Upon This Neutral Ground The Eesa,
Berteri, And Habr Awal Meet To Rob And Plunder Unhappy Travellers.
The
Somal shuddered at the sight of a wayfarer, who rushed into our encampment
_in cuerpo_, having barely run away with his life.
Not that our caravan
carried much to lose,--a few hides and pots of clarified butter, to be
exchanged for the Holcus grain of the Girhi cultivators,--still the
smallest contributions are thankfully received by these plunderers. Our
material consisted of four or five half-starved camels, about fifty
donkeys with ears cropped as a mark, and their eternal accompaniments in
Somali land, old women. The latter seemed to be selected for age,
hideousness, and strength: all day they bore their babes smothered in
hides upon their backs, and they carried heavy burdens apparently without
fatigue. 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. The general course is north and south: in the former
direction, it belongs to the Eesa: in the latter may be seen the peaks of
Kadau and Madir, the property of the Habr Awal tribes; and along these
ranges it extends, I was told, towards Ogadayn. The surface of the plain
is gently rolling ground; the black earth, filled with the holes of small
beasts, would be most productive, and the outer coat is an expanse of
tall, waving, sunburnt grass, so unbroken, that from a distance it
resembles the nap of yellow velvet. In the frequent Wadys, which carry off
the surplus rain of the hills, scrub and thorn trees grow in dense
thickets, and the grass is temptingly green. Yet the land lies fallow:
water and fuel are scarce at a distance from the hills, and the wildest
Bedouins dare not front the danger of foraging parties, the fatal heats of
day, and the killing colds of night. On the edges of the plain, however,
are frequent vestiges of deserted kraals.
About mid-day, we crossed a depression in the centre, where Acacias
supplied us with gum for luncheon, and sheltered flocks of antelope. I
endeavoured to shoot the white-tailed Sig, and the large dun Oryx; but the
_brouhaha_ of the Caravan prevented execution. Shortly afterwards we came
upon patches of holcus, which had grown wild, from seeds scattered by
travellers. This was the first sight of grain that gladdened my eyes since
I left Bombay: the grave of the First Murderer never knew a Triptolemus
[2], and Zayla is a barren flat of sand. My companions eagerly devoured
the pith of this African "sweet cane," despite its ill reputation for
causing fever. I followed their example, and found it almost as good as
bad sugar. The Bedouins loaded their spare asses with the bitter gourd,
called Ubbah; externally it resembles the water melon, and becomes, when
shaped, dried, and smoked, the wickerwork of the Somal, and the pottery of
more civilized people.
Towards evening, as the setting sun sank slowly behind the distant western
hills, the colour of the Prairie changed from glaring yellow to a golden
hue, mantled with a purple flush inexpressibly lovely. The animals of the
waste began to appear. Shy lynxes [3] and jackals fattened by many sheep's
tails [4], warned my companions that fierce beasts were nigh, ominous
anecdotes were whispered, and I was told that a caravan had lately lost
nine asses by lions. As night came on, the Bedouin Kafilah, being lightly
loaded, preceded us, and our tired camels lagged far behind. We were
riding in rear to prevent straggling, when suddenly my mule, the
hindermost, pricked his ears uneasily, and attempted to turn his head.
Looking backwards, I distinguished the form of a large animal following us
with quick and stealthy strides. My companions would not fire, thinking it
was a man: at last a rifle-ball, pinging through the air--the moon was too
young for correct shooting--put to flight a huge lion. The terror excited
by this sort of an adventure was comical to look upon: the valiant Beuh,
who, according to himself, had made his _preuves_ in a score of foughten
fields, threw his arms in the air, wildly shouting Libah! Libah!!--the
lion! the lion!!--and nothing else was talked of that evening.
The ghostly western hills seemed to recede as we advanced over the endless
rolling plain. Presently the ground became broken and stony, the mules
stumbled in deep holes, and the camels could scarcely crawl along.
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