Part 41 (1/2)
”No, great many more things I cannot now recollect.”
The camel, I think, was introduced into Africa about the third century.
It is a mistake to say, Mahomet did no miracles. The people in North Africa and The Desert all relate miracles performed by Mahomet. The Prophet, however, repudiates miracles in the Koran. In Surats xiii. and xvii., in answer to miracles demanded, the Prophet replies by the knock-down argument, ”All miracles are vain. Whom G.o.d directs, believes; whom he causes to err, errs.” Our conversation pa.s.sed to old Yousef Bashaw, whose family the Porte has deposed. Mr. Gagliuffi observed justly, and which so often happens in despotic countries, ”Yousef established Tripoli and its provinces in one firm united kingdom, and in the early part of his life his power was respected and his people happy; but as the Bashaw declined in life, he again disorganized everything, and Tripoli was rent in pieces.” Went to visit a member of the Divan. All these despotic Bashaws consult or prompt a mute Divan. Let us hope the Consulta lately a.s.sembled by Pius IX. will turn out something better than these mute Divans, or a Buonaparte Senate. We were treated with coffee, and milk, sour milk (or leben), but not skimmed, which is considered a great luxury, and only presented to strangers of consequence.
_3rd._--We received a visit from the Bey, as he is sometimes called, the commander of the troops, who is a very sociable kind-hearted little fellow. Mr. Gagliuffi related some of the atrocities which were committed by the troops previous to the commander's arrival. They killed a woman, committed rape on a child, were never sober, and always quarrelling with the inhabitants. They are now reduced to discipline and order. One day Mohammed Effendi said to Mr. Gagliuffi, ”I am always at work, either making improvements in the town or exercising the troops, but who sees me here, no one recognizes my conduct in The Desert.” The Consul endeavoured to console the desponding officer by observing, G.o.d saw him, and one day would reward him for his good works. So we see, the Turks are a part of the human race after all, and could lead on their fellow-creatures in the way of improvement if their energies were properly directed. Africa could be greatly benefitted by the Turks. Even at Mourzuk they are introducing things which will soon be imitated at Bornou. Not being infidels, the same objection does not exist against their innovations as against us Christians. Even in the little matter of gloves I saw an immense difference. The officers here wear gloves, and nothing is thought of it.
People do not say to them as they have said to me at Ghat and Ghadames, ”You have the devil's hands.” Mohammed Effendi actually went so far as to make this speech, ”I shall go to England one day in order that I may learn something.” The grand occupation of the Commander now is, the building of a guard-house within the city. This occupies his attention morning, noon, and night; and it certainly has a good appearance. There is not such a natty thing in Tripoli. The officer directs all the works, and is a.s.sisted occasionally by the friendly counsel of the Consul; so that a wonder of architecture will at last be reared amidst the crumbling-down places of this city of hovels.
My Said returned this afternoon, bringing the baggage from The Wady. Five more slaves of Haj Ibrahim are sick. His first slave adventure at Ghat is likely to turn out a bad speculation. Read an article or two from _Blackwood's Magazine_, No. CCx.x.x. The Consul has got a few stray numbers up The Desert. English politics read all stuff in Desert, like what a celebrated man was accustomed to say of his philosophy after dinner, ”It's all nonsense or worse.” So is reading English politics in this part of the world. How soon our tastes and pa.s.sions change, with our change of place, and scene, and skies! An Englishman married a Malay woman at Singapore. In six years he lost all his English, nay, European feelings, and became as listless and stupid as the people whose habits and nationality he had sunken under.
Visited this evening the grave of Mr. Ritchie, who died at Mourzuk on November 20, 1819. He was buried by Capt. Lyon, his companion in African travel. The grave is placed about two hundred yards south of the Moorish burying-ground; it is raised eight or ten inches above the level of the soil, and is large, being edged round with a border of clay and small stones. We were conducted by old Yousef, who told us the Rais (Capt.
Lyon) chose the site of burial between three small mounds of earth, in order that the grave might be easily distinguished hereafter. Mr.
