Amongst Them Was A Bedouin Widow, Known By Her "Wer," A Strip Of
The Inner Bark Of A Tree Tied Round The Greasy Fillet.
[1] We were
accompanied by three Widads, provided with all the instruments of their
craft, and uncommonly tiresome companions.
They recited Koran _a tort et a
travers_: at every moment they proposed Fatihahs, the name of Allah was
perpetually upon their lips, and they discussed questions of divinity,
like Gil Blas and his friends, with a violence bordering upon frenzy. One
of them was celebrated for his skill in the "Fal," or Omens: he was
constantly consulted by my companions, and informed them that we had
nought to fear except from wild beasts. The prediction was a good hit: I
must own, however, that it was not communicated to me before fulfilment.
At half past six A.M. we began our march over rough and rising ground, a
network of thorns and water-courses, and presently entered a stony gap
between two ranges of hills. On our right was a conical peak, bearing the
remains of buildings upon its summit. Here, said Abtidon, a wild Gudabirsi
hired to look after our mules, rests the venerable Shaykh Samawai. Of old,
a number of wells existed in the gaps between the hills: these have
disappeared with those who drank of them.
Presently we entered the Barr or Prairie of Marar, one of the long strips
of plain which diversify the Somali country. Its breadth, bounded on the
east by the rolling ground over which we had passed, on the west by
Gurays, a range of cones offshooting from the highlands of Harar, is about
twenty-seven miles.
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