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- Herausgeber: Charles River Editors
- Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
- Sprache: Englisch
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Seitenzahl: 404
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018
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MEMOIRS OF AN ARABIAN PRINCESS
An Autobiography
Emily Ruete
LACONIA PUBLISHERS
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Copyright © 2016 by Emily Ruete
Interior design by Pronoun
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
MEMOIRS OF
PREFACE.
CHAPTER I.: BET IL MTONI.
CHAPTER II.: BET IL WATOUO.
CHAPTER III.: A DAY AT BET IL SAHEL.
CHAPTER IV.: OUR LIFE AT BET IL WATORO AND AT BET IL SAHEL.
CHAPTER V.: REMOVAL TO BET IL TANI.
CHAPTER VI.: DAILY LIFE IN OUR HOUSE.
CHAPTER VII.: OUR MEALS.
CHAPTER VIII.: BIRTH AND FIRST YEARS OF THE LIFE OF A PRINCE AND PRINCESS.
CHAPTER IX.: SCHOOLING IN THE EAST.
CHAPTER X.: YEARLY OUTFIT. TOILET AND FASHION IN OUR HOUSEHOLD.
CHAPTER XI.: A PLANTATION.
CHAPTER XII.: MY FATHER’S VOYAGE.
CHAPTER XIII.: DEATH-NEWS.
CHAPTER XIV.: OUR MOURNING.
CHAPTER XV.: ABOUT SOME OF MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS.
CHAPTER XVI.: WOMAN’S POSITION IN THE EAST.
CHAPTER XVII.: ARAB MATCHMAKING.
CHAPTER XVIII.: AN ARAB LADY’S CALL.
CHAPTER XIX.: THE AUDIENCE. INTERCOURSE BETWEEN GENTLEMEN.
CHAPTER XX.: THE LONG FAST.
CHAPTER XXI.: THE LITTLE FESTIVAL.
CHAPTER XXII.: THE GREAT FESTIVAL.
CHAPTER XXIII.: AN OFFERING AT THE SPRING TSCHEMSCHEM.
CHAPTER XXIV.: DISEASES AND MEDICAL TREATMENT. POSSESSED PEOPLE.
CHAPTER XXV.: SLAVERY.
CHAPTER XXVI.: MY MOTHER’S DEATH. A PALACE REVOLUTION.
CHAPTER XXVII.: KISIMBANI AND BUBUBU.
CHAPTER XXVIII.: MY LAST RESIDENCE IN ZAKZIBAR.
CHAPTER XXIX.: GREAT CHANGES.
CHAPTER XXX.: SEJID BARGASCH IN LONDON.
CHAPTER XXXI.: RE-VISITING MY HOME AFTER NINETEEN YEARS.
MEMOIRS OF
AN ARABIAN PRINCESS
An Autobiography
BY
EMILY RUETE
Née Princess of Omân and Zanzibar
PREFACE.
NINE YEARS AGO I MADE up my mind to write down some sketches of my life for my children, who at that time knew little more about my origin than that I was an Arabian and a native of Zanzibar. Tired out in body and in mind, I did not then expect to live to be able to tell them, when they had grown up, of the many changes in my life, and of the recollections of my youth. I therefore resolved to write my memoirs for them, and this I have done for love and devotion to my children, whose affection has been my only solace for many long and anxious years, and whose tender sympathy has kept me from despair in my heaviest troubles.
Originally, therefore, my memoirs were not intended for the general public, but for my dear children alone, to whom I desired to bequeath the same, in token of a fond mother’s love, and I only yielded to the repeatedly expressed wishes of many friends in having them published now.
These pages were concluded years ago—with the exception of the last chapter, which was added recently, after a voyage I was permitted to undertake, with my children, to my old home, Zanzibar, in the course of last year.
May this book, then, go out into the world and gain as many friends as it has always been my good fortune to make for myself!
CHAPTER I.
BET IL MTONI.
IN BET IL MTONI, THE oldest of our palaces in the island of Zanzibar, I was born, and there I lived until the age of seven.
Bet il Mtoni, distant about five miles from the city of Zanzibar, lies on the sea coast, surrounded by most beautiful scenery, and quite hidden in a grove of palm and mango trees, and other gigantic specimens of tropical vegetation. The house of my birth is called “Mtoni house,” after the little river Mtoni, which rises only a few miles inland, runs through the whole palace into numerous fountains, and flows directly behind the palace walls into the splendid and animated inlet which severs the island from the African continent.
