FEASTS IN THE HOLY PLACE 197 



block of Sayed Ahmed Sherif's house. I began to see 

 that there were few houses in Taj, but all of them were 

 large, intricate buildings with a maze of courts and 

 passages. As a matter of fact, in the holy place, beside 

 the clustered houses of the Sayeds, which occupy about 

 a third of the town, and the many dependencies of the 

 zawia, only the important ekhwan live. Therefore, one 

 saw but two classes of people among its dark walls. 

 Many slaves in strips of bright colour, or imposing and 

 generally portly figures in immaculate white turbans and 

 silk jerds over straight tobhs or jelabias in all imaginable 

 colours. I noticed one delightful and massive old man 

 in a garment the colour of blood oranges with what 

 looked like a white shawl bordered with vermilion round 

 his shoulders, but it was difficult to see clearly through 

 the one tiny little chink I allowed myself in my thick 

 white draperies. 



In the desert I had been as careless of my veil as 

 my namesake Khadija, Mohammed's first wife, a lady 

 of forceful character, in whose service the prophet took 

 a caravan to Syria before he espoused its owner some 

 twenty years older than himself. In Kufara, however, 

 the greatest care was necessary and I had to learn to 

 endure a more or less perpetual headache from the heavy 

 folds and also to make swift photographs from between 

 them. The faithless Abdullah had taught us one thing 

 at least — ^to hide our cameras and note-books with more 

 care! 



Sayed Saleh's house was like the maze at Hampton 

 Court. However often I went in, I do not think I 

 should ever be able to find my way out again. A 

 resplendent person with a dark green cloak, much braided 

 in gold, flung over his khaki uniform met us in the 

 second court, where we left our soldiers to be royally 

 feasted in one of the rooms leading off it. After that 



