Dongola to be forwarded by
him to Wadi Halfa, as a warning, and as a proof of his victory over all
those who refused to believe in the Mahdi. Having overcome his
difficulties, and being strengthened by the arrival of fresh contingents
of Arabs, the Khalifa now considered that the time had come when he
might venture an attack on Egypt, and conquer it. Consequently, Nejumi
received special instructions to start forthwith, with all under his
command; and, avoiding Wadi Halfa, to capture Assuan, and there await
further orders. In addition to his own followers, Nejumi had been
reinforced by the Batahin, the Homr, and other Arabs of whom the Khalifa
was anxious to rid himself; and with these he quitted Dongola early in
May, 1889. Meanwhile, the Egyptian Government had been kept well
informed of the advance of this ill-equipped force, and had taken all
precautions; whilst Nejumi, instead of material support, received
continual orders from Yunes to hurry on; and it was not till he had
arrived within the Egyptian frontier that some reinforcements of Jaalin,
under Haj Ali, reached him. At the village of Argin, a portion of his
troops, contrary to his orders, had descended from the desert high
ground to the river, and, coming in contact with the troops of the Wadi
Halfa garrison under Wodehouse Pasha, sustained considerable loss.
Meanwhile, Grenfell Pasha, Sirdar of the Egyptian Army, having started
with a force from Assuan, wrote a letter to Nejumi, in which he pointed
out the danger of the situation, and how impossible it was for him to
hope to be successful. He therefore summoned him to surrender; but this
Nejumi stubbornly refused to do; and a battle ensued at Toski, in which
General Grenfell and the Egyptian army utterly annihilated the Mahdists.
Nejumi and almost all of his Emirs were killed; thousands were taken
prisoners; and only a very few succeeded in escaping back to Dongola.
The Khalifa had ridden to the Beit el Mal, and was praying on the banks
of the Nile, when mounted men arrived in hot haste from Dongola, and
handed letters to his secretary, who, for the moment, suppressed the
news, and only read it to him when he returned home. The letters
described the death of Nejumi and the destruction of his army; and the
effect on the Khalifa was terrible. He had no great confidence, it is
true, in the tribes who had gone forward to invade Egypt; but, at the
same time, their annihilation was a frightful blow to him. He had hoped
that they would either have been victorious, or would have beaten a safe
retreat; but now he had lost upwards of sixteen thousand of his men; and
he at once thought the Government would advance and re-occupy Dongola.
For three days he did not go near his harem; and, day and night, I was
obliged to stay at his door and pretend to sympathise with him in these
occurrences, though secretly I was rejoicing. He at once despatched
reinforcements to Yunes; but, at the same time, sent him instructions
that, should the Government advance, he should not attempt to oppose the
army, but was to retreat with his entire force to Sannum, in Dar
Shaigia.
But disasters never come singly: grain rose daily in price. No rain had
fallen the previous year, and the crops in consequence had been very
bad; the parties who had been sent to the Gezira had orders to procure
grain by force at the rate fixed by the Khalifa. Of course those who had
any at once hid it, and denied having anything; but in truth there was
really very little in the land. Famine first broke out in the Province
of Berber, which was entirely dependent on the Gezira for supplies; and
here Osman Wad ed Dekeim was obliged to disperse his men and horses
throughout various parts of the country.
The irrigation of this province is carried on by water-wheels at
intervals along the river banks; and even in prosperous times the supply
of grain is scarcely sufficient to meet the wants of the local
inhabitants; there was therefore now considerable difficulty in
maintaining all Osman's people as well. Several of the inhabitants
wandered to Omdurman, which was already over-populated; and here the
situation became most critical: the price of grain rose at first to
forty dollars, and subsequently to sixty dollars, the ardeb. The rich
could purchase grain; but the poor died wholesale. Those were terrible
months at the close of 1889; the people had become so thin that they
scarcely resembled human beings,--they were veritably but skin and bone.
