Washerwoman's Dream

by Hilarie Lindsay

  There were no camels to be had so they set out on foot, walking until they had left the nightmare scene behind, not sure which way to go. Every now and then a cannon boomed out and another answered. But they were out of range.

  Exhausted, not having eaten since the day before, they were lucky to find a loose camel wandering with its saddle on. Karum Bux seized it and helped Winifred and Pansy onto its back, then led the beast until they saw a line of flares ahead. It was a row of stalls set up to feed the pilgrims. Here they stopped and Karum Bux bought chapattis, curry and roasted kebabs.

  Winifred fed some to Pansy who ate hungrily, but the horrors of the day, the smell of blood, the screams of the wounded and dying still filled Winifred’s mind. Though she had been dreaming of food all day she could not eat.

  Later they set off again, until Karum Bux stopped the camel and told Winifred to get off.

  ‘Why are we stopping?’ she asked. ‘It’s still dark.’

  ‘We need to gather some stones.’

  ‘But it’s the middle of the night. Why do we need stones?’

  ‘To throw at the devil, who tempted Abraham to disobey the Lord when he ordered him to sacrifice his son, Isaac.’

  Groping around in the dark they found a handful of pebbles and set off again. At daylight they said their prayers, then went on again until they came to Mina and the ruins of an ancient wall. At its foot was a huge mound of stones. They threw their pebbles against the wall then continued on to the place of sacrifice. They recognised it by the cries of beasts, the smell of blood and burning meat, and the pall of reddish-brown smoke that hung in the air. And always the packs of pariah dogs that roamed around looking for food.

  It was here that they heard the truth about what had happened at the ‘standing’. An idle youth in Ibn Saud’s entourage had tossed a small stick down on a friend below. It had missed and lightly struck a Turk, who tossed it back in the direction it had come. Again, it missed and struck the wrong man. This time it was hurled down forcefully and with indignation. It was followed by a fusillade of sticks and stones, until a young Turkish prince lost his head and gave the order to fire. The Persians thought they were being fired at and fired back.

  Still suffering from shock, Winifred listened but did not comment, wondering how they could have defiled the Holy Place and whether Allah would forgive them. So many innocent people had perished.

  Because of the crowds who had come to make the final sacrifice, there was no accommodation to be had. The family made do with their makeshift tent of blankets, eating rings of bread, dates and water which they bought from itinerant vendors, while Karum Bux bargained for his quota of animals to sacrifice. Three for his relatives, two for them and three for the children.

  On the second day Winifred was trying to sleep when two Arab water carriers began to fight beside her. They carried water in goatskins. The one who had an empty goatskin tried to steal the full one. The two men struggled until one drew his knife and cut the other’s throat. He died, his blood soaking into the sand beside Winifred’s blanket.

  Karum Bux, who had witnessed the fight, came running. He grabbed up their blankets, tucked Pansy under his arm and hurried his wife away. Winifred felt no sense of fulfilment at completing the pilgrimage, only relief that they had survived.

  23

  MORE TROUBLE FOR BEBE ZATOON

  THERE WAS ANOTHER LONG, WEARY camel ride for Winifred, made bearable by the knowledge that they were on their way back to India. Her mind was still full of the horrors she had witnessed, though she was relieved that Pansy was too young to realise how close they had been to death.

  They arrived in Jedda to find that the ship they were due to sail on had not arrived. Karum Bux set off to find somewhere to stay, while Winifred took Pansy down to the beach so that her little daughter could paddle. The sight of the waves breaking on the shore soothed Winifred, and she felt cleansed as she breathed in the sea air. She watched the ships beyond the channel, smoke belching from their funnels as they waited for their passengers and the lateen boats darting in and out, and she thought back to her spill in the water. So much had happened that it seemed like another life.

  The bay curved inward like a half-moon, and date palms arched over the tall white houses, casting their shade. It was like being in paradise after the rigours of the hadj, and Winifred found herself giving thanks to Allah for bringing them safely back. Looking around, she noticed a ruined mosque on a steep hill facing the sea. The left-hand wall had collapsed and one of the minarets had fallen. On the right side was a set of stone steps that led to the roof. Telling Pansy to stay where she was, Winifred went to investigate and found that part of the roof was quite strong. She called to the child to come up the stairs and they settled down to wait for Karum Bux.

  An hour passed, an hour they spent relaxing on the roof, refreshed by the sea breeze. When Winifred saw Karum Bux searching for them she called out, ‘Up here. We’re up here.’

  He looked up and frowned, calling out, ‘Come down at once!’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘This is our home. I found it.’

  ‘Are you blind? Can’t you see it’s a mosque?’ And he hurried up the steps.

  When he had recovered his breath Winifred said, ‘This must be the loveliest spot in Jedda, away from the crowds and with the sea breeze to cool us. Allah guided us here and I intend to stay.’

