The Shaykh Or Gentleman Is Over-Armed And Over-Dressed, As
Fashion, The Tyrant Of The Desert As Well As Of The Court, Dictates To
A Person Of His Consequence.
The civilised traveller from Al-Madinah
sticks in his waist-shawl a loaded pistol,[FN#5] garnished with crimson
silk cord, but he partially conceals the butt-end under the flap of his
jacket.
The Irregular soldier struts down the street a small armoury of
weapons: one look at the man's countenance suffices to tell you what he
is. Here and there stalk grim Badawin, wild as their native wastes, and
in all the dignity of pride and dirt; they also are armed to the teeth,
and even the presence of the policeman's quarterstaff[FN#6] cannot keep
their swords in their scabbards. What we should call the peaceful part
of the population never leave the house without the "Nabbut" over the
right shoulder, and the larger, the longer, and the heavier the weapon
is, the more gallantry does the bearer claim. The people of Yambu'
practise the use of this implement diligently; they become expert in
delivering
[p.229] a head-blow so violent as to break through any guard, and with
it they always decide their trivial quarrels.[FN#7] The dress of the
women differs but little from that of the Egyptians, except in the face
veil,[FN#8] which is generally white. There is an independent bearing
about the Yambu' men, strange in the East; they are proud without
insolence, and they look manly without blustering. Their walk partakes
somewhat of the nature of a swagger, owing, perhaps, to the shape of
the sandals, not a little assisted by the self-esteem of the wearer,
but there is nothing offensive in it: moreover, the population has a
healthy appearance, and, fresh from Egypt, I could not help noticing
their freedom from ophthalmic disease. The children, too, appear
vigorous, nor are they here kept in that state of filth to which fear
of the Evil Eye devotes them in the Valley of the Nile.
My companions found me in a coffee-house, where I had sat down to rest
from the fatigue of halting on my wounded foot through the town. They
had passed their boxes through the custom-house, and were now inquiring
in all directions, "Where's the Effendi?" After sitting for half an
hour, we rose to depart, when an old Arab merchant, whom I had met at
Suez, politely insisted
[p.230] upon paying for my coffee, still a mark of attention in Arabia
as it was whilome in France. We then went to a Wakalah, near the bazar,
in which my companions had secured an airy upper room on the terrace
opposite the sea, and tolerably free from Yambu's plague, the flies. It
had been tenanted by a party of travellers, who were introduced to me
as Omar Effendi's brothers; he had by accident met them in the streets
the day before their start for Constantinople, where they were
travelling to receive the Ikram.[FN#9] The family was, as I have said
before, from Daghistan (Circassia), and the male members still showed
unequivocal signs of a northern origin, in light yellowish skins, grey
eyes fringed with dark lashes, red lips, and a very scant beard.
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