ABOUT two in the afternoon of the following day we reached “Ain El Jemala,” the first well of Dakhla Oasis, situated near the edge of a large area of scrub, which was said to be a favourite haunt of gazelle. We halted here to water the camels. We then pushed on past the village of Tenida, to Belat.
The’omda(village head-man) came round during the afternoon, bringing some of the leading men of the village with him to welcome me to the oasis, and to invite me to dine with him, greeting me with the picturesque formula invariably used in the desert to anyone returning from a journey—“praise be to Allah for your safety.”
After dinner a man was brought in who had come from Mut, the capital town of the oasis, bringing me a note from themamur, or native magistrate, welcoming me to his district, and saying that, though he had heard I had come, no one had been able to pronounce my name. He asked me to get someone to write it down in Arabic. Dakhla Oasis, though it lies just within the Egyptian frontier, had been visited by very few Europeans up to that time, and my arrival in this out-of-the-way spot consequently created somewhat of a stir in its little community.
I entrusted Khalil with the answer to the letter. The “ing” sound in my name is one which no Arab-speaking native has ever been able to master. At length, after much discussion, Khalil got the letter written; the result being that I ever afterwards went in the oasis under the name of “Harden Keen.”
From Belat we pushed on to Smint el Kharab, or ruined Smint, where are some mud-built ruins, some of which have paintings on their interior walls, apparently of Coptic origin. From Smint el Kharab we pushed on to the villageof Smint itself. Here we were of course invited to lunch by the’omda—an invitation of which I was for once glad to avail myself, as we had made an early start, and the caravan, which had been told to wait for me outside the village, had by some misunderstanding, gone on to Mut.
My first impressions of the inhabitants of these oases, with their cordial welcome, was certainly a most favourable one. Their hospitality, however, I found at times somewhat overwhelming.
’OMDA’S HOUSE, TENIDA.
’OMDA’S HOUSE, TENIDA.
’OMDA’S HOUSE, TENIDA.
As to the nature of this hospitality there appears to be some misunderstanding. In many cases one’s host is a private individual, or, if he be an’omda, entertains one in his private capacity. But usually when invited to partake of a meal or to stay with an’omda, one is in reality the guest of the entire village, though the fact may not be apparent. The’omdasof Dakhla Oasis have the right to take a small proportion of the flow of any new well sunk in their district, to pay for the hospitality they show to the strangers that come to their village. In cases where there are no new wells, they collect from the heads of the different families the expenses that they have incurredin this way; so that in reality the cost of one’s entertainment falls on the whole village.
The majority of the natives of these oases are miserably poor, and it goes much against the grain for a European to have to live upon them in this way. But to refuse their hospitality would be considered as a slight, if not as an actual insult, and so would any attempt to offer them any payment in return.
The meals, as a rule, were quite well cooked, and usually better than I got in camp. It was the tea and cigarettes that were such a trial. The one luxury the inhabitants of the oasis allow themselves is tea; even the poorest of them consume enormous quantities. The quality of the tea in the better class houses is irreproachable. The best of it is said to come from Persia, and I was told that as much as £1 arotl(the Egyptian pound) is paid for it. In addition to red tea, a green tea, and also a brown and a black are used. The last I only tasted once; it seemed to be of an inferior quality. The richer natives will often offer two or even three different kinds in succession.
After drinking, it is quite the correct thing to sit silent for some time licking and smacking one’s lips, “tasting the tea” as it is called, as a compliment to the quality supplied by one’s host. The natives have another way of showing their appreciation of the fare set before them, which, however, it would be better not to describe.
The greatest ordeal I had to face was not the tea but the cigarettes. My host would extract from somewhere in the voluminous folds of his clothing a large shiny papier mâché tobacco-box, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, from which he would produce some tobacco and cigarette papers and proceed to roll me a cigarette, which he thenlicked down.
Eventually I found a means to avoid them. If the cigarette was offered me before the tea, I placed it above my ear—the correct position to carry it in the oases—and explained that I would smoke it later, so as to avoid spoiling the tea. If it was handed to me after the tea drinking, I was able to postpone lighting it for a time by saying that I would not smoke it just then, as I was still “tasting”the tea; then, while still licking and smacking my lips, with the cigarette still unsmoked above my ear, I found that it was time to take my departure. Once safely outside my host’s house in the desert, the cigarette would fall down from my ear and be promptly scrambled for by my men.
In Smint, however, no cigarettes were forthcoming. The reason was not far to seek. Close to the village the Senussi had built azawia, and a large number of the inhabitants of the village had already been converted to the tenets of the sect, or, as the natives put it, they “followed the sheykh.” The members of this sect are forbidden to smoke.
