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The Land of Midian, Vol. 1

R >> Richard Burton >> The Land of Midian, Vol. 1




Our course thence lay eastward up the easy bed of the Fiumara, an
eastern section of an old friend, the Wady Tiryam; it now takes
the well-known name "Wady Sadr," and we shall follow it to its
head in the Hismá. The scene is rocky enough for Scotland or
Scandinavia, with its huge walls bristling in broken rocks and
blocks, its blue slides, and its polished sheets of dry
watercourse which, from afar, flash in the sun like living
cataracts. On the northern or right bank rises the mighty Harb,
whose dome, single when seen from the west, here becomes a
Tridactylon, splitting into three several heads. Facing it, the
northernmost end of the Dibbagh range forms a truncated tower,
conspicuous far out at sea: having no name, it was called by us
Burj Jebel Dibbagh. A little further to the east it will prove to
be the monstrous pommel of a dwarf saddleback, everywhere a
favourite shape with the granite outcrop.

MM. Clarke and Lacaze, who had never before seen anything higher
that the hillocks of the Isle of Wight or the Buttes de
Montmartre were hot upon ascending the almost perpendicular sides
of the Burj, relying upon the parallel and horizontal fissures in
the face, which were at least ten to twenty feet apart. These
dark marks, probably stained by oxide of iron, reminded me of
those which wrinkle the granitic peaks about Rio de Janeiro, and
which have been mistaken for "hieroglyphs."

The valley-sole is parti-coloured; the sands of the deeper line
to the right are tinctured a pale and sickly green by the
degradation of the porphyritic traps, here towering in the
largest masses yet seen; while the gravel of the left bank is
warm, and lively with red grit and syenitic granite. Looking down
the long and gently waving line, we feel still connected with the
civilized world by the blue and purple screen of Sinai forming
the splendid back-ground. Everything around us appears deserted;
the Ma'ázah are up country, and the Beni ‘Ukbah have temporarily
quitted these grazing-grounds for the Surr of El-Muwaylah. We
camped for the night, after a total march of eleven miles, at the
Sayl el-Nagwah, a short Nullah at the foot of a granite block
similarly named; and a gap supplied us with tolerable rain-water.

On the next day (February 22nd) we left the "Nagwah" at seven
instead of six a.m., and passed to the right a granitic outcrop
in the Wady bed, a reduced edition of the Burj. After an hour's
slow walking we were led by a Bedawi lad, Hasan bin Husayn, to a
rock-spur projected northwards from the left side and separating
two adjacent Sayls or "torrent-beds," mere bays in the bank of
mountains. A cut road runs to the top of the granite tongue,
which faces the westernmost or down-stream outbreaks of the huge
porphyritic masses on the other side of the Wady Sadr. The ridge
itself is strewed with spalled stone, quartz broken from the
veins that seam the granite, and with slag as usual admirably
worked. Not a trace of human habitation appears, nor is there any
tradition of a settlement having existed here; consequently we
concluded that this was another atelier of wandering workmen.
Below the rock-tongue we found for the first time oxydulated iron
and copper, either free or engaged in trap and basaltic dykes:
the former metal, also attached in layers to dark-red vermeilled
jasper, here appears streaked with white quartz.

Resuming our ride, we dismounted, after four miles, at the
half-way Mahattah ("halting-place"): it is a rond-point in the
Wady Sadr, marked from afar by a tall blue pyramid, the Jebel
el-Ga'lah (Jálah). We spent some time examining this interesting
bulge. Here the Jibál el-Tihámah end, and the eastern parallel
range, the Jibál el-Shafah, begins. The former belong to the
Huwaytát and to Egypt; the latter, partly to the Ma'ázah and to
Syria. The geographical frontier is well marked by two large
watercourses disposed upon a meridian, and both feeding the main
drain, the Sadr-Tiryam. To the north the Wady Sawádah divides the
granitic Harb from the porphyritic Jebel Sawádah; while the
southern Wady Aylán separates the Dibbagh from the Jebel Aylán, a
tall form distinctly visible from the Upper Shárr. The rest of
our eastward march will now be through the Shafah massif. It
resembles on a lower scale the Tihámah Gháts; but it wholly wants
their variety, their beauty, and their grandeur. The granites
which before pierced the porphyritic traps in all directions, now
appear only at intervals; and this, I am told, is the case
throughout the northern, as we found it to be in the southern,
prolongation of the "Lip"-range. At the same time there is no
distinct geographical separation between the two parallels; and
both appear, not as if parted by neutral ground, but rather as
topographical continuations of each other.

