Arabian Sands (42 page)

Bin Tahi had a grey beard and straggling grey hair, a strong square face, and twinkling eyes, but he was younger than I had expected. He was heavily-built and obviously very powerful. He looked hard and enduring despite his grey hairs. He agreed at once to come with us.

We left Muwaiqih on 14 November and spent about a month travelling through Liwa as far as Dhafara, where we had been the year before. It was a pleasant journey. The sands were like a garden. There were matted clumps of tribulus, three feet high, their dark green fronds covered with bright yellow flowers, bunches of
karia
, a species of heliotrope, that was rated high as camel-food by the Bedu, and
qassis
, as well as numerous other plants which the camels scorned in the plenty that surrounded them.

We had a saluki with us, which I had borrowed from Zayid;
but he was still too young to catch a full-grown hare, although he managed to catch an occasional leveret. My companions said disgustedly that he was not worth his keep. They had expected great things of him. But they played with him, and allowed him to lie on their blankets and drink from our dishes, for, although dogs are unclean to Muslims, the Bedu do not count a saluki as a dog. A middle-aged Rashid called Salih and his son were travelling with us as far as Dhafara, and this boy was more successful than the saluki in catching hares. He hunted for them while he was herding the camels, and often came back to camp with three or four which he had pulled out of the shallow burrows where they had taken refuge from the many eagles quartering in the sands. Once while we were riding along we saw a tawny eagle kill a full-grown fox. We drove the bird off its kill, and as the skin was still undamaged I kept it and later gave it to the Museum in London.

At Lahamma well we found many day-old tracks of men and camels. My companions said that they were made by Ali al Murri and the caravan of forty-eight slaves which he was taking to the Hasa. It seemed that the enormous wealth which was pouring into Saudi Arabia from the American oil company had greatly increased both the demand for slaves and the price paid for them. They said that Ali made a large profit not only from the slaves, but also from the camels which he bought in Buraimi.

One day when we had stopped at a shallow well, bin Kabina said to me, ‘It was here that we had a fight with some Bani Kitab while you were away. We had raided them and taken twelve camels. It was the middle of summer and frightfully hot. We were watering the camels, which were very thirsty for we had driven them hard, when we saw our pursuers. There were eight of them. We were six, for there were two Awamir with us. Do you see that high dune over there? Look! We left the camels here at the well and started to run up it from this side, knowing that the Bani Kitab were climbing it from the other side. By God! I thought my heart would burst. I got to the top and as I got there one of the Bani Kitab came in sight a few yards below. I fired at him and he fell down and rolled out of sight. The rest of them ran back to their camels,
taking the wounded man with them. We fired many shots at them but were too blown to shoot straight. We knew they would not follow us any farther now that they had a wounded man to look after.’

Two days later we were camped near a well with the uninviting name of Faswat at Ajuz, or ‘the Hag’s Cunt’. In the morning Salih and his son went on ahead, while the others drove the camels off to water them at the well, out of sight from where I was sitting among our scattered kit writing up my diary. It was early in the morning and still chilly. Suddenly I heard a shot and shouts of ‘Raiders! Raiders!’ Salih and his son raced back over the dunes, shouting as they came towards me. I could make out no words. Immediately afterwards the others arrived from the well. They were naked except for their loin-cloths, cartridge-belts, and daggers. They must have left their clothes lying beside the well where they had stripped to dig it out. Bin Kabina slid from his camel and couched mine. ‘Quick, Umbarak! Jump on her.’ I turned to get my saddlebags but bin Kabina urged me, ‘Hurry! Hurry!’ so I just grabbed a blanket, threw it over the saddle, and mounted. The others were already off. I had no idea whether we were running away or what we were doing. I shouted at bin Kabina to ask him, but like the others he was too excited to be coherent. Anyway, I was finding it difficult to stay on my camel, which had started to gallop, wrenching every joint in my body. I was riding on the bare framework of a saddle, my camel swerving up and down through a maze of small crescent dunes. I got her under control, and the others slowed theirs to a fast trot. Salih. said, There are four of them, with eight stolen camels. Without a doubt they are Bani Kitab who have been raiding the Rashid in Dhafara.’