SENUSSI ZAWIA AT SMINT.
SENUSSI ZAWIA AT SMINT.
SENUSSI ZAWIA AT SMINT.
In company with the’omdawe went to call on the sheykh of thezawia. After speaking to us for a minute or two, he rather sulkily invited us to enter and treated us to the usual tea.
Thezawiawas an entirely unpretentious looking mud-built building, and might have been only the house of a well-to-do villager. The head of it—Sheykh Senussi by name—was quite a young man in the early twenties, and had probably been given the position owing to the fact that he had married a daughter of Sheykh Mohammed el Mawhub, the chief Senussi sheykh in Dakhla, who himself had azawiaat Qasr Dakhl, the largest town in the oasis, situated in its north-western corner.
He was said to be an Arab from Tripoli way, a statement that was borne out by his clothing, which consisted of theordinary whitehramof a Tripolitan Arab of the poorer class. He was very silent during the whole of our visit, and when he did condescend to speak it was generally to sneer or laugh at some remark that we made. The interview was consequently cut as short as possible.
Re-soling a Camel’s Foot.The sharp rocks of the desert sometimes flay the entire skin from the sole of a camel’s foot, the Arabs replace this with a piece of leather sewn on to the camel’s foot. (p. 35).
Re-soling a Camel’s Foot.The sharp rocks of the desert sometimes flay the entire skin from the sole of a camel’s foot, the Arabs replace this with a piece of leather sewn on to the camel’s foot. (p. 35).
Re-soling a Camel’s Foot.The sharp rocks of the desert sometimes flay the entire skin from the sole of a camel’s foot, the Arabs replace this with a piece of leather sewn on to the camel’s foot. (p. 35).
Re-soling a Camel’s Foot.
The sharp rocks of the desert sometimes flay the entire skin from the sole of a camel’s foot, the Arabs replace this with a piece of leather sewn on to the camel’s foot. (p. 35).
After Qway had succeeded in extracting some barley for his camel off the’omdawe started again, for Mut, which lay about six miles away to the west.
In many parts the scenery of these oases is extremely pretty. Our road to Mut lay through cultivated fields, alternating with areas of salt-encrusted land, and sprinkled with palm plantations and low earthy hills. Away to the north at the foot of the cliff that bounds the oasis lay the palm groves of the village of Hindau. The fields, with their ripening grain and green crops ofbersim(clover), the yellow ochreous hills, the clumps of graceful date palms with their dark green foliage, set against a background of cream-coloured sand dunes and purple cliffs, made a lovely picture in the light of the setting sun.
As we neared Mut, however, the country became less productive. Large areas of land thickly encrusted with salt and barren stretches of desert replaced the fertile fields and palm groves in the neighbourhood of Masara and Smint. Owing probably to the sinking of new wells at a lower level in the village of Rashida, the water supply of Mut has for many years been falling off, and now, although the place is the capital town, the district in which it lies is one of the poorest in the whole oasis.
We reached Mut in the dusk soon after sunset. Built on a low hill, and seen in the failing light, the place gave rather the impression of an old medieval fortified town. We skirted round its southern side, past a number of walled enclosures used to pen the cattle in at night, and, passing through a gap in the south-western corner of the wall that surrounds the town, arrived at a large rambling mud-built building, mainly used as a store, in which I had received leave to stay. It was a gloomy-looking place, and had evidently been built with a view to defence. Entering through a gate in the wall, secured by a bar, and turning to the right past some low outbuildings, we found ourselvesin a narrow court, surrounded on three sides by high two-storied buildings—the upper part having apparently been used at some time as a harem by one of its former inmates.
Doors opened from either end of a gallery that joined the two wings. One led into the centre of three rooms on the western side that looked over the desert, and the other into some small chambers which, as one had a fire-place in it for cooking, I allotted to Dahab and Khalil, retaining the three western rooms for my own use.
OLD HOUSES IN MUT.
OLD HOUSES IN MUT.
OLD HOUSES IN MUT.
These proved to be high, spacious and airy, and commanded a fine view over the desert. The windows were large and fitted with a sort of trellis. This not only made the rooms more private, but considerably reduced the glare of the desert. So beyond the fact that the floors in many places seemed unsafe, and that the place was said to swarm with scorpions, I had little fault to find with my lodgings.
I walked out in the dusk as soon as we had settled intoour quarters in the old store, to see what I could of the town. Many of the streets were roofed over, as in Kharga Oasis, but the tunnels were not nearly so long and very considerably higher, so that, except for the unevenness of the roadway, we had no difficulty in getting about. We were, however, compelled to carry a lantern in order to find our way.