These poor wretches would eat anything, no matter how disgusting,--skins
of animals which had long since dried and become decayed, were roasted
and eaten; the strips of leather which form the angareb (native
bedstead) were cut off, boiled, and made into soup. Those who had any
strength left went out and robbed; like hawks they pounced down on the
bakers and butchers, and cared nothing for the blows of the kurbash,
which invariably fell on their attenuated backs.
On one occasion, I remember seeing a man who had seized a piece of
tallow, and had crammed it into his mouth before its owner could stop
him. The latter jumped at his throat, closed his hands round it, and
pressed it till the man's eyes protruded; but he kept his mouth tightly
closed until he fell down insensible. In the market-places, the
incessant cry was heard of "Gayekum! Gayekum!" (He is coming to you!),
which meant that famished creatures were stealthily creeping round the
places where the women had their few articles for sale, to protect which
they were frequently obliged to lie upon them, and defend them with
their hands and feet. The space between the Khalifa's and Yakub's houses
was generally crowded at night with these wretched people, who cried
aloud most piteously for bread. I dreaded going home; for I was
generally followed by several of these famished beggars, who often
attempted to forcibly enter my house; and at that time I had scarcely
enough for my own slender wants, besides having to help my own household
and my friends, who had now become wretchedly poor.
One night,--it was full moon,--I was going home at about twelve o'clock,
when, near the Beit el Amana (ammunition and arms stores), I saw
something moving on the ground, and went near to see what it was. As I
approached, I saw three almost naked women, with their long tangled hair
hanging about their shoulders; they were squatting round a quite young
donkey, which was lying on the ground, and had probably strayed from its
mother, or been stolen by them. They had torn open its body with their
teeth, and were devouring its intestines, whilst the poor animal was
still breathing. I shuddered at this terrible sight, whilst the poor
women, infuriated by hunger, gazed at me like maniacs. The beggars by
whom I was followed, now fell upon them, and attempted to wrest from
them their prey; and I fled from this uncanny spectacle.
On another occasion, I saw a poor woman who must formerly have been
beautiful, but on whose emaciated face the death-struggle was visible,
lying on her back in the street, whilst her little baby, scarcely a year
old, was vainly trying to get some nourishment from its mother's already
cold breasts. Another woman, passing by, took compassion on the little
orphan, and carried it off.
One day, a woman of the Jaalin, who are perhaps the most moral tribe in
the Sudan, accompanied by her only daughter, a lovely young girl,
dragged herself wearily to my house; both were at death's door from
starvation, and begged me to help them. I gave them what little I could;
and the woman then said, "Take this, my only daughter, as your slave;
save her from death by starvation!" and, as she said this, the tears
streamed down her poor wan cheeks, whilst in her weak, scarcely audible
voice, she continued, "Do not fear that I shall molest you any further;
only save her; do not let her perish!" I gave them all I could spare,
and then asked them to leave me, telling them to return when they were
in great want; but I never saw them again,--perhaps some charitable
person took pity on them. Another woman was actually accused of eating
her own child, and was brought to the police station for trial; but of
what use was this?--in two days the poor creature died, a raving maniac!
[Illustration: Famine Stricken.]
Several sold their own children, both boys and girls, pretending they
were their slaves,--this they did not to obtain money, but simply to
save their lives; and, when this year of misery was over, some parents
bought them back again at even higher prices. The dead lay in the
streets in hundreds; and none could be found to bury them. The Khalifa
issued orders that people were responsible for burying those who were
found dead near their houses; and that, should they refuse to do so,
their property would be confiscated. This had some effect; but, to save
themselves trouble, they used to drag the bodies near their neighbours'
houses; and this gave rise to frequent quarrels and brawls. Every day,
the waters of the Blue and White Niles swept past Omdurman, carrying
along hundreds of bodies of the wretched peasantry who had died along
the banks,--a terrible proof of the awful condition of the country.
In Omdurman itself, the majority of those who died belonged rather to
the moving population, than to the actual inhabitants of the town; for
the latter had managed to secrete a certain amount of grain, and the
different tribes invariably assisted each other; but, in other parts of
the Sudan, the state of affairs was considerably worse. I think the
Jaalin, who are most independent, as well as the proudest tribe in the
Sudan, suffered more severely than the rest; several fathers of
families, seeing that escape from death was impossible, bricked up the
doors of their houses, and, united with their children, patiently
awaited death. I have no hesitation in saying that in this way entire
villages died out.