Only one large-sized courtyard divides the numerous buildings of Bet il Mtoni, which, on account of their heterogeneous styles, invented as occasion required, with their numberless and puzzling passages, must be called, on the whole, ugly rather than beautiful.
I do not distinctly remember now the arrangement of the vast number of rooms these buildings contained, but I can well recall to my mind the large bathing accommodation at Bet il Mtoni. There were a dozen baths in one row at the extreme end of the courtyard, and in rainy weather these popular resorts could only be reached under the shelter of an umbrella. Apart from them lay what was called the “Persian” bath, a Turkish steam bath, whose ingenious and tasteful architecture was unequalled in Zanzibar.
Each bathing house contained two baths, five yards long by four yards wide, and just deep enough to let the water come up to the breast of a grown-up person.
These refreshing baths were a favourite resort with all people in the house; most of them stayed in them for many hours every day, to pray, sleep, work, and read there, even to take their meals; and from four o’clock in the morning till midnight they were never once empty.
On entering these bath-houses, which are all alike, two raised resting-places may be observed to the right and left for prayer and repose, which are covered with the finest coloured mats. Every other article of luxury, such as carpets, was banished from these rooms. Every Muslim (Mahometan) requires a separate and perfectly clean dress for prayers, intended only for this purpose, and which ought to be quite white. Of course this rather inconvenient religious precept is only followed by extremely devout persons.
The places of repose are separated by narrow arcades from the bath-rooms, which are all in the open air; two arched bridges of stone, with steps gradually rising, lead again to other rooms lying apart.
Each bath-room was allotted to a special set of occupants; woe to the person who did not keep within her proper bounds! A very rigorous spirit of caste ruled at Bet il Mtoni, which was observed by high and low alike.
Tall orange trees, as high as the largest cherry trees in these parts, throve in dense rows in front of the bath-houses; their branches often sheltered us while young, when we were afraid of punishment from our excessively strict teacher.
Man and beast lived amicably together in the large courtyard, without being in the least inconvenienced by each other’s presence—peacocks, gazelles, guinea-fowls, flamingoes, geese, ducks, and ostriches roamed about in perfect liberty, and were petted and fed by old and young. We children vastly enjoyed hunting out the many eggs that lay about here and there, especially the large ostrich eggs, and to hand them over to the head cook, who would reward us with presents of sweetmeats.
Twice a day, early in the morning and in the evening, all children above five years of age had riding lessons in this court from one of the eunuchs, during which the members of our little zoological garden roamed about as freely as ever. When we had made sufficient progress in this art, we were each mounted by our father. The boys got permission to choose a horse from the royal stud, while we girls received large white donkeys from Mesket, which are often much more expensive than horses. Of course we were provided with a complete harness for these handsome beasts at the same time.
Our chief amusement in these family houses consisted in taking long rides, as we had neither theatricals nor concerts to entertain us. We frequently had races in the country, which as frequently ended in an accident. Once I nearly lost my life in such a race.
Afraid of being overtaken by my brother Hamdam, I had paid no attention to a very large crooked cocoa tree right in my way, and my forehead had almost come in contact with its stem before I had even noticed it. Quick as thought I threw myself back, and in this way mercifully escaped a horrid death.
The numerous flights of stairs were one of the peculiarities of Bet il Mtoni, which were unusually steep, and had huge steps, apparently made fpr a race of giants. Straight up they went, without a turning or a landing place; one’s only assistance a very primitive kind of railing, which, being in constant use, needed as constant repair. I remember even now how all the people living in our wing of the house were frightened one morning when both railings of our stone staircase were found to be missing, and I am yet surprised that of the many persons passing up and down no one came to grief.
Statistics being a thing quite unknown in Zanzibar, nobody of course could tell how many people actually lived in our house. I think I do not exaggerate, however, in estimating the total number of inhabitants at Bet il Mtoni at one thousand. To understand this it must be remembered that great numbers of servants are employed in the East by all people of quality and by those who want to appear rich. At least an equal number of persons were lodged in my father’s city palace, Bet il Saliel, or “Strandhouse.”
In the wing nearest to the sea at Bet il Mtoni were the apartments of my father, Sejid Said, Imam of Mesket and Sultan of Zanzibar, and those of his principal wife, who was a distant relation of his. He resided, however, only four days a week in the country with us, and the remainder he spent in his city palace, Bet il Sahel. The title “Imam” is a religious dignity, which is but rarely conferred on a sovereign. Originally we owe this distinction to our great-grandfather “Ahmed”; the title has since that time been hereditary in our family, and every member of it is authorized to append it to his signature.
