Daliet-el-Carmel, Oct. 15.—In order to really understand this country,
to become acquainted with the inner life of its inhabitants, to
familiarize one's self with their manners and customs, their
necessities, and their aspirations, such as they are, and to arrive at a
true estimate of the national character, it is needful to remove one's
self from any centre of so-called civilization, however crude, and to
live among them, as I have been doing for the last three months and a
half, not as a stranger, but as a villager owning property, identified
with their local interests, and with a will to afford them such
practical counsel and aid as may lie in one's power. People wonder what
I can find to do in a remote Druse village in the back parts of Carmel;
but in practice the days are not long enough to deal with the varied
interests that crowd into them.
Scarcely a day passes that visitors do not arrive from some of the
surrounding villages—sheiks of high or low degree, as the case may
be—generally with polite invitations that I should return their visits,
which I know from experience means a financial proposition of some sort
in reserve, for all the villages are more or less embarrassed in their
pecuniary circumstances, and have been so victimized by the native
money-lenders of Haifa that they eagerly turn towards any one who they
think possesses bowels of compassion.
The return visits which these invitations involve are often highly
characteristic in their attendant circumstances, and in the varied
incidents which accompany them; and, besides, they give one an
opportunity of becoming minutely acquainted with the neighbourhood, and
afford one an insight into the motives by which Oriental human nature is
actuated. There is, for instance, a village about four miles from here,
so beautifully situated among its olive groves, as seen from a distance,
that I had long intended paying it a visit, and wondered why its sheik
had never come to make my acquaintance. The mystery was explained one
day by an old woman whose extreme poverty had induced me to employ her
as a water-carrier. On asking how she had become so destitute, she said
that she was a widow, and that her only son and support had been waylaid
and murdered some months previously by some of the young men of the
village in question. All her efforts to obtain justice had been
unavailing, and since then the two villages had not been on visiting
terms.
As none of the inhabitants of Dalieh would accompany me, I found my own
way one day to the village, to try and discover the rights of the story.
I was received with great politeness by a tall, gentlemanlike man, whom
I supposed to be the sheik, but who turned out to be the very individual
who had been accused of the murder. Soon the sheik and a number of
village notables arrived, and, seated around the neatly-matted
guest-chamber, we exchanged compliments and discussed the topics of the
day. These all turn upon the payment of the new government taxes; and
the price of wheat this year has been so low that the unhappy peasantry
are driven to their wits' end, and finally to usurious money-lenders, to
obtain the necessary cash. In this emergency I am appealed to in every
direction for assistance, and I was well aware that our interview on
this occasion would not terminate without the usual demand.
When it came, I saw my chance for alluding to the delicate subject of
the murder, and the objections I entertained to lending money to people
who were in the habit of murdering their neighbours. They admitted the
murder, which had been attended with robbery, but my host denied that he
had been in any way implicated, though he had unjustly suffered several
months' imprisonment on suspicion, and had only been finally released on
payment of a heavy sum as backsheesh. It seems that the evidence as to
who the culprit really was rested on the dying deposition of the victim,
who had been attacked by four men, all of whom he named on his deathbed.
On the other hand, my host had succeeded in proving an alibi. The real
culprit had, he said, escaped, and had never ventured back to the
village.
Under these circumstances I refused any loan of money, unless the
notables of the village would come to Dalieh, tender their humble
apologies, offer a money indemnity to the mother of the murdered man,
and effect a complete reconciliation. This, according to Arab custom, is
a solemn ceremony, which must be performed in the presence of the
notables of neighbouring villages; but it yet remained to be seen
whether the indemnity question could be arranged at Dalieh, as the man
who said he had been unjustly accused declared that he had already
suffered so much, in person and in purse, that he was indisposed to do
much in that line. The poor widow, in spite of her destitution, was
still more intractable; she thirsted for vengeance, for which she said
no money could compensate. However, I have hopes of bringing them both
to reason, and so healing the feud which extends to all the population
of both villages. Meantime the loan stands in abeyance.
There would, indeed, be a good opening for a professional peacemaker in
these villages, where feuds are bitter and prevalent, not merely between
different villages, but between rival sheiks in the same locality. There
are almost always two, and sometimes three, of these in each village who
are not on speaking terms, and who each have their partisans, so that
the opposing factions keep themselves entirely aloof from each other.