While breaking our fast and resting the mules, a few shots
ringing ahead caused general excitement: we were now on the edge
of the enemy's country. Presently three of the Ma'ázah came in
and explained, with their barking voices, that their people had
been practicing at the Níshán ("target"); which meant "We have
powder in abundance." One of them, at once dubbed El-Nasnás ("the
Satyr") from his exceeding monstrous ugliness--a baboon's muzzle
with a scatter of beard--kindly volunteered to guide us, with the
intention of losing the way. The dialogue that took place was
something as follows:--

What are your names ?

A. Na'akal wa nashrab! Our names are "We eat and We drink!"

Where do we find water to-day?

Furayj ejaculates, "The water of the Rikáb!"

A. No, by Allah! The Arabs will never allow you to drink! You
should be killed for carrying off in Dumús ("skins") the sand of
the Wady Jahd (alluding to Lieutenant Amir's trip).

We did not pay much heed to these evil signs. Ahmed el-‘Ukbí had
been sent forward to obtain a free pass from the chiefs, and we
hardly expected that the outlying thieves would be daring enough
to attack us.

Resuming our way, in a cold wind and a warm sun, up the upper
Wady Sadr, we threaded the various bends to the south and
south-east, with a general south-south-eastern direction. The
normal dark-green traps and burnished red porphyries and grits
were sparsely clad with the Shauhat and the Yasár trees,
resembling the Salvadora and the Tamarix. The country began to
show a few donkeys and large flocks of sheep and goats; the
muttons have a fine "tog," and sell for three dollars and a half.
The women in charge, whose complexions appeared notably lighter
than those of the seaboard, barked like the men. They were much
puzzled by a curious bleating which came from the mules; and
hurriedly counted their kids, suspecting that one had been
purloined, whilst they had some trouble to prevent the whole
flock following us. All roared with laughter when they found that
Mr. Clarke was the performer.

We crossed two short cuts over long bends in the Wady; and at the
second found a pot-hole of rain-water by no means fragrant,
except to nostrils that love impure ammonia. It has a grand name,
Muwah (for Miyáh) el-Rikáb ("the Waters of the Caravan"); and we
made free with it, despite the morning's threats. We again camped
in the valley at an altitude of 2200 feet (aner. 27.80); and,
though the thermometer showed 66° F. at five p.m., fires inside
and outside the mess-tent were required. A wester or sea-breeze,
deflected by the ravines to a norther, was blowing; and in these
regions, as in the sub-frigid zones of Europe, wind makes all the
difference of temperature. During the evening we were visited by
the Ma'ázah Bedawin of a neighbouring encampment: they began to
notice stolen camels and to wrangle over past times--another bad
sign.

Setting out on a splendidly lucent morning (6:45 a.m., February
23rd), when the towering heads of Harb and Dibbagh looked only a
few furlongs distant, we committed the imprudence of preceding,
as usual, the escort. Our men had become so timid, starting at
the sight of every wretched Bedawi, that they made one long for a
"rash act." After walking about a mile and a half, we passed some
black tents on the left bank, where the Sadr enters a narrow
rocky gorge; and suddenly about a dozen varlets were seen
scampering over the walls, manning the Pass, and with lighted
matches threatening to fire. Then loud rang the war-song--

"Hill el-Zawáib, hilla-há;
W'abdi Nuhúdak kulla-há!"

