In Pastures New

by George Ade

  CHAPTER XVI

  THE MOHAMMEDAN FLY AND OTHER CREATURES LIVING ALONG THE NILE

  Egyptian civilisation is supposed to be stationary, except in thelarger cities. The fellahin scratch the rich alluvial soil with thesame kind of clumsy wooden plough that was used when Marc Antony camedown from Rome on a business trip and got all snarled up withCleopatra. They live in the same type of snug mud hut--about the sizeof a lower berth. They lift the water from the Nile by exactly thesame wooden sweep that was in vogue when Cheops began work on thePyramids. It may be remarked, _en passant_, that the fellahin are thefarmers of Egypt. I might have said "farmers" in the first place, butwhat is the use of spending a month in a place and paying large hotelbills if one cannot pick up words of the fellahin description to paradeup and down in front of his friends and cause them to feel ignorant anduntravelled? The _en passant_, which is tucked in so neatly above, Ifound in Paris. It means "under your hat," or something like that. Itis impossible to translate these French phrases without sacrificingsome of the piquant significance of the original. For instance,"string beans" can never be _haricots vert_. They may look the sameand taste the same, but when they are both on the bill, me for the_haricots vert_ every time.

  To resume:--The outlying districts of Egypt are supposed to beabsolutely nonprogressive. This is a mistake. While driving out fromAssiut to visit another cheerful group of tombs we came upon a largegang of workmen engaged in improving the road. As soon as the carriageahead of ours struck the improved road it turned turtle, and for amoment the air was full of jumping tourists. Our conveyance startedover the improved section, but mired down, so we got out and walkeduntil we came to an unimproved road, and then we jumped in and spedmerrily on our way. I stopped for several minutes to watch the men atwork, and I was deeply impressed by the fact that here in this heathenland, where they had no normal schools or farmers' institutes to guidethem, no agricultural weeklies to beacon them out of the darkness, thesimple children of the Orient were "improving" the roads just as I hadseen them improved during my boyhood days in Indiana. In other words,they were scooping dirt out of the ditch on either side and dumping itin tall, unsurmountable hillocks right in the middle of the roadway.The most hydrocephalous township supervisor in the whole Middle Westcould not have done a more imbecilic job.

  In Indiana every voter is required to "work the roads" or pay a roadtax. Of late years, under intelligent direction, the highways havebeen vastly improved, but there was a time when "working the roads" wasa large joke. To avoid paying the tax the farmer would have to go outwith a team and do something to a public highway. Usually he selecteda road which he would not traverse in going to town, and he wouldplough it up and "scrape" it into hollows and leave it looking like asample of the Bad Lands of Montana. As soon as the tax was "workedout" he discontinued the improvement. After two or three days of"working," a fairly bad road could be made altogether impassable. If Iwere a military commander and had to execute a retreat and cut off anypursuit by a superior force I would have a corps of flat-headedtownship supervisors bring up the rear and "work" the roads.

  _Working out his taxes and improving the roads_]

  It was in this same town of Assiut that we visited one of the greatestbazaars in Egypt. We had heard about this bazaar every day sincelanding. The traveller who had been up the Nile and who had come backto Cairo, sunbaked and full of the patronising airs of the veteran,invariably said, "By the way, when you are in Assiut you must see thebazaar." He might as well have said, "When you are in Washington besure to take a look at the Washington Monument."

  "Bazaar" has a seductive, Far Eastern sound, the same as "mosque." Itis much luckier to shut your eyes and think of a mosque than toactually see a deserted lime kiln with an upturned sugar bowl on top ofit. The same for "bazaar," only it goes double. A bazaar is a coseycorner gone wrong. If you will take the long corridor of an Americansecond-class hotel, tear off the roof and substitute a canopy oftattered rag carpets, cover the walls with the imitation merchandise ofa five and ten cent store, kick up a choking dust, turn loose twenty orthirty ripe odours and then have one hundred and fifty coffee-colouredlunatics all begin talking at the same time, you will have a rathertame imitation of the genuine Oriental bazaar as made famous in songand story. The crude articles sold in these bazaars, if displayed inthe windows of a department store in America, would attract noattention whatever, but the tourist, as soon as he has had a touch ofthe Egyptian sun, seems to become easy and irresponsible, and he wantsto bargain for everything in sight. It is a kind of temporary mania,known as curiosis, and is closely allied to the widely prevalentsouveniria, or post card fever, which attacks even the young andinnocent.

  The intelligent reader may have noticed that now and then I havereferred to the dust of Egypt. Egypt makes all the other dusty spotson earth seem dank and waterlogged. We asked truthful Hassim, ourguide at Assiut, if there had been any rainfall lately. He said thatabout five years ago there had been a light shower, and during one ofthe Ptolemy administrations there had been a regular old drencher. ThePtolemy family occupied the throne about two thousand years ago. Athome, take it in the dog days, if we have no rain for two weeks and thecrick dries up, all the local apostles of gloom and advance agents ofadversity clot themselves together in front of the Post Office andbegin pronouncing funeral orations over the corn crop. Fourteen dayswithout rain and the whole country is on the toboggan, headed straightfor bankruptcy. Yet here in Egypt, where they haven't experienced areally wet rain for twenty centuries, the people go about cheerfully,and there is no complaint regarding Providence.

