I was directed to
lie at full length upon my stomach, and to kiss a black-looking
stone—said to be the lower half of the Lady Fatimah’s quern[FN#9]—fixed at
the bottom of a basin of the same material.
Thence we repaired to a
corner, and recited a two-bow at the place where the Prophet used to
pray the Sunnat and the Nafilah, or supererogatory devotions.[FN#10]
Again remounting, we proceeded at a leisurely pace homewards, and on
the way passed through the principal
[p.252] slave-market. It is a large street roofed with matting, and
full of coffee-houses. The merchandise sat in rows, parallel with the
walls. The prettiest girls occupied the highest benches, below were the
plainer sort, and lowest of all the boys. They were all gaily dressed
in pink and other light-coloured muslins, with transparent veils over
their heads; and, whether from the effect of such unusual splendour, or
from the re-action succeeding to their terrible land-journey and
sea-voyage, they appeared perfectly happy, laughing loudly, talking
unknown tongues, and quizzing purchasers, even during the delicate
operation of purchasing. There were some pretty Gallas, douce-looking
Abyssinians, and Africans of various degrees of hideousness, from the
half-Arab Somal to the baboon-like Sawahili. The highest price of which
I could hear was £60. And here I matured a resolve to strike, if favoured
by fortune, a death-blow at a trade which is eating into the vitals of
industry in Eastern Africa.
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