Gagliuffi, had never visited the grave before my arrival, which I proposed to him as a sacred duty that we owed to our predecessors in African travel and discovery. The Consul promises now to have the grave repaired and white-washed, and I, on my part, promise, in the event of my return to the interior, to carry with me a small tombstone, to place over the grave, with name, date, and epitaph. If there were a thorough and _bona fide_ Geographical Society in England, this little attention to the memory of that distinguished man of science would have been performed long ago. But our societies are inst.i.tuted to pay their officers and secretaries, and not to promote the objects for which they are ostensibly supported by the public. The Moorish cemetery close by, is a most melancholy, nay, frightfully grotesque picture. No white-s.h.i.+ning tombs and dome-topped mausoleums, no dark cypresses waving over them and contrasting shade with light, which mournfully adorn the cemeteries of the north coast. All is the grotesque refuse of misery! Here we see sticks of palm-branches driven down at the head of the graves, which sticks are driven through old bottles, pitchers, jugs, ostrich eggs, &c., so that at a distance the burying-ground has the appearance of a dull, dirty, desolate field of household rubbish, and old crockery-ware. I did not trouble myself to ask the reason of this trumpery of trumperies, but I imagine it is to distinguish one grave from another. The cemetery of Ghadames, where nothing is seen but stones, if it be a desert-looking place, yet has not this trumpery appearance. I was glad to see the grave of Ritchie lying apart from this, though in its infidel isolation. There lies our poor countryman, alone in The Sahara! But, though without a stone or monument to mark the desert spot, still it is a memorial of the genius and enterprise of Englishmen for travel and research in the wildest, remotest regions of the globe. And, for myself, I would rather lie here, in open desert, than in the crowded London churchyard, amidst smoke, and filth, and resurrectionists, the pride and glory of our c.o.c.kney-land. Here, at least, the body rests in purity, the desert breeze, which sweeps its ”dread abode” barer and barer, is not contaminated with the effluvia of a death-dealing pestilence; and though the ardent sun of Africa smites continually the lonely grave, the bones mayhap will rest undisturbed till reunited and refleshed at the loud call of the Trump of Doom! unkennelled, uncoffined by wild beast, or more ferocious man.
FOOTNOTES:
[108] Although Mr. Gagliuffi is an Austrian, a native of Trieste, he has acquired all the English ideas of comfort, and speaks excellent English.
[109] As a remarkable exception, some one or two _French_ papers did protest against this wholesale burning alive of an Arab tribe.
[110] See Mrs. Kerr's translation of the History of Servia.
CHAPTER XXVI.
RESIDENCE AT MOURZUK.
Mr. Gagliuffi's opinion of the Touaricks.--Amazonian White-Washers.--Visit, and take leave of the Bashaw.--Various Anecdotes related by His Highness.--Safe-conduct given to liberated Slaves in returning to their Country.--Character of the Tibboos, and particularly Tibboo Women.--Description of the Oases of Fezzan.--Leo's Account of these Oases.--Recent History of the Government of Mourzuk.--The Traitor Mukni.--Life and Character of Abd-el-Geleel.--The Civil War in Tripoli, and Usurpation of its Government by the Turks.--The Tyrant Asker Ali.--Skirmish of Hasan Belazee with the Town of Omm-Erraneb, and the Oulad Suleiman.--Retreat of the Oulad Suleiman to Bornou, and their Marauding Character.--My departure from Mourzuk with the Slave-Caravan of Haj Essnousee.--Establishment of British Consuls in The Great Desert and Central Africa.--Force of the new Slave-Caravan.
_4th._--FEEL as well in health as when I left Tripoli, though housed in this city of fever. Mr. Gagliuffi has some ideas about the Touaricks which I have not acquired in Ghat. He pretends Touaricks are always afraid of their women, and are obliged to do whatsoever their wives tell them. The son never will go with his father, but always follows his mother. His father he learns to hate the more he loves his mother. The Consul does not think the Touaricks of Aheer to be so numerous as represented. The same, indeed, may be said of all the kingdoms of Africa.
The princ.i.p.al slave or servant (factotum) of the Sultan of Aheer is now in Mourzuk, transacting business for his master. The Bashaw offered to write to the Sultan for me through this man. He is called Hiddee, and paid me a visit this morning. En-Nour, the friend of Kandarka, is only a Sheikh. Hiddee is the slave whom the Bashaw has been quizzing so severely about the mighty armies of his master.
A number of women are now occupied opposite to us in white-was.h.i.+ng or white-claying the Guard-house, this _chef-d'uvre_ of Mourzuk architecture. The women alone do this work, and as their privilege. There are about thirty of them so occupied, under the command of a queen white-washer. They all tremble at the sound of her Majesty's voice.
Sometimes she gives them a crack over the head with a bowl, to make them look sharp about them. The white-washers prepare the wash in the usual way, and then lade it out in small bowls, throwing a whole bowl at once at the walls, using no brush, now and then only with their hands rubbing over a place not wet with the wash. This arises from the nature of the wash, it being merely a fine brown-white clay, or a species of pipe-clay.
