CHAPTER XXXV

EXPERIENCES WITH THE YAFEI SULTAN

In the same year, 1897, soon after our return thither from Sokotra, we left Aden to explore the Yafei and Fadhli countries. Our preparations for this expedition were made under quite different and much happier circumstances from those which attended our last journey from Aden to the interior of Arabia, _i.e._ the Hadhramout. We received every help that could be given us by General Cuningham, Colonel Hayes-Sadler, Captain Wadeson, and, indeed, everyone from whom we asked assistance was most kind. We took with us only our servant Matthaios, the Greek, Musaben, an elderly man from the Aden troup, as jemadar or manager of the soldiers and go-between generally; and three or four soldiers. No interpreter was necessary, I am glad to say, this time.

We left Sheikh Othman on February 28, 1897, for our nine hours' ride to Bir Mighar, sorry to have to make so long a journey the first day. At first we went past pretty gardens and villas, but soon left these traces of civilisation behind us, and the way went through desert, sometimes salty, sometimes sandy, sometimes bare, and sometimes with low bushes, now straight, and at others wending among sand-hills with cliffs to leeward, and ribbed and rippled like water. In some parts every trace of path is smothered by sand, and quicksand also must be warily avoided. We passed the ruins of an old town near Sheikh Othman, and five miles on, Imad, a wretched-looking collection of brushwood huts around a dar, or tower, still in English land.

This place is, about Christmas time, the scene of a fair to which all the neighbouring tribes gather, so a good study can be made of the native tongues.

A few patches of ground had the sand scraped off into banks, and were awaiting rain to sow some crops for fodder, but looked as if they had been waiting a long time. This caravan road across the Abyan is very old; its monotony is inexpressible, for the nine hours to Bir Mighar. At the sixth hour the road to Hawash goes off to the left. As we approached the well of Mighar the signs of population increased, and a few scrubby acacias grow near. There are two wells a mile apart; the farther, where we encamped, was once protected by a fort, now in ruins. A few years ago a hundred Yafei surprised the Fadhli, and sacked the fort, which has not since been repaired. Many parties of travellers were gathering round this well for the night; one husband and wife who took alternate charge of a baby slung in a straw cradle and a goat; another pair with their household goods, baby, and many fowls on a camel, while they were each laden with more fowls.

We passed a cold night, and were very tired; our things, having been packed on board the baggalla in which we came from Sokotra, were not in marching order. We only made a short journey of six miles next day past Al Khabt, which was just the same sort of place as Imad. We had to take a most circuitous route to reach it, and it was hard to realise that all the banks we wound amongst were fields waiting for rain. Hagheri Ask, our next halt, was even a yet more wretched hamlet--about six reed huts, and about as many goats and jackal-like dogs.

[Illustration: THE

FADHLI COUNTRY

SOUTH ARABIA.

From a sketch survey by

M^r. J. THEODORE BENT.

1897.

_Stanford's Geog.^l Estab.^t, London_

London: Smith, Elder & Co.]

Our tents were most unsteadily pitched on sand. There is a good well, and there has been a village here 'from the first,' as the Arabs say. There are many traces of antiquity; and numerous pieces of glass, good pottery, and bangles lie about. There are three ruined tombs and some smaller ones of mud bricks, and they make mud bricks there still. The villages of the Abyan are most poverty-stricken places.

The first day we had our camels loaded with jowari, and at Bir Mighar we took up fuel. From Hagheri Ask to Kanfar is about six miles, and we spent two hours over it. Trees became more numerous, good large ones, chiefly arrack and acacia, and a few small fan-palms. There were quantities of birds' nests, in every way a contrast to ours; for, instead of warm woolly ones, safe from wind and rain in the innermost recesses of our soft-leaved, easily climbed trees, these were loose open-work airy little baskets, dancing on the outer tips of the thorny branches. The scenery in the desert part was much improved by mirages of beautiful blue lakes and streams, nearly under our feet. Once, on the journey, we thought the piping times of peace had come to an abrupt end. The army of three became a vanguard, one who was riding having very suddenly turned himself into infantry, the guns were taken out of their calico bags and cocked, but the supposed enemy turned out to be only six or eight men carrying great rolls of skins and huge dry gourds for sale, so the rifles were packed up again. Some had Martini-Henrys and one or two of the camel-men had matchlocks.

