Arabian Sands (17 page)

The country grew more arid; every plant and bush was dead. Skeletons of trees, brittle powdery branches, fallen and half buried in the drifting sand, and deposits of silt left by ancient floods, but now as dry as ashes, marked the course of Umm al Hait, ‘The Mother of Life’, the great trunk wadi which leads down to Mughshin. Nothing stirred, not even a lizard, for here there had been twenty-five years of unbroken drought.

On the second day at sunset we saw the Sands stretching across our front, a shimmering rose-coloured wall, seemingly as intangible as a mirage. The Arabs, roused from the nodding torpor of weary, empty hours, pointed with their sticks, shouted, and broke into a sudden spate of talk. But I was content to look in silence upon that long-awaited vision, as excited as a mountaineer who sees above the Indian foothills the remote white challenge of the Himalayas.

We rode parallel with the Sands, since the hard gravel surface of the plain was easier for our camels than the soft steepness of the dunes. In the late afternoons we usually turned in to the Sands to camp. Large mimosa-like trees, which the Arabs called
ghaf,
grew here. Deep down, their questing roots had found water, and their branches were heavy with flowering, trailing fronds that fell to the clean sand and formed arbours in which we camped.

One night, near Mughshin, when sleeping on the open plain, I was awakened by a long-drawn howl. Again and again the uncanny sound quavered across the camp, sending shivers down my back. It came from a group of figures sitting twenty yards away. I called out, ‘What is wrong?’ and bin Kabina
answered, ‘Said is possessed by a
zar.
’ I got up, walked round some camels, and joined them. By the light of the setting moon I could see the boy, one of the Bait Kathir, crouching over a small fire. His face and head were covered with a cloth, and he rocked himself to and fro as he howled. The others sat close to him, silent and intent. Suddenly they began to chant in two parts, while Said thrashed himself violently from side to side. More and more wildly he threw himself about, and once a corner of the cloth with which he covered his face fell into the embers and began to smoulder. Someone leant forward and put it out. Steadily the chanting rose and fell about the demented boy, who gradually became calmer. A man lit some incense in a bowl and held it under the boy’s nose beneath the cloth. Suddenly he began to sing in a curious, strained, high-pitched voice. Line by line the others answered him. He stopped, grew violent again, and then calmed once more. A man leant forward and asked him questions and he answered, speaking like someone in his sleep. I could not understand the words, for they spoke Mahra. They gave him more incense and the spirit left him. A little later he lay down to sleep, but once again he was troubled. This time he sobbed bitterly and groaned as if in great pain. They gathered round him once more and chanted until he grew calm. Then he slept. In the morning he was all right.

The belief in possession by a
zar
or evil spirit is also widely held in the Sudan, Egypt, and Mecca, and is generally thought to have originated in Abyssinia or central Africa. It seems to me possible that it originated in southern Arabia. My companions told me that whenever they exorcized a
zar
they used the Mahra tongue, and I knew that the ancestors of the Mahra had originally colonized Abyssinia.

We reached Mughshin eight days after leaving Shisur. We were approaching the well and Mahsin was telling us once more about the battle in which he had been wounded. His stiff leg was stretched out in front of him. Suddenly, unaccountably, our camels panicked, scattering in great plunging bounds. I saw a man fall from his camel in front of me as I fought to keep my seat. When my camel was under control I looked back.
Mahsin lay crumpled and motionless on the ground. We ran back to him. His damaged leg was twisted under him and he was moaning faintly. His head-cloth had fallen off and the close-cropped hair showed grey upon his skull. As I bent over him I realized that he was older than I had thought. We tried to straighten him but he screamed. I got morphia from my saddle-bags and gave him an injection, and then we carried him on a blanket to the trees. By the grace of God the well was close at hand. Perhaps our thirsty camels had smelt the water and this had started the stampede. We fashioned rough splints from branches and set his leg; there seemed little left but splintered bone. Bin Shuas crouched beside him, keeping the flies off his face, while others sat round discussing whether he would live or die. Occasionally a man would shake his head and say sorrowfully, ‘Mahsin didn’t deserve this.’ Then they rose and set about their tasks, watering the camels and cooking food.