Being one of his younger children I only remember my father with his venerable, snow-white beard. He was above middle height, his features had a very fascinating and engaging expression, and his whole appearance commanded respect. In spite of his warlike propensities and his delight in conquest, he was a model father and sovereign. Justice he valued as the highest of all things, and in this respect he knew no difference of person, not even between one of his own sons and the lowest slave. He humbled himself before God; nor was he self-conceited and proud like so many high-born people. It happened, and not rarely either, that he would ride over by himself to the wedding of a simple slave, who had gained his regard by many years of loyal service, to offer his congratulations to the young couple in person. He always used to call me, “Old woman,” as I was very fond of cold milk soup (Arab, “farni”), which is the favourite meal of all our old and toothless people.
My mother was a Circassian by birth, who in early youth had been torn away from her home. Her father had been a farmer, and she had always lived peacefully with her parents and her little brother and sister. War broke out suddenly, and the country was overrun by marauding bands; on their approach the family fled into an underground place, as my mother called it—she probably meant a cellar, which is not known in Zanzibar. Their place of refuge was, however, invaded by a merciless horde, the parents were slain, and the children carried off by three mounted Arnauts. One of these, with her elder brother, soon disappeared out of sight; the other two, with my mother and her little sister, three years old, crying bitterly for her mother, kept together until evening, when they too parted, and my mother never heard any more of the lost ones as long as she lived.
She came into my father’s possession when quite a child, probably at the tender age of seven or eight years, as she cast her first tooth in our house. She was at once adopted as playmate by two of my sisters, her own age, with whom she was educated and brought up. Together with them she learnt to read, which raised her a good deal above her equals, who, as a rule, became members of our family at the age of sixteen or eighteen years, or older still, when they had outgrown whatever taste they might once have had for schooling. She could scarcely be called pretty, but she was tall and shapely, had black eyes, and hair down to her knees. Of a very gentle disposition, her greatest pleasure consisted in assisting other people, in looking after and nursing any sick person in the house; and I well remember her going about with her books from one patient to another, reading prayers to them.
She was in great favour with my father, who never refused her anything, though she interceded mostly for others, and, when she came to see him, he always rose to meet her half-way—a distinction he conferred but very rarely. She was as kind and pious as she was modest, and in all her dealings frank and open. She had had another daughter besides myself, who had died quite young. Her mental powers were not great, but she was very clever at needlework. She has always been a tender and loving mother to me, but this did not hinder her from punishing me severely when she deemed it necessary.
She had many friends at Bet il Mtoni, which is rarely to be met with in an Arab harem. She had the most unshaken and firmest trust in God. When I was about five years old I remember a fire breaking out in the stables close by, one night while my father was at his city residence. A false alarm spread over the house that we, too, were in imminent danger; upon which the good woman hastened to take me on one arm, and her big Kuran (we pronounce the word thus) on the other, and hurried into the open air. On the rest of her possessions she set no value in this hour of danger.
My father had only one Horme (plural Harino), or legitimate wife, at my time, as far as I recollect; his other wives, or Sarari (singular Surîe), numbering seventy-five at his death, had all been purchased by him gradually, and the former, his first wife, Azze bint Sef, a princess of Omân by birth, reigned as absolute mistress over the household. In spite of her very small size, and of her plain exterior, she possessed an immense power over my father, who willingly submitted to all her arrangements. She treated all the other wives and their children in a very imperious, haughty, and pretentious manner; happily for us she had no children of her own, who could not have failed to be as disagreeable in their way! All my father’s children, thirty-six in number, when he died, were by his Sarari, and there was consequently no difference between us.
Bibi (mistress, lady) Azze, who had to be addressed as “Highness” (Sijjide), was feared by old and young, by high and low, and liked by no one. Even now I remember her well, and how stiffly she used to pass by without a kind word to any one. How different was my dear old father! He talked kindly to everybody, no matter what rank the person addressed might be. My exalted stepmother knew very well how to keep her station, nor did any one dare to approach her without her own invitation or encouragement. I never saw her walk about without a retinue, except when she went with my father to the bath-house, which was set apart for their special use. All who met her in the house were as deferential to her as a recruit to his officer.
Though her imperiousness was felt very acutely by all, it had not sufficient power to deprive the residents at Bet il Mtoni of all charms of life. My brothers and sisters, of all ages, were supposed to go every day and wish her good morning; but rarely were her vanity and pride gratified by more than one visitor at the appointed time—before her breakfast hour—so greatly was she disliked by us all.
