A Narrative Of Captivity In Abyssinia With Some Account Of The Late Emperor Theodore, His Country And People By Henry Blanc
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A Few Days After Our Arrival At Metemma He
Returned From Abyssinia, And Politely Paid Us A Visit, Accompanied
By A Motley And Howling Train Of Followers.
We returned his call;
but he had got drunk in the interval, and was at least uncivil, if
not positively rude.
During our stay we had occasion to witness the great yearly, festival
of the re-election of the Sheik. Early in the morning a crowd of
Takruries came pouring in from all directions, armed with sticks
or spears, a few mounted, the majority on foot, all howling and
screeching (I believe they call it singing), so that before even
the dust raised by a new party could be seen, the ear was deafened
by their clamour. Every Takrurie warrior - that is, every one who
can howl and carry a bludgeon or lance - is entitled to a vote; for
this privilege he pays a dollar. The polling consists in counting
the money, and the amount decides the ruler's fate. The re-elected
Sheik (such was the result of the election we witnessed) killed
cows, supplied jowaree loaves, and, above all, immense jars of
merissa (a kind of sour toast-and-water, intoxicating for all that),
and feasted for two days the whole body of the electors. It is
difficult to say which of the two is out of pocket, the elector or
the Sheik. There is no doubt that every Takrurie will eat and drink
to the full amount of his dollar; is content with paying his homage,
and wishes to have the worth of his money.
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