Ali.CHAPTER XIII.THE NUBIAN NILE.Solitary Travel—Scenery of the Nubian Nile—Agriculture—The Inhabitants—Arrival at Korosko—The Governor—The Tent Pitched—Shekh Abou-Mohammed—Bargaining for Camels—A Drove of Giraffes—Visits—Preparations for the Desert—My Last Evening on the Nile.
Ali.
Ali.
Ali.
Solitary Travel—Scenery of the Nubian Nile—Agriculture—The Inhabitants—Arrival at Korosko—The Governor—The Tent Pitched—Shekh Abou-Mohammed—Bargaining for Camels—A Drove of Giraffes—Visits—Preparations for the Desert—My Last Evening on the Nile.
We passed to the west of the island of Biggeh, where the current is less rapid, and a gentle north wind soon carried us away from Philæ. Dark mountains of porphyry rock inclosed the river, and the solitude of the shores, broken only by the creaking of an occasionalsakia, or irrigating wheel, made me feel keenly the loneliness of my situation. Achmet, who now became cook as well as dragoman, served me up three fowls,cooked in different styles, for dinner—partly as an earnest of his skill, and partly to dispel my want of spirits. But the fragrant pipe which followed dinner was the true promoter of patience, and “Patience,” says the Arab poet, “is the key of Content.” My boat was a small, slow craft, and Raïs Hereedee, the captain, the most indolent of Nubians. His weak, feminine face showed a lack of character, which Achmet soon turned to advantage, by taking the command into his own hands. The wind was barely strong enough to obviate the necessity of towing, and my three sailors sat on the bow all day, singing: “andèrbuddee! andèrbuddee!” as we lazily ascended the river.
Those who do not go beyond Thebes are only half acquainted with the Nile. Above Esneh, it is no longer a broad, lazy current, watering endless fields of wheat and groves of palm, bounded in the distance by level lines of yellow mountain walls. It is narrower, clearer and more rapid, and its valley, after the first scanty field of wheat or dourra, strikes the foot of broken and rocky ranges, through the gaps in which the winds of the Desert have spilled its sands. There is not the same pale, beautiful monotony of color, but the landscapes are full of striking contrasts, and strongly accented lights and shadows. Here, in Nubia, these characteristics are increased, and the Nile becomes a river of the North under a Southern sun. The mountains rise on either hand from the water’s edge; piles of dark sandstone or porphyry rock, sometimes a thousand feet in height, where a blade of grass never grew, every notch and jag on their crests, every fissure on their sides, revealed in an atmosphere so pure and crystalline, that nothing but one of our cloudless mid-winter days can equal it. Their hue near athand is a glowing brown; in the distance an intense violet. On the western bank they are lower; and the sand of that vast Desert, which stretches unbroken to the Atlantic, has heaped itself over their shoulders and poured long drifts and rills even to the water. In color it is a tawny gold, almost approaching a salmon tint, and its glow at sunrise equals that of the snow-fields of the Alps.
The arable land is a mere hem, a few yards in breadth on either side of the river. It supports a few scattering date-palms, which are the principal dependence of the Nubians. They are taxed at the rate of a piastre and a half each, annually, the trees being counted every five years by a Government officer appointed for that purpose. If half of them should die in the mean time, the tax remains the same until the next count. The trees are seven years in coming to maturity, after which they produce dates for seven years, and then gradually decay. They are male and female, and are generally planted so that the pollen may be blown from the male to the female flowers. In some parts of Egypt this impregnation is artificially produced. The banks are planted with wheat, beans and a species of lupin, from which bread is made, and wherever a little shelf of soil is found along the base of the mountains, the creaking sakias turn day and night to give life to patches of dourra and cotton. In a rough shed, protected from the sun by palm-mats, a cow or buffalo walks a weary round, raising the water, which is conveyed in small channels, built of clay, to all the numerous beds into which the field is divided. These are filled, in regular succession to the depth of two inches, and then left to stand until dried by the sun. The process is continued until the grain is nearly ripe. The sakias pay a tax of threehundred piastres a year, levied in lieu of a ground tax, which the Egyptians pay. With all their labor, the inhabitants scarcely produce enough to support themselves, and the children are sent to Cairo at an early age, where they become house-servants, and like the Swiss and Savoyards, send home a portion of their earnings. This part of Nubia is inhabited by the Kenoos tribe, who speak a language of their own. They and their language are designated by the general name ofBaràbra(nearly equivalent to “barbarians”) by the Arabs. They are more stupid than the Egyptian Fellahs, but their character for truth and honesty is superior. In my walks on shore, I found them very friendly, and much less impudent than the Nubians about Assouan.
