The Exit From
Muna Was Crowded, For Many, Like Ourselves, Were Flying From The
Revolting Scene.
I could not think without pity of those whom religious
scruples detained another day and a half in this foul spot.
After entering Meccah we bathed, and when the noon drew nigh we
repaired to the Harim for the purpose of hearing the sermon. Descending
to the cloisters below the Bab al-Ziyadah, I stood wonder-struck by the
scene before me. The vast quadrangle was crowded with worshippers
sitting in long rows, and everywhere facing the central black tower:
the showy colours of their dresses were not to be surpassed by a garden
of the most brilliant flowers, and such diversity of detail would
probably not be seen massed together in any other building upon earth.
The women, a dull and sombre-looking group, sat apart in their peculiar
place. The Pasha stood on the roof of Zemzem, surrounded by guards in
Nizam uniform. Where the principal Olema stationed themselves, the
crowd was thicker; and in the more auspicious spots nought was to be
seen but a pavement of heads and shoulders. Nothing seemed to move but
a few Darwayshes, who, censer in hand, sidled through the rows and
received the unsolicited alms of the Faithful. Apparently in the midst,
and raised above the crowd by the tall, pointed pulpit, whose gilt
spire flamed in the sun, sat the preacher, an old man with snowy beard.
The style of head-dress
[p.226] called Taylasan[FN#7] covered his turband, which was white as
his robes,[FN#8] and a short staff supported his left hand.[FN#9]
Presently he arose, took the staff in his right hand, pronounced a few
inaudible words,[FN#10] and sat down again on one of the lower steps,
whilst a Mu’ezzin, at the foot of the pulpit, recited the call to sermon.
Then the old man stood up and began to preach.
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