My older brothers and sisters lived at Bet il Mtoni; some of them, Schêcha and Zuene, for instance, were old enough to have been my grandmothers. The latter had a son, Ali bin Suut, whose beard had turned grey already when I knew him first; she was a widow, and had found a shelter in her paternal home after the death of her husband.
It is generally believed by Europeans that with us the sons are greatly preferred to the daughters; but such was not the case in our family. I know not a single instance in which the son was more liked by father or mother, merely because he happened to be a son. Though the law in some cases favours sons more than daughters, and grants them larger privileges—as, for instance, in the division of inheritances—yet the children are everywhere loved and treated alike. It is, of course, but natural, and only human, that in the South, as well as all over the world, one child, whether boy or girl, is secretly more beloved by his parents than the other, but this is never shown openly. It was thus with our father also; for the two of his children he loved best were not sons, but daughters, Scharîfe and Chole. When I was nine years old I was once wounded in the side by an arrow, by my wild brother Hamdâm, who was about my own age; fortunately the hurt was not a severe one. As soon as my father heard of this affair, he said to me: “Salme, go and call Hamdâm.” And the boy was so terribly scolded for his misbehaviour, that he remembered it for a long time after. This instance proves how greatly people are often misinformed on foreign matters. It stands to reason that a good deal depends everywhere upon the children themselves, and it would wrong good children to treat them in the same way as bad ones.
The Bendjle was the prettiest spot at Bet il Mtoni. It was an immense round tower in front of the main building, and close to the sea, large enough for a ball, had such a thing been known in our country. It looked very much like a gigantic merry-go-round, with a vaulted ceiling in the same style as the building. The entire framework, the floor, railing, and the tent-like ceiling were constructed of painted wood. My dear father used to walk up and down in this place for hours and hours together, plunged in deep thought, and with head bent down. A bullet which he received in battle, and had settled in the hip, caused him frequent pain, and made him limp a little.
Some dozens of cane chairs were placed all about this lofty balcony, and a large telescope was put up for general use. The view from this raised “Bendjle” was surpassingly beautiful. Several times during the day my father, Azze bint Sêf, and all his grownup children would take their coffee here. Any one wishing to speak to my father privately would be sure of finding him here alone for several hours in the day.
Il Rahmâni, a man-of-war, was anchored off the Bendjle all the year round, whence they fired the signals in the fasting season; the crews required for the many rowing boats had their quarters there. A tall flagstaff was erected on the shore to signal whenever these boats and crews were wanted.
Both at Bet il Mtoni and at Bet il Sahel the meals were cooked in the Arab as well as in the Persian and Turkish manner. People of all races lived in these two houses—the races of various beauty. The slaves were dressed in Suahely style, but we were permitted to appear in Arab fashion alone. Any newly-arrived Circassian or Abyssinian woman had to exchange her ample robes and fantastic attire within three days for the Arab costume provided for her.
Bonnets and gloves are no less indispensable articles of toilet to any Western lady or woman of respectability than jewellery is to us. Trinkets are considered so necessary, that even beggar-women may be seen plying their trade decked out in them. My father had special treasure chambers in both his houses at Zanzibar, and in his palace at Mesket, in Omân, amply stocked with sovereigns and gold pieces of Spanish and other coinage; besides these, however, they contained large assortments of feminine adornments, from the simplest article to the diamond-set crown, expressly procured to serve as presents. Each time an increase to the family had taken place, either by the purchase of a Sarari, or by the frequent births of princes or princesses, the doors of these chambers were opened, to take out presents for the new arrival according to its rank and station. On the seventh day after the birth of a child my father used to pay a visit to the infant and its mother to present some article of jewellery to the baby. In the same way a new Surîe received at once the necessary jewels, and had her servants assigned to her by the chief eunuch.
Though himself very simple in all his ways, my father was very particular about all people around him. No one was permitted to appear before him except in full dress, and this was the rule with his children as well as with the youngest eunuch. The little girls used to wear their hair in thin plaits, as many as twenty sometimes, with the ends collected together, and a heavy gold ornament, set with precious stones, suspended from their centre. Sometimes a gold coin was attached to each plait, which looked much prettier. These ornaments were taken off at bedtime, and re-attached in the morning. The girls had their hair dressed in this pony fashion up to the period when they had to go about veiled. Once I ran off to my father without these ornaments in my hairdress, to get some of the French sweetmeats he used to give us every morning. Instead of obtaining these, however, I was promptly sent back in charge of a servant—I had appeared before him not properly dressed; but I took good care never again to commit the same offence.