Five minutes later we picked up their tracks. They were travelling fast, but handicapped by the looted animals they were driving. Bin al Kamam said grimly, They cannot get away’; and bin Ghabaisha called out, ‘We will kill the lot. God’s curse on the Bani Kitab.’ Bin Tahi was waving his stick and shouting, ‘If I had a rifle you would see how bin Tahi fights.’ The old man was armed only with a dagger. Salih told his son to go back and guard the stuff we had left lying on the
sand. The boy refused, anxious to share the excitement of the chase, but his father insisted. ‘Do as you are told. Go back! Go back at once!’ and at last the boy halted his camel and sat watching us until we disappeared. Bin al Kamam said to me, They will head back to the north. You and I and bin Tahi will follow their tracks. The others will try to cut them off.’ Bin Kabina called out, ‘Don’t miss, Umbarak!’ as he swung off to the left with bin Ghabaisha, Amair, and Salih.

Two hours later bin Tahi said, ‘They are getting tired. Do you notice how that camel is stumbling.’ I hoped the others were not far away. Bin Tahi had no rifle and I knew that bin al Kamam’s old Martini usually jammed after a shot or two. Then the tracks which we were following turned sharply to the east and bin al Kamam said, ‘They have seen our companions. I hope to God they have seen them.’ A little later we saw the raiders. They were about a mile away, four mounted figures driving a bunch of camels in front of them. We had left the small crescent dunes behind us and were riding across rolling downs of firm red sand dotted with tribulus. We urged our camels forward and gained rapidly on them. They drove their camels into a hollow and did not reappear on the farther elopes. Bin Tahi said, They have stopped. Get off and get up there where you can cover them with your rifles, and then I will go forward and find out who they are.’

Bin al Kamam and I couched our camels in a hollow, hurriedly tying their knees to stop them from rising, and then climbed a dune to get above the raiders. We crawled to the dune-crest, and I peeped round a clump of tribulus. Three camels were couched in a hollow two hundred yards away. I could see two men lying behind a small dune. A third man, still mounted, was driving off the captured camels and was about four hundred yards away. I could not see the fourth man and wondered if he could see me. Bin al Kamam was a few yards to my right. He signed to bin Tahi, who rode forward shouting. I could make out odd words. ‘Rashid… Awamir… friends… otherwise enemies.’ The raiders shouted back, and bin al Kamam said They are friends. They are from the Manahil.’ The man whom I had been unable to see got up from behind a bush, went forward and spoke to bin Tahi, who
then rode back to us. He said, ‘It is Jumaan.’ I knew that Jumaan bin Duailan was the brother of ‘The Cat’ whom the Yam had killed the year before, and that he was the worst outlaw in these parts. I had seen him in the spring at Zayid’s fort, a small man like his brother, with the same quick, restless eyes. We went over to them, greeted them, and exchanged the news. They had taken the camels from the Manasir. The Manahil were allies of the Rashid, and the Manasir were no concern of ours, but bin al Kamam whispered to me, ‘Offer them twenty-five
riyals
to return the camels. Zayid will be pleased if you recover them.’ Jumaan, however, refused the offer, knowing that we would not take them by force. They said good-bye, mounted their camels, and rode off. Later, when I was back at Muwaiqih telling Zayid about this pursuit, he said, ‘By God, Umbarak, you could have had the pick of my camels if you had killed Jumaan. He is the most troublesome of all these brigands.’

The others arrived an hour later, having missed the raiders when they changed their direction. We chaffed them for deserting us. They were disappointed that the raiders had not been Bani Kitab, for there was blood between them and the Rashid. They had counted on getting their camels and also the looted stock which would by tribal custom have belonged to them. Bin Kabina said regretfully, T thought I should get two camels’; but I teased him. ‘You would have got nothing. We should have killed them and divided the camels between us long before you turned up.’

We camped where we were, and Amair, bin Ghabaisha, and Salih went back with the camels to get our things, returning next morning.

We sat round the fire and talked, too cold for sleep. I asked bin al Kamam how Arabs divided camels taken in a raid, and he said, ‘We divide the spoil into the required number of shares; a good camel may be worth two or even three of the others. We then cast lots and each person chooses his share in the order in which he has drawn his lot. We divide the spoil equally between us, except that the leader of the raid or a big sheikh may sometimes be given an extra share. Among the Omani tribes a man may ask to keep whatever he himself
captures and take no share in the division, but he will only do that if he has a fast camel.’