"Loose thy top-locks with a loosing (like a lion's mane);
And advance thy breast, all of it (opponite pectora without
shrinking)."

Other varieties of the slogan are:--

"O man of small mouth (un misérable)!
If we fail, who shall win?"

And--

"By thy eyes (I swear), O she-camel, if we go (to the
attack) and gird (the sword),
We will make it a day of sorrow to them, and avert from
ourselves every ill."

We dismounted, looked to our weapons, and began to parley. The
ragged ruffians, some of them mere boys, and these always the
readiest to blow the matches of guns longer than themselves,
began with high pretensions. They declared that they would be
satisfied with nothing less than plundering us; they flouted
Shaykh Furayj, and they insulted the Sayyid, threatening to take
away his sword.

Presently the escort and the Arab camel-men were seen coming up
at the double. The Ma'ázah at once became abject; kissed our
heads and declared "there was some mistake." I had already
remarked, whilst the matchlock-men were swarming up the
Wady-sides, that the women and children remained in camp, and the
sheep and goats were not driven off. This convinced me that
nothing serious had been intended: probably the demonstration was
ordered from head-quarters in order to strike us with a wholesome
awe.

The fellows gently reproached us with travelling through their
country without engaging (and paying) Ghafír--"guides and
protectors." So far, as owners of the soil, they were "in their
right;" and manning a pass is here the popular way of levying
transit dues. On this occasion the number of our Remingtons
sufficed to punish their insolence by putting the men to flight,
and by carrying off their camels and flocks; but such a step
would have stopped the journey, and what would not the
"Aborigines Protection Society" have said and done? I therefore
hired one of the varlets, and both parties went their ways
rejoicing that the peace had not been broken.

The valley, winding through the red and green hills, was dull and
warm till the cool morning easter, which usually set about eight
a.m., began to blow. The effect of increasing altitude showed
itself in the vegetation. We now saw for the first time the Kidád
(Astragalus), with horrid thorns and a flower resembling from
afar the gooseberry: it is common on the Hismá and in the South
Country. The Kahlá (Echium), a bugloss, a borage-like plant, with
viscous leaves and flowers of two colours,--the young light-pink
and the old dark-blue,--everywhere beautified the sands, and
reminded me of the Istrian hills, where it is plentiful as in the
Nile Valley. The Jarad-thorn was not in bloom; and the same was
the case with the hyacinth (Dipcadi erythraeum), so abundant in
the Hisma', which some of us mistook for a "wild onion." The
Zayti (Lavandula) had just donned its pretty azure bloom. There
were Reseda, wild indigo, Tribulus (terrestris), the blue
Aristida, the pale Stipa, and the Bromus grass, red and yellow.
The Ratam (spartium), with delicate white and pink blossoms, was
a reminiscence of Tenerife and its glorious crater; whilst a
little higher up, the amene Cytisus, flowering with gold, carried
our thoughts back to the far past.

Presently the great Fiumara opened upon a large basin denoting
the Ras ("head") Wady Sadr: native travellers consider this their
second stage from El-Muwaylah. In front the Jibál Sadr extended
far to the right and left, a slight depression showing the
Khuraytah, or "Pass," which we were to ascend on the morrow.
Buttressing the left bank of the broad watercourse was the dwarf
hill of which we had been told so many tales. By day its red
sands gleam and glisten like burnished copper; during the night
fire flashes from the summit: in truth, its sole peculiarity is
that of being yellow amongst the gloomy heights around it; whilst
the Wady el-Safrá, higher up to the left, discharges from its
Jebel a torrent of quartz and syenite, gravel and sand. Abú
Khartám, the author of the romance, was among the party: he only
smiled when complimented upon the power of his imagination.