Since leaving the British Empire we had been in the Fadhli country till we reached the Wadi Banna, or Benna, the boundary between the Beled Fadhli and Beled Yafei, then winding indeed was our way, for we were in thick wood; swords and daggers had to be used to cut a path, and we were brought to a standstill more than once, with our heads bent under trees, not daring to lift them. It would be easy for the inhabitants to stop an enemy's attack here. The smell of the arrack is not at all pleasant. Two Fadhli were once directed into the Banna bed by the Yafei of Al Husn, and when they were in the wood they set fire to it and burnt them. The inhabitants do not venture off the path. There are quicksands in some parts of the wadi.

[Illustration: CASTLE AT KANFAR]

We encamped not far from the town of Kanfar, amongst some large arrack bushes on the sand, and surrounded by mounds scattered over with bits of glass. There has been a succession of towns here, and the present one is situated on large mounds near some somewhat ruinous forts. It would take an immense quantity of digging to come on Himyaritic remains. Many gold coins are found, and set on the jembias; our old Musàben had two on his dagger, about four hundred years old. We were told that Boubakr-bin-Saïd, sultan of the lower Yafei, was to come in two days to keep the feast of a saint, Wali Abdullah-bin-Amr, who is buried here. In the meantime we surveyed our surroundings while awaiting his coming. The ground under the arrack bushes is perforated through and through by rats with bushy tips to their tails, as far as the utmost branch extends. Sometimes we felt our feet sinking, and discovered we were walking over the site of a vanished bush. There is an old ruined castle, with pretty herring-bone patterns and open-work windows. The principal well, a little distance from the town, is very close by the present fortress, where the sultan lives. There is a gunpowder factory of a primitive kind, for there is plenty of saltpetre to be found close by. We went all about the village quite comfortably with a couple of Yafei guards, and the people were civil. We saw curious ovens, like pots with lids, and oxen returning with the dustpans they use for scraping the sand off the cultivable soil, and many preparations for the feast in the way of food and very smart new indigo-dyed clothes. Photography, sketching, and unpacking the gifts for the sultan occupied our time. The mosquitoes were awful.

The sultan came to visit us very suddenly on the afternoon of his arrival--a rather handsome, sly-looking man. He wore a purple velvet jacket embroidered with gold, and a many coloured turban and waist-cloth forming a petticoat to his knees and leaving his fat legs bare. His complexion is of a greenish brown. His first question was as to my husband's age, that of the Wali of Aden, and of various other officials. He brought some honey and made himself most agreeable till we spoke of going to Al Kara. He then immediately began to speak of danger. He read the letter of introduction with more discretion than I have observed in any of the Arab sultans I have seen. Instead of reading to a crowd of slaves, he banished all but one very confidential, though dirty man, who was lame and carried a long lance adorned with silver bands, and read this letter and one previously sent. When he left, my husband told him the sooner he sent a message as to the possibilities of going to Al Kara the better it would be for him; and we also told Musàben to tell the Bedouin there would be money for them, and also to mention to the sultan that we had a gun that he might hope for.

