On the Desert - Recent Events in Egypt/Chapter 16
CHAPTER XVI.
NUKHL — ON THE ROUTE OF PILGRIMS TO MECCA.
If some of my countrymen were to spend two days, as we did, at Nukhl, I am afraid they would describe it, with that elegance and felicity of speech which they sometimes employ, as "the most God-forsaken place on the face of the earth." It must be confessed that it has few external attractions. A vast, desolate plain, with not a palm-tree to relieve it; with not even soft sand under your feet, but a surface as hard as if it had been beaten down by the tread of armies, and swept by all the winds of heaven — that is Nukhl! A more bleak and cheerless waste could not be found on the steppes of Siberia, or even in the heart of the Sahara.
And yet there are not many spots to which I have come in my wanderings about the world, which awaken more associations than this same desolate plain. It is the "cross-roads" of two races and two religions — the Hebrew coming up from the South, from Sinai, bearing the Law of God to the land promised for his inheritance; and the Arab coming from the East, with the scimitar in his hand, to carry Islam into Africa. The Hebrew passed, and did not return; but where the Arab passed, the wave of Islam has continued to flow from that day to this. Mahomet was born in 570; the Hegira, or flight from Mecca, from which are reckoned all the dates in the Moslem Calendar, was in 622; and ten years later the Moslems were masters of Egypt, and no doubt established soon after the custom of an annual pilgrimage to Mecca. The route could be but in one line — a direct course from the head of the Gulf of Suez to the head of the Gulf of Akaba; and it is probable that the conquerors of Egypt fixed the midway station at Nukhl; that they erected the fort, and dug the wells, and built the tanks; and that along this route thus marked out the pilgrimage has flowed and reflowed for more than twelve hundred years.
The custom of making pilgrimages to holy shrines is a very ancient one, and one that came from the East. The Wise Men came from the East to the place of the Saviour's birth. Roman Catholics have introduced the custom into Europe, but its origin is Asiatic. India is the land of pilgrimages. The Prophet did not forget to make use of this powerful means of touching the Oriental imagination, and inspiring Oriental devotion. He himself made pilgrimages to Mecca. Almost the last act of his life was to lead forty thousand pilgrims to that sacred spot. In the eyes of a hundred and fifty (some estimate it at a hundred and eighty) millions, Mecca is the holiest spot on earth. To visit it — to walk round the Kaaba, and kiss the black stone which came from heaven, and to drink of the well Zem Zem — is at once the greatest privilege and honor. To perform this act of devotion invests the pilgrim with peculiar sanctity. Pilgrims come from all parts of the Moslem world. When I crossed the Mediterranean in 1875, there were on board four hundred Circassians from the farther shores of the Black Sea; and when, four months later, I sailed from Singapore to the island of Java, the deck of the little Dutch steamer was crowded with returning pilgrims. Thus they came from the extremes of Western and Southern Asia, to meet at the same holy place in the heart of Arabia.
But the most imposing Moslem pilgrimages are from Cairo and Damascus. These muster the largest numbers, and are marshalled with the greatest splendor. The departure of the pilgrims from Cairo is the event of the year. They are accompanied out of the city by a military procession, and by a vast multitude mounted on horses and camels. Their return is welcomed with still greater demonstrations. Troops go out to meet them, and escort them into the city; crowds throng the streets through which they pass; the Khedive, surrounded by his officers of state and by thousands of soldiers, awaits their coming; and when the sheikh rides into the public square on the sacred camel, bearing the sacred carpet which for one year has covered the tomb of the Prophet, the bands strike up their most triumphant airs, which are answered by the thunder of cannon from the Citadel.
If such be the splendor of their departure and return, something of this must surround their great encampment on the desert; for of all these caravans moving to and fro, and of this religious enthusiasm rolling between Cairo and Mecca, Nukhl is the centre. Standing in front of the fort, I could not but think what a spectacle it must be when the plain is covered with thousands of pilgrims, of different Oriental races and languages, in the picturesque costumes of the East; and how impressive the scene when, as the sun touches the western horizon, all turn, as by a common instinct, towards Mecca, and bow upon the sands and worship.