The inhabitants of Dongola, though they suffered considerably, were
somewhat better off; and for this they had to thank Nejumi, whose
departure had considerably reduced the population of the province.
Between Abu Haraz, Gedaref, and Gallabat, the situation was worst of
all. Zeki Tummal, at the commencement of the famine, had given orders to
some of his myrmidons to forcibly collect all the grain in the
neighbourhood; and this he stored for his soldiers, thus saving the bulk
of his force, with the result that an immense proportion of the local
inhabitants died of starvation. After a time, no one dared to go out
into the streets without an escort; for they feared being attacked and
eaten up; the inhabitants had become animals,--cannibals! One of the
Emirs of the Homr tribe,--who, in spite of the terrible year, still
preserved a fairly healthy appearance,--notwithstanding constant
warning, insisted on going to visit a friend after sunset; but he never
reached his friend, nor returned to his abode; the next morning, his
head was found outside the city, and I presume his body had already been
consumed.
The Hassania, Shukria, Aggaliun, Hammada, and other tribes had
completely died out; and the once thickly populated country had become a
desert waste. Zeki Tummal sent a detachment of his force to the southern
districts of the Blue Nile, towards the Tabi, Begreg, Kukeli,
Kashankero, and Beni Shangul mountains, the inhabitants of which,
although they paid tribute to the Khalifa, refused to make a pilgrimage
or provide warlike contingents. This he had done not so much with the
idea of military operations, as to provide some means of maintaining his
troops; but the commander, Abder Rasul, succeeded in capturing a number
of slaves, as well as a quantity of money.
The situation in Darfur was little better than that in Gedaref and
Gallabat; the western provinces, such as Dar Gimr, Dar Tama, and
Massalit, had no need of grain; but not being in complete subjection,
they prevented its export to Fasher. Indeed, it seemed as if this famine
had come as Heaven's punishment on all districts owning subjection to
the Khalifa, whilst the neighbouring countries, which had had sufficient
rest to cultivate their fields, had acquired enough grain for their
maintenance. A few Omdurman merchants hired some vessels, and proceeded
to Fashoda, where they exchanged beads, copper rods, and money for
dhurra; the undertaking succeeded, and now crowds of others followed
their example, proceeding sometimes as far as the Sobat, whence they
imported quantities of grain, thus enriching themselves, and saving
their fellow-countrymen from terrible want. Had the King of Fashoda, who
was not then subject to the Khalifa, forbidden the export, half Omdurman
would have perished. At length, the rain fell; the thirsty land was
refreshed; the crops sprang up; harvest was near; and the whole country
once more rejoiced at the prospect of help and deliverance. But now the
atmosphere became obscure with swarms of locusts of an unusual size, and
the prospect of a rich harvest vanished; everything, however, was not
destroyed by this plague, which, from that date, has become one of
annual occurrence. The Khalifa, anxious for the welfare of his own
tribe, now forced the natives to sell the little grain they had
collected, at an absurdly low price, to his agents; but small as this
was, in comparison with the price he ought to have paid, he determined
to still further economise, and, consequently, ordered Ibrahim Adlan to
proceed personally to the Gezira, and induce the inhabitants to give up
their dhurra of their own free-will, and without payment. Adlan, who
thoroughly disapproved of this measure, now left; and his enemies,
seizing the occasion of his absence, did all they could to bring about
his fall. This able official had, by his thoroughness and sagacity,
risen high in the Khalifa's favour; but ambition induced him to strive
for the first place. He frequently made use of his position to upset the
plans of others; but, in reality, Abdullahi sought nobody's advice, and
discussed state affairs with his brother Yakub only, whose animosity
Adlan had incurred, though Yakub was too clever to show it.
