The Northern Ḥeǧâz/Chapter 6
CHAPTER VI
THE OASIS OF ŠARMA TO TEBÛK BY WAY OF AL-ṚARR
ŠARMA TO THE CREST OF THE AL-ǦELES RANGE
Not wishing to let our starved and weakened camels suffer unnecessary hunger any longer, I asked ʻAfnân to allow us to depart and to give me the guide he had promised. The latter asked me to pay him twenty English pounds in advance and declared that he would go with me no farther than the first camp of the Beni ʻAṭijje, as at Tebûk and in its vicinity there dwelt families hostile to him. ʻAfnân called upon his people, one after another, to accompany me, but they all refused. In the midst of our difficulties there arrived at the oasis a Bedouin about twenty years old, who was seeking work and profit. Scarcely had he heard of our quandary than he seized the edge of my cloak and begged me to take him, saying that as a shepherd he knew the whole region of the Ḥwêṭât at-Tihama from al-Bedʻ in the north to Wâdi ad-Dâma in the south, that he was also acquainted with the shepherds of the Beni ʻAṭijje and could therefore obtain one of them as a new guide for me. Having come to an agreement with him, I gave ʻAfnân the presents intended for him and his servants, and at 8.04 A. M. we left the oasis.
Our road led through dense palm thickets, across small, marshy, shallow streams. The oasis of Šarma is scarcely four hundred meters broad and is bordered on the north and south by low, steep, rocky slopes. Date palms thrive there admirably and their fruit ripens quite early in the year. Many dates had already attained a bright brown color, and ʻAfnân brought me a handful of the half ripe fruit.[1]
At 8.45 we reached a large, dry hollow with a few palms, close to the spot, to the north, where the combined gullies of al-Maḳ‘ade and al-ʻEfrija come to an end. Toward the east 
Fig. 57—Palms in the valley of al-Ṛarr from the west. the hollow becomes tapering and is called Wudej. It is reached from the south by the šeʻîb of Ẓeḥijje, which runs through the rocky hills of Umm Hašîm. After 9.15 the guide gave the name of al-Ṛarr to the valley through which we were proceeding. On both left and right we saw numerous springs and groups of date and dûm palms (Fig. 57). From 9.55 to 11.40 we rested in a marshy hollow filled with a growth of reeds, where our camels found pasturage. In places the rocky soil was so scorching hot that it was impossible to walk barefooted. Our rifle barrels were as hot as if they had been left in a fire. Towards noon a slight wind arose from the east and we were able to breathe more freely (temperature: 38.2° C). At twelve o’clock we had on our left the copious spring of al-Ḫrâše, which irrigates several gardens and forms a stream more than three hundred meters long. In the gardens there were crops of onions, melons, and tobacco.
At 12.25 we saw the šeʻîb of Umm as-Sarâbîṭ on the left and crossed the old Pilgrim Road of ar-Raṣîfijje leading southward to the hills of Ḳôs al-Ḥnâne, where spirits abide. Date palms were still growing in parts of the valley, so that the oasis of Šarma could be extended a full twenty-five kilometers to the east.
At one o’clock the šeʻîb of Ummu Rǧûm was on our left and Abu Taḳar on our right. At 1.40 on the northern edge of the valley we perceived the well Bîr al-Ṛarr, near which some Arabs were watering some sheep and about ten camels. The Ḥwêṭât at-Tihama breed few camels, because the beasts do not thrive on the coast and in the moist oases. Instead of camels they keep cows on the coast and sheep and goats in the mountains. Eastward from the well Bîr al-Ṛarr the valley through which we were riding is called Umm Ḳarâdi. It is covered with fine gravel, in which the rimṯ and sejâl grow only sparsely, and it is joined from the north by the šeʻîb of ʻAnṣûrijje, near the beginning of which is situated a pile of old, ruined buildings, called al-Merw. The slopes of the valley are steep and barren of vegetation. From the rugged uplands project isolated peaks and obelisks.
To the east, without any gradation, there rise precipitously from the uplands the huge granite mountains belonging to the chain that separates the coast from the eastern highland. In front of them towers Mount ad-Dubba, the curious shapes of which attracted our attention (Fig. 58). The northern 
Fig. 58—Mount ad-Dubba from the west. peak resembles a tall man standing up and attired in a Roman toga; while on the right a young man appears to be leaning against him, and on the left there is a girl with dishevelled hair. The southern peak forms a group of six persons, all of whom are looking westward to the sea. South of this group yawns a narrow, deep gap, through which emerges the valley of al-Ḳarâdi. The camels grazed from 2.10 to 4.12 P. M. while we drew a map of the distant surroundings from a high cone to which we had climbed with great difficulty (temperature: 39.8° C).
Passing on between the granite mountains of ad-Dubba and Arejka we proceeded through a bare and dismal valley. On the right and left were high smooth walls, and between them a river bed about one hundred meters broad, which in places contained deep deposits of gravel, with no trace of vegetation. At 5.20 the guide drew my attention to the spring of Abu Ṣwêr on the left. This rises north of the entrance of the šeʻîb of Dṛejm which comes in from the south. At 6.12 we reached the šeʻîb of Turbân, which, coming from Mount ad-Dubba, rises in a copious spring of the same name that waters an extensive grove of date palms. East of it we proceeded through another šeʻîb covered in places with drifts of sand.
At 6.55 we encamped (temperature: 37.2° C) beneath a high, isolated cone that stood in the midst of the valley. On its western and northern slopes were high drifts of sand in which we observed some bushes of luxuriant green arṭa, of which the camels are very fond. The inflammation in my right eye had disappeared, but the ague had not yet left me. The night was clear and comparatively cool. The granite giants rising to our right and left assumed bewitching shapes in the moonlight and seemed to stretch their huge limbs as if preparing for some weighty undertaking. From time to time slight but very agreeable sounds broke the clear calm of the silent night. I did not understand these sounds, although I listened intently. Mḥammad said: “The moon is rousing these enchanted giants and trying to find out whether they are still alive and strong and is instructing them what they are to do. How good and sweet the moon is, O Mûsa, and how cruel and hot the sun!”
On Wednesday, June 15, 1910, we started off at 4.54 A. M. (temperature: 31.6° C). On our right were a šeʻîb and the water of Umm Naḫale on the slope of Mount Arejka, which is conspicuous because of its ocher color. At the southern foot of the mountain are the springs of Ḏḳêṭ and aẓ-Ẓabʻijje, which belong to the al-Kaḥala basin. At 5.30 we saw the šeʻîb of al-ʻAǧûz on the left and to the southeast the high walls of the granite mountain range of an-Naʻejẓa, through which lead the defiles of al-ʻArajjeḳ and al-Bdejje. In front of these mountains to the east of us rose the black mountain of al-Ṛurâba, along the southeastern foot of which extends the šeʻîb of al-Maṭḥane, which joins the šeʻîb of Ornub. At 6.15, entering an extensive hollow covered with a dense growth of sejâl, we observed under the trees a few wretched tents belonging to the Ḥwêṭât. From 6.30 to 7.34 we rested to the west of the šeʻîb of al-Medâʻîḳ, on the northern edge of the hollow near a deep gap which contains the spring of az-Zrejb. Having unloaded our baggage, we led the camels to the water. After a while three women came up behind us driving three flocks of small goats, and behind them followed a young man with a flock of about ten sheep and two camels. I wished to hire him as a guide, but he could not leave his flock. Our previous guide was afraid that he might be seen by some of his enemies encamped on the uplands of Ḥesma, and he asked me therefore to let him return. According to ʻAfnân’s statements, we should find in the vicinity of the spring of az-Zrejb on the border of the Ḥwêṭât and the Beni ʻAṭijje a camp of the latter, but both the women and the young man assured us that all the ʻAṭâwne had departed for the uplands of Ḥesma, where their flocks had abundant pasturage, while on the coast the flocks were perishing with hunger.
