Personal Narrative Of A Pilgrimage To Al-Madinah & Meccah - Volume 2 of 2 - By Captain Sir Richard F. Burton





























 -  This act caused some confusion. The donkey-boy
was a pert little Badawi, offensively republican in manner. He had
several - Page 176
Personal Narrative Of A Pilgrimage To Al-Madinah & Meccah - Volume 2 of 2 - By Captain Sir Richard F. Burton - Page 176 of 331 - First - Home

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This Act Caused Some Confusion.

The donkey-boy was a pert little Badawi, offensively republican in manner.

He had several times addressed me impudently, ordering me not to flog his animal, or to hammer its sides with my heels. On these occasions he received a contemptuous snub, which had the effect of silencing him. But now, thinking we were in his power, he swore that he would lead away the beasts, and leave us behind to be robbed and murdered. A pinch of the windpipe, and a spin over the ground, altered his plans at the outset of execution. He gnawed his hand with impotent rage, and went away, threatening us with the Governor of Jeddah next morning. Then an Egyptian of the party took up the thread of remonstrance; and, aided by the old linguist, who said, in English “by G—! you must budge, you’ll catch it here!” he assumed a brisk and energetic style, exclaiming, “Yallah! rise and mount; thou art only losing our time; thou dost not intend to sleep in the Desert!” I replied, “O my Uncle, do not exceed in talk!”—Fuzul (excess) in Arabic is equivalent to telling a man in English not to be impertinent—rolled over on the other side heavily, as doth Encelades, and pretended to snore, whilst the cowed Egyptian urged the others to make us move. The question was thus settled by the boy Mohammed who had been aroused by the dispute: “Do you know,” he whispered, in awful accents, “what that person is?” and he pointed to me. “Why, no,” replied the others. “Well,” said the youth, “the other day the Utaybah showed us death in the Zaribah Pass, and what do you think he did?” “Wallah! what do we know!” exclaimed the Egyptian, “What did he do?” “He called for—his dinner,” replied the youth, with a slow and

[p.264] sarcastic emphasis. That trait was enough. The others mounted, and left us quietly to sleep.

I have been diffuse in relating this little adventure, which is characteristic, showing what bravado can do in Arabia. It also suggests a lesson, which every traveller in these regions should take well to heart. The people are always ready to terrify him with frightful stories, which are the merest phantoms of cowardice. The reason why the Egyptian displayed so much philanthropy was that, had one of the party been lost, the survivors might have fallen into trouble. But in this place, we were, I believe,—despite the declarations of our companions that it was infested with Turpins and Fra Diavolos,—as safe as in Meccah. Every night, during the pilgrimage season, a troop of about fifty horsemen patrol the roads; we were all armed to the teeth, and our party looked too formidable to be “cruelly beaten by a single footpad.” Our nap concluded, we remounted, and resumed the weary way down a sandy valley, in which the poor donkeys sank fetlock-deep. At dawn we found our companions halted, and praying at the Kahwat Turki, another little coffee-house.

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