My sister Zejâne and my stepmother Medîne were my mother’s most intimate friends. Zejâne was the daughter of an Abyssinian; Medîne, a Circassian, who came from the same part of the country as my mother, like Sara, another stepmother of mine Sara’s two children were my brother Madjid and my sister Chadudj, of whom the former was the junior by some years. My mother and Sara had solemnly promised each other, that whoever survived the other should replace her with her children. Chadudj and Madjid, however, were nearly full-grown when Sara died, and they did not need my mother’s help as long as they lived in their paternal home. It was the custom in our family for boys up to the age of eighteen or twenty to remain with their mothers in our father’s house, and to submit to the general house rules. At about this stage of life each prince was pronounced of age, though this depended entirely upon his behaviour. When of age he was numbered amongst the grown-up people—an honour which was always eagerly coveted. A separate residence was then assigned to him, together with horses, servants, and everything else he required, also an adequate monthly allowance.
My brother Madjid had now obtained this honour, more on account of his conduct than of his age. He was very modest, and won all hearts by his kind and gentle manners. Not a week passed but he rode over from the city (he lived at Bet il Sahel with his mother) to see us, and he always liked to play with me, though he was my senior by twelve years.
He came over perfectly delighted one day to tell my mother that he had just been pronounced of age, and that, being his own master now, he had received a house of his own. He insisted at the same time upon our removing to his new place to live with him, and he was joined in this request by Chadudj. My mother begged him to consider that she could not well accede to his wishes without first consulting my father, but promised to inform him of the result as soon as she had done so. On her part she declared herself willing to live with him as long as it suited both himself and his sister. Madjid at once offered to save her all trouble by speaking himself to my father, and next day, indeed, he informed us that the latter had given his consent. Our removal being thus settled, it was arranged, after a long consultation, that we were to take up our new residence with him in the course of a few days, after he had completed all necessary arrangements at his place.
CHAPTER II.
BET IL WATOUO.
MY MOTHER DID NOT FIND it easy to reconcile herself to the prospect of her impending removal. She was very much attached to Bet il Mtoni, where she had lived from her childhood; she was not fond of any change, and was very much afflicted by the separation from Zejâne and from my stepmother Medîne. She told me, however, afterwards that her own scruples had been outweighed by the consideration of making herself useful to the children of her dear departed friend.
As soon as it became known that she had decided to remove to town, every person she met cried out, “Have you lost all trust in us, Djilfîdan, that you are going to leave us for ever? “” Oh, my friends,” she replied, “I do not leave you of my own free will, but it is my fate to part from you!”
I am sure a good many people will shake their heads with a feeling of pity on reading the word “fate.” Maybe such persons have hitherto shut their eyes and their ears to the will of God, and have spurned to take any notice of it, laying a far greater stress upon what they call chance. It should be borne in mind, however, that I once was a Mahometan, and grew up as such. I am, moreover, speaking of Arab life, of an Arab home, and there are two things above all quite unknown in a real Arab house, the word “chance” and materialism. The Mahometan not only believes in God as his Creator and Preserver, but he is convinced at all times of His presence, and he feels likewise sure that not his own will, but the will of the Lord is done in little things as well as in great.
It took us some days to complete all our arrangements, and then we waited for Madjid’s return, who was to arrange about our journey. I had had one brother and two sisters, all nearly of my own age, as companions at Bet il Mtoni, and I was very sorry to leave them, little Ralub in particular, who had been greatly attached to me; on the other hand, I was right glad of the opportunity of getting away from our excessively severe teacher.
Our large room looked something like a beehive during the parting scenes with so many friends and acquaintances; everybody brought a parting gift in proportion to his means and affection. This is a custom very much in use with us, for no Arab will deny himself the pleasure of presenting a parting gift to his friend, even if he has nothing to give but the merest trifle. I remember a case in point which occurred in my early youth. We had made an excursion from Bet il Mtoni to one of our estates, and were just about to step into our boats to return home, when I felt some one tugging at my dress from behind. Turning round, I saw a very old negro woman, who handed me a parcel, wrapped in plantain leaves, with the words, “This trifle is my parting gift to you, bibijangu (my mistress), it is the first ripe fruit of my garden.” Undoing the leaves, I found they enclosed—one cob of newly-gathered Indian corn. I did not know the poor old woman at all, but afterwards she proved to have been an old protégée of my mother’s.
Madjid arrived at last with the news that the captain of the Rahmâni had been ordered to send a cutter for us next evening, and another boat for our luggage and for the servants who were to accompany us to the city.
