Behind the Veil in Persia and Turkish Arabia: An Account of an Englishwoman's Eight Years' Residence Amongst the Women of the EastHume-Griffith, M. E.
Philosophy
Behind the Veil in Persia and Turkish Arabia: An Account of an Englishwoman's Eight Years' Residence Amongst the Women of the East
Hume-Griffith, M. E.
Arabian Peninsula -- Social life and customs; Iran -- Social life and customs
To a lover of the desert a journey across its boundless tracts is
always full of interest and delight. It is strange what an attraction
the desert has for some people, and stranger still is the fact that
this magnetic power increases as time passes, and instead of wearying
of the wilderness, they love it more and more. And any one who has once
heard the call of the desert is always longing to answer that call, and
to fly once more, as a needle to its magnet, to that great, wondrous
world. For it is a world of its own, this great, boundless ocean of
sand--a world altogether different from any other part of God's earth.
I once heard an address on "The Desert," and the speaker said that
he did not think it possible for any one with an uneasy conscience
to bear the solitariness of the desert. Be this as it may, one thing
is sure: no one can live and travel in the desert without feeling
the majestic Presence of God. Everything speaks of Him, the great
sea of sand, the flowers springing into blossom at His word, the
tiny lizard darting across your path, and other countless creatures,
all finding life and sustenance in the desert, each telling of the
wonderful Creator who watches over and cares for all.
The songs of the desert, too, are fascinating; songs which, heard
elsewhere, would seem incongruous and lacking in harmony. The camel
or mule bells, booming out in the silence of the night, remind one
of home and loved ones. Often have I been awakened in the night
by the sound of the caravan bells, and for a moment thought they
were the bells of the dear old church in Devonshire. Then, again,
the crooning songs of the muleteer, as he trudges along hour after
hour, have a peculiar charm, which grows on one wondrously after a
while. And what can be said of the marvellous mirages--visions which
come as messengers of hope and leave us victims of despair? For who
has not experienced relief and joy at the sight of some beautiful
mirage, resembling the welcome sight of a village with trees and
water, all apparently within easy reach of the weary traveller,
but which in a moment of time vanish, leaving blank disappointment
behind. And where can be seen such glorious sunset effects as in
the desert? especially when, as is so often the case in Persia, the
desert is surrounded by mountains and hills, which catch the after
glow, and reflect all those indescribable shades of crimson, gold,
and blue, all merging into a beatific and not easily forgotten vision.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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