He gazed at her for a long time without speaking. Then he said, ‘What you ask is difficult. Yet you speak the truth. A husband cannot deny his wife permission to make the hadj. You could go with a woman friend or a relative. But you have a husband. It is better that you go with him. You are a good woman. I will speak to the men at the mosque. If they think it is fitting, then I will tell your husband. Bismallah.’
Winifred watched him as he strode off, his shalwars ballooning around his legs, his sandalled feet kicking up little eddies of dust as he made his way along the dirt track.
It was a week before Winifred had her answer, a week in which she was careful not to make Karum Bux angry, a week in which she kept her tongue under control, playing at being a good Moslem wife. She made hot scones when she knew he would be in the shop during the day and cooked his favourite curry at night, making sure the children were quiet. She willed her body to relax when he took her in his arms, stroking his forehead, kissing his lips, thinking all the while of Mecca and the chance to travel, meet new people and see new places.
He returned from the mosque one night to tell her that he had changed his mind and that she could accompany him. She gave a squeal of joy and danced around the little hut in her white nightgown before flinging herself into his arms and covering his bearded face with kisses. She had won.
Five months later, their camels sold, the farewells said, the family was on its way to Fremantle to catch a ship to Bombay, and from there a train to Lahore to stay with her husband’s people.
* * *
The first thing that struck Winifred was the lushness of the vegetation after the barrenness of Oodnadatta. Karum Bux’s family home in Lahore was a typical multi-storeyed Indian house with a flat roof where the occupants could cool off at night, and where corn and herbs were set out to dry in the sun. There were fields of sugarcane and melons, the air fragrant with the perfume of roses and jasmine. In the distance were the snow-clad peaks of the Himalayas.
Winifred joined the women of the household, listening to them squabbling, enduring their curiosity about her dress as they pulled at her skirts to glimpse what she wore underneath. Her husband tried to get her to wear a yashmak, as the other women in the family did when they ventured out. But she refused, thinking it was hideous to see them enveloped in black, their faces covered and only slits for their eyes. She wondered how on earth they could endure the heat.
Yusef and Rhamat soon settled in, running through the sugar cane with the older boys in the household, learning to speak the local dialect and going to the mosque with the men, and Pansy had another little girl to play with, however, Winifred felt constrained, conscious that she was an outsider. She found it difficult to become accustomed to the food, finding the curry too hot and the glass of hot water flavoured with cinnamon no substitute for a cup of tea. When she complained to Karum Bux he offered no sympathy. ‘No one asked you to come,’ he would say. And she had no answer. She did not want to quarrel with him in public, and living as they were in close confines with the other members of his family there was no privacy.
Apart from her husband’s objections there were other obstacles that made it difficult for Winifred to go to Mecca. She needed documents from four different governments. The first was a passport to travel from India. And then an entry permit from the French colony in Arabia she would be passing through. The Khalifat, the supreme body of the Moslem church, had to be persuaded, and last of all she needed permission from the government of the Wahabis, whose king, Ibn Saud, ruled over the Holy Land. It was two months before Winifred’s papers were in order and they were free to begin their journey, taking Pansy with them and leaving the boys behind with relatives in Karachi, from where they were to catch the ship to Jedda.
The family stayed in a messafa khana in Karachi, one of the many rest houses supplied by the government, where people were permitted to stay free of charge for two weeks. There was a fireplace, bathroom and clean water, but they had to supply their own food and firewood. In Karachi they stocked up on food for the journey by ship. The amount they could carry was limited and they bought only a few pounds of flour, some chilies, a few lentils, rice, onions, a few pounds of sugar, a pound of tea, a pound of dates, a tin of condensed milk and, as a luxury for Winifred, a few tins of sardines.
It was an expensive trip from the point of view of the pilgrims but also an austere one. Once they entered the Holy Land no display of wealth was permitted. The men were required to wear two pieces of unsewn calico, one to wind around the waist and the other to drape over the shoulders. The women could please themselves what they wore and went unveiled. Sexual intercourse was forbidden — the pilgrims were expected to travel with a pure heart. If they were ill-treated they were expected to endure it without retaliation.
Though Winifred had resisted wearing the yashmak, she was forced to don Moslem dress by the hierarchy of the Moslem church. It gave her a protection she would not have enjoyed if she had worn Western dress, which could have subjected her to persecution by fanatics among the pilgrims. She was given two pairs of trousers, one white and one black, and two white shirts. She found the shalwars cumbersome at first. Made of ten yards of material they were gathered into a narrow cuff at the ankle and into a strong cord at the waist Once the journey wore on she appreciated their comfort, particularly after long hours on a camel.
The morning they were due to embark from the wharf at Karachi was not without difficulties. Winifred was suffering from malaria, with waves of fever followed by shivering fits sweeping through her body. The women were marched outside to a great whitewashed wall in the blazing sun. Here they were lined up for a medical inspection. She found the sun almost unbearably hot and had no hat or umbrella to shade her head. The men, who were also undergoing an inspection, were taken into a nearby shed. The women had been assigned a female doctor with an assistant, whom she began to abuse by striking across the face. She then turned to the women and demanded they undress. The women had been brought up to be modest, covering their face with a veil when they appeared in public. Now they were being asked to disrobe in public, in full view of the other women and the male medical officials who were looking after the men. When the women tried to cover themselves, the doctor banged their heads against the wall.