The northern part of Nubia is rich in Egyptian remains, but I hastened on without visiting them, passing the temples of Dabôd, Kalabshee, Dakkeh, Dendoor and Sebooa, which looked at me invitingly from the western bank. Near Dendoor I crossed the Tropic of Cancer, and on the fourth afternoon after leaving Assouan, Raïs Hereedee pointed out in the distance the mountain of Korosko, the goal of the voyage. I was charmed with the near prospect of desert life, but I fancied Achmet was rather grave, since all beyond was an unknown region to him. The sharp peak of the mountain gradually drew nearer, and at dusk my boat was moored to a palm-tree, in front of the village of Korosko.
In less than half an hour, I received a visit from the Governor, Moussa Effendi, who brought me good news. A caravan had just arrived from Sennaar, and camels were in readiness for the journey to Berber, in Ethiopia. This was very lucky, for merchants are frequently detained at Korosko twenty orthirty days, and I had anticipated a delay of at least a week. I also learned that Dr. Knoblecher, the Apostolic Vicar of the Catholic Missions in Central Africa, had left for Khartoum about twenty days previous. The Governor was profuse in his offers of assistance, stating that as Shekh Abou-Mohammed, a chief of the Ababdeh tribe, through whose territories my road lay, was then in Korosko, he would be enabled to make every arrangement for my safety and convenience.
Early the next morning my equipage was taken ashore and my tent pitched for the first time, under a clump of palm trees, overlooking the Nile. Leaving Ali to act as guard, I took Achmet and walked up to the village of Korosko, which is about a quarter of a mile from the shore, at the foot of the lofty Djebel Korosko. The Governor’s mansion was a mud hut, differing from the other huts in size only. His Excellency received me cordially, and immediately sent for Shekh Abou-Mohammed, with whom the contract for camels must be made. The Shekh was a tall, imposing personage, with a dark-brown complexion, but perfectly straight and regular features. He was accompanied by a superb attendant—an Ababdeh, six feet two inches in height, with sharp, symmetrical features, and a fine, fierce eye. His hair was raised perpendicularly from his forehead, but on each side hung down in a great number of little twists, smeared with mutton-fat and castor-oil. His long cotton mantle was wrapped around him like a Greek chlamys, and his bearing was as manly and majestic as that of an Ajax or a Diomed. There was some controversy about the number of camels; Achmet and I had decided that we should not require more than five, and the Shekh insisted that we should take more, but finally agreed to furnish us with six, includingone for the guide, at the price paid by officers of the Government—ninety piastres (four dollars and fifty cents) each, to El Mekheyref, the capital of Dar Berber, a journey of fourteen days. This included the services of camel-drivers, and all other expenses, except the hire of the guide, whose fee was that of a camel—ninety piastres. Merchants who travel this route, pay according to the weight of their loads, and frequently from one hundred and twenty to one hundred and fifty piastres.
Soon after returning to my tent, I was again visited by the Governor, who found my choice Latakieh very acceptable to his taste. I therefore presented him with two or three pounds of it, and some gunpowder, which he received in a way that made me sure of his good offices. Shekh Abou-Mohammed also came down, inspected my baggage, and was satisfied that the camels would not be overloaded. He declared, however, that the fourgeerbehs, or water-skins, which I had brought from Cairo, would not be sufficient, and as none were to be purchased in Korosko, loaned me four more for the journey, on my agreeing to pay him half their value. I also paid him for the camels, he giving a formal receipt therefor, which was intrusted to the guide, to be delivered to the Governor of Berber, on our arrival there. Three short, black Arabs of the Bishàree tribe, with immense bushy heads of twisted and greased hair, were presented to me as the camel-drivers. After receiving their share of the money (for the camels belonged to them), they squatted down together and occupied an hour or two in counting and dividing it. One of them then took a long palm-rope, and went into the desert to catch the animals, while the others remained to assist in arranging the baggage into separate loads.