  _The whole country is on the toboggan_]

  But what an unsatisfactory hang-out for the weather shark! In Egyptthe oldest inhabitant never gets up in the morning and says, "I'msatisfied we're going to have rain to-day, because my rheumatizbothered me all night." There is no need of looking for rings aroundthe moon. You never hear anyone say, "It looks a little black in thenorth, but I think it'll blow around, because the wind is in the wrongdirection." Every morning the sun rolls up in silvery splendour andsurveys the same old parched landscape, with the strip of irrigatedgreen, and after a leisurely and monotonous day sinks through a goldenglow into the far-stretching desert. No one is looking for rain orhoping for it. When it comes it is regarded as a calamity. It washesdown the mud huts, collects in pools and makes breeding spots formicrobes and leaks through hotel roofs, so that tourists have to carryumbrellas in going to the dining-room. In March of this year there wasa heavy rainfall around Assouan, extending as far north as Luxor, andwhen we came along, a few weeks later, the natives were still bewailingthe visitation of Allah's wrath.

  The extreme dryness of the air in Egypt causes the visiting microbe tofeel like an alien. It becomes enervated and discouraged, incapable ofinitiating any new and fashionable epidemics. This same air, however,seems to have a tonic effect on the flea. In no other clime is he soenterprising, so full of restless energy, so given to unexpectedachievements. During a dull season, if there is a short supply oftourists, he associates with the natives. He prefers the tourist, butcome what may, he is never idle. The bacillus, on the other hand, hascircumscribed opportunities. Inasmuch as the entire population of thecountry lives along the river one might suppose that harmful germswould be bred and disseminated by the billion. Yet both natives andvisitors drink from the river with impunity. "The sweet water of theNile" it is called and even the most apprehensive travellers learn totake it after putting in about twenty drops of Scotch, so as to benumbthe bacilli, if any should be present. There is an explanation of themicro-organism's failure to do very much harm in Egypt. If a bacillusliving anywhere along the Nile starts for a ramble on shore he issunstruck, and falls helpless in the sand. If he sticks to the waterthe monotony of travel begins to wear upon him, and after about sevenmiles he dies of _ennui_.

  If Egypt is a happy hunting ground for the flea it is likewise aparadise for the fly. If I had to be som
ething in Egypt I shouldprefer to be a Mohammedan fly. This little creature, which in mostcountries is hounded and persecuted and openly regarded as a pest, istreated with consideration in Egypt--humoured, petted, indulged,actually spoiled. In the U.S.A. a fly is almost as unpopular as themillionaire. He is wary, fretful, and suspicious, because he knowsthat all humanity is joined in a conspiracy to put him out of business.If he strolls up to a pool of water, temptingly set forth in a whitebowl, he finds himself a few minutes later writhing in cramps and fullof corrosive sublimate. He sees what appears to be a tempting luncheonof sweets and when he starts in to serve himself he discovers that heis caught and held by the treacherous "tanglefoot" mixture. He sees asign, "This way to the dining-room," and after passing through a longcorridor he lands in a wire trap from which there is no escape. If healights on a bald head and tries to use it as a rink somebody strikesat him and calls him names.

  _In the U.S.A. the fly is almost as unpopular as amillionaire_]

  It is all different in Egypt. The greatest indignity that a Mohammedanever offers a fly is to give him a gentle shove and request him to moveon. It is contrary to the religious teachings to kill or even cripplethis diminutive household companion. The belief in the transmigrationof souls seems to prevail everywhere in the mystical East, and perhapsthe fly that follows and nags you all afternoon may harbour thespiritual essence of a former head waiter or a bey or some otherdignitary. When the flies assemble in large numbers around the variousapertures of a baby's face, the child, obeying an instinct ofself-defence, tries to "spat" them and drive them away. But the motherrestrains the infant by holding its hands and the flies give themselvesover to unmolested enjoyment. The older children have learned theirlesson and seldom make any effort to brush away the flies which loiterall over their bright young features. This is not a pleasant thing totalk about, but inasmuch as the fly is omnipresent during a trip up theNile and this friendly understanding between the fly and the native isconstantly under the traveller's observation, a description of Egyptwould be sadly incomplete without a chapter on the fly.

  Having been a privileged class for many generations, the flies areimpudent and familiar to a degree. When the white unbeliever, with noconscientious scruples against murder, comes up the river, they swarmabout him and buzz into his ears, "Welcome to our city." Then when hebegins sparring with them and using sulphurous language, they gatherabout him in augmented numbers and dodge when he strikes and side stepwhen he slaps himself and seem to think that he is trying to teach themsome new kind of a "tag" game. The Mohammedan fly cannot by any effortof the imagination bring himself to believe that a human being wouldwilfully injure him. This feeling of overconfidence in mankind breedscarelessness, and during the open season for tourists many of them arelaid low. Mr. Peasley said that if there was anything in thetransmigration theory, he figured that he had massacred a regiment ofsoldiers, several boards of directors, a high school and an insaneasylum. The mortalities during the tourist season do not seem to lowerthe visible supply or in any way discourage the surviving millions.

