This Is The Royal And
Vizierial Distinction At Harar, Where No Lesser Man May Stucco The Walls
Of His House.
The courtyard was about eighty yards long by thirty in
breadth, irregularly shaped, and surrounded by low buildings:
In the
centre, opposite the outer entrance, was a circle of masonry against which
were propped divers doors. [2]
Presently the blear-eyed guide with the angry voice returned from within,
released us from the importunities of certain forward and inquisitive
youth, and motioned us to doff our slippers at a stone step, or rather
line, about twelve feet distant from the palace-wall. We grumbled that we
were not entering a mosque, but in vain. Then ensued a long dispute, in
tongues mutually unintelligible, about giving up our weapons: by dint of
obstinacy we retained our daggers and my revolver. The guide raised a door
curtain, suggested a bow, and I stood in the presence of the dreaded
chief.
The Amir, or, as he styles himself, the Sultan Ahmad bin Sultan Abibakr,
sat in a dark room with whitewashed walls, to which hung--significant
decorations--rusty matchlocks and polished fetters. His appearance was
that of a little Indian Rajah, an etiolated youth twenty-four or twenty-
five years old, plain and thin-bearded, with a yellow complexion, wrinkled
brows and protruding eyes. His dress was a flowing robe of crimson cloth,
edged with snowy fur, and a narrow white turban tightly twisted round a
tall conical cap of red velvet, like the old Turkish headgear of our
painters. His throne was a common Indian Kursi, or raised cot, about five
feet long, with back and sides supported by a dwarf railing: being an
invalid he rested his elbow upon a pillow, under which appeared the hilt
of a Cutch sabre. Ranged in double line, perpendicular to the Amir, stood
the "court," his cousins and nearest relations, with right arms bared
after fashion of Abyssinia.
I entered the room with a loud "Peace be upon ye!" to which H. H. replying
graciously, and extending a hand, bony and yellow as a kite's claw,
snapped his thumb and middle finger. Two chamberlains stepping forward,
held my forearms, and assisted me to bend low over the fingers, which
however I did not kiss, being naturally averse to performing that
operation upon any but a woman's hand. My two servants then took their
turn: in this case, after the back was saluted, the palm was presented for
a repetition. [3] These preliminaries concluded, we were led to and seated
upon a mat in front of the Amir, who directed towards us a frowning brow
and an inquisitive eye.
Some inquiries were made about the chief's health: he shook his head
captiously, and inquired our errand. I drew from my pocket my own letter:
it was carried by a chamberlain, with hands veiled in his Tobe, to the
Amir, who after a brief glance laid it upon the couch, and demanded
further explanation. I then represented in Arabic that we had come from
Aden, bearing the compliments of our Daulah or governor, and that we had
entered Harar to see the light of H. H.'s countenance: this information
concluded with a little speech, describing the changes of Political Agents
in Arabia, and alluding to the friendship formerly existing between the
English and the deceased chief Abubakr.
The Amir smiled graciously.
This smile I must own, dear L., was a relief. We had been prepared for the
worst, and the aspect of affairs in the palace was by no means reassuring.
Whispering to his Treasurer, a little ugly man with a badly shaven head,
coarse features, pug nose, angry eyes, and stubby beard, the Amir made a
sign for us to retire. The _baise main_ was repeated, and we backed out of
the audience-shed in high favour. According to grandiloquent Bruce, "the
Court of London and that of Abyssinia are, in their principles, one:" the
loiterers in the Harar palace yard, who had before regarded us with cut-
throat looks, now smiled as though they loved us. Marshalled by the guard,
we issued from the precincts, and after walking a hundred yards entered
the Amir's second palace, which we were told to consider our home. There
we found the Bedouins, who, scarcely believing that we had escaped alive,
grinned in the joy of their hearts, and we were at once provided from the
chief's kitchen with a dish of Shabta, holcus cakes soaked in sour milk,
and thickly powdered with red pepper, the salt of this inland region.
When we had eaten, the treasurer reappeared, bearing the Amir's command,
that we should call upon his Wazir, the Gerad Mohammed. Resuming our
peregrinations, we entered an abode distinguished by its external streak
of chunam, and in a small room on the ground floor, cleanly white-washed
and adorned, like an old English kitchen, with varnished wooden porringers
of various sizes, we found a venerable old man whose benevolent
countenance belied the reports current about him in Somali-land. [4] Half
rising, although his wrinkled brow showed suffering, he seated me by his
side upon the carpeted masonry-bench, where lay the implements of his
craft, reeds, inkstands and whitewashed boards for paper, politely
welcomed me, and gravely stroking his cotton-coloured beard, desired my
object in good Arabic.
I replied almost in the words used to the Amir, adding however some
details how in the old day one Madar Farih had been charged by the late
Sultan Abubakr with a present to the governor of Aden, and that it was the
wish of our people to reestablish friendly relations and commercial
intercourse with Harar.
"Khayr inshallah!--it is well if Allah please!" ejaculated the Gerad: I
then bent over his hand, and took leave.
Returning we inquired anxiously of the treasurer about my servants' arms
which had not been returned, and were assured that they had been placed in
the safest of store-houses, the palace.
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