  Though her husband argued, she refused to listen, taking the food he had brought and feeding Pansy and herself, until he fell silent and spread their blankets, using some of the rotting rafters to build a shelter.

  Lulled by the sea, Winifred slept soundly that night for the first time and felt herself beginning to heal after the trials of the trip. She was awakened by a commotion and found that a deputation had formed below. They were addressing her, accusing her of blasphemy for defiling a sacred place. The group of men advanced up the stairs and were about to step on the roof which had given way in some places, the whole structure in danger of collapsing. Winifred waved them back, pointing to the rotting timbers, and they retreated, keeping up their harangue from the stairs.

  ‘Who owns this place?’ she asked.

  The men looked at one another, puzzled. They admitted that no one did.

  ‘What harm are we doing, me and my little one, resting here till our ship sails?’

  ‘But it’s the house of Allah.’

  ‘Well then I claim sanctuary. If Mohammed was alive he’d offer us shelter.’

  She turned her back on them while they continued arguing among themselves, until eventually they quietened down and left.

  At noon the moulvi arrived with the town lawyer. The priest spoke first. ‘Mem-sahib, we request that you come down from this sacred place.’

  Karum Bux, standing behind Winifred, hissed, ‘Now see what you’ve done!’

  Winifred ignored her husband and turned to address the moulvi, ‘Tell me who the owner of this ruin is. I’ll take it up with him.’

  ‘Of the earthly owner there is not one. This is the place of Allah.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear that. Allah and I are good friends. He has given me permission to stay here.’

  ‘But mem-sahib, this place is too much good.’

  ‘You have allowed it to fall into ruin. That is how good it is. In the name of Allah I accept the hospitality of this place by divine law. Now will you please leave?’

  Her tone of authority had the desired affect. After bowing to her and asking if there was anything she needed, the pair left.

  Once again she became the centre of attention, as she had been on board ship, with crowds jamming the lane to the mosque to see what she was doing on the roof. But the blankets Karum Bux had put up screened her from prying eyes.

  When they had arrived in Jedda they expected to be sailing within a day or two. But when Karum Bux went to find Ibrahim, the agent who had been assigned to them, he seemed to have vanished. With him had gone their documents and those of over three hundred other pilgrims. Without
their documents it was impossible for pilgrims to leave the country. It was a serious situation and the pilgrims gathered on the beach, shouting and waving their arms while Winifred watched from her vantage point. The moulvi convinced them that it was no good, the whole three hundred running through the town, creating a disturbance. He pleaded with them to appoint a leader to pursue the matter. The responsibility fell on Karum Bux.

  Winifred suggested that he ask for an audience with Ibn Saud but he was warned off by guards with rifles each time he tried. He found the French police not much better. All he had been able to find out was that agents often sold the travel documents to the highest bidder. When the policemen who interviewed him said, ‘You were warned not to forget the name of the agent you were assigned to,’ Karum Bux lost his temper and shouted, ‘I have told you his name is Ibrahim. Do you take me for some ignorant peasant?’

  It did him no good because it brought other police running and he was ordered to leave on pain of being arrested. The other pilgrims who had followed Karum Bux gathered together and threatened to attack the police station, until the moulvi told them to return to the beach and pray.

  When Karum Bux returned that night without food, Winifred became alarmed. They had a meagre meal of chapattis and water and as she lay on her rug in the ruined mosque she made up her mind to look for Ibrahim herself. The next morning she put on her grey silk suit, the one she had been married in. It was crushed from being carried in her suitcase and she had no way of getting out the creases. She dabbed her suntanned face with flour because she had no face powder, and put on her pith helmet.

  ‘Why are you dressed like that?’ Karum Bux asked.

  ‘I am going to look for our thieving agent. But first I will go to Ibn Saud and ask for his help. I am British. It was the British who helped him become king.’ Despite her husband’s protests she went marching down the stairs, leaving him to look after Pansy, who had developed a fever and was listless and fretful.

  As she made her way to the palace, Winifred was followed by a great crowd of pilgrims. When she arrived at the gates she was stopped by one of the guards, who demanded to know her business.

  ‘I have come to call on His Highness, Ibn Saud. We were together on the hadj. I wish to thank him for his courtesy before I return to my home in Australia.’ She was amused to see the guards talking among themselves and pointing at her until the gates opened.

  ‘Mem-sahib,’ the one who appeared to be the leader said, ‘I will take you to the entrance.’ They were met at the door by another guard and after a whispered conversation she found herself in a rather austere foyer with whitewashed walls, where she was asked to wait. It was not for long. A man dressed in a flowing white robe entered and bowed to her, saying, ‘Mem-sahib, you wish to see the king. It is not possible I am afraid. He is at prayers.’