There was not much to be seen; but the monotonous thudding of the women pounding rice, the continuous rumbling sound of the small stone hand mills by which they were grinding grain, the smell of wood smoke, the soft singing of the women and an occasional bar of ruddy light, crossing the roadway from some partly open doorway, showed that most of the inhabitants were in their houses preparing their evening meal.
Rice enters largely into the bill of fare of the natives of the oases, and is pounded by the women with a large stone held in both hands, which is brought down with all their strength into a small basin-shaped hollow scooped out of the rocky sandstone floor upon which the town is built.
The following morning I received a state visit from themamur(magistrate), Ibrahim Zaky by name, the doctor, Gorgi Michael, a Copt from Syria, and thezabit, or police officer. Themamurand doctor spoke English fairly well.
Like most of the native officials who are to be found in the oases, themamurwas rather under a cloud, and had been sent to Dakhla as a punishment for some misdeeds of his in his last appointment. These oases posts are cordially disliked by the natives, as in these remote districts they are entirely cut off from the gay life of the towns of the Nile Valley. The appointments, however, have certain advantages. Being so far removed from the towns of the Nile Valley may be dull, but it frees them from the constant supervision of the English inspectors, a state of things of which an Egyptian is usually not slow to take advantage, by extortingbakhshishfrom the wretchedfellahinof their district—often to a most outrageous extent.
One of the English inspectors had very kindly writtento themamurto inform him that I was coming into his district, and to tell him to help me in any way he could. Themamur’sterm of office in Dakhla being nearly at an end, he was extremely anxious to get my good word with the inspector in order that he might be appointed to a better district. He was accordingly most oppressive and unremitting in his attentions—until the government removed him to another and still worse district.
He was by no means enthusiastic about his life in the oasis, and, from his account of the natives, he evidently looked upon them as being little removed from beasts. He explained that he had left his wife behind in Egypt, but as he found that he did not get on well without one, he had married a young girl from Mut. He complained bitterly of the expense she had put him to, for as he expressed it in his rather defective English, it had “cost him £25 to make her clean!”
After the Egyptian officials had departed, a succession of’omdasfrom all over the oasis dropped in to pay their respects and to ask me to come round to their villages.
After the’omdascame various minor fry. First the camel postman, a burly, black-bearded Arab, called ’Ali Kashuta, looked in, drank a gallon or two of tea, took a handful of cigarettes out of the box that was handed to him, told me several times that he was my servant, and obviously didn’t mean it; and then asking if I had any letters for post, departed, leaving a breezy independent atmosphere behind him, which was a pleasant contrast to the fawning attitude of the other natives.
Then came the clerk to the Qadi, Sheykh Senussi, who was also a member of the Senussi sect. He was a very learned person and a poet in his leisure moments. He drank tea, but didn’t smoke, and was all smiles and compliments.
Next came the postmaster. He had been to school in the Nile Valley and spoke English quite well. He explained—what I was beginning to realise—that I was causing much mystification to the good people of the oasis; they could not make me out at all. The postmaster, however,who had been educated in Egypt, knew all about it. He had read about a man called “Keristoffer Kolombos,” who had found America, and he thought that I must be in the same line of business. I told him that he was quite right. He beamed all over, and immediately departed to break the good news to an expectant oasis that the great problem had been solved. Before going he wished that Allah would preserve me on my journey, and hoped that I should find another America in the Libyan Desert.
In the afternoon I went round to tea with themamurin themerkaz, or official residence.
One of his guests was a tall intelligent looking man, who was introduced to me as the’omdaof Rashida, themamuradding in English that he was one of the most hospitable men in the oasis; but very fond of whisky.
The latter statement unfortunately proved to be true. According to themamur, he was a most depraved and habitual drunkard. This, however, was an exaggeration.
Between him and this’omdathere was very little love lost. Shortly before my arrival they had quarrelled furiously. I never heard the cause of the dispute—it was probably a case ofcherchez la femme, for Dakhla is one of those unfortunate places where, as Byron so nearly expressed it, “man’s love is of his wife a thing apart, ’tis woman’s whole persistence.” These small-minded natives will squabble over the most trivial matters and keep the quarrel going for years. Often a tiff of the most puerile kind will become a family matter and end in a regular hereditary feud. In the Nile Valley this often leads to bloodshed. In the oases, however, the quarrel usually takes the form of the two sides to abusing and telling lies about each other behind their backs, wrangling whenever they chance to meet, and endeavouring at every possible opportunity to subject their opponent to anayb(insult, slight, snub) often of a most elaborate description.