I asked about the division of captured rifles and he answered, The weapons of a man who has been killed belong to the man who has killed him. But the weapons of those who have surrendered are divided with the rest of the spoil. Only if a man has escaped from the rest of the raiders can the man who captures him claim his weapons and camel in addition to his share of the booty.’

We were now on the edge of Liwa.
¹
We rode westward through palm groves and small settlements similar to those I had seen in the spring at Dhaufir and Qutuf. I was glad that we were travelling slowly, for I had broken a rib wrestling with bin Tahi, and the stabbing pain in my side hurt most while I was riding. Salih and his son parted from us when we reached the edge of Dhafara, and bin Kabina went with them. He promised to rejoin me in Muwaiqih, but now he wished to collect some camels that he had left in Dhafara. The rest of us rode northward until we were nearly at the coast, and then turned back to Muwaiqih. We arrived there on 14 December.

We were hungry before we arrived at Zayid’s fort and were looking forward to eating meat that evening. We had not bothered to take a spare camel on this short journey, and, being anxious not to tire our riding camels, had taken little food with us. For the last two days we had been living on milk. There was plenty of this as the sands here were full of camels. Just before dinner four Bani Yas visitors were brought into our room to share the meal with us. As we sat down to feed, each leant forward and took a leg of meat off the dish before us and put it on the mat in front of him before starting to eat the rice. The rest of us were left to share the head and some other scraps. I was struck once more by how uncouth and selfish were these Bani Yas and Manasir who lived on the fringe of the desert, compared with the Bedu from the interior.

After dinner the room filled up with Zayid’s retainers, several of whom had falcons on their wrists. I have been told that in England it takes fifty days to train a wild falcon, but
here the Arabs had them ready in a fortnight to three weeks. This is because they were never separated from them. A man who was training a falcon carried it about everywhere with him. He even fed with it sitting on his left wrist, and slept with it perched on its block beside his head. Always he was stroking it, speaking to it, hooding and unhooding it.

The room was packed with people, some disputing over the ownership of a camel, others recounting a raid or reciting poetry. The air was thick with smoke from the coffee hearth and from guttering lamps, and heavy with the pungent reek of locally grown tobacco. Yet a tiercel, blinking in the lamplight, sat undisturbed on the leather cuff which protected my neighbour’s left hand. I asked him how long he had had it, and he said, ‘A week. He is a fine bird. You will see, Zayid will prefer him to the other ones,’ and he stroked the bird’s head. All the birds in the room were peregrines, which the Arabs call
shahin
. I asked my neighbour if they used the
hurr
, or saker falcon, such as I had seen in the courtyard of the Amir’s house at Laila. He said, ‘Yes, if we can get them, but they are difficult to come by, and expensive. They are worth twice as much as a
shahin
, which you can get for a hundred rupees.’ I knew that this was about eight pounds. He went on, ‘In the Najd they prefer the
hurr
, since they have better eyesight than the
shahin
, and, as you know, the Najd is all open gravel plains. I myself would rather have a
shahin
. They are swifter, bolder, and more persevering.’ He held up his falcon for me to admire and called its name, ‘Dhib ! Dhib ! ’ which means ‘wolf.

I asked him how he had got the falcon, and he said, ‘Zayid sent me with a message to Shakhbut and on my way to Abu Dhabi I saw a
shahin
on the salt-flats. Next day I went back there with a friend. We took a tame pigeon with us. I had tied a length of string to its leg and fastened the other end to a stone. Then we sat and waited and at last when we saw the
shahin
I threw the pigeon into the air and hurried away. As soon as it had taken the pigeon we returned and drove it from its kill. We quickly dug a shallow pit down-wind of the dead pigeon and about as far away as that wall opposite us. I got into this hole and my friend covered me over with some salt-bushes and then walked off. When the
shahin
came back to the pigeon
I slowly pulled it towards me with the string. Do you understand? Good. When it was within reach I caught it by the leg.’

I asked him why it did not see his hand, and he said, ‘It is easy. A
shahin
always faces up-wind, and anyway it was busy tearing at the pigeon.’