Chapter I

Parentage of the Sheikh — His Grandfather starts on a Pilgrimage — Adventures — Mekka — Jeddah — A Man from Sennaar — Departure for that Country — Reception — Fate of his Family — Omar — His Pilgrimage — A Meeting in the Desert — A Rendezvous — Omar is deceived by his Father — Journeys to Sennaar — A Quarrel — He returns towards Egypt — The Desert — Return to Tunis — Birth of the Sheikh — His Father settles in Egypt — Goes again to Sennaar — The Sheikh at Cairo — Ahmed-el-Bedawee — Preparations for Journey to Darfur — Departure.

My father, says the pious Sheikh Mohammed of Tunis, beginning his narrative—may God overshadow him with the clouds of his mercy and goodness!—has related to me that my great-grandfather was one of the most important personages of Tunis; that he was steward of the Sultan of Barbary, the perfect prince, the victorious king, the shereef Mohammed El-Hosny.[2] In the exercise of his functions he became wealthy, and died, leaving three sons, who divided the heritage, and sold the house, which had been their first refuge, so that each remained alone with his wife and his children.

My grandfather was a man of letters, and wrote a beautiful hand. The books he copied sold for double the price of others. He had also learned the art of dyeing, and from the beginning was better off than his brothers, and better dressed than they. It happened one day that the desire came upon him to make a pilgrimage to the Sacred House, the Kaaba, and to visit the tomb of the Prophet. He sold a portion of his property, and prepared for his journey in the character of a trader, providing himself with good store of blankets and tarbooshes. Many persons also confided to him a certain quantity of merchandise, that he might trade to their advantage, for his good faith and probity were well known. He started in a vessel with a good cargo, his brothers accompanied him to the shore to bid him adieu, and a favourable wind at first accompanied him; but the weather suddenly changed, and he was driven in the direction of Rhodes, where a violent tempest overtook him. The vessel began to leak, the timbers to crack, the waves to leap over the bulwarks,—in short, they were wrecked upon the coast, and a few only escaped. Among these was my grandfather, who contrived to reach the city of Rhodes.

“Thy head,” says the poet, “being saved from destruction, wealth seems of no more value than the pairing of a nail.”

Luckily the traveller had round his waist a belt full of gold, which sufficed for his expenses. He bought a stock of provisions, and, re-embarking, set sail for Alexandria. It was the season of the departure of the pilgrims to join in the great ceremonies celebrated near Mount Arafat. He set out on his journey, and having safely arrived in the Sacred Countries, performed his pious duties with all the zeal and devotion of which he was capable. But when he had fully enjoyed the happiness of saluting the Prophet and his two companions, Abou-Bekr and Omar, who are buried near him, he recovered from his bewilderment, and began to reflect on the loss of his fortune and the uncertainty of the future. He was ashamed to return to Tunis in a state of misery and distress—he who had lived there in so much comfort. How would he be received by his countrymen? Upon this he began to repeat to himself these words:—

“I will travel in the countries of the East and of the setting sun. I will win wealth, or I will die far from my country. If my soul depart from me, God will call it to himself; but if I survive, it will be easy to revisit the place of my birth.”

He reflected, also, that even the Jew is honoured on account of his gold, and that the shereef is humiliated by poverty. The very dogs wag their tails at sight of a well-dressed man, but bark at those that are in rags. In consequence of these reflections, my grandfather left Mekka, and went to reside at Jeddah, where he gained his living by copying manuscripts. In the course of time he formed an acquaintance with some people from Sennaar, one of whom became his intimate friend. Now, this man said to him one day:—

“From what country art thou?”

He replied—“I am from Tunis.”

“And how does it happen that thou hast come to live at Jeddah?”

Then my grandfather related to him the history of his misfortunes.

“Why shouldst thou not make up thy mind,” said the man from Sennaar, “to come with us to our city? Thou wilt find there honour and well-being. Our mek (king) is a man with an open hand, caring neither for gold nor for silver, loving merit, and honouring shereefs. I answer for it, he will revive thy fortunes, and bestow upon thee riches, honours, slaves, and camels.”

So my grandfather allowed himself to be persuaded, and, setting out, arrived in safety at Sennaar, and was presented to the mek in these words:—

“This man is a learned man from a foreign country; his ship was destroyed upon the seas, and he has lost all he possessed.”

The mek received my grandfather with hospitality, saying, “Be welcome!”—and treated him with great deference, giving him a lodging and abundant presents.