At eight o’clock we rode round an ancient burial place. At 8.03 we observed on the left the šeʻîb and spring of Ḳîr, the source of which is high up on the steep slope of the granite mountains bearing the same name and is very difficult of access. Mount Ḳîr is composed of a great quantity of granite ribs some of which project above its general level and from afar resemble black stalactites. At 9.40 we had the šeʻîb of Umm Hašîm on our left; at 9.50 the šeʻîb of Abu Ḥamâṭa and the spring of the same name were on our right. South of the latter šeʻîb begins the cleft of al-Medâʻîḳ, which joins the šeʻîb of Ornub. Having passed the latter, we entered the narrow šeʻîb of as-Sîḳ, enclosed by high, rocky walls which seem to touch each other at the top. Here we vainly searched for pasturage for our camels. Only some isolated ratam and šîḥ grew there and these plants were all dead. The walls enclosing this šeʻîb are of black granite, which had absorbed the burning rays of the sun and was giving out an unbearable heat. As no
Fig. 59—The šeʻîb of as-Sîḳ. breath of air could penetrate the deep šeʻîb, we felt as if we were passing through a fiery furnace. The road was very difficult, because the camels had to walk over piles of stones and sand which had drifted there. Our guide drew our attention to the fact that we were approaching even more difficult places and advised us to let our camels rest. We did so from 11.32 to one o’clock (temperature: 35° C). Finding no pasturage the animals kneeled down and gazed sadly at us (Fig. 59). After 1.30 we reached the water of as-Sîḳ, which fills a narrow fissure in the rock whence it does not flow out, as much of it evaporates. Behind the water rises a rocky wall, about fifteen meters high, which completely shuts off the šeʻîb on the east. Only a narrow and scarcely distinguishable little path leads upwards through a rocky cleft. Our camels were afraid to attempt this path. Leading my animal, which was urged on by Rifʻat, I endeavored to persuade it to enter the cleft. For a long time it refused and turned back, but at last it jumped on to the path and the rest of the camels followed, but only so long as they could see one another. As soon as the front camel disappeared around a bend the next animal stopped, and all the rest came to a halt behind it. We had to bring the leading camel back in order to persuade the others to continue the march. It was not only difficult but frequently even dangerous to turn round on the narrow and precipitous pathway. The baggage fell from the backs of two of the camels and slipped down on the tail of the third one, so that the beast knelt. The fallen baggage went rolling down the slope, and it was no easy task to carry it up again and load it on the camel. Both men and animals found it almost impossible to breathe, and the sweat was pouring off us.
At last we climbed on to a rocky wall and entered a narrow crevice known as aẓ-Ẓjejḳe, through which we climbed comfortably after a few minutes. In two places the water had formed puddles, but they were full of leeches of various sizes, so that not even our camels could drink from them. Suddenly the crevice was barred by a steep wall over four hundred meters high, which prevented us from continuing our journey. Nowhere could we see a trace of any path. After a few minutes Mḥammad discovered on the eastern slope, behind a clump of palms, a smooth strip leading steeply to a small spur. This was the path. The spur projected scarcely sixty meters above the crevice, but it took us more than an hour to mount it. The first third of the way consisted of high, steep, twisting steps. My camel jumped up to the first step, thence to the second; behind it came the camels of Rifʻat, Tûmân, and Ismaʻîn, and in a short time our mounts were all side by side on the spur, where we persuaded them to kneel down and tied up their feet. Not seeing the rest of my companions, I climbed downwards and saw two camels with baggage already standing on the steps, but the third was still in the cleft. Ordering Mḥammad and Ismaʻîn to hold the two front camels, I hurried down into the ravine to persuade the stubborn animal to move forward. I led it away from the path until it could see the two camels higher up, then I drove it behind them and it actually jumped up to the first step. But at that moment a stone of no great size worked itself loose from the top of the slope, rolled down, and rebounded in front of the first camel carrying the baggage. At this the beast took fright, wheeled round and stampeded down to the crevice, dragging the two others with it. Ismaʻîn’s camel broke its tether and likewise fled down from the spur. The frightened animals did not come to a halt in the ravine but fled back to the rocky wall on which we had climbed so laboriously through the gap, and did not stop until they reached the very edge of the precipice. My European companions, Rifʻat and Tûmân, held three camels fastened on the spur, while the natives uttered lamentations and curses, exclaiming that they would not move a finger. Paying no heed to them, I ran out on to the spur, unfastened my camel, and brought it down into the crevice again. The guide followed me. Having overtaken the fugitive animals, we chased them back to the path, where we let them rest for a few minutes. In the meanwhile, Tûmân and Rifʻat, having first of all tied up the remaining two camels also by their right forefeet, had collected the scattered baggage and carried it up to the spur. The natives, who were now ashamed, gave aid, so that all our baggage was carried up before long. At last I persuaded my camel to jump up to the steps again. The second one jumped up behind it and followed me as far as the spur. When it had been safely secured there, I returned to the ravine with my camel, to lead up the second and third animals. As I was starting back for the fourth one, my animal began to offer resistance. Jumping out on all fours it lost its balance, rolled over, and began to slip down the rocky slope, dragging me with it. Leaping sliding, we both reached the crevice. The animal was lacerated, my hands and feet were bleeding, and I felt a severe pain in the upper part of my chest, for while falling I had knocked myself against a sharp stone. But I did not lose the camel and finally succeeded in bringing the last animal up to the spur.
TO AN-NAʻEMI
Having secured the luggage, we rode on and at four o’clock reached the summit. We had now completed the worst part of the journey. From four to 4.48 men and animals rested (temperature: 36.5° C). Then, having refreshed ourselves with strong coffee, we set out again. Toward the west we saw the high, black walls of the as-Sîḳ range; to the east were the broken rocks of Ornub; to the southeast there yawned beneath us the unforgettable ravine of aẓ-Ẓjejḳe; and before us extended a region of narrow šeʻibân and rocky knolls. At 5.30 we had reached the pools of the spring of an-Naʻemi in the šeʻîb of the same name. The water of an-Naʻemi is surrounded by steep rocky walls more than two hundred meters high. Beside the water we searched for a path that I would lead to the south or to the east, but we could not find one. Proceeding downward through the šeʻîb, we came to a standstill at the edge of a declivity more than twenty meters deep. Here we branched off into a gap leading eastward, but after half an hour we had to return again because steep rocks prevented us from going on. Šerîf then called out that we were being watched by two men on the hillside. They vanished, however, the moment they perceived that we had observed them. The sun had now set, and we did not know whether they were friends or enemies (temperature: 32.4° C).
Having returned to the šeʻîb of an-Naʻemi, we encamped in the middle of it, so that no stones could be rolled down upon us. Crawling upon my hands and knees I slipped out to the eastern slope to look round for any signs of a fire and to listen for voices from an encampment. Nothing could be seen from the slope, but about two hundred meters to the east there rose the black bulk of a knoll, to which I made my way. From it I saw, at some distance to the southeast of us, the glow of several fires, which I knew must belong to the camp of some clan of the Beni ʻAṭijje. Were the two men, whom we had perceived, from this camp and had they returned there, or were they acting as scouts for robbers and watching the spring of an-Naʻemi to see whether they could water their animals and supply themselves with water there undisturbed? These questions I was unable to answer.