More than once I have had occasion to call on the same day on two rival
sheiks. In that case one escorts me until he sees his enemy in the
distance. He then takes leave of me, and I stand still until the other
comes up to take me in charge. These sheiks, I am sorry to say, often
combine with the money-lenders against the interests of their own
fellow-villagers. The mode by which a money-lender obtains possession of
a village is simple; he goes to the sheik, and says: “You and your
village are unable to meet the government demands; if you will persuade
your village to borrow from me at forty per cent., I will give you so
much commission, and if at the end of three years you can manage
irretrievably to ruin your villagers, so that I can come down upon them
and obtain possession of the village in satisfaction of my debt for half
its value, your profit shall be so much, and you shall retain such a
share of the village lands.” As the sheiks wield an unbounded influence
over their own faction, this would be an easy operation were it not for
the rival sheik, who is in negotiation with a rival money-lender. When
two money-lenders take to fighting over a village there is some chance
for the villagers, and from this point of view the feuds of their sheiks
are not an unmixed evil.
Where a sheik is supreme, as at Dalieh, he has practically the fortunes
of the villagers in his hands, and he must be watched to see that he
uses his influence and authority justly. The only man in a position to
watch him is the person upon whom he depends for assistance to meet the
government demands. If this individual happens to be content with a
moderate rate of interest, and to have no ulterior designs upon the
village itself, it is evident that he may have it in his power to do a
great deal of good. The villagers are quite astonished if one comes to
them and says, “I do not want your village, I only want your good-will.
I desire to help you out of your financial scrape, and I am willing to
lend you money at the legal rate of interest if you will furnish me with
the necessary security.” Any one saying this finds at once that he has
arrayed against him the money-lenders, who take three times the legal
rate of interest; the government officials, who go shares with the
money-lenders; and, in many instances, the village sheiks themselves,
who, of course, find their interest lies rather with these two classes
than with the unhappy villagers. These latter, accustomed to be
plundered all around, naturally do not know whom to trust, and are apt
to look with suspicion on a new proposal, however favourable and
disinterested it may seem. The obstacles, therefore, to the working-out
of improved conditions by any single man, even in the case of one
village, seem almost insuperable, and can only be overcome by much
personal intercourse with the villagers themselves.
The Druses are sensitive to kindness, and grateful for it, and as there
are generally some sick in the village, and quack doctoring, provided
one treads cautiously, is better than none, we do a good deal of
empirical practice, and our efforts have met with such success that we
are obtaining a somewhat alarming reputation. Of course, we come across
difficult cases, as, for instance, the sheik's daughter. She is rather a
nice-looking girl of eighteen, with a crick in her neck and an asthmatic
affection. On asking how long she had been ill, we were informed that
her mother, on the occasion of her birth, was so angry at finding the
child was a girl and not a boy, that she threw her out of the window,
and she had never been well since. Cases of this sort we don't attempt
to grapple with, but I have ceased to wonder at the sheik having taken a
dislike to the old lady. Indeed, my own feelings towards her have
entirely changed since hearing of this episode, and, although it
happened eighteen years ago, I treat her with comparative coolness.
Why the sheik hesitates so long about divorcing her I fail to
understand, more especially as he is anxious to marry a young and
handsome girl. I have discovered, by the way, that divorced people are
never allowed to meet again, even in the street, after the separation
has finally taken place. I saw a young friend of mine, in a fit of
passion, divorce his wife last year. She was young and pretty. He
married again, but has already repented, and wants to divorce his
present and remarry his first wife, whom he has never seen since; but
Druse law is inexorable on this point. There was a meeting of elders on
the subject, but they decided that it was impossible. So now, when this
rash young man sees the former partner of his life at the other end of
the street, he is obliged hurriedly to turn around and walk the other
way, with a sadly beating heart and repentant spirit.
Some weeks ago we opened a boys' school at Dalieh, where English and
Arabic were taught. In a few days we had an average attendance of over
fifty children, while we received applications from more than twenty
girls, which we were making arrangements to satisfy, as the desire which
the parents manifested to have their children educated was so strong
that we felt it should be encouraged in every possible way. One day,
however, a summons arrived for the sheik to appear before the
authorities, when he was informed that a fine of $250 would be levied on
every child who ventured to go to school; a threat which, to my great
regret, most effectually extinguished that humble institution.