Shortly before my arrival the’omda, getting sick of the squabble, or finding that themamurwas making things too unpleasant for him, had held out the olive branch by sending him a basket of early mulberries—a fruit muchappreciated in the oasis. Themamurhad made this an opportunity to humiliate his opponent. He had thrown the fruit out of his window into the square in front of the mosque, where all the inhabitants had seen it. It was generally considered that he had scored heavily by doing so, and that this was one of the bestaybsthat had been seen for years. The whole oasis had been talking about it.
The partisans of the’omdawere consequently much discomforted; but endeavoured to cover up their defeat by explaining that it hadn’t really been a goodayb—themamurhad not thrown the whole of the mulberries away, as he had stated, but had taken out all the best ones and had only thrown away the rotten ones out of his window; so as anaybit didn’t count at all.
The ill-feeling between these two at length rose to such a pitch that some of the leading men in the oasis decided to try and effect a reconciliation between them, and a ceremony known as “making the peace” took place.
The two opponents were invited to meet together in the presence of some of their friends, who had argued with them, and at length the quarrel had been patched up. They had then fallen on each other’s necks and embraced and had agreed to feed together. They had partaken of a huge feast in which whisky apparently played a prominent part, and had both got drunk and started quarrelling furiously again, in their cups. The next morning, when they were both probably feeling rather cheap, the peace-makers had got to work again and explained to them that they had not played the game, and again a reconciliation had been effected; but there was still a good deal of latent ill-feeling between them which vented itself mostly in backbiting, under a show of friendship.
BY Qway’s advice I started feeding my camels onbersim, preparatory to our journey into the dunes. There are two kinds ofbersimgrown in the oasis:bersim beladi[1]andbersim hajazi.[2]Bersim hajazi, however, should not be fed to camels in its green state, as it very frequently causes them to get hoven.
Thebersimwas bought off the natives by thekantar, of a hundred Egyptian pounds. At first there was some difficulty in getting it weighed. Abd er Rahman, however, proved equal to the emergency. He discovered a rock, which was supposed to weigh akantar, and which was the standard weight for the whole oasis. He then rigged up a pair of scales, consisting of two baskets fixed to either end of a beam, suspended from a second beam.
In the evening of the first day I spent in Mut I climbed to the top of a low hill close to the town to look at the dune field that I hoped to cross. A more depressing sight it would be impossible to imagine. Not only were the sand hills in the neighbourhood of the town much higher than those we had encountered on leaving Kharga Oasis, but they extended as far as it was possible to see to the horizon, and obviously became considerably larger in the far distance, where they were evidently of great height.
I returned to my rooms with the gloomiest forebodings, wishing I had never been such a fool as to tackle thebelad esh Shaytan, or “Satan’s country,” as the natives call this part of the desert, and wondering whether, when I attempted to cross those dunes, I should not end, after a few hours’ journey, in having to return completely beaten with my tail tightly tucked between my legs, to the Nile Valley. I lay awake for most of the night in consequence.
But daylight as usual made things look more cheerful. Anyway I could have a shot at it, and as my camels did not seem to be in very good order I decided to give them a rest and to feed them up into the best possible condition, before subjecting them to what appeared to be an almost impossible task. In the meantime I thought I might as well see something of the oasis, and at the same time collect what information I could about the desert.
So a few days after my arrival at Mut I set off with themamur, the policeman and the doctor to stay for a night with the’omdaof Rashida, leaving the caravan behind me.
For the first two hours after leaving Mut, till we reached the village of Qalamun, our road lay over a barren country largely covered with loose sand, which proved to be rather heavy going.
Qalamun is rather a picturesque village, and seems to have been built with an eye to defence. A great deal of land in the neighbourhood is covered with drift sand, which in places seems to be encroaching on to the cultivation, though not to be doing any serious damage. An unusually large proportion of land in the neighbourhood is planted with date palms, and, as the water supply seems to be fairly abundant, the place has a prosperous well-to-do air. In some cases the wells appear to be failing, as a fewshadufsfor raising the water were to be seen. These and a few Dom palms gave the neighbourhood a rather distinctive appearance. Of course we visited the’omda. The sheykhs of this village—the Shurbujis by name—claim to have governed the oasis ever since the time of the Sultan Selim, “The Grim.”
On leaving Qalaman we made straight for Rashida, most of our road lying through cultivated fields, planted mainly with cereals. Before reaching the village, we passed a large dead tree—asunt, or acacia, apparently—which is known as the “tree of Sheykh Adam,” and is supposed to possess a soul. The wood is reported to be uninflammable.