With such associations as these, this plain is not altogether desolate. Few things in a country are more suggestive than its roads, especially those which lead to great capitals, and along which sweeps a flood of tumultuous life. The Coliseum itself has not more associations than the Appian Way, over which the legions marched, "bringing many captives home to Rome"; and hardly less interesting is this great highway of the desert, which has been swept by forty generations of pilgrims.
One cannot stand by such a highway, and think to where it leads, without a strong desire to follow it to the end — to Mecca itself! Were it possible to bring that within the range of travel, what would one not give to be able to join a caravan from Cairo or Damascus, and make the great pilgrimage! Of the four holy cities of the world, I have visited Rome and Benares, and am on my way to Jerusalem: Mecca alone is guarded from all eyes but those of the faithful: "that" no Giaour can enter but at the risk of his life. It is said that in a few cases a European, who had lived so long in the East as to have a perfect mastery of Arabic, has disguised himself as a dervish, and mingling with the crowd of pilgrims, has been able to reach Mecca, and come back in safety. But if the disguise were penetrated, and the intruder discovered, he would not return to tell the tale. All we can do, therefore, is to look towards Mecca from a great distance. We can only stand here by the roadside, and in imagination follow the dromedaries as they move away to the East, and disappear below the horizon.
A scene so picturesque touches the Oriental imagination, and is a frequent subject of Arabic poetry. Dr. Post was fond of repeating a stanza from a poem which describes the return from Mecca. It had a very musical sound, and preserves its poetical flavor even in a translation. The lines ran thus:
And when we had fulfilled every desire in the holy places. And all who wished had touched the sacred relics. We gathered up the broken threads of our conversation, "And the rolling wadies flowed with the necks of camels."
The exquisite beauty of the last line can only be appreciated by those who have watched a caravan in the distance, approaching or receding, and observed how the curved necks of the camels, and their long swinging motion, seem literally to flow, as it were, in rhythmic lines or waves, with the undulations of the desert.
But the interest of Nukhl is chiefly of a mournful and melancholy kind: for as the pilgrims appear and vanish, they leave not a trace behind, save in the graves of those who perish in the march. I observed that the plain was covered with low mounds, beneath which, we could not doubt, rested the remains of myriads of pilgrims. Along the route are scattered the skeletons of camels that have fallen by the way, and whose flesh has been devoured by vultures, such as are at this moment flying over the plain, looking for new victims. On the horizon is a range of low limestone hills, which are said to be the haunt of the wolf and the hyena, which sometimes creep down into the plain to find water. I could not resist the horrible thought that the famished beasts sometimes tore open the graves to make a banquet of the dead.
As we think of these pilgrims, who left their bones in the wilderness, we are reminded that this broad track in the desert has been the royal road of Death for more than a thousand years. Mecca has been the very nest and breeding-place of those diseases which are the scourges of Asia — the cholera and the plague — which have been carried there by pilgrims from all parts of Asia and Africa, and which returning pilgrims have brought with them and scattered over the world. Side by side with the returning caravans, keeping company with them, has travelled an unseen Pilgrim, advancing along this very route, as if it were his own king's highway, from Asia into Africa, and ravaging the shores of the Mediterranean, has at last carried consternation to Western Europe. Again and again has there been weeping, not only in the low quarters of populous cities, but in high halls and in kings' palaces, because of the scourge which has come along this route from Mecca. Of those who fell on the desert, tens of thousands lie beneath the mounds which are scattered far and wide over the plain of Nukhl. Here they sleep, with no stone to record their names, or even to mark the spot — their only requiem the winds of the desert.
