He
Preferred For Me The More Winding Road Which Passes South, Along The
Coast, Through The Eesa Bedouins Dependent Upon Zayla, To The Nearest
Hills, And Thence Strikes South-Westwards Among The Gudabirsi And Girhi
Somal, Who Extend Within Sight Of Harar.
I cannot but suspect that in
selecting this route the good Sharmarkay served another purpose besides my
safety.
Petty feuds between the chiefs had long "closed the path," and
perhaps the Somal were not unwilling that British cloth and tobacco should
re-open it.
Early in the morning of the 27th of November, 1854, the mules and all the
paraphernalia of travel stood ready at the door. The five camels were
forced to kneel, growling angrily the while, by repeated jerks at the
halter: their forelegs were duly tied or stood upon till they had shifted
themselves into a comfortable position, and their noses were held down by
the bystanders whenever, grasshopper-like, they attempted to spring up.
Whilst spreading the saddle-mats, our women, to charm away remembrance of
chafed hump and bruised sides, sang with vigor the "Song of Travel":
"0 caravan-men, we deceive ye not, we have laden the camels!
Old women on the journey are kenned by their sleeping I
(0 camel) can'st sniff the cock-boat and the sea?
Allah guard thee from the Mikahil and their Midgans!" [2]
As they arose from squat it was always necessary to adjust their little
mountains of small packages by violently "heaving up" one side,--an
operation never failing to elicit a vicious grunt, a curve of the neck,
and an attempt to bite. One camel was especially savage; it is said that
on his return to Zayla, he broke a Bedouin girl's neck. Another, a
diminutive but hardy little brute of Dankali breed, conducted himself so
uproariously that he at once obtained the name of El Harami, or the
Ruffian.
About 3 P.M., accompanied by the Hajj, his amiable son Mohammed, and a
party of Arab matchlockmen, who escorted me as a token of especial
respect, I issued from the Ashurbara Gate, through the usual staring
crowds, and took the way of the wilderness. After half a mile's march, we
exchanged affectionate adieus, received much prudent advice about keeping
watch and ward at night, recited the Fatihah with upraised palms, and with
many promises to write frequently and to meet soon, shook hands and
parted. The soldiers gave me a last volley, to which I replied with the
"Father of Six."
You see, dear L., how travelling maketh man _banal_. It is the natural
consequence of being forced to find, in every corner where Fate drops you
for a month, a "friend of the soul," and a "moon-faced beauty." With
Orientals generally, you _must_ be on extreme terms, as in Hibernia,
either an angel of light or, that failing, a goblin damned. In East Africa
especially, English phlegm, shyness, or pride, will bar every heart and
raise every hand against you [3], whereas what M. Rochet calls "a certain
_rondeur_ of manner" is a specific for winning affection.
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