The
Burial-Ground Is On The Side Of The Lion Mountain - On The Lion's
Rump - And Overlooks The Whole Bay, Part Of The Town, And The Most
Superb Mountain Panorama Beyond.
I never saw a view within miles
of it for beauty and grandeur.
Far down, a fussy English steamer
came puffing and popping into the deep blue bay, and the 'Hansom's'
cabs went tearing down to the landing place; and round me sat a
crowd of grave brown men chanting 'Allah il Allah' to the most
monotonous but musical air, and with the most perfect voices. The
chant seemed to swell, and then fade, like the wind in the trees.
I went in after the procession, which consisted of a bier covered
with three common Paisley shawls of gay colours; no one looked at
me; and when they got near the grave, I kept at a distance, and sat
down when they did. But a man came up and said, 'You are welcome.'
So I went close, and saw the whole ceremony. They took the corpse,
wrapped in a sheet, out of the bier, and lifted it into the grave,
where two men received it; then a sheet was held over the grave
till they had placed the dead man; and then flowers and earth were
thrown in by all present, the grave filled in, watered out of a
brass kettle, and decked with flowers. Then a fat old man, in
printed calico shirt sleeves, and a plaid waistcoat and corduroy
trousers, pulled off his shoes, squatted on the grave, and recited
endless 'Koran', many reciting after him. Then they chanted
'Allah-il-Allah' for twenty minutes, I think: then prayers, with
'Ameens' and 'Allah il-Allahs' again. Then all jumped up and
walked off. There were eighty or a hundred men, no women, and five
or six 'Hadjis', draped in beautiful Eastern dresses, and looking
very supercilious. The whole party made less noise in moving and
talking than two Englishmen.
A white-complexioned man spoke to me in excellent English (which
few of them speak), and was very communicative and civil. He told
me the dead man was his brother-in-law, and he himself the barber.
I hoped I had not taken a liberty. 'Oh, no; poor Malays were proud
when noble English persons showed such respect to their religion.
The young Prince had done so too, and Allah would not forget to
protect him. He also did not laugh at their prayers, praise be to
God!' I had already heard that Prince Alfred is quite the darling
of the Malays. He insisted on accepting their fete, which the
Capetown people had snubbed. I have a friendship with one Abdul
Jemaalee and his wife Betsy, a couple of old folks who were slaves
to Dutch owners, and now keep a fruit-shop of a rough sort, with
'Betsy, fruiterer,' painted on the back of an old tin tray, and
hung up by the door of the house.
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