The winds of the desert! That sound is the most melancholy of all the voices of nature. It is not like the sound of the wind in a forest of pines, or on the shore where it mingles with the moaning of the sea — for there is life in the forest and in the sea, life in the swinging boughs and the dashing waves — but in the wind of the desert there is a hollow sound, for it comes over a world all silent and still, as over a world of the dead, and seems to be wailing like a lost spirit over innumerable graves.
But Nukhl had another interest to us, as the point in our journey where we had to make an entire change of men and camels for our further march. We were now to have an illustration of Bedaween customs. Here we entered the territory of another tribe, the Tayyahah, which claimed the sole right to levy tribute on travellers who passed through their country. We knew of this Arab usage, and for days had been looking forward to the change with the utmost regret. Ever since we left Suez we had had the same men; they had been with us in long and weary marches, and more docile, patient, and willing servants we could not desire, and we were very unwilling to part with such faithful companions. They too were equally reluctant to part from us, whom they had found kind and indulgent masters, and were willing to divide what they should receive with the new tribe if they might be permitted to accompany us. But the Bedaween of Nukhl were inexorable. They would allow our men to pass through their territory (as indeed they did, going on to Gaza to bring back supplies for the Convent), but they must not carry us. To furnish guides and camels for travellers was the special privilege and perquisite of the tribe in whose territory we were, which they would not surrender. If our men had attempted to force their way, there would have been a pitched battle. Of course there was nothing to do but to submit. But it was a real sorrow to us to say farewell to our gentle and simple Tawarah.
Seeing it was inevitable, we wished to do something to soften the pain of separation. Dr. Post, who knew the hearts of the Bedaween, had conceived, "in the recesses of a mind capacious of such things," the idea of a grand stroke which should cause us to be forever remembered by our companions, and to be blessed in their tribe. It was to buy a sheep and give it to them to roast whole and make a feast. "But what," I asked, "can they do with a whole sheep?" "They will not leave a mouthful; they win pick the last bone," was the answer. It is so seldom that the poor fellows get a "square meal" that when it comes they do it full justice. Of course I was delighted, and enjoyed in advance their surprise and amazement at this unexpected feast. But alas for our generous intentions! "To cook a hare you must first catch it." There was not a sheep to be had in all the country round for love or money. So we had to abandon our brilliant design and content ourselves with giving a very liberal backsheesh.
And now came the negotiations for another party. The sheikh of the tribe presented himself immediately on our arrival. As soon as he appeared, the large heart of Yohanna swelled within him; he fell on the neck of the Arab and kissed him. Their love was like the love of David and Jonathan. Who that saw these brothers folded in each other's arms could imagine that in a few hours one would be trying to cheat the other, while the latter would be writhing, not in embraces, but in toils from which he could not escape? The matter was one of some difficulty. A regular contract had to be made, as we had made one before in Cairo. The only difference was that, as we had contracted with our dragoman to take us the whole journey, it was his business to contract with the sheikh. But of course we had to stand behind him and see him through. This obliged us to be present at a scene of which we were unwilling witnesses. As we were trying to get a little rest in our tent, we were summoned to the fort. Our dragoman was in trouble. We found him surrounded by a dozen or twenty Bedaween, who were putting him through a course of torture. The more he writhed under it the more they increased their exactions. At first they asked ten pounds above the regular price, then twenty, and finally thirty pounds! Poor Yohanna was in despair. Being of an excitable temperament, he was driven to frenzy by these repeated demands, and for a moment lost all self-control; his face was swollen with rage, his eyes were full of tears, and I thought he would tear the hair out of his head, and gave him one anxious look, but a glance reassured me, his hair was very short. But tears and entreaties were in vain: the Arabs knew that we could not stir a step without their camels and their guides, and were determined to profit by our necessities. Our friend the old Governor did not once interpose to rescue us from their rapacity. Instead of using his authority to protect us, he looked on grinning and smiling, and evidently enjoyed the scene. Of course it was useless to contend against such combined forces, and, ignominious as it seemed, we advised the dragoman to capitulate, to make an unconditional surrender, and to get the best terms he could. He took our advice, accepted the terms and entered into a formal contract with the sheikh, who engaged to furnish the requisite number of camels and guides, and to convoy us safely to Gaza in six days. The contract was duly signed and sealed, and was from that moment binding — so far as anything could bind these wild men of the desert.