I found the descent of the slope much more dangerous than the ascent, and when, in the morning, I observed the place where I had climbed, I could not understand how I had managed it.
All night long we kept up a big fire and had our rifles loaded beside us, prepared to defend ourselves. None of us closed an eye, but the night was calm.
On Thursday, June 16, 1910, at six o’clock we were drawing near to the water on a fresh search for a path leading to the east, when suddenly we saw two men mounted on camels galloping straight toward us. They waved their rifles and called upon us to surrender if we were enemies. They were shepherds tending the camels of the Beni ʻAṭijje, and they had ridden up to ascertain whether the well of an-Naʻemi were safe or not. Having discovered that we were peaceful travelers, they greeted us and promised that they would lead us to the nearest camp as soon as they had let their camels drink. Jumping down from the saddle, they dug with their hands and sticks a pit about sixty centimeters deep in the sand of the river bed, and it soon filled with water. One man led up the camels; the other stepped into the pit, collected water in a wooden dish, and poured it into a large, deep copper plate, from which the camels drank. While doing this they sang in a monotone. Meantime two other shepherds had driven up two flocks, and I beckoned to my companions to help them dig a new pit and to water the flocks, so that we might depart as soon as possible.
Accompanied by the elder of the shepherds and Tûmân, I climbed a knoll not far off and drew a sketch map of the surrounding district.
Before us, to the east, extended a vast plain covered with hills, cones, horns, mutilated pyramids, and obelisks, just as we had viewed it from Mount aš-Šera’ (see above, pp. 41, 43, 47–49). This was the upland of Ḥesma’. Northeast of us appeared the flat elevation of al-Ṛurûr, from which the šeʻîb of al-Ḥadad extends eastward to the lowland of al-Mamlaḥ, northeast of Tebûk. To the north of al-Ṛurûr is the white plain of ʻElw ar-Rwa’, on the eastern edge of which is situated the cone of Ammu Ẓumejrîne, while east of it, on the left-hand side of the šeʻîb of al-Ḥadad, are the two knolls of al-Ḫwij, and farther to the northeast the al-Mzannad group with the šeʻîb of the same name, which joins al-Ḥadad east of the broad mutilated pyramid of ar-Râkeb and the peaks of Umm ʻAdâme. Farther to the east, under the hill of Umm Ǧeba’, al-Ḥadad is joined by the šeʻîb of Ammu Rḥa’, which rises at the foot of Dafdaf between Ammu Daraǧ and al-Balas. The šeʻîb of aẓ-Ẓamm runs out from the pass Naḳb al-Maḳla. This šeʻîb begins near Šaǧara Maṭʻama, under the name of al-Ḫwejme, and forms the northern border of the cluster of cones known as al-Aḥâwâṭ and Ammu Rẓîm. From the right it receives Ammu Šṭân, formed by the arms of Rakak, ar-Rkejb, and al-Mḥawa, which collect the rain water from the eastern slopes of the mountains of ar-Râḥa, al-Muʻaffara, and al-Ḫejmri and twine around the rocks of Bejdwât and Abu ʻAlejḳât. Lower down aẓ-Ẓamm is joined on the right by the šeʻibân of ʻArejka and Umm Lâṭje, which wind between the rocks of an-Ndêrât, ʻArejka, Abu Zejjer, al-Bâred, and Abu Ṛzejlât; while it is joined on the left by the šeʻibân of al-Mirǧihem and al-Mḥarraḳ. Al-Mirǧihem proceeds from the mountains of ar-Rass, Jabb, and Farʻûn; on the right it receives al-Ḥeseb (which rises near the pass Naḳb al-Ḫeǧijje) and al-Ḫwejmân (which begins in the mountains of al-Lowz, al-Maḳla, and aṯ-Ṯlêṯe); it is divided from al-Ḫwejme by the hills of Moṛr and Abu Daraǧ. Near the latter al-Mirǧihem is joined on the left by the šeʻîb of al-Maḥâš, which begins on the eastern slope of the ad-Darâbîǧ elevation near the mountains of Abu Ḫirḳa. On the western edge of the depression of al-Meḥteṭeb, the šeʻîb of al-Mḥarraḳ, which extends from the hills of al-Amṛar along the low table-shaped hillocks of al-Ḥawṣal, terminates in the šeʻîb of aẓ-Ẓamm. To the east of al-Amṛar, the eastern part of the al-Ḫaẓẓa plain is entered by the šeʻibân of al-Bezwa and al-Awẓâm, which rise west of the railway station of al-Ḥazm in the hills of aṭ-Ṭaff and Ṯṛâr al-Awẓâm.
On the right al-Ḥadad is joined by the šeʻîb of ad-Dṛâle, which begins east of the mountains of Ornub among the rocks of Abu Kṣejme, al-Mḥawwar, Ḫašm Nḳejb, al-Ḳwâra, al-Minḫ, Abu Ḫašaba, Abu Šdâd, and aš-Šiḳîḳ; farther on it is joined by the šeʻîb of Umm Neḳâdât, which separates the hills of al-Mhejmi and al-Ḳwejsi from Umm ʻArejḳîb, Abu Ṭbejḳ, Mšejjiš al-Ḫamîs, Muḥaššar al-Ḥâzem and al-Mhejbel; and finally it is joined by the šeʻîb of aš-Škâʻa.
On our return we found that our companions had been approached by about ten men who eyed us in no very friendly manner. They suspected that we were disguised envoys of the Turkish Government and that it was our purpose to ascertain the number of their flocks in order that higher taxes might be imposed upon them. Not yet having obtained a guide from their tribe, we were without a protector among them. Then one of them said: “Let us get rid of these strangers and divide what they have.” When I heard this, I sprang toward him, seized him by the shoulder and called upon him to repeat his words. He was taken aback and said nothing; after a while he went away. I then asked the others to conduct us to the nearest camp and announced that I was placing myself under the protection of the chief of this camp, before whose countenance I would present myself. In this way I made clear that I recognized this chief, hitherto unknown to me, as being so powerful that he could protect me from his own people. I had accordingly shown him honor and he would have forfeited his honor if he had not actually shown, or at least attempted to show, that he was as powerful as I had conjectured him to be. It was certain that some of the men present would report our conversation and that it would therefore be heard of by the chief to whom I wished to be taken. All who could leave the flocks joined us and guided us to the camp. They were inquisitive as to what would happen to us.
AN-NAʻEMI TO NAḲAʻ ḲEMÂJEM
At 8.20 we left an-Naʻemi (temperature: 30.1° C) and proceeded in a southerly direction on a path which led through a deep gap to the uplands. We had not been able to find this path, because hitherto no flock had been watered at an-Naʻemi. The sand of the river bed had been worn perfectly smooth by the last trickling water, and the entrance to thepath leading from the river bed to the gap was hidden by a high boulder. Between the boulder and the rocky wall beside it there remained a space only about one and five-tenths meters broad, which a short distance farther on was shut off by another boulder on the left, so that from the river bed it seemed as if there were no outlet to the winding path. Entering the upland, we found ourselves in the extensive hollow of Baṭḥ as-Sikâra, running from north to south. On the west this hollow is shut in by the al-Ṛurûr mountain range; on the north by a spur of the same range known as Ḫašm Nḳejb and by the rocks of al-Ḳwâra, al-Minḫ, and Abu Ḫašaba; and on the south by the granite rocks of Abu Ḳṣejme and al-Mḥawwar. Our new guides would not answer a single question. Toward ten o’clock we perceived to the east the first cones, pyramids, knolls, horns, and other shapes, which are so characteristic of the upland of Ḥesma. The šeʻîb broadened out, the separate elevations became flatter, the vegetation more abundant. The various hollows were thickly overgrown with ratam among which tents appeared at intervals. It was not an enclosed camp; instead, the tents were scattered over an area of several square kilometers.