Shortly before reaching Rashida, we were met by the’omdaand some of his family, who had ridden out to meet us, all splendidly mounted on Syrian horses, gorgeouslycaparisoned with richly embroidered saddles and saddle cloths. These joined on to our party and rode back with us to Rashida.
Kharashef.Sand Grooved Ridge.The wind driven sand grooves away the rock, sometimes leaving large ridges standing above its surface. (p. 308).In Old Mut.This shows the fortified character of the houses formerly built in the oases of the Libyan desert as a defence against raids. (p. 41).
Kharashef.Sand Grooved Ridge.The wind driven sand grooves away the rock, sometimes leaving large ridges standing above its surface. (p. 308).
Kharashef.
Kharashef.
Sand Grooved Ridge.The wind driven sand grooves away the rock, sometimes leaving large ridges standing above its surface. (p. 308).
Sand Grooved Ridge.
The wind driven sand grooves away the rock, sometimes leaving large ridges standing above its surface. (p. 308).
In Old Mut.This shows the fortified character of the houses formerly built in the oases of the Libyan desert as a defence against raids. (p. 41).
In Old Mut.This shows the fortified character of the houses formerly built in the oases of the Libyan desert as a defence against raids. (p. 41).
In Old Mut.
This shows the fortified character of the houses formerly built in the oases of the Libyan desert as a defence against raids. (p. 41).
The village is one of the prettiest and most fertile in the oasis. It is built on a low ridge lying at the south-east corner of a very extensive grove of palms, in whose shade were planted great numbers of fruit trees: figs, mulberries, apricots, oranges, tangerines—known in Egypt under the curious name ofYussef effendi, i.e. Mr. Joseph—bananas, almonds, pomegranates, limes, lemons, olives and sweet lemons, the last bearing a large, tasteless, but very juicy fruit, something like a citron in appearance.
THE TREE WITH A SOUL, RASHIDA.
THE TREE WITH A SOUL, RASHIDA.
THE TREE WITH A SOUL, RASHIDA.
The village lies close to the cliff. The interior of the village was of the normal type, and, beyond presenting an unusually prosperous appearance and having the walls of some of its houses painted on the outside in geometrical patterns, usually in red and white, did not differ from the other villages in the oasis.
The’omda’shouse was delightfully situated, with palm trees growing almost up to the walls. He took us up into his guest chamber, a long narrow room neatly whitewashed and furnished almost entirely in the European manner, with deck-chairs, sofas round the walls, a large gilt hanging lamp, bent wood chairs and three-legged tables. The windows were draped with European curtainsand the floor covered with Eastern rugs and carpets. A large mirror in a gilt frame and an oleograph portrait of the Khedive completed the list of furniture.
On entering the room one’s eye was at once caught by the words “Ahlan wa Sahlen”—welcome—painted on the opposite wall. And welcome that hospitable’omdacertainly made us. The windows had been kept closely shuttered all the morning to keep out the heat and the flies; but these were opened on our arrival. Then the’omdaentered and proceeded to spray the room and its inmates with scent. Shortly afterwards the inevitable tea and cigarettes made their appearance.
After compliments, enquiries as to the health of all parties present and the usual polite preliminaries had been got through—a process that took some minutes—the conversation turned upon horses. Only a few of the richer natives of the oases are able to afford them, and the remainder, when they do not walk, ride on donkeys. Powerful quarters, round cannon bones and a small head, with an especially small muzzle and widely distended nostrils, seemed to be the points they valued most.
After luncheon, when the heat of the day was past, we were taken by the’omdato see some of the sights of the village. First we were led to a big mud ruin known as the ’Der abu Madi. He told us he had dug up a number of mummies about a mile to the north of the village, which he said had been buried in earthenware coffins. Fragments of one of these coffins that he produced showed that they must have been about three inches thick and had evidently been baked in a kiln. Many of the mummies had been wrapped round with a cloth of some sort, with their arms lying straight along their sides, and had then been wound tightly round with a rope. The remains of one of them was shown us. It was, however, entirely knocked to pieces, as the’omdaand his family had stuck it upright on the ground and then amused themselves by turning it into an “Aunt Sally.” One or two coins and the skull of a gazelle had been dug up from one of the graves. The coins unfortunately were so worn and decayed that they could not be recognised. There seemsto be plenty of work for an archæologist in Dakhla—and still more for an inspector of antiquities.
We were next taken off to see the great sight of Rashida—the Bir Magnun, or “foolish well.” When this well was being sunk about forty years ago the labourers stopped working for the day, not knowing that they had almost reached the water-bearing stratum, with the result that the water forced its way through the small distance from the bottom of the bore hole to the top of the water reservoir, and gushed up with such violence that it forced the tubing, above the bore hole, partly out of the ground and flooded the whole country round.