It came to Winifred’s turn to disrobe and she refused. The doctor grabbed at her shirt and tried to tear it off. Incensed at the insensitive way the other women had been treated, and by now feeling the full effects of malaria, Winifred lashed out and punched the doctor in the ear. The blow sent her reeling and Winifred let loose with two more punches which knocked off the doctor’s spectacles and sent her false teeth flying. By this time Winifred was wound up and she lashed out again. The woman tumbled backwards onto her assistant. The red ink the assistant was using to make notes spattered everywhere. The doctor began to pummel her servant. At the sight of this Winifred lost her head completely and leapt on the doctor and began to hit her until someone intervened.
She became conscious of the pilgrim women gaping at her, and a crowd of men who had come running out of the shed when they heard her shouting. Among them was her husband and a group of customs and immigration officials and police assigned to organise the formalities associated with the embarkation of over one thousand pilgrims. They gathered around, demanding to know what had happened. There was a babble of voices as they all spoke at once.
Winifred sat down on the ground and buried her face in her hands. All she wanted was somewhere to lie down. She heard her husband’s voice through a daze. ‘Now look what you’ve done. You’ll be arrested and I’ll miss the hadj.’ He was angry, but she was past caring.
He followed when she was led away with Pansy by her side. To his surprise she was treated with respect, given quinine for her malaria and the use of a room at a hotel where she could rest and have a meal. The next day she was issued with a new passport bearing the name Zatoon, after a famous Moslem woman warrior.
A representative from the Khalifat, which
looked after the welfare of the Moslem community in India, approached Karum Bux before he went on board ‘Your wife is a courageous woman. We have long suspected that all is not right with the way the women passengers are treated. Now we have proof. If you will permit it we would like your wife to be the official guardian of the female passengers and to report back to us if they are mistreated.’ Karum Bux could do nothing but agree, even though he was angry at Winifred for the way she had drawn attention to herself. He had an uneasy feeling that he had made a mistake in bringing her with him, but it was too late to change his mind. He had married an unruly woman whom he was unable to control.
Winifred had no idea of his feelings. The malaria had subsided and the rest had refreshed her. She had been told that there was no need to hurry to board the ship and it was late when she made her way to the wharf with Pansy. When she saw the Istophan, the ship that was to carry the pilgrims across the sea, she was filled with apprehension. She was to discover that the ship had been in service as a Chinese convict transport but had sunk. Later it was resurrected and put into service on the lucrative pilgrim run.
On the wharf there was a scene of frantic activity, with vendors shouting and waving to attract the attention of pilgrims already on board. Baskets of fruit were hauled up by ropes and the money sent down the same way. She saw one man order a dozen mangoes, but halfway up the side the jute twine broke and the mangoes fell in the water. The man refused to pay for the fruit so the vendor pelted him with stones. The jostling on the wharf became so bad that an old woman of the sweeper class was pushed to the extreme edge of the wharf, and then, with a scream and a flutter of her garments, disappeared under the water.
Watching, Winifred was appalled. She closed her eyes and said a prayer for the old woman’s departing soul. But to her amazement, when she opened her eyes she saw the old woman strike out for the jetty. There was a log jammed underneath the wharf and the woman perched there and scooped up the mangoes, which were still bobbing on top of the water, and tied them in the corner of her chador. She then scooped up another two and, seated comfortably on her log, peeled them and slowly ate them.
She looked so contented and happy that Winifred was deeply moved. The thought came to her that Allah had looked after the old woman, a woman of no consequence. She recalled how she had told her husband and Goolam that she was a true daughter of Islam, knowing that she had only become a Moslem because it had been expedient to do so when she married Ali. She had accepted Allah as the supreme being without any real conviction. Now she felt more confident. If Allah had cared for the old woman he would surely care for her and her daughter. With a feeling of peace she took Pansy by the hand and led her up the gangplank to where her husband was waiting.
21
THROUGH THE LAND OF ABRAHAM
THOUGH THE EPISODE WITH THE old woman reinforced Winifred’s faith, it was to be sorely tested by the appalling conditions on the ship. There were 1100 people crowded on board, including the crew, the only ones to have cabins. The passengers spread their prayer rugs wherever they could find space. Winifred was late arriving and all Karum Bux had been able to secure was a hatch three decks down. She hung her blankets around the iron stanchions and was happy to have a private place to sleep and dress, until she looked up to see hundreds of eyes peering down at her. Her encounter with the woman doctor had made her notorious and she knew she would remain the centre of attention. She consoled herself with the thought that it was better than being on the open deck, or in an area washed with bilge water.
She had smuggled Pansy’s doll on board, hoping that the child could play with it when they were alone. But now she realised she would have to keep it hidden and find some other way to amuse her five-year-old daughter. Her husband had warned her that fanatical Moslems considered it profane to paint the likeness of a human face on any object, because the head was sacred to Allah. Later she was to see dolls in the Arabian markets that were beautifully dressed but with a square wooden head without features.