It appeared, after much fruitless negotiation, that the sultan was determined to cheat the Bedouin. He arrived very soon after breakfast, _i.e._ before seven, and demanded 500 rupees for himself, which he immediately lowered of his own accord to 400 rupees, and gave us to understand danger would be averted if we paid this sum. He carried off 100 rupees for coffee and a bundle of turbans and other garments. No one but Musàben was to know of the money, and the fat parcel he himself stuffed into the clothes of his dirty confidant, explaining to us and them that he should only show an aluminium box as his sole gift, and walked off holding it ostentatiously between his finger and thumb. Later we walked round the castle, and were let into the courtyard. The sultan saw us from a window in his tower, and beckoned us up. We had to go through gateways on all sides of the tower, so that they can quite command the entrance. We went up a high winding stair to a room about 10 feet square, where we sat on the floor and had coffee with cloves and no sugar, and a coarse kind of sweetmeat. His first question was, 'Where is the gun?' I said, 'Where is Al Kara?' So he laughed merrily, and said, 'You shall not go to Al Kara till I have the gun.' So I told him he should not have the gun till we had been. He then told my husband he must pay 1,000 rupees and the gun first, and he would manage the Bedouin; but my husband said he would pay afterwards, and not more than 400 rupees. So this conversation went on, and we left. Musàben was surprised that we had been admitted.

We spent our days taking long walks in the cultivated fields, stepping on banks between the canals, or _abrs_. There were many trees, and acres of dukhan grown for making oil, gilgil, and other crops; and the shade, the birds, the greenery, and water made it a pleasant relief from the sandy mounds. The workpeople are slaves of the subordinate race of Hagheri. There are really very few Arabs. Watchmen or scarecrows, with long canes, stand on high platforms scattered about. The old well has very-much-worn stones round its mouth, and had once an extensive building over it. Corn is ground in a mill made from the hollowed trunk of a tree, with a camel going round and round. It was amusing to see the little children with their arms held aloft bound up in leaves to their elbows, to keep their hands nice, as they had been dyed with henna for the festival.

Jebel Gabeil is the acropolis of the ancient Kanfar, about 200 feet high and a quarter of a mile long, with a double fort on the top, containing an area of about 100 square yards. The outer wall is built of fine large stones, and the interior has a beautiful foundation, evidently Himyaritic, and commands an extensive view. The tomb of the saint whose feast it was is surrounded with tombs, all in disrepair, but covered with very pretty carved wood. The procession passed our camp both going and coming, and was an interesting sight. Quite early I was begged to come out and see crowds of women and girls, who had come to visit me with their new clothes, some indigo-dyed and some of red ingrain. They wear the same shape as in the Hadhramout, but do not cover their faces. They have a good deal of jewellery, and paint their faces yellow. I did not see any of the fantastic patterns I saw in the Hadhramout on the faces. First came four men with lances, dancing to and fro, then the sultan on a camel, dressed in red and purple and gold, and after him about thirty soldiers. A large white and red flag followed. On his return the sultan stopped and delivered a short address, the bystanders assenting by shouting 'Nahm! Nahm!'

The sultan came constantly, always raising his demands.

One afternoon he came and said 'Where is the gun?'

'Under that bed; you cannot have it now.'

'I should like to see the cartridges,' said the sultan.

'They are packed up.'

My husband then did what might seem rude here but is all the fashion there: he walked out of the tent and went off a little distance with Matthaios and Musàben to have a consultation; and the sultan got up and stood craning his neck and trying to listen, but I chattered and babbled to him to prevent his doing so, and finding he could hear nothing he said in a very cajoling sort of tone:

'Al Kara is such a very nice place! you would like to see it,' and asked me just to let him see the gun and some more clothes, and when my husband returned begged for more money; but he put on an air of great indignation and impatience and said:

'When we say a thing once it is enough,' and when the sultan began again he said 'Bas!' (Enough!) so loud that his majesty hastily departed.