As natives go, Adlan's character was good: he did not care to lend
himself to evil designs, and, far from oppressing people, was often the
means of lightening the burdens of others; he was most liberal and
well-disposed to those who were submissive to his will; but he was
bitterly hostile to those he suspected of finding fault with his
actions, or who endeavoured to obtain appointments and positions without
his intervention. Like all Sudanese, he was bent on making money by fair
means or foul; and as he was head of the Beit el Mal, through whose
hands all the taxes passed, this was not a matter of difficulty. He was
suspected, and not without reason, of having made an immense fortune,
and of this the Khalifa was not ignorant; consequently, during his
absence, Yakub and several of his confidants informed the Khalifa that
Adlan's influence in the country was almost as great as his own, and
that he had frequently spoken disparagingly of his master and his system
of government; they even went as far as to say that Adlan had attributed
the famine entirely to the Khalifa's treatment of his own tribe.
Adlan, who was somewhat slow in carrying out the Khalifa's instructions
in the Gezira, and against whom the Taaisha were clamouring bitterly,
was recalled by the Khalifa, who, for the first few days after his
arrival, did not show his hand; but when the Taaisha, instigated by
Yakub, continued clamouring, the Khalifa summoned him, and accused him
in harsh terms of infidelity and abuse of confidence. Furious at this
treatment, and trusting to the confidential nature of his position,
Adlan, for a moment, forgot that after all he was merely the Khalifa's
slave, and retorted in equally sharp terms, "You reproach me now," said
he,--"I who have served you all these years; and now I do not fear to
speak my mind to you. Through preference for your own tribe, and your
love of evil-doing, you have estranged the hearts of all those who have
hitherto been faithful to you. I have ever been mindful of your
interests; but as you now listen to my enemies, and to your brother
Yakub, who is ill-disposed towards me, I cannot serve you any longer."
The Khalifa, alarmed and shocked by such language, which no one had
ever dared before to use in his presence, was furious. If Adlan had not
had such power in the country, he would never have dared to speak like
this; and if he had not accumulated considerable wealth, he would never
have risked giving up so lucrative a position. Abdullahi, however,
controlled himself, and replied, "I have taken note of what you have
said, and will think it over; leave me now, and I will give you an
answer to-morrow." He went out; but ere he had reached the door the
Khalifa had made up his mind. After sunset the next day, the two
Khalifas, all the Kadis, and Yakub were summoned to a council; and,
shortly afterwards, Adlan was called before them. In a few words,
similar to those he had used the previous day, the Khalifa spoke to him
about his attitude, adding, "You spoke against Yakub, and said that I
had estranged myself from the hearts of my partisans; do you not know
that my brother Yakub is my eye and my right hand? It is you who have
estranged the hearts of my friends from me; and now you dare to do the
same with my brother; but the Almighty God is righteous, and you shall
not escape your punishment." He then made a sign to the mulazemin, who
had been kept in readiness, to seize him and carry him off to prison.
Without uttering a word of reproach, with a firm step, and holding his
head high in the air, he submitted to his fate, determined that his
enemies should not have the satisfaction of seeing him downhearted or
afraid.
The Khalifa at once gave instructions that Adlan's house should be
confiscated, and the Beit el Mal property seized. A careful search of
the former was ordered; and the employés of the latter were instructed
to render immediate and complete accounts. In Adlan's pocket was found a
piece of paper inscribed all over with mysterious writing, in which the
name of the Khalifa frequently appeared; it had been written with a
solution of saffron, which is supposed to possess some secret power; and
the unfortunate Adlan was not less superstitious than the majority of
the Sudanese. The paper was declared to be sorcery, which is punishable
most severely; Adlan was pronounced to be mukhalef (disobedient) in not
carrying out his orders, and a traitor, because he had attempted to sow
dissension between the Khalifa and his brother Yakub, and, in the
endeavour to effect this, had been guilty of the use of sorcery. The
verdict was mutilation, or death, and he was allowed to make his choice;
he selected the latter.