There is no lime in the oases near: people fetch it from Sockna. For this reason the Castle is so dirty. There is attendant on the women a band of Arab musicians, to cheer them on in their work. Every man who pa.s.ses by gets a piece of white-wash clay thrown at him. If it hits him he has to pay, if not he escapes. On his non-payment, when so hit, he is tabooed from the privileges which he possesses in and over women. He can have no communication with them, nor can he buy anything from them, or receive anything from their hands. If he does not pay in a few days, his fine increases with his delay. This custom prevails, and its stipulations are most religiously binding, whenever women are employed to white-wash Government houses and establishments. Once a Targhee received some money, which a woman thus employed offered to him, to entrap him. Immediately exclaimed the virago, ”You cowardly rascal, instead of giving us money, you take money away from us.” Then a mob of these Amazons followed him to his house, and, to save himself from being torn and scratched to pieces by the troop, he paid ten dollars, and was happy to escape so easily. The Amazonian white-washers like to have a shy at Mr. Gagliuffi or the Doctor, because they are down upon them for a good mulct or present. To save their respective dignities, Consul and Doctor take care to keep out of that quarter of the town where the work of the Amazons is going on.
We paid a visit to the Bashaw this afternoon previous to my departure to-morrow. We had tea and pipes again as before. His Highness was excessively civil, and related to me many anecdotes of the people of this part of the world, of which anecdotes and such chit-chat he is very fond.
This Bashaw is a sort of chronicler of the Arabian Nights order, with the difference, that what His Highness relates are generally true stories.
Mr. Gagliuffi instructed me in a little of his Desert diplomacy, and I accordingly observed, ”Your Excellency must extend the Turkish rule in Sahara, and you ought to capture Ghat, for that is the centre of commerce in these parts.” This was put forth as a feeler. The Bashaw deigned the following in reply:--”There was a boy left with his father, whilst the mother and wife had gone to a neighbouring village on an errand. The boy, after a sleep of three hours, awoke, and, looking about him and not seeing his mother, began to cry for her. 'Oh,' said the father, 'you have begun to cry for your mother after three minutes, you blubbering urchin; whilst I have been waiting for my wife, with the most enduring patience, these three long hours.”--”So it is with me,” continued the Bashaw; ”you are crying for Ghat after three months' residence here, and I have been crying for Ghat these three long years. I have been waiting every year, every month and day in the year, to go and take it, or destroy it, but the Sultan sends me no orders.” I noticed the Fullan boy of the Bashaw, and observed to him that I had seen very few of the Fullan slaves. The Bashaw returned, ”That boy is gold to me. When I was sick, he was the only one who waited upon me unceasingly, and never left my couch.
I have also a Fullan girl; her hair is as long as your women's, and reaches down to her waist.” Mr. Gagliuffi afterwards told me His Highness had been some while choosing a wife, that is, a subst.i.tute for his wife who is in Tripoli, and had at last found what he liked in this Fullan girl, of whose beauty and grace he said the Bashaw boasted to him (the Consul), a thing quite unusual amongst Mohammedans. The features of this Fullan boy were very regular, black eyes and a light olive complexion.
Such were Fullan slaves of our caravan; and the most _recherchee_ of all the females, fetching the highest price, was a Fullanah girl.
His Highness related several anecdotes of the Soudanese people. Slaves are told, on leaving Soudan, that white people will kill them and eat them; but when they get here, and see themselves kindly treated, they become reconciled to slavery. In some of the Nigritian countries, when the people get old,--say seventy or eighty years of age,--their relatives and friends say to them, ”Come, now you are very old, and are of no use in the world: it is better for you to go away to your fathers and to the G.o.ds. There you will be young again, eat and drink as well as ever, and be as beautiful and as strong as you ever were or can be. You will renew your young days like the young birds, and the young lions.”
”Very well,” reply the aged decrepid creatures, ”we will go.” They then dress up their aged worn-out victim in his fine clothing, and make a feast. When in the midst of drums and horrible screams, during the height of the feast, they lay hold of the old man, and throw him into a large fire, and he is immediately consumed to ashes. The Bashaw did not particularize the country, but this barbarous rite has been witnessed in other parts of the world besides Africa.
The inhabitants of Wadai are a nation of drunkards. They can do nothing unless drunk. Amongst these people, the greatest mark of friends.h.i.+p is to present their friends with raw meat, with the bile of the liver poured on it as sauce or gravy. Wadai is in the neighbourhood of Upper Egypt and Abyssinia, and the tale reminds one of Bruce, and the live-meat eating Abyssinians. A Tibboo chief came to Mourzuk, and presented himself without introduction before His Highness, and thus harangued him:--”Oh Bey! I want to write to my son, the Bashaw of Tripoli. You must send my letter to my son.” ”Give it to me,” said His Highness, most condescendingly. ”There it is,” cried the Tibboo, and flung it down at the feet of the Governor. The letter being opened, the contents ran thus:--”Son, be a good man, fear me and fear G.o.d. If you behave well, and acknowledge me as your father, I will send you three slaves and come and see you.” The Tibboo was allowed to depart from the Governor as a madman.
”See,” said the Bashaw to me, ”how ignorant and presumptuous are these Tibboo people.”