This was a day of excitement: even the mules kept their ears
pricked up. After a short nine miles we had camped below the
Jebel Kibár, and we had remounted our animals to ascend a
neighbouring hill commanding a bird's-eye view of the Hismá
plain. There was evidently much excitement amongst the Bedawi
shepherds around us; and presently Ahmed el-‘Ukbí, our messenger,
appeared in sight, officially heading the five chiefs of the
Ma'ázah, who were followed by a tail of some thirty clansmen.
Only two rode horses, wretched garrons stolen from the Ruwalá,
the great branch of the Anezah, which holds the eastern regions;
the rest rode fine sturdy and long-coated camels, which looked
Syrian rather than Midianite.[EN#154] We returned hurriedly to
make arrangements for the reception: our Shaykhs could not,
without derogating, go forth to meet the strangers; but the
latter were saluted with due ceremony by the bugler and the
escort, drawn up in line before the mess-tent.

After the usual half-hour's delay, the "palaver," to speak
Africanicè, "came up," and M. Lacaze had a good opportunity of
privily sketching the scene. The Shaykh, Mohammed bin ‘Atíyyah,
who boasts (falsely) that he commands more than half the two
thousand males composing the tribe, is a tall, sinewy man of
about fifty, straight-featured, full-bearded, and gruff-voiced:
his official style of speaking from the throat, a kind of vaccine
low, imitated in camp for many a day, never failed to cause
merriment. His costume rose to the height of Desert-fashion,
described when pourtraying Shaykh Khizr the ‘Imráni; his manners
were those of a gentleman below the Pass, and above it he became
an unmitigated ruffian, who merited his soubriquet El-Kalb ("the
Hound"). On one side sat his son Sálim, a large, beardless lad,
who had begun work by presenting us with a sheep--Giorgi (cook)
said it cost us £40. On the other was his eldest brother and
alter ego: the wrinkled Sagr (Sakr) has been a resident at Cairo,
and still boasts that he received the "tribute" of a horse from
the Viceroy, whom he affects to treat as an equal or rather an
inferior. The others were old Sagr's ill-visaged son Ali, and,
lastly, a cunning-eyed villain, ‘Abayd bin Sálim, the rightful
heir to the chieftainship, which, however, he had been unable to
keep. All the Shaykhs were dressed in brand-new garments and
glaring glossy Kúfíyahs ("head-kerchiefs"); they trade chiefly
with Mezáríb in the Haurán; and, during the annual passage to and
fro of the Damascus caravan, they await it at Tabúk, and threaten
to cut off the road unless liberally propitiated with presents of
raiment and rations. The Murátibah (honorarium) contributed by
El-Shám would be about one hundred dollars in ready money to the
headman, diminishing with degree to one dollar per annum: this
would not include "free gifts" by pilgrims. The Ma'ázah are under
Syria, that is, under no rule at all; and they are supposed to be
tributary to, when in reality they demand tribute from, the
Porte. In fact, nothing can be more pronounced than the contrast
of the Bedawin who are subject to Egypt, and those supposed to be
governed by the wretched Ottoman.

During the palaver all outside was sweet as honey, to use the
Arab phrase, and bitter as gall inside. The Ma'ázah, many of whom
now saw Europeans for the first time, eyed the barnetá (hat)
curiously, with a certain facial movement which meant, "This is
the first time we have let Christian dogs into our land!" They
were minute in observing the escort, and not a little astonished
to find that all were negroes--in the old day Egyptian soldiers,
under the great Mohammed Ali Pasha and his stepson, Ibrahim
Pasha, had made themselves a terror to the Wild Man. "What had
now become of them?" was the mental question. When asked whence
they had procured the two horses, they answered curtly, Min
Rabbiná--"From our Lord," thus signifying stolen goods; and, like
mediaeval knights, they took a pride in avowing that not one of
their number could read or write. Finally a tent was assigned to
them; food was ordered, and they promised us escort to their dens
on the morrow.