With his hands tied across his chest, and to the strains of the
melancholy ombeÿa, he was led forth to the market-place, accompanied by
an immense crowd. Calmly mounting the angareb beneath the scaffold, he
himself placed his head in the noose, and, refusing to drink the water
offered to him, told the hangman to complete his work; the rope was
pulled taut, the angareb was removed, and there Ibrahim swung like a
marble statue, until his soul left his body, the outstretched index
finger alone indicating that he died in the true faith of Islam. In
spite of the interdiction, wails of sorrow filled the city; but the
Khalifa rejoiced that he had rid himself of so dangerous an enemy, and
refrained from punishing this disobedience to his orders. He sent his
brother Yakub to the funeral, as if to show to the world that Adlan had
merely been punished in accordance with the law, and that the well-known
animosity between the two had nothing to do with the matter.
His successor as Emin Beit el Mal was a certain Nur Wad Ibrahim whose
grandfather was a Takruri. He did not, therefore, belong to the tribes
of the Nile valley, and thus had a greater claim on the Khalifa's
confidence and consideration.
As regards myself, the Khalifa seemed to grow daily more suspicious.
Previous to Ibrahim Adlan's departure for the Gezira, the answer to my
letter, which had been sent to my family through Osman Digna, had
arrived. It contained only news of a private nature, and expressed the
great delight of my family that they had succeeded in at last getting
into communication with me. At the same time, they wrote to the Khalifa
in submissive words, expressing their gratitude for the kind and
honourable treatment which I received at his hands. They also assured
him of their great devotion to him, and thanked him for the high honour
he had conferred upon them by inviting them to come to Omdurman; but my
brother regretted his inability to accept, as he was at that time a
secretary in the office of the High Chamberlain of His Majesty the
Emperor of Austria, whilst the other brother was a lawyer and lieutenant
in the Artillery Reserve; they were therefore both unable, in virtue of
their positions, to undertake so long a journey. My master had called me
up, and, on handing me the letters, had ordered me to translate them to
him; then, considering for a few moments, he said to me, "It was my
intention to induce one of your brothers to come here and see me; and I
did what I had never done before,--wrote a letter to them. As they make
excuses and refuse to come, and as they now know that you are well, I
forbid you to have any more correspondence with them. Further
communications would only make you unhappy. Do you understand what I
mean?" "Certainly," I replied, "your orders shall be obeyed; and I also
think that further communication with my relatives is not necessary."
"Where is the Gospel that has been sent to you?" asked he, looking at me
fixedly. "I am a Moslem," I answered, for I was now on my guard; "and I
have no Gospel in my house. They sent me a translation of the Kuran, the
Holy Book, which your secretary saw when the box was opened, and which
is still in my possession." "Then bring it to me to-morrow," he said,
and signed to me to withdraw.
It was perfectly clear to me that he no longer trusted me; and I knew
that after Nejumi's defeat he had several times spoken in this sense to
the Kadis. I had already spent almost all the money I had received in
gifts amongst my comrades; and now some of these began to murmur, and
were disappointed that the sum was so small; and I knew that they were
intriguing against me. Who could have induced him to believe that the
Kuran which had been sent to me was the Gospel? The next day, I gave it
to him. The translation was by Ullman. He examined it carefully, and
then said: "You say that this is the Kuran; it is in the language of
unbelievers, and perhaps they have made alterations." "It is a literal
translation into my own language," I replied, calmly, "and its object is
to make me understand the Holy Book which has come from God, and was
made known to mankind by the Prophet, in the Arabic language. If you
wish, you can send it to Neufeld, who is in captivity in the prison, and
with whom I have no intercourse; and you can ascertain from him if my
assertion is correct." "I do not mistrust you, and I believe what you
say," he replied, in a somewhat more amiable tone; "but people have
spoken to me about it, and you had better destroy the book." When I had
told him that I was perfectly willing to do this, he continued, "Also I
wish you to return the present your brothers and sisters sent me; I can
make no use of it, and it will be a proof to them that I place no value
on worldly possessions."
He now had his secretary summoned, and ordered him to write a letter in
my name to my family, to the effect that it was not necessary to
correspond any more; and, after I had signed it, it was sent, together
with the travelling-bag, to the Beit el Mal, to be despatched to Suakin.