Added to the other miseries was the fact that there were only twelve small fireplaces to accommodate all those people. For three days Winifred was unable to make a cup of tea and she and Pansy survived by eating dates.
But there were compensations. She found herself being drawn deeper and deeper into the world of Islam because of the devotion of the other pilgrims. Five times a day, facing Mecca, they prostrated themselves on the deck, their voices rising in a mighty chorus as they recited their prayers, while she prayed quietly in her spot below deck. There was a feeling of euphoria that overrode the squalor, the overcrowding, the stench of unwashed human bodies and the groans of those who became ill and died.
The first port of call was Kamerad, a French quarantine station past Aden. It was the first sight of the sacred land and Winifred looked across to where long rolling hills and sand merged into the horizon. In the foreground was a small group of galvanised-iron buildings with one or two whitewashed bungalows. There was not a skerrick of vegetation, not a blade of grass, not a tree for shade. The sun blazed down on the pilgrims as they were taken ashore. At the water’s edge was a trolley line to handle the cargo, which was pulled by coolies in loincloths.
Here the pilgrims were required to bathe and have their clothes fumigated. A message had been sent from Karachi. Winifred was singled out for special attention and told to wait until the other women had gone through, so that she could bathe in private. It was a relief to walk on dry land and Winifred took Pansy to the water’s edge so that the child could run around and play.
Later, they were escorted into the bathhouse and handed two pieces of clean white calico to wear while their clothes were taken away to be fumigated. The female doctor was kind and courteous, unlike the woman who had examined them when they were about to board the Istophan. It was wonderful to stand under a stream of cool water and mother and daughter were enjoying themselves enormously when the doctor came in and asked if Winifred had noticed three women in purdah among the pilgrims. She explained that they had refused to remove their clothes, even though she had promised them a private bath; they said they were of royal birth and bathed every day, not like the common people.
‘Would you mind if they came in and saw you bathing?’ the doctor asked. ‘Then they will know there are no exceptions.’
Winifred had noticed three women who had remained veiled on board ship, even though it was forbidden. Now they came into the bathhouse and stood huddled together in their black yashmaks while the doctor tried to persuade them to undress. When they still refused, she removed the head covering from one woman, who began to scream as if she was being assaulted, her companions joining in. In desperation the doctor turned on all the overhead jets and the women were soaked, looking for all the world like three bedraggled black crows. Only then did they allow the doctor to remove their clothes and accept the squares of clean calico they were offered.
Winifred was rewarded for her cooperation. The family was housed overnight in a lodge, with a bathroom at their disposal. A bed was sent for and a large block of ice arrived with buckets of drinking water. Nearby were several shops where they could buy food, and Winifred was overjoyed when Karum Bux returned with a tin of Australian pineapple.
The next day they were back on board. After the rest on shore the water in their petrol tin tasted hot and brackish, and the smell of bilge water was almost overpowering. Winifred wondered how much longer she could endure the sound of coughing, the constant noise going on, the cooking fires on deck. Those who could not get near a fire during the day had to cook at night, and the sparks blew in the wind, making Winifred fearful and unable to sleep in case the ship caught fire.
The Istophan ploughed through the Red Sea, until the day came when the chief officer called the pilgrims together and announced that at two o’clock they would catch their first glimpse of Hejaz. The mood on board changed as each pilgrim began to prepare for the sight of the sacred mountain which would mean the beginning of the hadj. All must be bathed an
d dressed in new clothing. The men were required to wear two strips of unbleached calico and put aside their head covering. Women had a choice of dress as long as it was new, but they must bind their head so that not one hair showed, otherwise they would have to sacrifice a sheep or goat for every hair. Winifred wore a white shalwar kameez with a white chador, with a matching outfit for Pansy.
They were bathed and dressed and ready to go on deck when Winifred heard angry shouts and saw men running with knives and sticks. Karum Bux came hurrying to her side. ‘There’s danger. The water pipe in the men’s bathhouse has broken and there’s no water. Unless they can bathe and change they will miss the hadj. Anything can happen. Stay below with Pansy where you will be safe.’
Instead, Winifred handed the child to him and pushed her way to the upper deck and called out to the first officer who was standing on the bridge. ‘The ship is in danger,’ she said, and hurried up to join him. ‘There is no water in the men’s bathroom. If they cannot bathe they will miss the hadj. And they will be so angry there will be a riot. People will be killed.’
‘Tell them to be calm,’ he said. ‘We will cut the engines till the water is restored.’
Winifred threw back her chador and looked down at the pilgrims who were still in an agitated state. She called out to them,‘Be calm … You will have time to bathe.’ She watched as the crewmen dragged heavy hoses along the deck to the men’s bathroom. Within an hour the ship was moving again and the men were bathed and dressed and waiting. At two o’clock a dim shadow rose on the horizon. The ship’s funnel gave a loud blast and the cry of ‘Allah Akbar!’ filled the air.
Later, as Winifred walked on the deck, people came up to thank her, touching her chador in deference.
Washerwoman's Dream Page 27