During the raw and gusty night the mercury sank to 38° F., the
aneroid (26.91) showing about three thousand feet above
sea-level; and blazing fires kept up within and without the
tents, hardly sufficed for comfort. On the morning of February
24th

"Over the wold the wind blew cold;"

and the Egyptian officers all donned their gloves. The early
hours were spent in a last struggle with our Shaykhs, who now
felt themselves and their camels hopelessly entering the lion's
lair. The sole available pretext for delay was that their animals
could never carry the boxes and tents up the Pass; but, though
very ugly reports prevailed concerning the reception of Ahmed
el-‘Ukbí, and the observations that had been made last night, not
a word was suffered to reach my ears until our retreat had been
resolved upon. Such concealment would have been inexcusable in a
European; in the East it is the rule.

At 7.15 a.m. we struck the camp at Jebel Kibár, and moved due
eastward towards the Pass. This north-eastern Khuraytah (Col) is
termed the Khuraytat el-Hismá or el-Jils, after a hillock on the
plateau-summit, to distinguish it from the similar feature to the
south-west: the latter is known as the Khuraytat el-Zibá; or
el-T h m , the local pronunciation of Tihámah. About two miles of
rough and broken ground lead to the foot of the ladder. The
zigzags then follow the line of a mountain torrent, the natural
Pass, crossing its bed from left to right and from right again to
left: the path is the rudest of corniches, worn by the feet of
man and beast; and showing some ugly abrupt turns. The absolute
height of the ascent is about 450 feet (aner. 26.70--26.25) and
the length half a mile. The ground, composed mostly of irregular
rock-steps, has little difficulty for horses and mules; but
camels laden with boards (the mess-table) and long tent-poles
must have had a queer time--I should almost expect after this to
see an oyster walking up stairs. Of course, they took their
leisure, feeling each stone before they trusted it, but they all
arrived without the shadow of an accident; and the same was the
case during the two subsequent descents.

We halted on the Sath el-Nakb ("the Passtop") to expect the
caravan, and to prospect the surrounding novelties. Heaps and
piles of dark trap dotted the summit like old graves; many of the
stones were inscribed with tribal marks, and not a few were
capped with snowy lumps of quartz detached from their veins in
the porphyry. This custom, which appears universal throughout
Midian, has many interpretations. According to some it denotes
the terminus of a successful raid; others make it show where a
dispute was settled without bloodshed; whilst as a rule it is an
expression of gratitude: the Bedawi erects it in honour of the
man who protected or who did a service to him, saying at the same
time, Abyaz ‘alayk yá Fula'n--"White (or happy) be it to thee!"
naming the person. Amongst these votive stones we picked up
copper-stained quartz like that of ‘Aynúnah, fine specimens of
iron, and the dove-coloured serpentine, with silvery threads, so
plentiful in the Wady Surr. The Wasm in most cases showed some
form of a cross, which is held to be a potent charm by the
Sinaitic Bedawin; and on two detached water-rolled pebbles were
distinctly inscribed lH and Vl, which looked exceedingly like
Europe. Apparently the custom is dying out: the modern Midianites
have forgotten the art and mystery of tribal signs (Wusúm). In
many places the people cannot distinguish between inscriptions
and "Bill Snooks his mark," and they can interpret very few of
the latter.

Looking westward through the inverted arch formed by the two
hill-staples of the Khuraytah, and down the long valley which had
given us passage, the eye distinguishes a dozen distances whose
several planes are marked by all the shades of colour that the
most varied vegetation can show. There are black-browns,
chocolate-browns, and light umber-browns; bright-reds and
dull-reds; grass-greens and cypress-greens; neutral tints and
French greys contrasting with the rosy pinks, the azures, the
purples, and the golden yellows with which distance paints the
horizon. From a few feet above the Col-floor appear the eastern
faces of the giants of the coast-range; and our altitude, some
3800 feet, gave us to a certain extent a measure of their grand
proportions.

