Page 15 - Personal Column (Charles Belgrave)_Neat

more comfortably, on carpets along the sides. This made conversation practical, down-to-earth way, though he had a great fondness for speak­
difficult. Shaikh Mohammed was the poet of the family, and a great
traveller. In his later years, at an advanced age, he visited most parts of
the world. At the house of Shaikh Abdulla, the younger brother, we
drank tea out of ebony teacups which had been given to him by Faisal I
of Iraq, and enjoyed lively conversation about politics and our host’s two
trips to England, in 1919 and 1925. Shaikh Abdulla was considerably
younger than Shaikh Hamed, his brother. He was handsome, always well
dressed, witty and shrewd. He was a man of the world, with a keen sense
of humour and a roving eye. I always enjoyed his company. We worked
together, closely, for many years, while he was ‘Minister of Education’—
an inappropriate designation as there was no Cabinet and 110 other
t ministers. Even when we had to discuss matters which were tiresome, or
about which we disagreed, he would argue in a pleasant manner. He was
probably the most influential man in Bahrain, after the Shaikh.
Around the Shaikhs’ houses, bands of Arab retainers danced and sang
to the music of drums, brandishing swords and long flintlock guns,
which they fired at intervals. The streets were full of people wearing new
clothes, the women and children in brilliant colours, the little boys
dressed as replicas of their fathers, all making the round of calls on their
neighbours. The air was saturated with the smell of cooking for the feast
that ended the month of fasting, and strong, cheap, Oriental scents were
much in evidence after a month of abstinence.
Next day we called on some of the merchants and on the two Kadhis.
Shaikh Jasim al Mehza, the Kadhi of the Sunni sect, although old and nearly
blind, was still a power in the land. It was perhaps because he was so blind
that he lived in such squalor in a tiny house in the middle of Manama
bazaar. In spite of his dirty white robes, and what appeared to be an old
towel wrapped round his head, he was a man whose personality one felt.
His features, the drapery of his robes and his flowing white beard re­
minded me of a drawing by Michelangelo. His voice was impressive, his
speech ‘choice words and measured phrase, above the reach of ordinary
men, a stately speech’. 'One felt that his sonorous utterances were ad­
dressed to the crowd which waited outside the house as much as to the
people inside the room. He had a habit of taking his listener’s hand and
gently kneading it to emphasize a point, then, suddenly, asking if his
hearer agreed with him, knowing full well that his Arabic was too high­
falutin to be understood. He was a clever old man and a wily politician,
an adept at sitting on the fence. I got to know him well and I often called
on him to ask his advice. Without an audience he used to talk in a more
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ing in parables. He died about a year after I came to Bahrain and there
was never another Kadhi of his calibre.
Our next call was on Shaikh Khalaf, the Kadhi of the Shia sect. The
title ‘Shaikh’, besides being applied to all members of the Ruling Family,
was used by religious leaders, which used to cause some confusion to
people unacquainted with the custom. He was a dramatically striking
figure, very tall and thin, with aquiline features, a parchment-coloured
complexion, a white beard and piercing eyes. He wore dark robes, an
enormous black turban, and he carried an ebony, silver-topped cane,
which he did not hesitate to use. He had a tremendous reputation among
the village people. They used to fall on their knees and kiss the hem of his
robe, and when he visited the villages they brought out the best of every­
thing for Iris delectation. Though the Kadhis were judges they received
no salaries, but they both became rich men. The administration of‘waqf’
property was in their hands, this being property bequeathed for religious
purposes, for the upkeep of mosques, to assist poor pilgrims, for prayers
for the dead and for teachers of religion.
Shaikh Khalaf supported the Shaikh over the diving reforms and was
very pro-British, but eventually he became unpopular among his own
people owing to financial malpractices, which were too blatant to be
ignored. I had the awkward task of going out to one of the villages, where
I found him surrounded by a deferential crowd, to inform him that Shaikh
Hamed had decided that he should leave Bahrain at once for an indefinite
period. He was far less embarrassed than I was and he urged me to share the
large meal which the villagers had provided—I did not then know that twice
in his long career Shaikh Khalaf had been banished for similar misdeeds.
The merchants received us in their big, cool rooms, spread with
beautiful Persian carpets. Some of the rooms were above the shops with
views across the house-tops to the blue sea beyond. Most of them had
travelled in India; they were accustomed to meeting Europeans and had
pleasant, easy manners. They provided highly coloured sweet drinks,
biscuits and sweets and a concoction called ‘Ra’hash’, made from simsim
seeds, date juice and butter. It looked like wet cement but was, in fact,
extremely good) We used to have it in the house. The inevitable coffee
always appeared. I soon developed a liking for it and drank many cups
of coffee every morning when I was working in my office. After the
holiday, which lasted for three days, life settled down to a routine of long
hours and hard work, which increased as the Shaikh handed over to me
more responsibilities and duties.
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