At 10.40 A. M. we halted in front of the chief’s tent (temperature: 34.2°C). Upheld by a single middle pole, it was shabby and full of holes. An old man came out, greeted us, and assigned a place to us between three ratam bushes. There we deposited our baggage. The camels immediately began to graze near by. After a while we were greeted by a youth of about twenty, who welcomed us on behalf of his father, the chief, who was absent on a raid. The youth brought a tent cloth, the old man a few poles and ropes, and with the help of my native companions they set up a temporary tent above our baggage. At my request Šerîf boiled some coffee and served it to all who were present. The youth went off with his cousin to the spring of Ḏjejb, where his goats were to be watered, in order to bring us back a kid.
Our tent soon was full of people. The old man, the brother of the youth’s mother, cautiously enquired where we were going, why we had entered their territory, and what we intended to do afterwards. I replied that we were going direct to Tebûk, that we would visit Ḥarb eben ʻAṭijje, the head chief of all the Beni ʻAṭijje, and that we would return under his protection to the upland of Ḥesma. With a sneer the old man remarked that the Beni ʻAṭijje had no head chief.
“Every chief is his own head chief, and without his permission no stranger may enter his territory, unless he is accompanied by Ḥarb eben ʻAṭijje himself.”
“What thou hast said is true. Every chief of the Beni ʻAṭijje is independent, none is ruled by Ḥarb, but each of them would consider carefully before rebelling against him.”
Ismaʻîn asked the old man whether he could not provide us with a guide to Tebûk. The old man described the dangers threatening the guide on the way there and back and said that we should have to be accompanied by at least ten armed men.
I said: “If Allâh allows us to be attacked by a strong band of enemies, your ten armed men will run away or surrender just like a single guide. Therefore I will go from here to Tebûk either with one guide or with none.”
The old man beckoned to Ismaʻîn and went out with him from the tent into the bushes. After a long time, when the youth had already returned with the kid, Ismaʻîn came up to me and announced that our host, the chief’s son, with his cousin would accompany us to Tebûk for a fee of ten English pounds. This amount I could not pay, and I declared that even ten meǧîdijjât ($9.00) would be a great deal for this journey. Ismaʻîn pointed out the dangers by which we were threatened, as hitherto we had no protector among the Beni ʻAṭijje, who were accustomed to cheat and rob the pilgrims and traders who passed through their territory. He therefore persuaded me to summon the youth and the old man and to discuss the matter with them. Sitting down about a hundred paces from the tent, we negotiated for a long time and finally agreed that the youth should accompany us for fifteen meǧîdijjât ($13.50), but only to within sight of Tebûk; as soon as Tebûk came into view, he was to return. He was afraid that on his way back he might be attacked and robbed on the road through the bare plain between Tebûk and the western mountains. The greedy old man demanded two meǧîdijjât ($ 1.80) for the kid and one meǧîdijje (90 cents) for the fuel and the labor of preparing the meal. Yet we had scarcely tasted any of the kid’s flesh, for it was eaten up by the rest of those who were present, and we were given neither bread, rice, nor even milk. After the meal I went away with the youth and Tûmân to a cone not far off, in order that we might note down the position and direction of the various localities. Our camels were already prepared for departure, but the guide still lingered, his excuse being that his riding camel had not yet arrived. At last, losing patience, I jumped up into the saddle, my companions followed my example, and at 5.30 we rode out of the camp and did not trouble about a guide. As a parting word I told those present that, if he did not overtake us before sunset, we would announce everywhere how faithfully the son of the chief of the Beni ʻAṭijje had kept his word. That proved effective. Scarcely twenty minutes had elapsed before the young guide galloped up to us.
We proceeded in a southeasterly direction through the rocky plain of Baṭḥ as-Sikâra, from which numerous isolated rocks project. Where any quantity of mould had accumulated, various plants were growing, and the camels and goats grazed upon them. In the rays of the setting sun the region was filled with a riot of beautiful colors. The blackened surfaces of the sandstone, leveled down by wind and rain, glistened as if molten iron had been poured over them. The rich green stood out sharply against the ruddy background. The walls and slopes which were turned towards the sun glowed blood-red and their angles seemed to be lined with purple. Fire blazed from each edge. The northern and southern slopes were as if painted a dark blue. In the deep gaps between the various knolls and cones there were already displayed dense, violet-colored veils of mist, above which a golden-yellow firmament was arched.
The road was good, being devoid of stones or débris. At eight o’clock we came upon a clear, white, bare, dry, clay surface. It was the dried-up rain pond Naḳaʻ Ḳemâjem, the eastern extremity of which we reached at 8.20. From it to the east extends a broad, sandy drift, the northern slope of which falls off about fifteen meters. To the north there rises a rock, against which the west wind beats and scatters the sand southward, so that between the rock and the drift there remains a passage about twenty meters broad, covered only with a thin sandy layer in which ʻarfeǧ grows. In this passage we encamped at 8.30 P. M. Our camels grazed on the ʻarfeǧ, while in a rocky hollow we lit a cheerful fire and prepared an abundant supper. We were all hungry, for we had eaten scarcely anything throughout the day. The fire could not be seen from either side.
NAḲAʻ ḲEMÂJEM TO BERḲA’-D-DIMEŽ
On Friday, June 17, 1910, refreshed by a peaceful sleep, we left our camping place at 4.42 A. M. (temperature: 19° C) and proceeded in a southeasterly direction. Our guide led us to an isolated reddened knoll, behind which is the water of al-Bêr. South of Naḳaʻ Ḳemâjem project the rocks of Ḳalʻat az-Zaʻejter, Abu Zummârîn, al-Mlosoma, and Ǧimmed; and to the north are Abu Ḫašaba, Abu Šdâd, aš-Šiḳîḳ, and Mhejmi. During the ride I asked the guide for news, and there was one thing I heard which distressed me very much. I had intended that from al-Muʻaẓẓam we should visit the oasis of Tejma, explore the region east of the railway, and meet the Weld ʻAli and Weld Slîmân, whose acquaintance I had made in the spring of 1909. But from the guide I learned that both the Weld ʻAli and the Weld Slîmân had fled away from the regions situated east of the railway and that the Turkish gendarmes had been driven from the oasis of Tejma.
