The bed is about one hundred yards
broad, and a thin sheet of clear, cool, and sweet water, covered with
crystal the greater part of the sand.
According to my guides, its course,
like that of the hills, is southerly towards the Webbe of Ogadayn [32]:
none, however, could satisfy my curiosity concerning the course of the
only perennial stream which exists between Harar and the coast.
In the lower valley, a mass of waving holcus, we met a multitude of Galla
peasants coming from the city market with new potlids and the empty gourds
which had contained their butter, ghee, and milk: all wondered aloud at
the Turk, concerning whom they had heard many horrors. As we commenced
another ascent appeared a Harar Grandee mounted upon a handsomely
caparisoned mule and attended by seven servants who carried gourds and
skins of grain. He was a pale-faced senior with a white beard, dressed in
a fine Tobe and a snowy turban with scarlet edges: he carried no shield,
but an Abyssinian broadsword was slung over his left shoulder. We
exchanged courteous salutations, and as I was thirsty he ordered a footman
to fill a cup with water. Half way up the hill appeared the 200 Girhi
cows, but those traitors, the Habr Awal, had hurried onwards. Upon the
summit was pointed out to me the village of Elaoda: in former times it was
a wealthy place belonging to the Gerad Adan.
At 2 P.M. we fell into a narrow fenced lane and halted for a few minutes
near a spreading tree, under which sat women selling ghee and unspun
cotton. About two miles distant on the crest of a hill, stood the city,--
the end of my present travel,--a long sombre line, strikingly contrasting
with the white-washed towns of the East. The spectacle, materially
speaking, was a disappointment: nothing conspicuous appeared but two grey
minarets of rude shape: many would have grudged exposing three lives to
win so paltry a prize. But of all that have attempted, none ever succeeded
in entering that pile of stones: the thorough-bred traveller, dear L.,
will understand my exultation, although my two companions exchanged
glances of wonder.
Spurring our mules we advanced at a long trot, when Mad Said stopped us to
recite a Fatihah in honor of Ao Umar Siyad and Ao Rahmah, two great saints
who repose under a clump of trees near the road. The soil on both sides of
the path is rich and red: masses of plantains, limes, and pomegranates
denote the gardens, which are defended by a bleached cow's skull, stuck
upon a short stick [33] and between them are plantations of coffee,
bastard saffron, and the graceful Kat. About half a mile eastward of the
town appears a burn called Jalah or the Coffee Water: the crowd crossing
it did not prevent my companions bathing, and whilst they donned clean
Tobes I retired to the wayside, and sketched the town.
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