We now stand upon the westernmost edge of the great central
Arabian plateau, known as El-Nejd ("the Highlands"), opposed to
El-Tihámah, the lowland regions. In Africa we should call it the
"true" subtending the "false" coast; delightful Dahome compared
with leprous Lagos. This upland, running parallel with the
"Lip"-range and with the maritime Gháts, is the far-famed Hismá.
It probably represents a remnant of the old terrace which, like
the Secondary gypseous formation, has been torn to pieces by the
volcanic region to the east, and by the plutonic upheavals to the
west. The length may be 170 miles; the northern limit is either
close to or a little south of Fort Ma'án; and we shall see its
southern terminus sharply defined on a parallel with the central
Shárr, not including "El-Jaww."[EN#155] An inaccessible fortress
to the south, it is approached on the south-west by difficult
passes, easily defended against man and beast. Further north,
however, the Wadys ‘Afál near El-Sharaf, El-Hakl (Hagul), and
El-Yitm at El-‘Akabah, are easy lines without Wa'r ("stony
ground") or Nakb ("ravines").

The Hismá material is a loose modern sandstone, showing every hue
between blood-red, rose pink, and dead, dull white: again and
again fragments had been pointed out to us near the coast, in
ruined buildings and in the remains of handmills and rub-stones.
Possibly the true coal-measures may underlie it, especially if
the rocks east of Petra be, as some travellers state, a region of
the Old, not the New Red. According to my informants, the Hismá
has no hills of quartz, a rock which appears everywhere except
here; nor should I expect the region to be metalliferous.

We ascended the Jebel el-Khuraytah, a trap hillock some 120 feet
high, the southern jamb of the Khuraytah gate: the summit, where
stands a ruined Burj measuring fourteen metres in diameter, gives
a striking and suggestive view. After hard dry living on grisly
mountain and unlovely Wady, this fine open plain, slightly
concave in the centre, was a delightful change of diet to the
eye--the first enjoyable sensation of the kind, since we had
gazed lovingly upon the broad bosom of the Wady el-‘Arabah. The
general appearance is that of Eastern Syria, especially the
Haurán: at the present season all is a sheet of pinkish red,
which in later March will turn to lively green. On this parallel
the diameter does not exceed a day's march, but we see it
broadening to the north. Looking in that direction over the
gloomy-metalled porphyritic slopes upon which we stand, the
glance extends to a manner of sea-horizon; while the several
planes below it are dotted with hills and hill-ranges, white,
red, and black, all dwarfed by distance to the size of thimbles
and pincushions. The guides especially pointed out the ridge
El-Mukaykam, a red block upon red sands, and a far-famed
rendezvous for raid and razzia. Nearer, the dark lumps of
El-Khayráni rise from a similar surface; nearer still lie the two
white dots, El-Rakhamatayn; and nearest is the ruddy ridge Jebel
and Jils el-Rawiyán, containing, they say, ruins and inscriptions
of which Wallin did not even hear.

The eastern versant of the Hismá is marked by long chaplets of
tree and shrub, disposed along the selvage of the watercourses;
and the latter are pitted with wells sunk after the fashion of
the Bedawin. In this rhumb the horizon is bounded by El-Harrah,
the volcanic region whose black porous lavas and honey-combed
basalts, often charged with white zeolite, are still brought down
even to the coast to serve as mortars and handmills. The profile
is a long straight and regular line, as if formed under water,
capped here and there by a tiny head like the Syrian Kulayb
Haurán: its peculiar dorsum makes it distinguishable from afar,
and we could easily trace it from the upper heights of the Shárr.
It is evidently a section of the mighty plutonic outburst which
has done so much to change the aspect of the parallel Midian
seaboard. Wallin's account of it (p. 307) is confined to the
place where he crossed the lava-flood; and he rendered El-Harrah,
which in Arabic always applies to a burnt region, by
"red-coloured sandstone."

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