Zâmel eben Subhân, guardian of Prince Saʻûd eben Rašîd, who was about ten years old, had undertaken a great military expedition against the above-mentioned tribes and the oasis of Tejma. The Weld ʻAli were encamped by Medâjen Ṣâleḥ. On June 6 or 7 their shepherds announced the arrival of Eben Rašîd. The Weld ʻAli sent the women with the baggage into the fortress, drove the flocks into the western defiles, and occupied the heights which rise on the western side of the fortress. The army of Eben Rašîd encamped to the northeast of Medâjen Ṣâleḥ, surrounded the Turkish fortress, and the troops watered their camels and horses from the wells belonging to the Turkish soldiers. The Turkish garrison, shut up as they were in the fortress, could in no way hinder them. Wishing to entice the Weld ʻAli from their advantageous position, Eben Subhân ordered the tents to be struck and began to retreat. He left only a small detachment by the wells, which was attacked and pursued by the Weld ʻAli. But the pursuers were surrounded and defeated, losing eighty-six rifles and seventy riding camels. Eben Subhân proceeded to the oasis of Tejma, drove away the Turkish garrison, had the staunchest adherents of the Government beheaded, and set up his own deputy in the oasis. From Tejma Eben Subhân had intended to attack al-Ǧowf, but, learning that the Rwala had not yet left the depression of Sirḥân, he turned to the southeast in order to subdue the Weld Slîmân. No Arabs remained between the oasis of Tejma, Medâjen Ṣâleḥ, and al-Muʻaẓẓam. The Weld ʻAli marched northwards, pressing on against their enemies the Beni ʻAṭijje, who fled before them to Mount aš-Šera’ or to the volcanic territory al-Ḥarra or the uplands of Ḥesma. The father of our guide had gone on a marauding expedition against al-Âjde, a clan of the Weld ʻAli, who were said to have encamped near the central part of the al-Aḫẓar valley. In the neighborhood of Tebûk there were no Arabs, we were told, because bands of marauders were continually passing that way and disturbing the flocks.
This was sad news for us. The journey to Tejma east of the railway was out of the question, nor was it possible to send our exhausted and starving camels to recover in some camp in the vicinity of Tebûk. We had intended to allow the camels ten to fourteen days’ rest with abundant pasture, and only then to start on the new journey.
On our left hand we had the cones of al-Maḫarûḳa, az-Zebedijje, and the pyramid of Umm ʻArejḳîb; on our right hand the huge pyramid of Ḳalʻat az-Zaʻejter. At 6.03 we reached the well of al-Bêr and remained there until 6.28 (temperature: 24.5° C). This well is situated at the northwestern foot of the sandstone cone bearing the same name; it is two to three meters deep and contains only rain water. If there is no rain for two or three years, it dries up. On the surrounding sandstone walls we observed numerous carved images of camels, goats, ibexes, ostriches, and horses, but we found no inscriptions. A few men and women were watering long-haired goats, and from them I bought a goat, which Ismaʻîn immediately sacrificed in honor of the spirit that filled the well with water.
The men asked our guide when his father would set out for the al-Kerak territory to fetch grain. It seems that in July every clan of the Beni ʻAṭijje sends some men with a flock of camels to the regions of aṭ-Ṭafîle, al-Kerak, or Mâdaba, east of the Dead Sea, in order to sell the camels there and with the proceeds to purchase grain and particularly barley. Such an expedition for grain is known by the Beni ʻAṭijje as ḫaṭar. The guide complained of the Government for levying tolls on every load of grain.
Above the well some raḫam birds (Egyptian vultures) were wheeling, and the men shot at them. They would have liked to bring down at least one, in order to have the flesh for their comrade who had been bitten by a serpent. They suppose that there is no better remedy for the bite of a serpent than the flesh of these birds. The person bitten is allowed to eat only their flesh and must rub their fat into his wound.
The well of al-Bêr is hidden among countless isolated peaks, cones, obelisks, mutilated pyramids, and other formations produced by the joint action of rain, wind, and sand. To the west rises the mutilated pyramid of al-Ǧimmed and to the southwest the peak of Ummu Rkejbe; south of Ummu Rkejbe is the hollow obelisk of Šaʻarat al-ʻEfâš and farther on in the same direction the knoll of al-Melḥem with the pyramid of al-Ǧemez to the east of it. Beyond are the rocks of Ḫejrâb, Bḫejrân, al-ʻÂṣi, Ašhab, and aš-Šaʻara, and the mutilated cone of Belâl to the north of the last-named. East of al-Bêr projects the prism of Ab-al-Ḳûr, northwest of which is the obelisk of ʻÂḳer; and to the north of al-Bêr rise the severed cone of al-Maḫarûḳa, the group of peaks known as az-Zebedijje, and Umm ʻArejḳîb, behind which are seen the flattened knolls of the table-shaped rocks of Abu Ṭbejḳ and al-Mhejmi.
At 7.20 we caught the first glimpse of the volcanic region Ḥarrat ar-Rḥa’ to the southeast. A black rampart, as if heaped up by giants, rises to the east and fades from view far on the southern horizon. This rampart forms the southern frontier of the uplands of Ḥesma.
We rode along the broad, rocky elevations, upon which are situated isolated remains of strata that have been carried away. These rocks, the last memorials of bygone mountains, display curious shapes, according to the manner in which the different strata have resisted erosion. Almost directly in front of us rose the crag of al-ʻUwêḳer, composed of three circular rocks of decreasing size set one upon the other. The heat increased, the air did not stir, and the sun was surrounded with a yellow disk. Between Abu Ṭbejḳ and Berḳa ʻÎd the rocky plain is covered with coarse gravel, débris, and boulders, between which the camels could advance only with very great caution (Fig. 60).
Ismaʻîn and Mḥammad wished to leave me at Tebûk and were already looking forward with pleasure to the reward which they would receive for services rendered. The nearer we approached to Tebûk, the more obliging and dutiful did they become, and Ismaʻîn even composed a poem in which he celebrated our journey and extolled my gratitude and lavishness. But his poem did not meet with the approval of Mḥammad, who corrected various verses, replaced several words by more beautiful ones, and reproached Ismaʻîn with not knowing the poetical language and using expressions which no poet would employ. Ismaʻîn was annoyed at this and referred to the legend about the Beni Helâl, from which he knew several poems by heart and in which the same words occurred. Mḥammad laughed, because, as he was unable to read, he had never read the tales and poems about the Beni Helâl. He said Ismaʻîn composed bad poems and that no Bedouin would express himself in such a way, though Ismaʻîn imitated the speech of the Bedouins.
At nine o’clock, to the east we perceived the broad notch of al-Fûha (Fig. 61), which runs from west to east through the ridge of Umm Ǧalâd. The isolated rocks, so distinctively characteristic of Ḥesma, had vanished; and in their place appeared rugged elevations and plateaus between which there were neither gullies nor valleys but only level stretches of varying size, partly covered with sand, so that the water was lost in them. The plateaus are mostly flat, only here and there overlooked by dark, isolated knolls.
At 9.55, on our right by the spur of Nedrat as-Sbâʻ, we found a winding path running through a growth of yellowish grass and luxuriant shrubs, amongst which we remained until 12.13. The sweltering heat was unbearable, the air was filled with fine sand, and the sun could not be seen. At one o’clock to the east we saw the knoll of Ḫalâḫel, to the north the dome of Ammu Frûẓ, and beyond it Mšejš al-Ḫamîs. Behind every shrub there glistened from west to east a sand drift, which fell away abruptly towards the east, showing that westerly winds prevail. At 2.50 we entered the broad notch of al-Fûha bordered by high, steep walls (temperature: 35° C). At three 
Fig. 60
Fig. 61
Fig. 60—Ammu Frûẓ from the south (near Berḳa ʻÎd)
Fig. 61—The notch of al-Fûha from the west. o’clock we observed the tracks of about thirty riders on camels. These tracks were scarcely more than twenty-four hours old and were directed toward the east. We knew that a band of raiders was proceeding that way, but it was not certain whether they were friends or enemies, whether they were riding due east or had branched off and were encamping somewhere to the right or left of the road.
