Desert and water gardens of the Red Sea : $b Being an account of the natives and the shore formations of the coast — John Shaqi
Desert and water gardens of the Red Sea : $b Being an account of the natives and the shore formations of the coastCrossland, Cyril
Science
Desert and water gardens of the Red Sea : $b Being an account of the natives and the shore formations of the coast
Crossland, Cyril
Coral reefs and islands; Red Sea; Sudan -- Social life and customs
The forms of religion are inextricably interwoven with every event
of the people’s lives. As the sailors pull at a heavy rope there
are cries upon God and the Prophet for help, and as the rope begins
to give to the strain, the long-drawn “Pray,” “Pray,” “Oh,
God, Oh Prophet” gives place to a quicker chant, “God gives it,
God gives it.” To the enquiry “Are you well?” the reply is
“Praise be to God”; and if two travellers meet and one asks the
other “Where are you going?” he receives the reply “To the Gate
of Bountiful God,” after which the real errand may be discussed.
Just as “Inshaallah,” literally meaning “If God wills,” is
really to be translated by a plain “Perhaps,” so this habitual
use of the phraseology and ordinances of religion, instead of
indicating a living ever present influence, is here, as everywhere,
the mark of easy formalism[20].
Only in the higher peoples, and quite recently in history, is moral
perfection regarded as essential to religious preeminence, and so we
find that, in general, a popular saint is venerated for his miracle
working, and his moral worth, if any, is totally forgotten. But
I wish to insist that this disregard of the holy man’s morality
is _not_ a distinction of “savage” or “semi-heathen” men,
but, shocking though it be, is common to all the lower moralities,
of Europe or elsewhere, in the Middle Ages or the present time. I
should explain also that until about seven years ago, when the
first Arab shop-keeper settled in our village, the inhabitants did
not know their prayers, the calls of the Muezzin or the performance
of the worship known as “Mûled” described below. They called
themselves Mohammedan, but knew nothing, and my friend the doctor
says that the reply to his consolation to patients, “Well, you
won’t have this pain in Paradise,” is often, “Who knows if
there is a Paradise?”
On a sandy islet in the bay near my station, a spot of almost
dreadful loneliness, is a shêkh’s tomb of the simpler kind. The
grave itself is surrounded by stones set on edge and the large
white shells of _Tridacna_, and by a sort of hedge of sticks, the
longer at the head, which the pious decorate with rags[21]. A second
enclosure of stones includes this and the remains of other graves,
and the whole area is kept perfectly clean and sprinkled with pure
white sand from the beach. The short broken sticks and decayed rags
are not thrown away, but carefully taken down and laid aside.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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