In the evening we discussed what we must do. They said that Mahsin could not be moved. He must stay here till he recovered or till he died, and the Rashid must remain with him. He had killed many men, especially from the Saar, and if his enemies heard that he was lying helpless here, they would come from afar to kill him. During the past days I had let the news leak out that I planned to cross the Empty Quarter. I knew from bin Kabina that I could count on the Rashid. Sultan and Musallim had both said they would come with me, and were insistent that I should take some of the Bait Kathir, for they were jealous of the Rashid. Now everything was changed. I was in the hands of the Bait Kathir and I wondered whether they would still be eager for this journey. Sultan soon suggested that we should travel eastwards, through the Sahma sands where I had been the year before, and perhaps visit the quicksands of Umm al Samim which he knew I was anxious to see. I went to bed disconsolate, certain that my plans were wrecked.

Next morning bin Kabina told me that the Rashid had agreed that he and AI Auf should go with me, but asked that I should lend the others two of my service rifles, and enough ammunition. I willingly agreed. Mahsin seemed better and drank a little milk. I promised him that I would remain with
him till he was on the mend and I gave him another injection of morphia, for he was still in great pain. I then spoke to Sultan, hinting that as the Bait Kathir would not come with me across the Sands, I should send bin Kabina to find me more Rashid. He protested. ‘Why do you speak like this, Umbarak? Listen to me! Have I not promised to take you across the Sands? I, Sultan. What do you want with the Rashid anyway. You know the Bait Kathir – old friends – your companions of last year. Did we fail you then? By God, Umbarak, why do you doubt us now?’

I remained at Mughshin for nine days. The extensive but shallow depression where the Umm al Hait ends against the Sands was well wooded with
ghaf
and tamarisk, and on the surrounding plains there were plenty of
arad
salt bushes, which are good food for camels as long as water is available. Near the well there was a dense grove of untended palms whose dates are collected in September by the Al Kathir tribes. Among the palms was a salt-encrusted ditch of very brackish water, three hundred yards long, and in the middle of it a small spring of fresher water just fit to drink.

Usually, Bedu lop tall trees to provide food for their camels, but the
ghaf
trees here were unmutilated, for Mughshin is a
hauta
where no tree may be cut. On my way to the Hadhramaut I had passed several of these
hautas,
probably once the sacred groves of some forgotten cult. We would ride down a wadi and camp under trees in no way remarkable from others which we had passed, but I would be warned not to damage them for this was a
hauta.
The Bedu believed that to ignore this prohibition would be to incur misfortune and possibly even death. Mughshin was distinguished from other
hautas
since hares might not be killed here. Even in the sands of Ghanim, where there was no
hauta,
the Bedu would not eat hares, although elsewhere they ate their meat with relish. The ban did not include gazelle. I remember being told in the Hajaz that hunting and cutting wood were both forbidden within the sanctuary around Mecca.

In the evening after we had fed we heard angry voices behind us where the Rashid sat around Mahsin. Bin Kabina and I went over to them, and soon everyone in the camp was there. Amair
was shouting at bin Mautlauq, and while I watched he snatched his head-cloth from his head and threw it at his feet. Many people were talking and it was difficult to make out what the row was about. Among Bedu anyone, however young, can always express his opinion, and will probably do so even if the argument has got nothing to do with him. No Bedu would ever think of saying ‘For God’s sake mind your own business’, for he would accept the fact that anything that concerned him concerned everyone else in the community. Eventually I gathered that some weeks earlier Amair had lost a camel, and bin Mautlauq had offered to look for it provided Amair promised him a reward of five
riyals
if he found it. Amair now maintained that bin Mautlauq had known all the time where the camel was, and he refused to hand over the money he had promised. Finally the matter was referred to Tamtaim, who was respected by the Rashid for his great age and shrewdness. He decided that Amair should pay the money provided that bin Mautlauq swore on the tomb of al Jauhari, which was on the coast several days journey to the west of Salala, that he had not known where the camel was when he had offered to look for it. Both of them accepted the judgement and were soon helping each other to mend a saddle. Disputes are generally settled among the Bedu by one side or the other swearing on oath on a saints tomb to the truth of their statement, and it is for the arbitrators to decide which side shall be asked to take the oath. Few Bedu would swear falsely on one of these tombs, of which there are several along the coast and in the Hadhramaut.