Suddenly, from the southeast, a strong wind began to blow, raising and filling the air with sand and flinging it into our eyes. The sand was most dense in a layer up to a height of about two meters, above which it began to grow thinner. Finding it impossible to see where we were going, we covered our faces and did not attempt to guide the camels. Every ten minutes or so the wind would subside and the sand would sink down for two or three minutes, but even in these moments of peace it was impossible to see as far as four hundred meters. The grains of sand penetrated through our clothes and into our mouths, eyes, noses, ears, and skin, and caused us a curious nervous pain. After 3.30 the rocky gap grew wider and the onslaught of the sand became all the stronger. We sought a shelter in which to wait until the storm passed, but in vain. Not until after five o’clock did I perceive on our left, on the slope of Ammu Zrûḳ, a ravine, and with my weary camel I made my way towards it. The ravine led into a deep hollow where we descended at 5.18. Here in places was a growth of ṛaẓa bushes, which our camels completely devoured after a few minutes and then vainly searched for more. The hollow was enclosed by walls about one hundred meters high, across which the sand was carried, so that only an insignificant amount of it fell on us. In a small cleft in the southeastern rocky wall we made a fire and prepared our supper. At eight o’clock we rode on. The storm still continued, but we had to proceed on our way if we wished to reach Tebûk in time. We passed through a defile in the plateau of al-Medârîǧ amid rugged and bare rocks until 10.18 P. M., when we encamped among the rocks Berḳa’-d-Dimež.
BERḲA’-D-DIMEŽ TO TEBÛK
On Saturday, June 18, 1910, early in the morning I climbed with Mḥammad to a neighboring rock to get a view of the surrounding district. To the northwest I saw the reddened rocks Berḳa’-d-Dimež, partly covered with sand; to the north of them were the yellow rocks of Ferdât al-Aṭraš and in the angle formed by the two, on the right of the river bed of al-Ḥadad, the wells Ḳulbân ad-Dimež; far to the north there were to be seen several black hills of al-ʻÂǧât, and to the southeast of them, a long ridge straggling to the southeast, the steep slope of the mountains of Birḳa Šarôra, Ammu Ṛẓejje, al-Ṛawânem, and aẓ-Ẓufejjer.[2]
Between the slope of aẓ-Ẓufejjer and the region of Ḥesma there extends an undulating plain which near al-ʻÂǧât is known as al-ʻArâjed,[3] farther to the south as al-Ḫaẓẓa, to the north of the settlement of Tebûk as al-Meḥteṭeb, and, to the southeast of this settlement, as al-Eṯêli.
On our return we dismissed the guide. He had begged flour, salt, coffee, sugar, ammunition, etc.
At 5.05 we proceeded eastward (temperature: 15.5° C). In front of us stretched a large plain, from which isolated heaps of rock projected here and there. Numerous drifts of sand extended from west to east, overgrown with high and massive ṛaẓa bushes. Mḥammad explained that before the railway was built it was impossible even to penetrate the ṛaẓa thickets, but it could be seen that since then the woodcutters had been busy there. The wood of the ṛaẓa is conveyed to Tebûk and from there sent by railway as fuel for the various garrisons guarding the railway. Also to the north and northeast of Tebûk there are extensive ṛaẓa shrubberies, in which the inhabitants of Tebûk burn charcoal.
After six o’clock, having crossed the šeʻîb of al-ʻWejned, we perceived a dark strip in front of us: the palm gardens of Tebûk. At 6.40 we rode through the broad šeʻîb of al-Baḳḳâr and to the south observed the garden of ar-Râjes, which belongs to the chief, Ḥarb eben ʻAṭijje. Southeast of it appeared a small grove near which is situated the copious well of Ǧerṯûma. Beyond the šeʻîb of al-Muʻejṣi, which we crossed at 7.10, the ground rises toward the east and forms a broad elevation about thirty meters high upon which the oasis of Tebûk is situated. To the south of it projects the isolated crag of al-Ḥṣejb. North of the oasis could be seen the station building with a windmill which pumps water from the well at the railway station. At eight o’clock we reached the northern extremity of the oasis where we induced our camels to kneel down by some eṯel trees.
SOJOURN AT TEBÛK
My companions remained in the shadow of the trees while Ismaʻîn and I went to the station to look for Ǧwâd, the clerk. Gwâd had transported our supplies from the settlement of Maʻân to the oasis of Tebûk where he was to deposit them in the house of Mr. Sarikakis, a trader who rented stores and inns at all the larger stations of the Pilgrim Road from Damascus to al-ʻEla’. We discovered Ǧwâd in a spacious hut of unburnt brick, with a single apartment used by Mr. Sarikakis as an inn, a shop, a storehouse, and a dwelling. We returned with Ǧwâd to our friends, deposited the baggage under the etl trees where we pitched our tents, unsaddled the camels, and sent them with a hired shepherd to pasture. We then went off to the hut of Mr. Sarikakis in order to inspect our supplies and to provide ourselves with what was necessary. The baskets and bags containing our supplies lay in a narrow yard behind the hut. They had been gnawed by mice, and much of the food had gone mouldy. The ground and the air contained much moisture which penetrated particularly into the dried vegetables and sugar.
In the afternoon I went with Ismaʻîn to the mudîr, or representative of the Turkish Government. He lived in the first story of a little, tumble-down fortress and was sitting on a tattered carpet, upon which I likewise sat down. The mudîr was by no means pleased at my visit. He returned my greeting only with a nod of the head, my letters of recommendation he did not even want to look at, and he slowly went on copying out the Government orders word by word, taking no further notice of me. He offered me neither coffee nor cigarettes.
Fig. 62—Our encampment, Tebûk. After a while the little room was filled with settlers from Tebûk, who all looked at me inquisitively. Neither the mudîr nor the gendarmes had any great knowledge of Arabic. A young gendarme asked me where I came from, where I wanted to go, what my business was, what I thought of political affairs in the Ḥeǧâz, etc. As I did not answer some of the questions at all, and others only very curtly, he started a conversation with Ismaʻîn, from whom he learnt a great deal except that it was all invention. I told the mudîr that after a few days I was leaving for Medâjen Ṣâleḥ and that I wanted him to let me have a reliable guide. The mudîr wagged his head several times and groaned at the difficulties of his position. The young gendarme accompanied me to our encampment (Fig. 62), where he found out who Rifʻat and Tûmân were and why they were going with me, since there was nothing about them in my orders. From various hints I gathered that he was longing for gifts, both for himself and the mudîr. I assured him that I would reward everyone who did me any favor, but only after it had been done and not before. He warned me not to encamp so far from the oasis, saying that it would be better if we were to pitch our tents in the garden near the fortress so that all could protect us. When I remarked that there were enough of us and that we had good firearms to repel any attack by robbers, should the gallant gendarmes not come to our assistance, he offered to remain with us and guard us. Knowing that he would only annoy us with his begging and that he would fleece us, I declined his offer with thanks, pointing out that the mudîr would not be able to fulfil his onerous duties without him and that, far from wishing to cause the mudîr any trouble, it was my desire rather to make things easier for him. The gendarme was not pleased at my attitude. He went away in vexation, remarking that he would at once send a report to Damascus that two disguised foreigners were traveling with me. After his departure we arranged the scientific material which we had collected.
On Sunday, June 19, 1910, very early in the morning, assisted by Mḥammad I drew a sketch map of the territory between the Pilgrim Road, the depression of Sirḥân, and the desert of the Nefûd. At noon I was visited by ʻAbdarraḥmân Effendi, the superintendent of the temporary quarantine station. He invited me to take up my quarters with him in the station, where he had prepared three rooms for me and my companions. I thanked him for his invitation and promised that we would perhaps make the move some day or other. Toward evening I paid Mḥammad and Ismaʻîn their wages and added various gifts, such as cloaks and headcloths, and at midnight they departed by railway for Maʻân.
