Equally simply is the furniture:
the stem of a tree, with branches hacked into pegs, supports the shields,
the assegais are planted against the wall, and divers bits of wood,
projecting from the sides and the central roof-tree of the cottage, are
hung with clothes and other articles that attract white ants. Gourds
smoked inside, and coffee cups of coarse black Harar pottery, with deep
wooden platters, and prettily carved spoons of the same material, compose
the household supellex. The inmates are the Geradah and her baby, Siddik a
Galla serf, the slave girls and sundry Somal: thus we hear at all times
three languages [19] spoken within the walls.
Long before dawn the goodwife rises, wakens her handmaidens, lights the
fire, and prepares for the Afur or morning meal. The quern is here unknown
[20]. A flat, smooth, oval slab, weighing about fifteen pounds, and a
stone roller six inches in diameter, worked with both hands, and the
weight of the body kneeling ungracefully upon it on "all fours," are used
to triturate the holcus grain. At times water must be sprinkled over the
meal, until a finely powdered paste is ready for the oven: thus several
hours' labour is required to prepare a few pounds of bread. About 6 A.M.
there appears a substantial breakfast of roast beef and mutton, with
scones of Jowari grain, the whole drenched in broth. Of the men few
perform any ablutions, but all use the tooth stick before sitting down to
eat. After the meal some squat in the sun, others transact business, and
drive their cattle to the bush till 11 A.M., the dinner hour. There is no
variety in the repasts, which are always flesh and holcus: these people
despise fowls, and consider vegetables food for cattle. During the day
there is no privacy; men, women, and children enter in crowds, and will
not be driven away by the Geradah, who inquires screamingly if they come
to stare at a baboon. My kettle especially excites their surprise; some
opine that it is an ostrich, others, a serpent: Sudiyah, however, soon
discovered its use, and begged irresistibly for the unique article.
Throughout the day her slave girls are busied in grinding, cooking, and
quarrelling with dissonant voices: the men have little occupation beyond
chewing tobacco, chatting, and having their wigs frizzled by a
professional coiffeur. In the evening the horses and cattle return home to
be milked and stabled: this operation concluded, all apply themselves to
supper with a will. They sleep but little, and sit deep into the night
trimming the fire, and conversing merrily over their cups of Farshu or
millet beer. [21] I tried this mixture several times, and found it
detestable: the taste is sour, and it flies directly to the head, in
consequence of being mixed with some poisonous bark. It is served up in
gourd bottles upon a basket of holcus heads, and strained through a
pledget of cotton, fixed across the narrow mouth, into cups of the same
primitive material: the drinkers sit around their liquor, and their
hilarity argues its intoxicating properties. In the morning they arise
with headaches and heavy eyes; but these symptoms, which we, an
industrious race, deprecate, are not disliked by the Somal--they promote
sleep and give something to occupy the vacant mind. I usually slumber
through the noise except when Ambar, a half-caste Somal, returning from a
trip to Harar, astounds us with his _contes bleus_, or wild Abtidon howls
forth some lay like this:--
I.
"'Tis joyesse all in Eesa's home!
The fatted oxen bleed,
And slave girls range the pails of milk,
And strain the golden mead.
II.
"'Tis joyesse all in Eesa's home!
This day the Chieftain's pride
Shall join the song, the dance, the feast,
And bear away a bride.
III.
"'He cometh not!' the father cried,
Smiting with spear the wall;
'And yet he sent the ghostly man,
Yestre'en before the fall!'
IV.
"'He cometh not!' the mother said,
A tear stood in her eye;
'He cometh not, I dread, I dread,
And yet I know not why.'
V.
"'He cometh not!' the maiden thought,
Yet in her glance was light,
Soft as the flash in summer's eve
Where sky and earth unite.
VI.
"The virgins, deck'd with tress and flower,
Danced in the purple shade,
And not a soul, perchance, but wished
Herself the chosen maid.
VII.
"The guests in groups sat gathering
Where sunbeams warmed the air,
Some laughed the feasters' laugh, and some
Wore the bent brow of care.
VIII.
"'Tis he!--'tis he!"--all anxious peer,
Towards the distant lea;
A courser feebly nears the throng--
Ah! 'tis his steed they see.
IX.
"The grief cry bursts from every lip,
Fear sits on every brow,
There's blood upon the courser's flank!--
Blood on the saddle bow!
X.
"'Tis he!--'tis he!'--all arm and run
Towards the Marar Plain,
Where a dark horseman rides the waste
With dust-cloud for a train.
XI.
"The horseman reins his foam-fleckt steed,
Leans on his broken spear,
Wipes his damp brow, and faint begins
To tell a tale of fear.
XII.
"'Where is my son?'--'Go seek him there,
Far on the Marar Plain,
Where vultures and hyaenas hold
Their orgies o'er the slain.
XIII.
"'We took our arms, we saddled horse,
We rode the East countrie,
And drove the flocks, and harried herds
Betwixt the hills and sea.
XIV.
"'We drove the flock across the hill,
The herd across the wold--
The poorest spearboy had returned
That day, a man of gold.
XV.
"'Bat Awal's children mann'd the vale
Where sweet the Arman flowers,
Their archers from each bush and tree
Rained shafts in venomed showers.