Perhaps some may think we felt great anger and indignation at the sheikh and his comrades who cheated us so roundly. On the contrary, we thought ourselves extremely fortunate that they had not cheated us still more. We had fallen among thieves, and they acted after their kind. They might have asked us a hundred pounds too much instead of thirty — or five hundred, for that matter — and we could not have helped ourselves. We were completely in their power; to use the slang of the Stock Exchange, they had "a corner" on us, and we were but too happy to get off so easily.
After this disagreeable business it was a relief to get away from such company and go off by ourselves, like Isaac, to meditate at eventide, when, as if to add to the peace of the hour and the quiet beauty of the scene, there hung in the west a new moon. Last evening we had seen only the stars, in which we recognized the familiar constellations of our Northern Hemisphere, the only objects that are familiar on the desert or on the sea. But to-night we had the first glimmer of the young moon. We had had the full moon at Serbal, as we shall have the Paschal moon at Jerusalem; but here, midway between the two, we have only the half light of that pale and slender crescent. It seemed a singular coincidence that we should have the sign of Islam hanging over the place of the great Moslem camp.
The next morning, though we started at an early hour, the old Governor was on hand to take leave of us, and hung round in a way that was very suggestive. We knew what he was after, for, like all Arabs, he had an itching palm. But, as he had not helped us in our difficulty, we resolved to teach him a lesson. His devotion, however, nearly overcame our resolution. He was ready to give his life for us. He declared that he would take the field in person, at the head of his soldiers, and march by our side, to guard us from the dangers of the way. But the Doctor was not deceived by these professions, and whispered "Don't give him anything!" To his grimaces and protestations we replied with thanks. He bowed and smiled, and we bowed and smiled. But he looked very blank when he saw us mount our camels, with not a single napoleon left in his hand, and I have no doubt, returned disgusted to his castle.
And now we were to make the acquaintance of our new set of retainers. We found that the change was complete; that in taking Arabs of another tribe, we took a very different set of men — men of a different physique, larger and stronger, and of a less gentle aspect than our late companions; and before we were through with them, we found that they differed as much in character as in looks; that they answered much more to our idea of the real Bedaween of the desert. Among them was an old soldier of Ibrahim Pacha, who carried a rusty sword by his side in token of his military profession, and who, before we reached the end of our journey, showed that, in spite of his years, he had the fiery spirit and the courage of a soldier. Another carried one of those long guns, made at Damascus, which are the pride of the Bedaween, though we could not think much of its efficiency, for it was plugged up at the muzzle, and the lock swathed with bandages like a mummy, so that it seemed as if it must take a quarter of an hour before it could be unlimbered for action. We wished to relieve the bearer of his burden, and asked him to give it to one of the mounted men to sling on his saddle; but no, he must have it always in his hand, in case we were attacked by wild beasts (!) or by robbers!! These intimations of danger rather amused us, for we saw no lion in our path, and the wolves and hyenas that lurked in the hills were not fierce enough to attack anything more formidable than a dead camel; and as for robbers, we travelled in the Desert of the Wandering five days without meeting a single man! However, we found before we reached Gaza that our Arab knew better than we, and that there were real dangers before us, against which it was necessary to be on our guard.
The leader of the party was the old sheikh, a somewhat notable personage, of whom I shall speak hereafter.