On Monday, June 20, 1910, Ǧwâd brought to me an old man of the Beni ʻAṭijje tribe, named Sbejḥ, who wished to accompany me. He had brought charcoal to Tebûk on his camel during the night and was to take away a supply of various wares to a peddler who happened to be sojourning among his clan. But the wares had not yet arrived from Damascus and therefore he did not wish to wait several days at Tebûk for nothing and would be glad of the opportunity of earning something extra. Wishing to ascertain the extent of his knowledge and his ability, I went with him to the top of a high sand drift to the west of the gardens of Tebûk and from his indications drew a sketch map of the surrounding district. Comparing his statements with the notes and the map which I had prepared previously, I found that he was well acquainted with the whole region from the šeʻîb of al-Ḳena’ in the south to the šeʻîb of az-Zejte in the north. I therefore hired him as a guide.
Before noon Sâlem, the clerk and representative of the chief, Ḥarb eben ʻAṭijje, came to us. He greeted me very humbly, offered me his services, and assured me that he would rest neither by day or night until he had fulfilled my every desire. After a while he also began to ask who Rifʻat and Tûmân were, why they did not pray and did not speak either Arabic or Turkish. He explained to me that in recent years several foreigners had come to Tebûk, all of whom he had served willingly and faithfully, so that they had given him and his chief various precious things as keepsakes. I thanked him for his goodwill, overwhelmed him with pleasant words, and dismissed him with the assurance that I would satisfy everyone who satisfied me by aiding me materially to fulfil the task which Allâh himself had imposed upon me.
Soon after that there came to me a gendarme named Ḫalîl, an elderly Kurd, and warned me against Sâlem. He declared that in the whole of Tebûk and the distant surrounding area, where he had now been serving for fifteen years, there was no greater extortioner than Sâlem and that he fleeced not only the natives but also strangers. Thus recently, he said, two strangers had come to Tebûk and had wished to visit the ruins of Ṛwâfa. Sâlem had promised that he would guide them there; he described the journey as being so distant and dangerous that he might lose his life on it, yet nevertheless he said that he would do all in his power to protect them from every danger, if they gave him sixty Turkish pounds ($ 270). The strangers actually gave him fifty-five pounds ($ 247). Of this sum he distributed twenty pounds ($ 90) between the mudîr and the gendarmes and kept thirty-five ($ 157) for himself. Escorted by the gendarmes, he led the strangers toward Ṛwâfa, but they actually visited only the small heaps of old ruins and tombs of Rǧûm Šowhar situated about four hours south of Tebûk, and he returned with them on the same day. In the neighborhood of Ḳṣejr at-Tamra the gendarmes said they had discovered the tracks of a hostile band, and they so frightened the strangers that they themselves asked that the journey be cut short and that they return to Tebûk. When the strangers later heard from their servant that they had been cheated, they wanted to set out on the journey afresh, but then nobody would accompany them. They asked to have their money returned to them but obtained nothing.
Ḫalîl wished me to take him as a companion. He had a numerous family, and his income as a gendarme was not enough for food, let alone for clothing for his two wives and children. He admitted that he did not know the names of the localities, but on the other hand he was acquainted with the chiefs of the Beni ʻAṭijje, as he had spent fifteen years in Tebûk and the neighborhood. He had been the commander of a Turkish garrison in the oasis of Tejma and had returned from there not long previously. What he had saved at Tejma had been taken from him by the Šammar of Eben Rašîd, so that he and his family had arrived empty-handed. I liked him. I wanted to help him, and I knew that in return for such help I should win him over so that he would not cause me any difficulties on my journey. He was the best of all the gendarmes of Tebûk who had hitherto offered me their services, and accordingly I told him that he and nobody else should accompany me. But this caused him misgivings; he wished to have instructions from his superiors that he might come with me. He was surprised that no answer had yet arrived from Damascus to the telegraphic inquiry whether any gendarme was to accompany me or not. The telegraphic inquiry, he said, had been written by the young gendarme; it stated that I wished to proceed from Tebûk to Eben Rašîd and to Eben Šaʻlân. I could not understand how a gendarme could send such an inquiry to Damascus, seeing that I had not said a word about my intentions of going to those two men. I had distinctly told the mudîr that I wished to remain only in the region to the west of the railway between Tebûk and Medâjen Ṣâleḥ.
Toward noon Ǧwâd informed me that Sâlem would not allow Sbejḥ to accompany me, because the mudîr announced that I should obtain no guide and should not be allowed to leave Tebûk until an answer had arrived from Damascus. He had given the gendarmes instructions to watch me so that I should not leave without permission. Sâlem assured me that both he and the mudîr were alarmed for my safety and that it was only from love of me and my parents that they would not allow me to proceed to certain death. The Beni ʻAṭijje, he said, did not obey the Government, nor did the Ḥwêṭât at-Tihama, and their territories were frequented by gangs of robbers, so that we should assuredly perish if we were to leave Tebûk without the necessary military escort.
Fig. 63—Tebûk and environs. In addition to that, the mudîr must inform Damascus that I was accompanied by two other foreigners who knew neither Arabic nor Turkish and to whom there was no reference in my official documents. I knew that the journey among the fanatical population of the Ḥeǧâz involved great danger, but I also knew that both the mudîr and Sâlem were purposely exaggerating the danger in order to extort gold and other gifts. I sent a message by Ǧwâd to both of them that I relied upon Allâh and his protection and that I would not yield until I had fully carried out my task; that if they would support me effectively, then I would reward their assistance with gold and other gifts; that Tûmân and Rifʻat were my servants, that I could take whom I wanted as my servants, and that neither the mudîr nor Sâlem nor the Governor at Damascus could prohibit my doing so.
In the afternoon, accompanied by ʻAbdarraḥmân Effendi, we proceeded with Tûmân on an excursion through Tebûk and its environs in order to draw a sketch map of this settlement.
Fig. 64—Around the spring, Tebûk.
TEBÛK
Tebûk is situated on a vast rise, which is especially conspicuous from the south and west but which sinks gradually to the north and east down to the surrounding lowlands (Fig. 63). Somewhere in the center of this elevation there is a spring which is so abundant that the water penetrates the sand drifts and flows over the surrounding district. The water has a temperature of 26° C and is yellowish in color. Around the spring there are three cement reservoirs (Fig. 64), set up, not on the hard soil, but on the drifted sand. From the reservoirs, in which it attains a depth of one and a half to three meters, the water is conducted by artificial canals into the surrounding gardens, where date palms, fig trees, pomegranates, and various vegetables thrive. Not long ago the whole area around the spring formed a single palm grove, but the central part of the grove was cut away in order that the west wind might have free access to the stronghold and settlement and disperse the malaria from which the inhabitants were suffering severely. To the west of the spring the chief Ḥarb eben ʻAṭijje had fenced off a part of the ground with a wall of unburnt brick and had established a new garden, in which he had planted date palms, pomegranates, and a few fig trees, and his gardener cultivated vegetables there. But the artificial wall of this garden aroused the wrath of the wind, which deposited sand against it; the drift increased in size, surmounted the wall, and the sand was scattered into the garden. The gardens of Tebûk form the shape of a horseshoe open towards the northeast, and they enfold the stronghold and the settlement. The stronghold, which rises a few meters to the northeast of the spring, is a rectangular stone building of no great height, without side towers, and recalls the medieval structures on the Pilgrim Route. A narrow gate leads into a courtyard, around which dwelling places, storerooms, and stables flank the walls. An open staircase leads to the first floor, which is built along two sides of the wall. In the courtyard there is a well about four meters deep, with good water. From the stronghold a short road of no great width runs nearly due east between huts built of sun-dried brick and broken stone. Of these there are fewer than forty. By the northeastern extremity of the village, near a small mosque built by Italian masons, there is a well about six meters deep. Still farther to the northeast there are wells here and there, which become deeper and deeper the farther one goes; the well by the railway station, from which water is obtained for the engines, is twenty-four meters deep. By the eastern (Fig. 65) and northern extremities of the gardens the sandy soil is sown with barley after abundant rains. In years when there is little rain the barley is not sown, and even when there has been ample rain the ground has to be carefully watered from the neighboring wells, as otherwise it would dry up. About two hundred paces to the east of the eastern extremity of the gardens some huts have been built for the soldiers, and to the northeast of them a large quarantine station has been established for the pilgrims. To the south of this station rise the two isolated crags of al-Ḥṣejb where the stone is hewn for the buildings of Tebûk.