On first arriving in the oases, I made enquiries on all sides from the natives for information as to what wells, roads or oases were to be found in the unknown parts of the desert, beyond the Senussi frontier. For a long time I could extract no information from any of them, and it was not till I got to Rashida, and happened to ask the’omdawhether he knew anything about the oasis of Zerzura, that I got any information at all. There is no stopping a native of Dakhla when he gets on that subject, and one begins dimly to realise how very little the East has changed since the days when the “Arabian Nights” were written.
Many of the wealthier natives of the oases, and also, I believe, of the Nile Valley, spend an appreciable portion of their time in hunting for buried treasure. The pursuit is an absorbing one, to which even Europeans at times fall victims. Curious as it may seem at first sight, the native efforts are not infrequently attended with some success.
The reason is not far to seek. In former days, when the country was ruled by a lot of corrupt Turkish officials, a native, who was known to be possessed of any wealth, at once became the object of their extortionate attentions. He consequently took every precaution to hide his riches from these rapacious officials. The plan which he very often adopted was to bury his valuables in the ground. Not infrequently he must have died without imparting to his relations the whereabouts of his cache. The treasure buried in this way in Egypt would probably amount toan enormous sum in the aggregate, if it could only be located.
Then, too, the sites of old Roman settlements are to be found all over Egypt. The careless way in which the Romans seem to have scattered their petty cash about the streets of their towns is simply amazing. You can hardly dig for an hour in any old Roman site without coming across an old copper coin or two.
Let a native find a few coins in this way, and he will spend weeks, when no one is looking, in prowling around the neighbourhood in the hopes of finding more. Should he be lucky enough to find an earthenware pot containing a handful or two of old coins hidden in the past from a Turkish pasha, it is pretty certain that he will become a confirmed fortune-hunter for the remainder of his life. There is no doubt that quite considerable sums—several pounds’ worth at a time—are occasionally found in this way. The natives are extraordinarily secretive about this kind of thing, and have been so long under a corrupt Government that they can hold their own counsel far better than any white man—for even now in out-of-the-way districts such as the oases, where the English inspectors cannot properly supervise the native officials, the extortionate ruler is at times most unpleasantlyen evidence.
In their hunts for buried riches the natives are frequently guided by old “books of treasure.” Every self-respecting native, who is wealthy enough to procure one, possesses at least one copy.
Before leaving Kharga I was fortunate in meeting E. A. Johnson Pasha, so well known as the translator of the whole of Omar Khayyám’s “Rubaiyat” into English verse—Fitzgerald, of course, only translated a portion of it. He was the proud possessor of the only complete copy known to exist of a book of this description, dating from the fifteenth century.
One of the problems of the Libyan Desert, beyond the western frontier of Egypt, is that of the oasis known as Zerzura, or “The oasis of the Blacks.” It was, I believe, first heard of by Rohlfs, who, in his attempt to go westward from Dakhla Oasis to Kufara, found the sand dunesimpassable for his big caravan, and so had to turn up to the north and make for the oasis of Siwa instead. During this journey he encountered three blacks, who said that they were escaped slaves from the oasis of Zerzura, a place that they described as being some distance to the west of his route.
On mentioning this place to Johnson Pasha, he told me of this old book, and said that it contained a description of the road to this oasis, and of what might be found there by anyone who was fortunate enough to reach it. His book also described the road to the mines of King Cambyses.
He very kindly gave me a translation of the portions of this queer old volume that related to these two places. There were two descriptions of the road to Zerzura in a section of the book headed “In the Oases” They ran as follows:—
“Go to the Der el Banat (the girls’ convent), near it you will find a hollow place, threemastabas(platforms), a round hill and three red stones. Burn incense here.” Then follow two lines of cipher writing and cabalistic signs, which presumably give instructions for following the road, and the description ends.
The second reference was much more to the point. It was as follows: “Account of a city and the road to it, which lies east of the Qala’a es Suri, where you will find palms and vines and flowing wells. Follow the valley till you meet another valley opening to the west between two hills. In it you will find a road. Follow it. It will lead you to the City of Zerzura. You will find its gate closed. It is a white city, like a dove. By the gate you will find a bird sculptured. Stretch up your hand to its beak and take from it a key. Open the gate with it and enter the city. You will find much wealth and the king and queen in their palace sleeping the sleep of enchantment. Do not go near them. Take the treasure and that is all.”
