On The Morning Of The 31st October, We Entered The Zayla Creek, Which
Gives So Much Trouble To Native Craft.
We passed, on the right, the low
island of Masha, belonging to the "City of the Slave Merchant,"--
Tajurrah,--and on the left two similar patches of seagirt sand, called
Aybat and Saad el Din.
These places supply Zayla, in the Kharif or hot
season [20], with thousands of gulls' eggs,--a great luxury. At noon we
sighted our destination. Zayla is the normal African port,--a strip of
sulphur-yellow sand, with a deep blue dome above, and a foreground of the
darkest indigo. The buildings, raised by refraction, rose high, and
apparently from the bosom of the deep. After hearing the worst accounts of
it, I was pleasantly disappointed by the spectacle of white-washed houses
and minarets, peering above a long low line of brown wall, flanked with
round towers.
As we slowly threaded the intricate coral reefs of the port, a bark came
scudding up to us; it tacked, and the crew proceeded to give news in
roaring tones. Friendship between the Amir of Harar and the governor of
Zayla had been broken; the road through the Eesa Somal had been closed by
the murder of Masud, a favourite slave and adopted son of Sharmarkay; all
strangers had been expelled the city for some misconduct by the Harar
chief; moreover, small-pox was raging there with such violence that the
Galla peasantry would allow neither ingress nor egress. [21] I had the
pleasure of reflecting for some time, dear L., upon the amount of
responsibility incurred by using the phrase "I will;" and the only
consolation that suggested itself was the stale assurance that
"Things at the worst most surely mend."
No craft larger than a canoe can ride near Zayla. After bumping once or
twice against the coral reefs, it was considered advisable for our good
ship, the Sahalat, to cast anchor. My companions caused me to dress, put
me with my pipe and other necessaries into a cock-boat, and, wading
through the water, shoved it to shore. Lastly, at Bab el Sahil, the
Seaward or Northern Gate, they proceeded to array themselves in the
bravery of clean Tobes and long daggers strapped round the waist; each man
also slung his targe to his left arm, and in his right hand grasped lance
and javelin. At the gate we were received by a tall black spearman with a
"Ho there! to the governor;" and a crowd of idlers gathered to inspect the
strangers. Marshalled by the warder, we traversed the dusty roads--streets
they could not be called--of the old Arab town, ran the gauntlet of a
gaping mob, and finally entering a mat door, found ourselves in the
presence of the governor.
I had met Sharmarkay at Aden, where he received from the authorities
strong injunctions concerning my personal safety: the character of a
Moslem merchant, however, requiring us to appear strangers, an
introduction by our master of ceremonies, the Hammal, followed my
entrance. Sharmarkay was living in an apartment by no means splendid,
preferring an Arish or kind of cow-house,--as the Anglo-Indian Nabobs do
the bungalow
"with mat half hung,
The walls of plaster and the floors of * * * *,"
--to all his substantial double-storied houses. The ground was wet and
comfortless; a part of the reed walls was lined with cots bearing
mattresses and silk-covered pillows, a cross between a divan and a couch:
the only ornaments were a few weapons, and a necklace of gaudy beads
suspended near the door. I was placed upon the principal seat: on the
right were the governor and the Hammal; whilst the lowest portion of the
room was occupied by Mohammed Sharmarkay, the son and heir. The rest of
the company squatted upon chairs, or rather stools, of peculiar
construction. Nothing could be duller than this _assemblee_: pipes and
coffee are here unknown; and there is nothing in the East to act
substitute for them. [22]
The governor of Zayla, El Hajj Sharmarkay bin Ali Salih, is rather a
remarkable man. He is sixteenth, according to his own account, in descent
from Ishak el Hazrami [23], the saintly founder of the great Gerhajis and
Awal tribes. His enemies derive him from a less illustrious stock; and the
fairness of his complexion favours the report that his grandfather Salih
was an Abyssinian slave. Originally the Nacoda or captain of a native
craft, he has raised himself, chiefly by British influence, to the
chieftainship of his tribe. [24] As early as May, 1825, he received from
Captain Bagnold, then our resident at Mocha, a testimonial and a reward,
for a severe sword wound in the left arm, received whilst defending the
lives of English seamen. [25] He afterwards went to Bombay, where he was
treated with consideration; and about fifteen years ago he succeeded the
Sayyid Mohammed el Barr as governor of Zayla and its dependencies, under
the Ottoman Pasha in Western Arabia.
The Hajj Sharmarkay in his youth was a man of Valour: he could not read or
write; but he carried in battle four spears [26], and his sword-cut was
recognisable. He is now a man about sixty years old, at least six feet two
inches in stature, large-limbed, and raw-boned: his leanness is hidden by
long wide robes. He shaves his head and upper lip Shafei-fashion, and his
beard is represented by a ragged tuft of red-stained hair on each side of
his chin. A visit to Aden and a doctor cost him one eye, and the other is
now white with age. His dress is that of an Arab, and he always carries
with him a broad-bladed, silver-hilted sword. Despite his years, he is a
strong, active, and energetic man, ever looking to the "main chance." With
one foot in the grave, he meditates nothing but the conquest of Harar and
Berberah, which, making him master of the seaboard, would soon extend his
power as in days of old even to Abyssinia.
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