About fifteen families, constituting the original inhabitants of Tebûk, are descended from the Ḥamâjde tribe and are called al-Ḥmejdât. They have a chief from the family of the ʻAwad. The rest are immigrant railroad workmen who have no gardens. The chief Ḥarb eben ʻAṭijje set up two huts and planted a garden in Tebûk. When we returned, we found our camels already in the encampment. They were hungry, for in the šeʻîb of ʻArejḳên, below Tebûk to the southeast, there was very little vegetation, and we could not drive them elsewhere for fear of robbers.
Fig. 65—The eastern extremity of the oasis of Tebûk from the north. Ǧwâd drew my attention to their feet, which were in a bad state from walking on the sharp stones of the rocky Ḥeǧâz. Two of the camels had the skin of the soles of their forefeet already torn away in places. A sharp stone could have penetrated them. On the advice of Ǧwâd we bought naphtha, saltpeter, and sulphur, and rubbed their feet with this mixture. In the evening we determined our geographical latitude.
On Tuesday, June 21, 1910, in the morning, we drew a sketch map of the region through which we were to travel with our guide Sbejḥ. Before noon Sâlem, the representative of the chief Ḥarb, came to us with the chief Daʻsân âl Zelʻ, of the Rawâẓîn family of the Sbût clan, likewise belonging to the Beni ʻAṭijje. The latter had arrived at Tebûk in the night with several camel riders for salt and clothing material. His attitude towards me was very friendly, but he warned me against traveling to the south, because, he said, many marauding gangs, both large and small, were wandering about there. Seeing that I did not intend to abandon my plan, he offered to accompany me himself as far as his encampment near the spring of ar-Rawjân, and he said that there he would find me a reliable guide to the territory of the Ḥwêṭât and Beli. In the further course of the conversation I gathered that he would not allow me to pass through his territory without his permission, because several times he remarked that the Sultan ruled in Constantinople, but that he was the one who ruled on his own pastures and that Ḥarb eben ʻAṭijje and the mudîr from Tebûk were still more insignificant in his eyes than the Sultan. To my question as to when I could start he replied that I should make all preparations for departure, that he would go with his people for salt to the salt marsh of al-Mamlaḥ northeast of Tebûk, and that on the next day he would return and take me with him. About his pay he said nothing. When he was leaving, I told Ǧwâd to go with him and ask him how much he would expect me to give. Ǧwâd returned with the sad news that Daʻsân demanded fifty Turkish pounds ($ 225) and had declared that if he did not get as much as he wanted he would not take me with him and would not allow me to pass through his territory. As his territory bordered on the northern edge of the ḥarra (tract of country covered with lava), I could not reach the territory of the Ḥwêṭât and the Beli by any other way. It was accordingly necessary for me either to fulfil his desire and to go with him or else to cross the frontier of his territory before he returned to his camp. From Tebûk it would take us at the most two days to reach the spring of ar-Rawjân in the vicinity of which Daʻsân’s clan was encamped and for this journey Daʻsân demanded fifty Turkish pounds! In his camp I should have been completely dependent upon him, and I feared that he would have demanded fresh money both for himself and for the new guide and would thus have rendered it impossible for me to continue my journey. The craving for gold and for profit was already aroused both in the mudîr, the representative of the chief Ḥarb eben ʻAṭijje, and in Daʻsân, and it was therefore necessary for me to get away as quickly as possible. I sent each of these three persons a trifling gift as a bait and prepared to shift my quarters to the quarantine.
- ↑ In the literature dealing with the pilgrims, the oasis of Šarma is called al-Ḳaṣab. Abu-l-Feda’, Muḫtaṣar (Adler), Vol. 5, p. 334, made a pilgrimage with his master to Mecca in the year 1320 A. D., and he greeted the new moon of al-Muḥarram (Feb. 12) at the halting place of al-Ḳaṣab, about four days’ march from Ajla in the direction of Janbaʻ.
- ↑ According to Jâḳût, Muʻǧam (Wüstenfeld), Vol. 3, p. 475, Ḏu Ḍafîr is a mountain in Syria. He recalls a verse composed by the vice-governor and poet an-Naʻmân ibn Bašîr, a contemporary of Caliph Moawiyah, in the camp of the Ḳajn tribe at al-Ḥafr in which mention is made of Ḏu Ḍafîr, Ra’is, and Maṛân. In Abu-l-Faraǧ, Aṛâni (Bûlâḳ, 1285 A. H.), Vol. 14, pp. 124 f., the verse runs differently.—Maṛân, about which Jâḳût knew nothing, is probably a transcription from Maʻân. Instead of al-Ḥafr I would read al-Ǧafr, and I would locate the camp of the Ḳajn tribe to the east of Maʻân in the lowland of al-Gafar, where there is an abundance of water. I identify Ḏu Ḍafîr with our Ẓufejjer, and Râ’is with the well of ar-Râjes situated to the west of Ẓufajjer.Jâḳût, op. cit., Vol. 2, p. 745, calls Râ’is a well of the Beni Fezâra—and at ar-Râjes, six kilometers to the south of Tebûk, there is an abundance of water. Whether this well ever belonged to the Fezâra is doubtful, but it is possible that during the years of drought they encamped at ar-Râjes as guests and dug a well there. Even today we have wells named after clans whose pastures are situated hundreds of kilometers away.
- ↑ Meḥmed Edîb describes (Menâzil [Constantinople, 1232 A. H.], pp. 72—73) Ḳâʻ al-Busajṭ, which he also calls ʻArâ’id, Meḫâr, Ruhejbe, as well as Ḳâʻ aṣ-Ṣaṛîr. He asserts that it is situated thirteen hours from Ḏât al-Ḥaǧǧ in a sandy plain. At about the center of the plain there rises a high mountain called Šarôra’. In the year of the Heǧra 1121 (1757—1758 A. D.) the pilgrims were attacked and robbed there. To the right of the halting place a mosque and a pulpit can be observed on the hill. Neither a stronghold nor a reservoir was built there, and therefore the military escort brings water from Ḏât al-Ḥaǧǧ.—The plain of al-ʻArâjed is enclosed to the east by Mount Šarôra’, the peak of which rises up like a pulpit and is therefore known as al-Mambar. It is probably identical with the pulpit to which Meḥmed Edîb refers. Nobody there at the present time knows of a mosque.Jâḳût, op. cit., Vol. 3, pp. 282 f., mentions Mount Šarôra’ rising to the east of Tebûk.