During the days that I was at Mughshin my companions often asked me for medicines. Bedu suffer much from headaches and stomach trouble. Sometimes my aspirin worked, but if not the sufferer would get someone to brand him, usually on his heels, and would announce a little later that his headache was now gone, and that the old Bedu remedies were better than the Christian’s pills. Bedu cauterize themselves and their camels for nearly every ill. Their bellies, chests, and backs are often criss-crossed with the ensuing scars. I had heard that many years ago a British cargo steamer was ship-wrecked on the southern coast of Arabia. A few survivors were picked up
by some Junuba who, hoping no doubt for a reward, took them eventually to Muscat. Camel’s milk and dates had given the Englishmen acute diarrhoea, and the Bedu, despite their protests, forcibly cauterized them. They eventually arrived at Muscat nearly killed by dysentery and this primitive treatment.

One of the Bait Kathir had an exposed nerve in a back tooth, which he asked me to remove. I hate taking out teeth, especially as they are usually nothing but blackened shells. This one was fairly sound, however, and I removed it without difficulty, the patient lying on the ground with his head fírmly held between someone’s knees. Musallim was suffering from severe constipation. I gave him a powerful dose of Epsom salts, but when this did not work at once, he resorted to the Bedu remedy of
hamrar.
He lay on the ground while a dozen of his friends knelt round him in a circle chanting. Old Tamtaim led the singing, which got faster and faster as the participants got more and more excited. At intervals one of the singers would lean forward and take up a mouthful of flesh from Musallim’s stomach, making a curious bubbling noise as he did so. Musallim’s bowels were loosed soon after this. I gave the credit to the Epsom salts, while they claimed it for the
hamrar
.

Gazelle were plentiful at Mughshin. Musallim and bin Shuas shot us meat each day, so we fed well; indeed, too well. I was worried about our rations, especially as I should now have to leave enough food with Mahsin and the Rashid. All Bedu are improvident, and my companions cooked lavish meals from our fast-dwindling supplies. I encouraged them to eat the rice which they preferred, since this would be of little use to me during the waterless journey which lay ahead. Bedu have no desire for variety in their meals and will happily eat the same food twice a day for months, judging it not by its quality but by its quantity. I tried once to vary the sameness of our food. Musallim had shot a gazelle and I cooked an elaborate and, I thought, excellent lunch; unfortunately, bin Turkia had gone off to look for a camel and did not come back till after dark, by which time the grilled meat was a congealed mess liberally sprinkled with sand. The others ate it, but
declared unanimously that they preferred the boiled meat and soup which Musallim cooked.

After incessant discussions we decided that bin Kabina, al Auf, Sultan, Musallim, Mabkhaüt, bin Turkia, young Said (the boy who had suffered from the evil spirit), and five other Bait Kathir should accompany me. I was anxious to take a smaller party, with only the best camels, but Sultan said that we could change the worst camels with the Bait Musan, whose herds were in the Sands a few days distant. He argued that it would be dangerous for us to be a small party on the far side of the Sands, where the Al bu Falah of Abu Dhabi and the bin Maktum of Dubai were at war, and also when we travelled back through the Duru country in Oman. He told me that the Duru, after hearing I had visited Mughshin last year, had vowed that they would allow no infidel to travel in their country. We settled to meet the main party again at Bai near the southern coast in two months’ time.

On 24 November we spent a busy day re-dividing our rations, looking to water-skins, and watering the camels. I had bought bin Shuas camel for bin Kabina to ride. I paid the equivalent of twenty-five pounds, which was a lot more than she was really worth, but she was a fine animal in excellent condition, and in milk. For myself I had selected a powerful, dark-coloured camel from Dhaufar, which belonged to Musallim and was one of the spares we had with us. She was a rough ride, but al Auf said she would go well in the Sands when once she was used to them. He himself was mounted on a magnificent but almost uncontrollable animal, riding her on a thin chain fastened to a ring in her nose. This camel was from Mahsin’s herd, and our camel guards had found her grazing to the east of the well. Camel theft, as opposed to raiding, was almost unknown here, and these Bedu often left their animals free to roam for weeks on end. If a camel turned up at a well, anyone there would give her a drink. Most of our other camels were in poor condition.