Page 34 - The Tigris Expedition

In Search of the Beginnings
saw old chief Hagi Suclem in his white gown and with a long white
beard sitting in the opening of his own reed hangar and looking like
an image of Methuselah. But when old Hagi rose to meet me and
wish me peace I looked into a pair of friendly and alert eyes that
made the whole man become big and powerful. He was obviously
looked upon with great respect by the men who gradually assem­
bled around us and sat down with us in two rows, facing each other
across the hall. Like myself, they all listened to old Hagi’s wisdom
and humour with interest and approbation. The tea tray was soon
there beside the flickering fire, and some big, broad fish, split open
like giant butterflies, were balanced on edge close to the flames
without a pan. Crisply toasted, but white andjuicy inside, rolled up
in oven-warm Arab bread baked broad and thin like pancakes, the
fish was so delicious that I ate as if the Sheikh of Madina had
forgotten to give me breakfast. The old man watched me atten­
tively and saw to it that the man at my side dug out the best pieces of
the fish with expert fingers and fed me like a royal baby. True to
custom, before and after the meal, soap and towel were passed
around by a man who went from person to person pouring hot
water as we rubbed our hands in the jet over his swill-pail.
Hagi apologised for the simple meal, as if he had not seen my
appetite, and assured me a real treat if I promised to come back. This
I promised. I had to come back. I had lived with so-called primitive
peoples in Polynesia, America and Africa, but these marshmen
were not primitive in any sense of the word. They were civilised,
but differently from us. They lacked the push-button services and
took the direct shortcut to food and joy provided at the source.
Their culture had been proved viable and sound by persisting while
the Assyrian, Persian, Greek and Roman civilisations progressed,
culminated and collapsed. In this stability through untold ages is
reflected something the rest of us lack: respect for their progenitors
and confidence in the future.
‘We are not poor,’ said old Hagi, as if he had read my mind. Our
pride is our wealth and no marshman is hungry.’ He had once been
to Baghdad, but could hardly wait to get back to the peace and
security of Allah’s marshes. The city in his opinion breeds greed,
competition, jealousy and theft. Here in the marshes nobody stole.
They all had what they needed and nobody had anything to lose,
praise be to God. There was plenty of fodder for the buffaloes, there
was plenty of fish to spear, there were fowls, and there were
boat-loads of watermelon and braided reed-mats to trade for flour
and tea in Madina. Moreover, and here the old sage raised his hand,
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