A journey through the Yemen and some general remarks upon that countryHarris, Walter
History
A journey through the Yemen and some general remarks upon that country
Harris, Walter
Yemen (Republic) -- Description and travel
none too cheery, I shall always remember how anxious Dr and Mrs Ahmed
were to render pleasant my stay. A doctor of Glasgow University, Dr Ahmed
made his name in Assam in the Indian medical service, and was only a
short time ago appointed Vice-Consul at Hodaidah; and it is to be hoped
that the skilful way in which he carries out his by no means easy duties
there, and keeps firmly rooted in that town a feeling of respect between
the British and Turkish Governments, will shortly obtain for him a post
in some more healthy and important place.
The _café_ in which I had taken up my quarters faced the sea on one
side, and the only wide street in the town on the other, that which lies
along the seaboard, from which it is only divided by the Government
offices and huts of _areesh_ or reeds. From my window on the second
storey I was able to watch the people passing and repassing, and many
an hour was spent thus in idleness. But if this street offered scenes
of character, how much more so did the bazaars! and there, when I was
well enough, I used to sit talking to the Arab shopkeepers and sipping
coffee. Good intelligent fellows many of them were, and always ready
to waste half an hour in listening to tales of Egypt and Morocco, and
even of my journey in the Yemen. What sights the bazaars offer! All the
nationalities of the world seem to crowd there—strange weird people in
every stage of clothing, from almost nakedness to rich robes of striped
silks. Unlike the bazaars at Aden, those of Hodaidah are roofed in from
the sun, the fierce rays of which yet find cracks and crannies in the
wood and mats to creep through. But their brilliant light falling upon
some stall of fruit perhaps only tends to throw into deeper shadow the
rest of the crowded street. In the cool of the afternoon I would saunter
round and take up my station on the little shop-platform of a seller of
books, and spend an hour or two with him. A wizened little old man he
was, a native of Zebeed; but he was good company, and would put aside all
ideas of business when he saw me coming, and would point out the strange
figures amongst the passers-by, and tell me whence they came and who they
were. Jews, Indians of all kinds, Persians, Arabs, Egyptians, Bedouins,
Abyssinians, Turks, Greeks, negroes, and a few Europeans, would jostle
each other in the narrow ways.
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