Finally, when he could not get what he wanted, and we saw it was not safe to trust ourselves in the hands of so shifty a man, he became so insistent that my husband told him 'he had seen enough of him; he might leave our camp; we would not travel with him.' Off went the sultan in such a hurry that he left his stick behind, and sent us a message that we were not to pass another night in his country. We sent back a message that we would not stir till morning. When the sultan was gone we had tea, and I was talking to a dirty little boy of five called Boubakr and a bigger one called Ali, to whom I was giving lumps of sugar dirtied by the journey. We were laughing well at the sultan, calling him all sorts of names expressing our scorn of his meanness, when to our amusement we found these were his sons. He came himself about dawn next day to say we were to go back over the Wadi Banna, and not the shortest way to the part of the Fadhli country, which is beyond the Yafei, unless we gave him more money. We would not speak to him ourselves, so he had to talk with the servants (who were continuing packing) all the while, and, we let him see the greatest amusement on our part. Musàben was most anxious to go on, but the difficulties delighted Matthaios, as he was so frightened that he wished to go back at any price. When we did go, about six o'clock, we only went a very little way in the prescribed direction, then turned round, and took the path we desired, our army now being a rearguard, rushing up hillocks to watch for pursuers. We reached Al Khaur, a village with many ruined castles, and camped in frightful dust. The Wazir Abdullah bin Abdurrahman had been sent by the Fadhli sultan to welcome us. He proved a very agreeable travelling companion. He is young and refined looking.

We saw a great deal of cattle about. There is a sheer rock overhanging the village 1,000 feet above the plain. My husband ascended Jebel Sarrar to see the ruins. A fine paved road, protected by forts, climbs up past a curious square stone said to be full of money, and goes zigzag through a narrow gully like the walls at Zimbabwe. My husband having heard of the stone from the wazir, very much astonished the guides by pointing it out to them and saying 'There is money in that stone.' At the top there is a very strong fortress with many walls, and three cisterns just like the smaller of the tanks at Aden, with steps down into them, all covered with cement. This has been a very strong fortification, protecting and overlooking the whole of the Abyan from Jebel Goddam beyond Shukra to Jebel Shemshan at Aden. The Abyan is the low plain by the sea.

The following day we started for Dirgheg. The country is all irrigated by water brought from Masana by a channel called Nazai. At the corner of the Wadi Hassan the _abrs_ branch off in every direction. The sources belong to the Yafei, and the Fadhli pay them annually 25 Maria Theresa dollars, a basket of dates, and a turban for the sultan, but the management is in the hands of seyyids in _inam_ for ever, they being supposed to be neutral, for fear a war might produce a drought. Still, in time of war the water often is cut off. The banks of the abrs were full of castor-oil bushes, cotton, myrtle and tamarisk, all smothered with a pretty creeper covered with yellow flowers and little scarlet gourds.

Dirgheg lies just on the left bank of the Wadi Hassan in an almost desert place. There are many dars, or towers, where the wealthy Arabs, of whom there is a considerable population, live. The servile tribe of Hagheri live in reed huts; we saw them threshing gilgil and vetch. There are a market and a few shops. I had no trouble about taking photographs. Once, however, one of our attendants asked a man to move out of my way and gave him a little push. Out he pulled his ghembia, and there was a scrimmage very dangerous to my camera and its appurtenances, as they were going to be used as weapons of defence by our attendants. I rushed into the midst, and they stopped fighting to tell me not to be afraid, and peace was restored. I think it requires some courage to plunge out of the tent into the burning sand with the camera, but it never seems so hot once one is out. We were given over by our soldiers to the charge of two inhabitants of Dirgheg, and were quite elated at hearing on other authority than our own, 'They can speak Arabic.'

[Illustration: DIRGHEG]

We had on our return to the camp the delightful pleasure of a letter from Sultan Boubakr, making another try for the gun, and saying he would come and take us to Al Husn. The messenger was fetched, and scornfully told by my husband that it was too late; we would not think of travelling with so bad a man. I said, 'You have a great thief for your sultan, and a great liar,' and told him all about the money and clothes he had secretly taken; so, no doubt, he had to disgorge some after all. Musàben laughed very much, and said my imitation of the sultan's manner was so good he must get two sheikhs to hear the Bibi mimic the Yafei sultan. The Yafei messenger was much interested. I told the whole story, and how we had gone round three trees and departed our own way, adding, 'The sultan could see us from his own castle'; and he said, 'Yes, he did.' We told him all his conduct was written down and sent yesterday to the Wali of Aden, so now he might be sorry and frightened. We said we had been treated well by all the other Yafei we had met, but the sultan wanted to cheat both them and us. Indeed, it grieved us to hear the kind Yafei spoken of with horror and detestation by the Fadhli, but no doubt they have a different point of view to ours.