The camels also were new to us, and with them we had to become acquainted. They too, like their masters, were of another breed than those we had had before. In place of my young dromedary, I had given to me a camel of much larger stature, to whose back I could hardly reach. To mount such a huge beast seemed like climbing a church steeple, and sitting on the vane. However, if she was not handsome, she was good. I found her a quiet creature, that carried me without a murmur over the long stretches of sandy plain. Indeed she was of a gentleness quite unusual among camels, and one that almost required explanation. I learned that, a month before, she had become the mother of a little camel that died, and this sorrow seemed to be in her maternal heart, and to cause her to be in a very sad, and yet very tender, mood. The cameleer who led her was her owner — probably his only possession in the world — and even when not leading her, walked by her side, and never wearied of caressing her. He would stroke her gently, and now and then would swing her long neck round and kiss her huge black lips. Sometimes I observed him putting his hand under her, and making it a cup, press into it a little of her milk, which he put as a precious draught to his lips. Once, as a great honor, he brought me a glass of camel's milk, which I found not unpleasant, though I prefer the milk of our little Jerseys. Of such a creature one could not help becoming fond. As we got better acquainted, she allowed me to pet her, to ruffle the fur on her neck, as one scratches the head of a parrot, and would kneel or rise at my bidding.
Dr. Post was less fortunate. He had given to him a camel that ought to have been a means of grace to him, for certainly she would have been a trial to any man. Oh, but she was a growler! She would grumble on the slightest provocation, or on none at all. If he turned her this way or that, no matter how gently, or if he did not touch the halter, but let her take her own way, it made no difference. If we reined up to have a little quiet talk as we rode along, this vicious old creature was sure to take part in the conversation; and if her rider tried to hush her, she would lift up her voice the louder. She was one of those bores that will not be suppressed; and if her master finally lost patience, and gave her the beating that she deserved, she set up a terrible roaring. That camel was a beast! Human nature, however cross-grained, could not have been worse.
Thus mounted and guarded, we set out on our march, just as the sun was rising over the desert. At first we directed our course to the East, which we could not understand, for it seemed as if we were following nearly in the track of the pilgrimage to Mecca, but presumed that the sheikh who was our guide, like an old mariner, was making a little "Easting" to strike into some broad wady, when he would turn to the North — a conjecture which proved true, as in a few hours we struck again into the great Wady el Arish. After miles of weary march, we saw before us another wall of mountains, which we did not cross, but kept in view as we moved along the bed of the "River of Egypt."
Our course to-day led over great flint-covered plains. It was indeed "a dry and thirsty land where no water is," and yet all round us shone crystal lakes, only they were always out of reach, and had we advanced towards them we might have gone on forever. It was our first sight of the mirage. Observing it closely, it seemed as if it were a phenomenon very easy of explanation; that it was caused by the vibration of the heated air near the surface of the desert, which produced an illusion like that from the reflection of the sun on rippling water. Studied merely as a wonder of nature, as we study the rainbow, it was a beautiful object, but what a mocking fiend it must be to those whom it lures on and on, only to perish at last. To one dying of thirst there could hardly be a more cruel torture than this gleam of water in the distance.
Towards evening we came near mountains which, to the eye of the Doctor, resembled those of Palestine. Thus almost every day something looms up on the horizon which reminds one or the other of mountain scenery or coast scenery which is familiar. The desert, while it is like the sea in its vast expanse, is different in this, that it is a sea with the coast always in sight. I do not remember ever having been "out of sight of land." There is always at least a range of low hills on the horizon, which sometimes rise to mountains, and recall mountains that we have seen in other parts of the world. Often we seem to be sailing along a rugged coast, and can easily imagine ourselves off the west coast of Ireland, or sailing up St. George's Channel, with the mountains of Wales in sight, or along the southern shore of the Isle of Wight. This evening, while the mountains to our left were in deep shadow, the setting sun, striking across the open plain before us, fell on a long range of cliffs on our right, the effect of which was heightened by the mirage, which made them seem as if they rose out of water, and thus reminded me of the chalk cliffs of Dover, while isolated cliffs, standing out here and there, might easily be imagined a fleet of line-of-battle ships bearing down the Channel. Yet this is the route to Palestine by Nukhl, which "presents no object of interest to the traveller"!