Among these presents was a young girl of charming aspect, and of great price, named Halymah. Fascinated by her beauty, my father took her as his concubine, and had by her a son and a daughter, as beautiful as their mother. The king, moreover, assigned to him a fixed income; so that he utterly forgot his family, which had remained in Tunis, and the three young children he had left under the charge of their mother.

Now, of these children, my late uncle, named Mohammed, was about that time nine years old; the second—may God save his soul!—was called Omar, and was six years old—this was my father; the third, Mohammed Tahir, was three years old. They were all placed under the guardianship of their maternal uncle, Seyd Ahmed, son of the learned Sulieman-el-Azhary. This was a man of high character and immense learning, author of many esteemed books. On account of his great knowledge of theology, the functions of Kady of Tunis had been offered to him, but he had refused. He occupied himself in giving lessons, at first in a college, but afterwards—on account of ill-health—in his own house, where all the great people came to listen to his lectures.

My father remained with him until he came to man’s estate, and profited much by his instruction. But, then, the desire moved him to perform the pilgrimage, and he laid the subject before his uncle, who was at once stirred by the same laudable wish, and gave up his lectures and prepared for departure. They embarked and proceeded to Alexandria, and thence to Cairo; and afterwards started for Cosseir, some months before the season of the pilgrimage. As they were crossing the desert, they beheld approaching another caravan, composed of Magrebyns, coming from Sennaar. When they drew nigh they began to shout out questions one to the other; and those coming from Sennaar cried,—

“Ho! ho! is there any one amongst you from Tunis?”

“Yes,” replied my father, “we are from Tunis.”

“Do you know one Ahmed, son of Suleiman?”

“Yes,” said my father; “and who art thou?”

“I am his brother-in-law. I left Tunis a long time ago—my children and all my family—and I know not whether they are dead or alive.”

Now the uncle of my father was under a kind of palanquin, covered with cloth; but had overheard this conversation.

“Omar,” said he, “go and salute thy father. It is he; and tell him I am here.”

So Omar jumped off his camel, and, running to his father, kissed his hand, and told him that the brother of his wife was under the palanquin.

My grandfather hastened and saluted the son of Suleiman, and when they were somewhat tranquillised, Omar said to his father,—

“How comes it that thou hast left us so long, without any resource, young as we are? If God had not awakened the bounty of my uncle, we should have been lost.”

My grandfather explained that he had been the victim of destiny, and quoted the words of a poet in support of his statement.

“But,” said my father, “art thou now thinking of returning to our country, and of refreshing the eyes of thy family?”

“I will return, if it please God.”

“And when?”

“I am now going to Cairo to sell my female slaves. Then I shall return to Sennaar, to take my children and whatever I possess; and afterwards I shall set out for Egypt. Go thou upon the pilgrimage, and we shall meet again at Cairo. Whoever arrives first shall wait for the other.”

So they said, “Adieu!” and the two caravans separated in the desert. My father and his uncle went upon their pilgrimage, and my grandfather continued his journey to Cairo, where he sold his slaves, and, having made his purchases, returned to his adopted country. Meanwhile the pilgrims arrived at the holy city, and performed their pious duties; but the elder of them died, and was buried near the gate of Mala. So Omar returned alone to Cairo, and, whilst waiting for his father, attended on the scientific lectures in the mosque of El-Azhar. But he waited in vain; his father came not; and, in his impatience, he started with a caravan which was returning direct to Sennaar.

Having arrived in that country, he found his father comfortably settled, surrounded by his wives and children, and having no thoughts of departure. He asked him why he had broken his promise, and had laughed at him. My grandfather gave an evasive answer, to the effect that his debtors would not pay him, and persuaded Omar to wait six months longer. A caravan then preparing to depart for Egypt, Omar said,—

“My father! wilt thou come along with us, or shall I go away alone?”

“Neither the one nor the other. It is not convenient for me to go to Tunis, where I owe money. Besides, I have learned that thy mother has married again. As for thy departure, put it off; thou must be provided for that purpose with slaves, camels, gold, and merchandise.”

My father refused to remain any longer, saying: “I wish to become learned, and all the time I spend here is pure loss.”