My father happened to be at Bet il Mtoni at the time, and next day my mother went up with me to bid him good-bye. We found him walking up and down the Bendjle as usual, and he came at once to meet us as soon as he saw us. My parents began talking at once about our journey, and, to stop the many questions with which I continually interrupted them, one of the attending eunuchs was ordered to bring me sweets and sherbet. I was of course very curious to know something about our new home and about life in town. I had only once been there for a very short time, and had not even seen all my brothers and sisters, nor my numerous stepmothers who lived there.
We then went to the apartments of my august stepmother to take leave of her. Azze bint Sêf was graciously pleased to dismiss us standing, which with her was a great honour, as she always remained seated when she received people. We were also permitted to kiss her hand before turning our back upon her for ever.
We had still to run up and downstairs a good many times to shake bands with all our friends, of whom, however, we met but few in their rooms. My mother resolved, therefore, to say good-bye to them after prayers, which all had to attend.
The cutter lay off the Bendjle ready to receive us at 7 p.m.; it was a fine big boat with a crew of fourteen oarsmen, with an awning over the stern, carrying our standard—a plain, blood-red flag. The passenger seats were covered with pretty silk cushions for ten to twelve persons.
Old Djohar, a trusty eunuch, came to report everything ready to my father, who was watching our departure from the Bendjle, and took the helm; he was to convey us to our new destination in company with another eunuch. All our friends in tears accompanied us as far as the house door, and their cries, “Wecla, wecla” (farewell, farewell), ring in my ears to this very day.
There was no landing pier on the flat shore, and we had to get into the boat either by being carried in a chair or by walking through the dry sand and over a plank; my mother got into the cutter in this manner, attended on both sides by some eunuchs, while another carried me in his arms and placed me in the stern sheets. The light of the coloured hanging-lanterns in the boat, together with the glittering stars above, cast a magic brightness over the sea, and the oarsmen pulled away, keeping time by the tune of a melancholy Arab song.
We kept close in shore, and I was soon fast asleep in my mother’s lap. I was suddenly and rather roughly roused up by a number of persons calling out my name; very much frightened and half asleep yet, I learned that we had arrived at our journey’s end. We were just below the lighted-up windows of Bet il Sahel, which were occupied by crowds of people—they were my stepmothers and sisters with their mothers, most of whom I had never seen before, and who were curious to have a look at me. My mother told me they had commenced crying out my name as soon as the boat had come in sight.
On landing, I was received by my young brothers in a very lively manner. They wanted us to go with them at once, but my mother had to decline, as she did not wish to keep Chadudj waiting, who was watching our arrival from her house. I was very sorry that I was not allowed to join my young relations at once, but my mother remained firm, and I was consoled by the promise that we were to spend a day at Bet il Sahel as soon as my father had returned to it.
We therefore passed on to get to Madjid’s residence, Bet il Watoro, which was close by, and from which there was also a splendid view over the sea. Chadudj received us at the bottom of the staircase and bid us heartily welcome: she conducted us to our rooms, and her chief eunuch, Ernan, brought in some refreshments. Madjid was below in his reception room with his friends, waiting for permission to come up and join us. How delighted he was, good, noble fellow, to welcome us in his new home!
Our own room was of but middling size, and looked out on the mosque close by. It was furnished like all Arab apartments, and there was nothing wanting to our comfort. As the dresses worn by day are not taken off at night, and all Arabs of standing are accustomed to the strictest cleanliness, there is no need for separate bedrooms, and the room allotted to us quite sufficed for our wants.
Rich and distinguished people generally furnish their houses in the following style: Persian carpets or very fine and soft matting cover the floors; the thick, whitewashed walls are divided from floor to ceiling into several partitions by deep recesses; these recesses are again subdivided by shelves of wood, painted green, forming a kind of open cabinet. Upon these shelves are symmetrically ranged the choicest and most expensive objects of glass and china. To an Arab nothing can be too costly to decorate these shelves; a handsome cut glass, a plate beautifully painted, or an elegant and tasteful jug, may cost any price; if they look pretty they are sure to be purchased.
The bare and narrow walls between the recesses are carefully concealed by large mirrors reaching from the low divans to the ceiling; these mirrors are generally expressly ordered from Europe. As a rule, pictures are prohibited to a Mahometan as imitations of Divine creation: of late, however, they are tolerated now and then. Clocks, again, are in great favour everywhere, and some houses contain quite a rich collection of them; they are placed above and in pairs on each side of the mirrors. The walls of the gentlemen’s rooms are decorated with costly weapons from Arabia, Persia, and Turkey, and this is done by every Arab according to his means.