We went to another village called Abr Shebba, more under the mountains. We were shown about very civilly, and taken to the door of a large dar, and asked if we wished to go in. We did not know if we were wanted, so made an indefinite answer. There was a difference of opinion, and at last they said the Bibi should go in; so I crossed the court and entered the house, and had hardly done so when my hand was seized, and I was dragged by a man through black darkness upward and round and round. I stepped high, and, as quickly as I could, rushed after him. At the third round I saw a little light shining on the roughest possible shallow earthen steps, and was pulled into a little room, where I was greeted with cries of amazement by some women, and then continued my way unaided to the top of the tower. The parapets were ornamented with gazelle horns. After some time I wanted to go down, but I was on my way taken to a large room where manners demanded I should settle down for coffee. Every one was very kind, and for greater friendliness a naked baby four months old was placed in my hands. When I wished to return it it was made to sit on my knee. It soon kindly cried, and was, to my joy, removed. It had never in its life been completely washed, though several large spots and trimmings had been painted on its head. My husband joined me at last, and had coffee too.

The first thing next morning, before our departure to Al Ma'a, another letter came from the Yafei sultan about Al Husn; but the messenger was told that once was enough to see that great thief (_harami_), and he could take the letter back. It was fourteen miles to Al Ma'a, and took us six hours. We passed up the Wadi Hassan, and saw Al Husn in the distance. We did not go quite to the corner where the Wadi Hassan turns east. It is considered too near the Yafei frontier to be safe, and the Fadhli always used a narrow pass called Tarik al Kaha, going round Mount Gherash. It gets narrower and steeper as it goes on zigzagging up slabs of shale, with only room for one camel at a time. There are any amount of ambush places, especially on the north side. The pass goes uphill, west to east, and the steepest end is at the east. A spur runs out west on the north side about 50 feet high, convenient to shoot over. The approaches are quite open. It leads through Wadi Goddam to Wadi Hassan, and at the entrance to Wadi Hassan, Fadhli Bedouin are for ever stationed to watch for Yafei attacks on a tiny jutting hill. Three men of ours, sheikhs who had come to meet us, galloped forward to explain to them who we were, and ascertain that all was safe. They fired a gun over our heads. There were a few baboons about. We saw several little heaps of stones, and were told they marked spots where Fadhli had been shot by Yafei. A very large heap is formed by those who pass the valley safely for good luck. We also passed the tomb of a seyyid with four large smooth stones at the top anointed with oil for the Ed. Before we reached Al Ma'a the river-bed narrowed in from the other side, and along the raised bank at short intervals were watch-towers of the Yafei. At Al Ma'a they are quite close, about half a mile off at most. The country was still very arid and barren, but the mountains very fine.

Al Ma'a is a wretched hamlet, which has seen very much better days. There are high ruined castles, destroyed by the present sultan, as Al Ma'a and its head-men were once in revolt. Now there are only three or four Arab houses and a collection of reed huts. The valley is about two miles wide, and there are four or five Yafei towers near. Our escort were very much afraid. They said that the Yafei might shoot us, though a cannon would be necessary, and lay the blame on the Fadhli, so they would by no means let us camp anywhere but in a most disgustingly dusty place next the village; and they kept sharp watch all night, talking much. The towers protect the approach to the Wadi Theba, which here goes up or comes down from Al Kara. The country round is in a perpetual state of ferment, like Germany in the Middle Ages, every one on the look-out for attacks from enemies.

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