The caravan from Sennaar brought twelve giraffes, which had been captured in the forests of the Blue Nile, as a present from Lattif Pasha, Governor of Soudân, to Abbas Pasha. They were in good condition, notwithstanding the toilsome march across the Nubian Desert. The officer who had them in charge informed me that they made frequent efforts to escape, and one of them, which broke from its keeper’s hold, was only recaptured after a chase of several hours. Four large trading-boats were in readiness, to convey them to Assouan, and the graceful creatures stood on the bank, with their heads almost touching the crowns of the date-trees, looking with wonder on the busy scene below. For a long time they refused to enter the unsteady barges, but at last, trembling with fear, they were forced on board and floated away, their slim necks towering like masts in the distance.
There was a small tent on the bank, pitched not far from mine. Its occupant, a one-eyed, olive-faced young man, in Egyptian costume, came to pay me a visit, and I found that he was a son of M. Linant, by a former Abyssinian wife. He was then making his second trip to Soudân, as a merchant, on a capital of twenty-five thousand piastres, which his father had given him. Although he only required twelve camels, he had been eight days in Korosko waiting for them, and was still waiting when I left. He was accompanied by a young Frenchman, who was one of the grandest liars I ever met. He told me with a grave face, that he had travelled from Algiers to Egypt through the Great Sahara, and had on one occasion gone eight days without water, and the thermometer one hundred and twenty-five degrees in the shade! The son of the former Mek (king) of Shendy—the same fierce old savage whoburned to death Ismaïl Pasha and his soldiers—was also in Korosko, and visited me during the day. He held some office under Government, which made him responsible for the security of travellers and merchandise in the Desert, and his presence probably facilitated my arrangements. He was a strikingly handsome man, and wore a superb Cashmere shawl twisted around his head as a turban.
The water-skins were soaked in the Nile all day, to prepare them for use. Achmet, backed by the Governor’s authority, ransacked the village for further supplies of provisions, but the place was miserably poor, and he only succeeded in procuring two pounds of butter, a few fowls, and some bread. There were pigeons in abundance, however, and he cooked a sufficient number to last us two or three days. The fowls were placed in a lightcafass, or coop, to be carried on the top of the baggage. Ali, proud of his new station, worked faithfully, and before night all our preparations were completed. I then sent for a barber, had my hair shorn close to the skin, and assumed the complete Egyptian costume. I was already accustomed to the turban, and shawl around the waist, and the addition of a light silksidree, or shirt, and trowsers which contained eighteen yards of muslin, completed the dress, which in its grace, convenience, and adaptation to the climate and habits of the East, is immeasurably superior to the Frank costume. It allows complete freedom of the limbs, while the most sensitive parts of the body are thoroughly protected from changes of temperature. The legs, especially, are even less fettered by the wide Turkish trowsers than by a Highland kilt, and they fold themselves under you naturally and comfortably in the characteristic attitude of the Orientals. The turbanwhich appears so hot and cumbrous, is in reality cool, and impervious to the fiercest sun that ever blazed.
After dinner, I seated myself at the tent door, wrapped in my capote, and gave myself up to the pipe of meditation. It was a splendid starlit evening. Not a blade of the palm-leaves was stirring, and the only sounds I heard were the melancholy drone ofsakiasalong the river, and the cry of the jackal among the hills. The Nile had already become my home, endeared to me not more by the grand associations of its eldest human history than by the rest and the patience which I had breathed in its calm atmosphere. Now I was to leave it for the untried Desert, and the strange regions beyond, where I should find its aspect changed. Would it still give me the same health of body, the same peace and contentment of soul? “Achmet,” said I to the Theban, who was sitting not far off, silently smoking, “we are going into strange countries—have you no fear?” “You remember, master,” he answered, “that we left Cairo on a lucky day, and why should I fear, since all things are in the hands of Allah?”