From that day, I was more careful than ever to do nothing to increase
the mistrust which I saw had sprung up in Abdullahi's mind. After
Adlan's death, however, he thought it necessary to warn me again, and
cautioned me most seriously against becoming mixed up in any sort of
conspiracy. Assembling all his mulazemin, he asserted, in the most
forcible language, that I was suspected of being a spy; that he had been
told I invariably questioned the camel postmen who arrived, about the
situation; that I received visitors in my house at night who were known
to be out of favour with him; and that I had gone so far as to inquire
in what part of his house his bedroom was situated. "I am afraid," he
continued, "that if you do not change your line of conduct, you will
follow in the footsteps of my old enemy Adlan."
This was rather a blow to me; but I knew that now, more than ever, I had
need of being calm and collected. "Sire!" said I, in a loud voice, "I
cannot defend myself against unknown enemies; but I am perfectly
innocent of all they have told you. I leave my detractors in the hands
of God. For more than six years, in sunshine and rain, I have stood at
your door, ever ready to receive and carry out your orders. At your
command, I have given up all my old friends, and have no communication
with any one. I have even given up all connection with my relatives, and
that without the slightest remonstrance. Such a thing as conspiracy has
never even entered my heart. During all these long years, I have never
made a complaint. Sire, what have I done? All that I do is not done out
of fear of you, but out of love for you; and I cannot do more. Should
God still have further trials in store for me, I shall calmly and
willingly submit to my fate; but I have full reliance in your sense of
justice."
"What have you to say to his words?" he said to the assembled mulazemin,
after a moment's silence. All, without exception, admitted that they had
never noticed anything in my behaviour which could give rise to such a
suspicion; my enemies also--and I well knew who they were, and who were
responsible for getting me into this dangerous position--were obliged to
admit this. "I forgive you," said he; "but avoid for the future giving
further cause for complaint," and, holding out his hand for me to kiss,
he signed to me to withdraw. He must have felt that he had wronged me;
for the next day he summoned me, spoke to me kindly, and warned me
against my enemies, who, he said, were as a thorn in my flesh. I
professed affection and confidence in him; and he then said, in quite a
confidential tone, "Do not make enemies, for you know that Mahdia is
conducted in accordance with the Moslem law: should you be accused
before the Kadi of treason, and two witnesses make good the accusation,
you are lost; for I cannot go against the law to save you."
What an existence in a country where one's very life hung on the
evidence of two witnesses! Thanking him for his advice, I promised to
follow it, and said I would, of course, do all in my power to deserve
his confidence. When I returned home at midnight, tired and worn out by
this constant strain, my devoted Saadalla informed me, to my great
annoyance, that, only a few minutes before, one of the Khalifa's eunuchs
had brought a closely-veiled female, who was now in my house.
I ought to have been greatly pleased about this, for it was a proof that
the Khalifa had forgiven me; but my first thought was, how to rid myself
of this present without creating suspicion. Saadalla and I now entered
the house; and, to my horror, I found that underneath the veil was an
Egyptian who had been born at Khartum, and who was, consequently, from a
Sudanese point of view, a lady of a comparatively fair complexion. She
was seated on the carpet; and, after we had exchanged greetings, she
replied to my query as to her nationality with such rapidity of speech
that I, who spoke Arabic fairly well, had the greatest difficulty in
following the romantic history of her life.