The book also contained two separate directions for finding the mines of King Cambyses. One of them instructed the reader thus: “Go to the Der el ’Ain, west of Esna, where there is a medical spring, and go northfrom the Der and the well five farasangs, which make a barid and a quarter, to where there is a red hill with a beacon mark on the top of it. You are to go up and look towards the east. You will see a pillar divided into two halves. Dig there.” Then the aggravating book—just when it comes to giving the final definite directions for finding the mines, breaks off into line upon line of cabalistic signs, as it did in the case of Zerzura.
The second instruction for finding the mines, however, is much more explicit, and goes into minute details of the road to be followed, so much so that it would appear to be impossible for anyone to miss it.
It runs as follows: “By the town of Esna, north of Edfu. If you go there seek the mines of King Kambisoos (Cambyses). Ask for the Holy Der, which is called ‘———’ but to give away directions for finding such wealth of treasure would be foolish. King Cambyses was a son of Cyrus the Great—the Conqueror of Babylon—and ruled over the Medes and Persians when the Persian Empire was at about its height. He was a real big King, and the much-vaunted mines of King Solomon—a mere petty Sultan by comparison—probably bear about the same relation to those of King Cambyses as a threepenny-bit bears to the present National Debt. The mere description of them in Johnson Pasha’s book of treasure makes one’s mouth water.”
First the directions lead you—in the clearest possible way—to a valley called the Wady el Muluk (the valley of the kings). Here you find the crucibles and all the apparatus and tools necessary for smelting, merely waiting to be used. You go a little farther on and you come to the “high class mine”—and very high class it is. You have only to dig half a cubit deep into it and you come at once on to a mineral “like yellow earth in stony ground.” First you find it in lumps the size of beans, which “is sent by Allah,” and you are directed to take “His good fortune.” Then if you dig deeper, you will find it in lumps the size of melons. This you are explicitly told “is gold of Egypt. There is none better”—a statement it would be rash to contradict.
Having dealt with these particular mines, the old Arab astrologer directs his son, to whom the book is addressed, to go on to where two great rocks stand up, with a hollow before them, stating that in the hollow will be found “a black earth with green veins like silver rust,” and directs him to take it. It is “sent by Allah.” Unfortunately he omits to mention the nature of this mysterious mineral.
He then directs his son to “go with the blessing of Allah” to another place, where he states “You will find, oh! my son, before you a high hill in which they used to get the peridots.” Next he tells him how to go on to the “Emerald pits which are three in number,” and after that, directs him to the “Copper mine which is in a cave closed by a door,” adding that the copper ore is “green earth very like green ginger and having veins in it like blood.”
With the dazzling prospect of acquiring such untold wealth as that to be obtained in the very “high class mines,” described in books of treasure such as this, is it to be wondered that the natives of Egypt spend so much time in looking for them?
Treasure hunting must be a most fascinating pursuit. But it is seldom a remunerative one. Still it is a curious fact that peridots used formerly to be known in the trade as “Esna peridots,” which rather points to the fact that they were brought in to be marketed in that town, perhaps by the road alluded to in this book.
When I broached the subject of Zerzura to the’omdaof Rashida, he said he did not know of any place called the Der el Banat (convent of the girls), but the old name of the Der Abu Madi was, he said, the “der el Seba’a banat” (convent of the seven girls), and that there was supposed to be a book and a mirror buried somewhere near there. By following the directions contained in the book, and then looking in the mirror the way to Zerzura would, he said, appear.
He told me—I don’t guarantee his veracity—that three years before, while he was staying in an hotel in Egypt, a waiter had come up to him and asked him if he were not the’omdaof Rashida. On hearing that he was, he toldhim that he wanted to go to the “Der el Seba’a Banat,” as he had read in a book of treasure that seven hundred cubits to the north of the Der, there were threemastabasround a round hill, and that under each of them was buried a pan of large gold coins calledgurban. He then showed him a specimen which the’omdasaid was very old, larger than a five-piastre piece and very thick and heavy. The waiter told him he had found the coin in the Nile Valley by following the directions given in his book of treasure, and offered, if he would go into partnership with him, to give him half of anything they found.
The’omdahad apparently refused this offer, and started digging on his own account; but having failed to find the treasure, he was very anxious for me to go into partnership with him, and said that by combining our instructions we ought to be able to find something. I was not, however, sufficiently sanguine as to the result to feel justified in entertaining his offer—still three pans full ofgurban. . . !
