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
silver-work; while round his left arm hung a long circular silver box
containing some charm. In features he was extraordinarily handsome. The
brow was high, the eyebrows arched, the eyes almond-shaped and brilliant,
his nose aquiline and thin. Added to this a fine firm mouth, the upper
lip closely shaven, while on the point of his chin he wore a small
pointed beard about an inch in length. A strange contrast he was to my
Arab host, an elderly highly respectable-looking merchant, with eyelids
darkened with antimony—_kohl_ the Arabs call it—and his grey beard dyed a
shade between saffron and salmon-pink. An enormous turban was balanced on
his closely shaven head, and he was habited in robes of yellow and green.
Coffee being brought for our half-nude guest, we began to talk matters
over, with the result that for an absurdly small sum my new-found friend
undertook to deliver me safely in Sanaa. At all my questions about the
road he laughed. Somehow he had such an air of sincerity about him that
I trusted him from the very first, nor was I wrong. “You have nothing
to do or say,” he said, smiling; “only bring your baggage here the day
you want to start, and I will see to the rest.” In half an hour it was
all arranged. Three camels were to take me and my servants, and, after
a certain distance, when, in fact, we entered the highlands, they would
be changed for mules. As to guides and men, I had nothing to do with
them. There would be always enough animals to carry my scanty baggage,
my servants Abdurrahman and Saïd, and myself. “When will you be ready?”
asked the Arab, rising to leave. “To-morrow,” I replied, expecting to be
met with excuses for so hurried a departure. But no; and half an hour
later I was rattling back to Steamer Point in the wheeziest old ghary
that ever existed, with a fat pony galloping ahead and an excited Somali
jehu on the box.
It did not take long to make my preparations, and these over, I turned
into bed in a fever of delight at the idea of getting away. At dawn I was
up. I knew it was hopeless to attempt an early start, so, having seen all
my baggage put in order—it consisted of only a sack of clothing and a
mattress and blanket, a couple of saucepans, a kettle, and a few stores
mixed up with the clothes—I turned in again.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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