MYSTIC NEDJEF, THE SHIA MECCA 



59^ 



safety of foreigners who travel in Arabia 

 without a government guard. 



the; desert TRAir, 



All about us lay the flat, empty world. 

 Not a tree, a shrub, a plant, or a bird — 

 not an object, dead or alive — broke the 

 vast stretch of sun, sand, and silence. 

 Only the muflied footfalls of the plod- 

 ding mules, or the soft, slopping sound 

 of water splashing in the goatskins, came 

 to our ears. At times we rode up and 

 down over billows of gray sand, stretch- 

 ing away to the right and left in endless 

 swells like giant furrows. 



I wondered how the zaptiehs kept the 

 trail ; often I could see no signs that 

 previous travelers had passed our way, 

 so quickly does the wind obliterate tracks 

 in the shifting sand. Bones of dead 

 camels and mules lay along our path at 

 intervals. The wind plays in tiny eddies 

 about them and prevents their being cov- 

 ered up with sand. For long, still hours 

 we held our way, pushing always south. 



The day was well spent when we came 

 upon the mean, mud-walled khan built 

 at the wells marking the half-way rest- 

 ing place. Already others who traversed 

 the desert had reached the friendly spot. 

 They proved a caravan from the busy 

 Euphrates town of Kuffa, and were on 

 their wa}^ to the stronghold of the Amir 

 of Nejd. Rumors of fighting between 

 Arab clans on their direct route had sent 

 them on this round-about course. Half 

 a hundred pack-camels laden with bales 

 of Manchester "piece-goods," bags of 

 rice, and Marseilles sugar in blue cones, 

 lay about, chewing contentedly, or nosing 

 among the meager clumps of camel's- 

 thorn which grew about the camp. 



The rough, half-clad camel drivers 

 rested on their haunches, talking volubly 

 and plying my servant with questions as 

 to my nationality, destination, wealth, 

 family relations, etc. And I am sure that 

 in his replies the boy, Naomi, allowed my 

 reputation to suffer not at all. To the 

 Bedouins, all foreigners are Ferenghies 

 ("Franks"). These camel men had not 

 heard of America, and asked if it were a 

 part of London. 



One camel man watched over a smoky 

 fire of dried camel dung, where coffee 

 was boiling. Water from the well was 



green and brackish, and I imagined it 

 smelled of camels ; but coffee made of it 

 tasted like any other. Naomi got my 

 meal ready — dates, bread, and coffee, 

 with a bowl of lebban, curdled camel's 

 milk. Off to themselves, the two zap- 

 tiehs ate, smoked long Bagdad cigarettes, 

 and talked in low, droning voices. 



Sleep is sweet in the pure air of the 

 Arab desert, and soon I lay dreaming. 

 Only once I was awakened, when a rest- 

 less camel came sniffing near. Overhead 

 burned the planets, big and steady in 

 their glare, like near-by arc lights. About 

 rose the snores of tired, sleeping Arabs ; 

 the bulk of herded camels loomed large, 

 and I heard the low crunching of their 

 rolling cuds. The glow of the night 

 watch's cigarette came to me from one 

 side; in Bedouin camps no one knows 

 the hour when desert thieves may come. 



The gurgling grunt of camels rising 

 stiffly, under unwelcome loads, roused 

 me at dawn. Already the west-bound 

 caravan was astir, making ready for the 

 day's march. The drivers were testing 

 the ropes of twisted palm fiber which 

 held the packs to see that all was fast. 

 Then, urged by sharp blows from the 

 stout sticks and cries of "Ek, oosh, ek, 

 oosh !" the clumsy beasts rose reluct- 

 antly, their odd, thoughtful faces stuck 

 high in the air. Soon our own mules 

 were ready, and we mounted to ride 

 away southward to Nedjef. The rude, 

 blaspheming camel men of the Amir's 

 caravan shouted us their adieus as they 

 trekked off, miles of waterless plain be- 

 tween them and Nejd. But their goat- 

 skins were tight full of water; as for the 

 camels, they^ would not need to drink. 



All day we followed our course, as on 

 the day previous, through seas of sand. 

 Toward noon we met hundreds of Per- 

 sians returning from the pilgrimage. All 

 the men could now dye their beards red 

 and enjoy the title of Hahji — one who 

 has made the Hahj, or pilgrimage. Soon 

 I, too, would become a Hahji, for Nedjef 

 was now near at hand. ' 



NEDJEF, THE MYSTIC 



The sun was nearly down, sliding like 

 a fire ball from the copperish sky, when, 

 we caught the first glimpse of holy Ned- 

 jef. First the great gold dome of its; 



