Before Ten P.M. I
Found No Opportunity Of Praying The Usual Two Prostrations Over The
Grave Of Ishmael.
After waiting long and patiently, at last I was
stepping into the vacant place, when another pilgrim rushed forward;
the boy Mohammed, assisted by me, instantly seized him, and, despite
his cries and struggles, taught him to wait.
Till midnight we sat
chatting with the different ciceroni who came up to offer their
services. I could not help remarking their shabby and dirty clothes,
and was informed that during pilgrimage, when splendour is liable to be
spoiled, they wear out old dresses; and appear endimanches for the
Muharram fete, when most travellers have left the city. Presently my
two companions, exhausted with fatigue, fell asleep; I went up to the
Ka’abah, with the intention of “annexing” a bit of the torn old Kiswat or
curtain, but too many eyes were looking on. At this season of the year
the Kiswat is much tattered at the base, partly by pilgrims’ fingers, and
partly by the strain of the cord which confines it when the wind is
blowing. It is considered a mere peccadillo to purloin a bit of the
venerable stuff; but as the officers of the temple make money by
selling it, they certainly would visit detection with an
[p.177] unmerciful application of the quarterstaff. The piece in my
possession was given to me by the boy Mohammed before I left Meccah.
Waistcoats cut out of the Kiswah still make the combatants invulnerable
in battle, and are considered presents fit for princes. The Moslems
generally try to secure a strip of this cloth as a mark for the Koran,
or for some such purpose. The opportunity, however, was favourable for
a survey, and with a piece of tape, and the simple processes of
stepping and spanning, I managed to measure all the objects concerning
which I was curious.
At last sleep began to weigh heavily upon my eyelids. I awoke my
companions, and in the dizziness of slumber they walked with me through
the tall narrow street from the Bab al-Ziyadah to our home in the
Shamiyah. The brilliant moonshine prevented our complaining, as other
travellers have had reason to do, of the darkness and the difficulty of
Meccah’s streets. The town, too, appeared safe; there were no watchmen,
and yet people slept everywhere upon cots placed opposite their open
doors. Arrived at the house, we made some brief preparations for
snatching a few hours’ sleep upon the Mastabah, a place so stifling, that
nothing but utter exhaustion could induce lethargy there.
[FN#1] The Egyptian word is generally pronounced “Zaghrutah,” the plural is
Zagharit, corrupted to Ziraleet. The classical Arabic term is “Tahlil”; the
Persians call the cry “Kil.” It is peculiar to women, and is formed by
raising the voice to its highest pitch, vibrating it at the same time
by rolling the tongue, whose modulations express now joy, now grief. To
my ear it always resembled the brain-piercing notes of a fife.
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