Upon this they quarrelled, and my father went away in anger with the caravan, not possessing a single para. But three days afterwards, my grandfather came riding after him, and gave him three camels, four young slave-girls, two black slaves, provisions and water-skins, and a camel-load of gum. My father received the whole, and continued his journey with the caravan; but some time afterwards they strayed from the track and lost their way. Thirst made itself felt, the passage of the desert was prolonged, and the slave-girls and the camels which had been given to my father died, so that he became as poor as before. Well has a poet said, that when Fortune is willing to follow you can lead her with a hair, but when she wishes to turn away, she can break chains of iron.

Heaven, however, had not determined that my father should remain in an extremity of distress. The chief of the caravan became ill, and nobody knew a means of cure. His disease was a brain fever; but my father wrote a passage from the Koran on a piece of paper, and gave it to the sick man, who, with profound faith, placed it upon his head and was instantly cured. In gratitude, the chief of the caravan gave my father a camel to ride on, and placed his bales of gum upon another, so that he arrived in safety at Cairo, and sold his merchandise with a good profit. This done, he again entered the mosque of El-Azhar, and shortly afterwards married my mother. After two years of marriage, he had a son whom he called Ahmed, but who died when he was fifteen months old. He consoled himself by repeating the verses of the poet: “Dear child, star of the heaven, how short was thy time! thou wert like the stars of the last hour of the night!”

Soon afterwards my father started for Tunis, taking with him his wife and mother-in-law, and was received by his brother, Mohammed, who had become a tarboosh-manufacturer. Five months afterwards I was born. It was on a Friday, three hours after the setting of the sun, in the middle of the month of Zou-l-Kadeh, in the year 1204 (1789). Three years afterwards my father, having quarrelled with his brothers, returned to Egypt, and became a humble functionary in the mosque of El-Azhar. Four years afterwards he received a letter from his half-brother, in Sennaar, to this effect: “Our father has gone to the dwelling of pardon of the very high God. He left behind him a great number of books, which have been stolen from us by a certain Ahmed, of Benzareh in the States of Tunis, whom we had received into our house. We are in a condition that rejoices our enemies and afflicts our friends. On the receipt of this letter depart, we pray thee, immediately for this place, and take us with thee. We live as you live. Salutation.”

On reading this letter my father wept, and pitied the misery of his brother and his sister. He determined at once to go and fetch them. I was then seven years old. I had already read the whole of the Koran once, and was reading it a second time, having come to the end of the chapter on the family of Aaron. I had a brother four years old. My father left us sufficient to live on for six months; but we remained a whole year alone. My mother was obliged to sell a great portion of our copper utensils and of her ornaments. Then my uncle Tahir arrived at Cairo and took us under his protection. He came with the combined object of pilgrimage and trade. He had a boy as beautiful as the morning sun in a sky without clouds, named Mohammed. This boy studied with me for some time; but the plague came and he died; and was carried away to the tomb and to the delights of the Houris. My uncle, who had intended to remain some time in Cairo, was so saddened by the loss of his son, that he started immediately for the holy city, leaving me money sufficient for my expenses during four months.[3] But this time passed away, and I was left sometimes not knowing what to eat, and nearly naked. Meanwhile, however, I studied assiduously at the mosque of El-Azhar. One day I learned that a caravan was arriving from Soudan. It came from Darfur. I had learned a short time previously that my father had departed from Sennaar for that country with his brother. When, therefore, the caravan had entered the wakalah of the slave-merchants, I went about amongst them inquiring if any one knew whether my father was alive. After some time I chanced to fall in with one of the traders, who was a grave, respectable man, named Ahmed Bedawee. I kissed his hand and stood up before him.

“What dost thou desire, my friend?” said he to me, in a voice full of gentleness.

“I come to ask for news of some one whom you may happen to know.”

“Who is he, and what is his name?”

“Omar of Tunis, a learned man.”

“Thou hast addressed thyself to the right person. I am his friend; and thou, from thy face, should be his son.”

“Yes, I am he;” and I related my misfortunes.

He then told me that my father was among the personages placed near the Sultan, one of the most honoured members of the divan, and offered to advance me sufficient money to enable me to set out and join him. I accepted his offer, saying that I would follow him like a shadow; so I went to visit him every day until Ahmed said to me: “We shall start to-morrow, come and pass the night with us.” I did so, and next morning at early dawn we rose and pronounced the prayer of the Sabh, and prepared the baggage and placed it on the camels. The horns of the gazelle could not have been perceived in the desert at the time when our camels went away from the wakalah, swinging their burdens to and fro. We arrived at Fostat, and our beasts knelt on the banks of the Nile. We transferred our baggage to a large boat, and, having waited for the mid-day prayer—it being Friday—we started.[4]