A large curtained bed of rosewood, of Indian workmanship, very prettily carved all over, is placed, in one corner of the room. Arab beds are very high, and to get into them it is necessary to mount upon a chair or to call in the assistance of a chambermaid. The empty space beneath is often occupied by the children’s or sick nurse.
Tables are rarely seen, and only in the houses of people of high station, but there are chairs of all kinds and colours. Wardrobes, chests of drawers, and the like-are not in use; we had, however, a chest or trunk with two or three drawers, and a secret drawer to put away money and jewellery.
Windows and doors stand open all the year during the day; they are only shut for a short time during the rainy season. In our country we do not at all understand what “draught” means.
At first I did not like our new residence at all; I missed my young brothers and sisters very much, and Bet il Watoro appeared to me very small compared to gigantic Bet il Mtoni. I was by no means pleased that I was to stay here for ever. I could not sail my boats here, unless I chose to do so in a washtub, as there was no river near, and all water had to be fetched from a well outside the house. My dear mother, whose greatest pleasure was to give away all she possessed, wanted me to send my beautiful sailing boats to my brothers at Bet il Mtoni, but I could not make up my mind to do that at once. For the first time in my life I felt indeed very unhappy and downcast.
My mother, on the other hand, soon reconciled herself to her new duties, and was so busily engaged all day in directing and arranging things in company with Chadudj, that she did not even find time to look after me. Dear Madjid alone took some trouble about me, and showed me over the house from top to bottom; but nothing could please me, I was perfectly indifferent to everything, and I urged my mother incessantly to return at once to Bet il Mtoni and to my dear relations there. This could not be done, of course, and the less so as she really proved a great help to my brother and sister.
Fortunately I soon discovered Madjid to be a great friend of all kinds of live beasts, of which he had quite a collection, amongst others any number of white rabbits, which spoiled the new house completely, much to the annoyance of my mother and sister. He also kept a great many fighting cocks of all countries; I have never again seen such a fine collection together, not even in zoological gardens.
I was soon his constant companion on his visit to his favourites, and he was kind enough to let me share in all his amusements. Before long I owned a number of fighting cocks myself, and I felt not quite so lonely now at Bet il Watoro. We inspected our champions nearly every day, which were led up and down by servants. A cockfight is, indeed, by no means an uninteresting affair—it is very entertaining, as it takes up the entire attention of the spectator, and often it is intensely amusing.
Afterwards he gave me fencing lessons with swords, daggers, and lances, and taught me to practise with gun and pistol when we went into the country. In fact he made quite an amazon of me, greatly to the distress of my dear mother, who declined to learn anything about fencing and shooting. All this, of course, did not improve my taste for fancy needlework, and I preferred much to handle all kinds of weapons to sitting quietly at the bobbin-machine for hours together.
The perfect liberty I enjoyed in all these pastimes—for as yet a new teacher had not been found for me—made me soon feel in better spirits, and my objection to lonely Bet il Watoro soon vanished. Nor did I neglect riding, and, by Madjid’s orders, Mesrur the eunuch improved me in horsemanship.
My mother being too busily employed in the house to have much spare time for me, I got soon attached to a clever Abyssinian woman, who grew very fond of me, and who taught me her language; but I have long since forgotten all I learned from her.
A lively intercourse was kept up with Bet il Mtoni, and whenever we went there we were always received most affectionately by all our friends. The communication between the two places was kept up by slaves carrying verbal messages to and fro. Eastern people are not very fond of letter-writing, even when able to write. Every person of note or wealth keeps some slaves who are employed as runners only. They must travel a certain number of miles daily, but they are well treated otherwise, and special care is taken of them. They are trusted with the most confidential messages. Upon their honesty and secrecy depends frequently their master’s welfare, and even more! It is by no means a rare occurrence that the most intimate relations between people have been severed and for ever by an act of vengeance on the part of these messengers. In spite of this great drawback, people cannot be induced to learn to write, and to make themselves independent for life. The saying, “Leave the world to take its course,” is nowhere more true than with us.
My sister Chadudj was very fond of society. Hardly a day passed without any number of visitors being in the house from six o’clock in the morning till midnight. Those who arrived very early were received by the servants, and conducted to a room, where they could rest until eight or nine o’clock, when they were welcomed by the lady of the house. Later on I shall have occasion to say more of these ladies’ visits in a separate chapter.
