Page 259 - Neglected Arabia Vol 1 (2)

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Snapshots From Arabia
By Miss Iva L. Koiikktson
U NSHAPELY masses, huddling down on the ship’s lower decks—
forms, swathed in black, seen as trees walking in the distance
• all outwardly very diHerein and remote from tin- <|uiek«
stepping, modern young women of America. But the mission­
ary ladies spoke to these Arab women, and of them as real people 1
Well, one can only wonder!
Later, we were invited to an Arab feast, and, full of eager interest,
1 dressed to go. We were met in state by the host himself and
presently were ushered in to dinner. There was a real table and real
knives and forks! Great platters of steaming rice, surmounted by roast
chickens, jostled huge plates holding whole sheep, while, clustered about
in bounteous confusion, were plates of small cakes and sweets.
As 1 ate, I looked up and saw the Arabs happily digging into the
huge platters with their right hands, and carrying the luscious morsels
to their lips. Then, 1, too, became absorbed in the simple pleasure of
eating. Presently, I heard a scraping sound, and saw one after another
get up and leave the room. The host, who spoke some KnglLh,
explained it as an Arab custom. When one is done, one leaves, that
others may come in and eat.
After we were through, we were led to the harem. It was a
rectangular room, its walls glistening from the reflection of the lights
upon the mirrors, which covered every available bit of wall space. How
I coveted just one, tor the most 1 had at the time was a liny hand,
mirror—a contrast to the great mirrored doors of American day*.
Gorgeous silks, deftly peeking out through darker silks, bosoms yellow
with their heavy gold necklaces, arms covered with bracelets of g()|d
and pearls, noses pierced for the omnipresent nose-ring—all bespoke
their utter femininity. In a corner covered with heavy rugs was a
mattress, with pillows arranged to form a comfortable backing.
We sat down, and in spite of my inability to speak or understand
Arabic, I promptly lost my heart to a bright-faced Arab girl, to whom,
amidst much laughter at my expense, l attempted to convey my
thoughts, via the Sign Way. So these trees walking around were real
people! They talked, they laughed—perhaps they thought and wondered.
I loved Fulana after that, for she was the first one to make me feel
that the Arab women were, after all, my sisters. l-ater, 1 saw a
cunning, briglu-eyed replica of Fulana. 1 seemed fated to take that
whole family into my heart, for I loved her as instantaneously as 1 had
her mother, and was inordinately pleased when she really came ju>i
to see me one morning.
Politics, diplomacy, plotting-, have not passed by these harem women,
either, though they seemed so out of the world. One sweel-fuccd
woman was left without her husband, because he had tried to uppo* ’
the mandated government and was sent into exile.
In another house was a young girl who mourned the death of her
father. He also had plotted against his ruler, but the local government.

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