DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.4393#0043
CAIRO AND THE MECCA PILGRIMAGE. 25
that seven thousand souls went out this year from Cairo
and its neighborhood.
The procession took place on Thursday, the 21st day of
the Mohammedan month of Showwal, which was our 11th
of December. The next day, Friday, being the Moham-
medan Sabbath, we went to" the convent of the Howling
Dervishes, which lies beyond the walls in a quiet nook
between the river side and the part known as old Cairo.
We arrived a little after two, and passing through a
court-yard shaded by a great sycamore were ushered into a
large, square, whitewashed hall with a dome roof and a
neatly matted floor. The place in its arrangements resem-
bled none of the mosques that we had yet seen. There
was, indeed, nothing to arrange—no pulpit, no holy niche,
no lamps, no prayer-carpets; nothing but a row of cane-
bottomed chairs at one end, some of which were already
occupied by certain of our fellow-guests at Shepheard's
Hotel. A party of some forty or fifty wild-looking
dervishes wore squatting in a circle at the opposite side of
the hall, their outer kuftans and queer pyramidal hats
lying in a heap close by.
Being accommodated with chairs among the other
spectators, we waited for whatever might happen. More
deverishos and more English dropped in from time to
time. The new dervishes took off their caps and sat down
among the rest, laughing and talking together at their
ease. The English sat in' a row, shy, uncomfortable, and
silent; wondering whether they ought to behave as if they
were in church, and mortally ashamed of their feet. For
we had all been obliged to take off or cover our boots
before going in, and those who had forgotten to bring
slippers had their feet tied up in pocket handkerchiefs.
A long time went by thus. At last, when the number
of dervishes had increased to about seventy, and every one
Was tired of waiting, eight musicians came in—two trum-
pets, two lutes, a cocoanut fiddle, a tambourine, and two
drums. Then the dervishes, some of whom were old and
white haired and some mere boys, formed themselves into
a great circle, shoulder to shoulder; the band struck up a
plaintive, discordant air; and a grave middle aged man,
placing himself in the center of the ring and inclining his
head at each repetition, began to recite the name of Allah.
Softly at first, and one by one, the dervishes took up the
that seven thousand souls went out this year from Cairo
and its neighborhood.
The procession took place on Thursday, the 21st day of
the Mohammedan month of Showwal, which was our 11th
of December. The next day, Friday, being the Moham-
medan Sabbath, we went to" the convent of the Howling
Dervishes, which lies beyond the walls in a quiet nook
between the river side and the part known as old Cairo.
We arrived a little after two, and passing through a
court-yard shaded by a great sycamore were ushered into a
large, square, whitewashed hall with a dome roof and a
neatly matted floor. The place in its arrangements resem-
bled none of the mosques that we had yet seen. There
was, indeed, nothing to arrange—no pulpit, no holy niche,
no lamps, no prayer-carpets; nothing but a row of cane-
bottomed chairs at one end, some of which were already
occupied by certain of our fellow-guests at Shepheard's
Hotel. A party of some forty or fifty wild-looking
dervishes wore squatting in a circle at the opposite side of
the hall, their outer kuftans and queer pyramidal hats
lying in a heap close by.
Being accommodated with chairs among the other
spectators, we waited for whatever might happen. More
deverishos and more English dropped in from time to
time. The new dervishes took off their caps and sat down
among the rest, laughing and talking together at their
ease. The English sat in' a row, shy, uncomfortable, and
silent; wondering whether they ought to behave as if they
were in church, and mortally ashamed of their feet. For
we had all been obliged to take off or cover our boots
before going in, and those who had forgotten to bring
slippers had their feet tied up in pocket handkerchiefs.
A long time went by thus. At last, when the number
of dervishes had increased to about seventy, and every one
Was tired of waiting, eight musicians came in—two trum-
pets, two lutes, a cocoanut fiddle, a tambourine, and two
drums. Then the dervishes, some of whom were old and
white haired and some mere boys, formed themselves into
a great circle, shoulder to shoulder; the band struck up a
plaintive, discordant air; and a grave middle aged man,
placing himself in the center of the ring and inclining his
head at each repetition, began to recite the name of Allah.
Softly at first, and one by one, the dervishes took up the