I did not at all succeed in being on the same friendly terms with Chadudj as I was with Madjid. She was rather forbidding, and I never got to love her fondly. There was too great a contrast between good, noble Madjid and her. Nor was I the only one who was of this opinion. Everybody who became more intimately acquainted with them soon found out who of the two was the more amiable. Above all, she could be very cold to strangers, and ungracious, and on this account she had many enemies. She had the greatest dislike to all novel and foreign things, and nothing annoyed her more than the call of a European lady, though it never lasted above half or three-quarters of an hour.
In other respects she was very circumspect and of a practical turn, considering her station; she was never idle, and when she had nothing else to do she sewed and embroidered dresses for the children of her married slaves as assiduously as the fine shirts for her brother. Among these children there were three very pretty boys, whose father was superintendent of buildings in our service. These boys were called Selim, Abdallah, and Tani, and, being only a few years younger than myself, they soon became my daily companions, as I had no others of my own age in the place, till I went over more frequently to my brothers and sisters at Bet il Sahel.
CHAPTER III.
A DAY AT BET IL SAHEL.
THE LONG-LOOKED FOR DAY AT last arrived on which I was to pay a visit to Bet il Sahel with my mother and Chadudj from early morn till night. It was on a Friday, the Mahometan Sabbath, that we left our house as early as half-past five, wrapped in our big black shawls with gold borders (called Schele). We had not far to go, only some one hundred paces, to get to our destination.
The faithful but rather cross old gatekeeper did not receive us in an over friendly manner. More crossly even than was his wont, he told us that he had been on his feeble legs for the last hour admitting lady visitors. Said il Nubi, as the crusty old fellow was called, was a Nubian slave of my father’s, whose beard—I cannot express myself otherwise, as the Arabs wear their heads shaved bare—had grown white in long and loyal service. My father thought much of him, as Said had once stayed his master’s hand in a moment of great though righteous wrath from committing an act of rashness, which he would have deeply regretted all his life.
The little ones, however, did not know much about Said at the time, and it gave us great pleasure to play all sorts of tricks upon the crotchety old fellow. Our designs were chiefly directed against his enormous keys, and I believe there was not a spot in all Bet il Sahel where they had not, at one time or another, been hidden. My brother Djemschîd above all showed great skill in making them disappear so completely, that even we could not find out their hiding-place.
We found the people occupying the first floor all astir already; only those who were still engaged in their morning devotions remained as yet invisible. Nobody would have dared to disturb them, even if the house had been on fire. We had chosen this day because my father happened to be there, and the same reason had caused many others to come too.
Nor were all the ladies who arrived friends or acquaintances of ours—many, indeed, were perfect strangers to all of us. Most of them had come from Omân, our native country, and on purpose only to obtain some pecuniary aid from my father, which was rarely denied them. Omân and our kinsfolk there are very poor, and our own prosperity dates from the time of my father’s conquest and occupation of Zanzibar.
Women are as a rule forbidden by law to speak to a strange man. There is, however, an exception to this in two cases: they may appear before their sovereign and before a judge. As hardly any of these visitors in question were able to write or send a petition, there was nothing left for them but to undertake the short voyage from Asia to Africa, and to prefer their request in person. All of them received presents according to their position and rank freely, and without the numerous questions that a poor applicant in Europe is usually subjected to. It is taken for granted in our country that no respectable person will ask for assistance merely for the sake of begging, and this view proves correct in most cases.
I was most affectionately received by all my brothers and sisters, especially by my dearly beloved and never-to-be-forgotten sister Chole. Hitherto my mother had been the only one whom I really and fondly loved, but I now began to adore this “light of our house” from my very soul. She was my only ideal soon, as she had been our father’s favourite child before, and she deserved, indeed, to be admired by all. She was admitted to be a girl of rare beauty by all who were unprejudiced and without envy. No one can remain quite insensible to beauty—it was so with her in our house, as there was, indeed, no one to equal her in our whole family, and the fame of her beauty had spread far and wide. Fine eyes are very common in the East, but hers were so eminently beautiful, that she got the name, Nidjm il subh, or “Morning Star.” An Arab chief, taking part on a certain feast day in the popular game of sham fighting in front of our house, was observed with his looks fixed upon a certain window, quite unconscious of the blood which gushed from his wounded foot, and of the pain this wound must have caused him. It was my sister Chole whom he had seen at the window by chance; her beauty had so overwhelmed him that he accidentally pierced his foot with his iron-pointed lance, and wounded himself without so much as noticing it, until one of my brothers drew his attention to the fact. For years after poor innocent Chole was teased by my brothers about this affair.
Bet il Sahel, which is a good deal smaller than Bet il Mtoni, lies also close upon the seashore; it is a bright and cheerful-looking place, and a very pleasant house to live in.