She was the daughter, she said, of an Egyptian officer who, I afterwards
learnt, had only been a private soldier, and who had fallen in the fight
against the Shilluks, under Yusef Bey. As this had taken place upwards
of twenty years before, I could, without any great effort of
calculation, estimate fairly accurately that this good lady was well out
of her teens; and as she admitted that her first husband had been killed
during the capture of Khartum, that her mother was an Abyssinian who had
been educated in Khartum, and was still alive, and that she had an
enormous number of relatives, I really believe that, had my head not
been clean-shaven, my hair would veritably have stood on end. This
far-travelled and widely-experienced lady informed me that she had been
one of the many hundreds of Abu Anga's wives, and I had now been chosen
as the happy successor of this old slave. After his death, she had been
captured, with several of her rivals, by the Abyssinians, when King John
attacked Gallabat, but had been subsequently liberated by Zeki Tummal;
and she knew so many details of all the fights in this neighbourhood,
that, had my memory been only capable of retaining them, they would have
now been of great interest to my readers. A short time ago, the Khalifa
had ordered Abu Anga's remaining widows to be brought to Omdurman, for
distribution amongst his followers; she then went on to say that the
Khalifa himself had specially selected her as my wife, and she added, in
a subdued tone, that she rejoiced to have fallen into the hands of a
fellow-countryman. I explained to her that I was not an Egyptian, but an
European. As, however, my skin was somewhat tanned, and the
circumstances in which I lived gave her a pretext for claiming me as a
compatriot, I was obliged to say that I would provide as far as possible
for her maintenance and comfort; and, as the night was well advanced, I
bade her follow my servant Saadalla, who would make arrangements for
her.
Such were the Khalifa's presents: instead of allocating a small sum of
money from the Beit el Mal, by means of which I could have procured for
myself a few comforts, he kept on sending me wives, who were not only a
source of considerable expense to me, but also a cause of much anxiety
and worry, inasmuch as I was continually struggling to free myself from
their unwelcome presence. The next morning, the Khalifa laughingly asked
me if I had received his present, and if I liked it. With the lesson of
two days ago still fresh in my mind, I assured him that I was only too
happy to receive this fresh proof of his affection, and that, please
God, I should always live in the enjoyment of his favour. When I
returned to my house before midday prayer, I found it full of females,
who, notwithstanding the remonstrances of Saadalla, and jeering at his
wrath, had entered by main force, and now introduced themselves to me
as the nearest relatives of Fatma el Beida (The White Fatma), as the
Khalifa's present was called.
A decrepid old Abyssinian lady introduced herself as my future
mother-in-law; from her loquacity, I should instantly have recognised
her as the mother of Fatma el Beida; and I could not help wondering how
so small and fragile a body could contain so noisy and voluble a tongue.
She assured me of her pleasure that her daughter had been confided to my
care, adding that she was convinced that I would accord to her her
rightful position in my household. Here was I, the slave of a tyrant,
and obliged to submit to the most wretched of circumstances; and now she
talked to me of the position due to her daughter! I assured her that I
would of course treat her daughter well; and, apologising that my time
was so fully occupied, I fled. Before leaving, however, I ordered
Saadalla to entertain them as well as he could, according to the custom
of the country, and then to turn them all out, neck and crop, and, if
necessary, to call the other servants to his assistance.
A few days afterwards, the Khalifa again inquired about Fatma; and as I
knew that he was most anxious that I should lead as quiet and secluded a
life as possible, I told him that, for the present, I had no objection
to her person; but as her numerous relatives might possibly come in
contact with people whose acquaintance neither he, my master, nor I
should consider desirable, and that as in my efforts to prevent this I
frequently came into collision with both sides, it was naturally my
earnest wish to prevent such disturbances. And I then went on to say
that, should she not submit to my arrangements, I proposed surrendering
Fatma entirely to her relatives; and with this proposition the Khalifa
appeared perfectly satisfied.
There was, however, no truth in this statement, for since Saadalla had
entertained and turned out his visitors I had seen no one; fearing to
betray my intentions to the Khalifa, I waited some time longer, and then
sent Fatma el Beida to her mother, whose whereabouts Saadalla had at
length discovered, and I instructed the lady to stay with her mother
until I should send for her. A few days afterwards, I sent a few clothes
to mother and daughter, and a small sum of money, with a message that
she was free, and no longer under any obligations to me. Of course I
told the Khalifa what I had done, reiterating that I was most anxious to
have nothing to do with people who were strangers to him and to me; and
in this he saw an additional proof of my anxiety to obey his orders.
About a month later, the mother came to see me, and asked my permission
to marry her daughter to one of her relatives. I agreed to this
proposition with the greatest alacrity; and I left Fatma el Beida the
mother of a happy family in Omdurman.