After a night spent at Rashida we started for Qasr Dakhl, stopping on our way to visit Budkhulu, a poor little place with but a scanty water supply. Like Rashida it lies close to the cliff that bounds the oasis; but being situated at a considerably higher level than either Qasr Dakhl or Rashida, the number of modern wells sunk in these two districts are said by the inhabitants to have greatly diminished their water supply. Its’omdawas only noted for his drunken habits.
On leaving Budkhulu we rode past the little hamlet of Uftaima, and soon afterwards entered a stretch of soft sandy ground, a mile or two in width, beyond which we could see Qasr Dakhl with its palms and fields. This is the biggest town in the oasis, and is said by its inhabitants to produce the richest dates in Egypt.
Approached from the south-east, Qasr Dakhl looked a singularly picturesque and fertile place. The view of it from this side, across a reed-grown pool, reflecting the palm plantation with the village and blue scarp in the background, was one of the prettiest to be seen in the oasis.
The Gate of Qalamun.The houses all join up to form a continuous wall as a defence against raids, having palm leaf hedges round some of the roof tops. (p. 48).The ’Omda of Rashida and his Family.The natives spend a great deal of their time on the flat house tops. Note the painted decoration of the wall in the background and the open work crest of the walls. (p. 50).
The Gate of Qalamun.The houses all join up to form a continuous wall as a defence against raids, having palm leaf hedges round some of the roof tops. (p. 48).
The Gate of Qalamun.The houses all join up to form a continuous wall as a defence against raids, having palm leaf hedges round some of the roof tops. (p. 48).
The Gate of Qalamun.
The houses all join up to form a continuous wall as a defence against raids, having palm leaf hedges round some of the roof tops. (p. 48).
The ’Omda of Rashida and his Family.The natives spend a great deal of their time on the flat house tops. Note the painted decoration of the wall in the background and the open work crest of the walls. (p. 50).
The ’Omda of Rashida and his Family.The natives spend a great deal of their time on the flat house tops. Note the painted decoration of the wall in the background and the open work crest of the walls. (p. 50).
The ’Omda of Rashida and his Family.
The natives spend a great deal of their time on the flat house tops. Note the painted decoration of the wall in the background and the open work crest of the walls. (p. 50).
Just before entering the town, we passed the Bir el Hamia, one of the chief wells of the district, and the one from which most of the drinking water of Qasr Dakhl is drawn. The water from the well, effervescing strongly, rushed from beneath a stone platform that had been built over its mouth into a large clear pool, in which a number of the inhabitants were bathing as we passed, the water from this well being hot, is considered to have medicinal properties. It is said to have formerly been much hotter than at present; it is even stated that eggs could be boiled in it.
The’omdainvited the whole party to lunch with him, and an excellent lunch it proved to be. The sheykhs of this village claim to be descended from the Qoreish tribe of Arabia, to which the prophet, Mohammed, belonged, and state that they settled in the oasis aboutA.D.1500. They give themselves no small airs in consequence.
After lunch, from which for a wonder Qway excused himself on the plea that he wished to go and call on a friend, the inevitable tea was brought in, and with it arrived several of the leading men in the place, who all sat down on the floor in a line along one of the walls of the guest chamber.
Hoping to elicit some information, I asked if anyone had ever heard of the oasis Zerzura. Hadn’t they! Half a dozen of them began to tell me all about it at once. Cows, I was told, had several times come into the oasis from the desert. They were very wild, but otherwise exactly like the cows of the oasis. They came from Zerzura.Kimri sifi(palm doves) and crows came into the oasis in the spring. They also came from Zerzura. Both thekimriand the cows came from the south-west; but the whole desert there was covered with sand and no one could go there. The last cows had come in only seventeen years before.
Another man told me that a woman leading a boy had once staggered into the oasis from the south, nearly dead from thirst, and that the descendants of the boy were still living in Mut. The woman and boy came from Zerzura too. In Mut, however, I was told practicallythe same story; but was there most positively informed that the boy’s descendants were not living in Mut, but in Qasr Dakhl, so I found it a little difficult to know what to believe.
Having exhausted the subject of Zerzura we got on to that of Rohlfs, who had visited the oasis in 1874. An aged individual said he saw Rohlfs—or “Ro-hol-fus” as he called him—and remembered him quite well. He knew all about him. He had got a “book of treasure,” and had come out to Dakhla to dig for buried riches in the Der el Hagar—a stone temple near Qasr Dakhl—and had employed a great many men in the excavation. But the treasure was guarded by anafrit(spirit), and for a long time he was unable to find it, and he got very angry and disappointed. At last, one day he sent everyone out of the temple, except a black man whom he kept with him. The rest of the men went and sat on the ground a little way off waiting developments, as they were sure that he was going to write a talisman or do something to propitiate theafrit.