  When we started up the river a peddler came to the boat and offered ussome small fly brooms. They are very much like the brush used by theapprentice in a blacksmith shop to protect the horse that is beingshod. The brush part is made of split palm leaves or horsehair and thehandle is decorated with beadwork. The idea of a person sitting aboutand whisking himself with this ornamental duster struck us as beingmost unusual, not to say idiotic. Before we travelled far up the Nilewe had joined the grand army of whiskers. The fly broom is essential.It is needed every eight seconds. At Luxor we went out to see agymkhana under the auspices of the Luxor Sporting Club and every one ofthe two hundred spectators sat there wearily slapping himself about thehead with the tufted fly brush while looking at the races.

  The Luxor Sporting Club is not as dangerous as it sounds. Thepresiding judge of the races was a minister of the gospel and thereceipts were given to local charities. A gymkhana is the last resortof a colony shut off from the metropolitan forms of amusement, and yetit can be made the source of much hilarious fun. Nothing could havebeen more frivolous than the programme at Luxor, and yet the Britishspectators seldom gave way to mirth. Doubtless they were laughinginwardly. Several ponderous committees had charge of the arrangementsand attended to them with due solemnity.

  First there was a race between native water-carriers, distance aboutthree hundred yards, and each contestant carrying a goat skin filledwith water. Then there was a donkey boys' race, each rider beingrequired to ride backward. This enabled him to encourage his mount bytwisting the tail. In the donkey race for ladies several of thecontestants fell off gracefully and were carried to the refreshmentbooth, where they revived on tea. The "affinity race" was aninteresting feature. The contestants rode their donkeys in pairs, agentleman and a lady holding a long ribbon between them. They wererequired to gallop about two hundred yards, turn a post, and return tothe starting point without letting go of the ribbon. By far the mostexciting features of the programme were the camel and buffalo races.These animals have associated with the hysterical natives so long thatthey have lost all of their natural horse sense and are quite daft andirresponsible. At the word "Go!" instead of running down the course,they would snort madly and start off in all directions. If any of themfinished under the wire it was by mere chance and not because of anyguiding intelligence. One demented water buffalo turned and ran atright angles to the course. The last we saw of him he was disappearingover a hill toward the setting sun, with the native jockey riding onall parts of the upper deck, from the horns back to the tail.

  The gymkhana is intended to provide an afternoon of undiluted nonsense,and for the benefit of those who find reason tottering on her throneand who don't care what they do as long as they enjoy themselves, Ishall append a few sample competitions from an Egyptian programme andsuggest that they be tried in America.

  Bucket Contest--Competitors to gallop past three buckets, throwing apotato into each bucket. Marks to be given for pace. Best of two runs.

  Hat Trimming Competition--Gentleman to ride to lady with parcelcontaining hat and trimmings. Lady to trim hat and gentleman to returnto the winning post wearing hat.

  Dak Race--Competitors to drive at the trot about one-half mile,unharness and saddle same pony and ride 200 yards, returning to thewinning post.

  Housekeeping Stakes--Gentleman on side saddle to ride to lady and giveher envelope containing an addition sum. Lady to open envelope, add upthis sum and return it to gentleman. First past the post with correctsum wins.

  Needle Threading Competition--Lady carries needle and thread 100 yardsto gentleman partner. He threads the needle and returns it to lady.First past the post with needle properly threaded wins.

  Egg Carrying Competition for Ladies--Each lady carries an egg in anordinary teaspoon for a distance of about fifty yards. If egg isdropped it must be recovered with the spoon and must not be touchedwith the hands. First past the post with unbroken egg wins.

  There are many other contests which tax the intellect in a similarmanner, but possibly the foregoing will be sufficient to provide afairly demoralising afternoon. Of course, in America it is impossibleto secure the real Levantine donkey. In Egypt the donkey takes theplace of the motor car, the trolley, the hansom, and the bicycle. Insize he ranges from an average goat to a full grown St. Bernard.Ordinarily he is headstrong and hard to manage, having no bridle wisdomwhatever, but he is of tough fibre and has a willing nature, and behindhis mournful countenance there always seems to be lurking a crafty andelusive sense of humour. The names are marvellous. At the variousstops on our way up the Nile I became personally acquainted withRameses the Great, Rameses Telegraph, Rameses Telephone, Jim Corbett,Whiskey Straight, Lovely Sweet, Roosevelt, Sleeping Car, Lydia Pinkham,and others equally appropriate which I cannot now recall.

  As I have indicated above, our wanderings have carried us as far asLuxor. Luxor (the ancient Thebes) is the
superlative of all that isold and amazing in Egypt and therefore it calls for at least oneseparate chapter.