  ‘I have come,’ Winifred said, ‘because there are three hundred pilgrims ready to board the next ship and their papers have been stolen. When we passed through here on the way to Mecca we paid taxes so that we would be protected. And now we are unable to leave. I am a British subject.’

  ‘It is a matter for the police, mem-sahib. If we catch those responsible they will be severely punished. I will send a man with you to the police station. We would not want you to leave with a bad opinion of our country.’

  As Winifred went out of the gates, accompanied by one of the guards, the crowd of waiting pilgrims parted for them and then fell in behind, and the procession continued to the police station. At the police station Ibn Saud’s guard spoke to the man on duty on the front desk, then, bowing to Winifred, left. She found her- self being escorted to the office of the commandant, who rose to his feet at the sight of her. Despite her crumpled suit, her sunburnt face, now covered in a fine mist of sweat from the sun, she carried herself with dignity, her back straight and a determined look in her eyes. The pith helmet added to the effect. The commandant was more accustomed to the sight of Indian pilgrims than he was to an English lady.

  He held out a chair, saying, ‘Madame, please be seated.’ He rang a bell and a servant came in with coffee and a jug of cold water. He passed Winifred a demitasse of black coffee and poured her a glass of water, then sat back, waiting for her to begin.

  ‘If you look outside the front door you will see hundreds of people. You can hear them. They are angry because nothing is being done to help them recover their travel documents. Without their documents they cannot return to their homes.’

  ‘I have heard of it, madame. It is what happens here. We have been searching for the man.’

  ‘Ah, so you do know,’ Winifred replied. ‘It seems strange that a clever French officer cannot catch one ignorant Arab. Kindly give me your name and I will inform your superiors. Every year thousands upon thousands of devout pilgrims come here expecting justice. Instead, they are betrayed.’ She rose, ‘I hold you responsible.’

  Her words had the desired effect. The man stood and paced up and down. ‘We have searched and searched, madame. But we cannot find him.’

  ‘I think it is because they are only poor pilgrims. If it was the king who had been wronged … ’

  He held up his hand. ‘Madame, you do me an injustice. We are few in number and there are thousands of pilgrims.’

  ‘Soon most of them will be gone, but it will be too late for those whose documents have been stolen. You have admitted that you cannot find the man we seek. Give me four of your men. Impress on them how important it is. Together we will search. If I do not find him, I promise you will be recalled from service in a week. I have been given the task of looking after the women pilgrims. I intend to do just that.’

  She was amazed at her own audacity and was glad that her husband was not there to listen, knowing he would not approve. However, her arguments won and four uniformed policemen were summoned to accompany her on her search.

  They spent the day combing alleyways and shops, asking for information on Ibrahim’s whereabouts. They visited his relatives and friends. Once they passed the old mosque and saw Karum Bux sitting on the roof. She saw his mouth open in astonishment and he called out something to her but she did not hear. Then, at the end of their lane, they saw their quarry, wiping his mouth as he emerged from an eating house.

  One of the policeman called out to him but he took off, with the search party in hot pursuit. Finally they saw him run into a house and there he was cornered and arrested and the documents recovered.

  * * *

  A few days later the last ship for the season dropped anchor in the bay. Winifred said goodbye to the little mosque with a feeling of sadness and, dressed in her shalwars and chador, followed Karum Bux to the jetty, where they were told to wait for the immigration officers. Her husband went off to stock up on provisions for the trip. Tired of standing in the hot sun, Winifred sat down on her blanket roll, keeping an eye on Pansy who had gone down to the water’s edge.

  She was in a relaxed frame of mind, thinking of being back in Australia and eating hot scones and butter, when she felt the stinging cut of a riding whip across her shoulders. She sprang to her feet in anger and, turning, snatched the whip from her aggressor and slashed him across the face. He staggered, and she followed up with other blows. His cries attracted attention. She discovered she had been thrashing a French policeman and was arrested. She was taken before the commandant and listened angrily as the police gabbled out their side of the story. Then it was Winifred’s turn and she showed the officer the wound on her back and shoulders.

  Turning to the policeman who had struck her, the commandant said, ‘What is the meaning of this?’

  ‘Sir, you know these pilgrim women. They are as simple as cattle. One has to keep them moving. This one was sitting down when all the rest were standing. I only gave her a little tap and the next thing she flies at me.’

  ‘What crime did I commit by sitting down on my own blanket?’

  The commandant shrugged. ‘He seemed to think you did not show enough respect, seeing you were wa
iting for an official to check your papers before going on board.’

  At that moment Karum Bux came running in. He had been told that his wife had been arrested for murdering a policeman. Winifred managed to calm him down, even though her back was in agony. Her skin was broken and she could feel the dried blood sticking to her shirt. ‘I was assaulted by one of your men. I will be reporting this to the authorities.’

  ‘But, madame, it was a mistake. If you had been wearing English clothes …’

  ‘So you admit that you and your men are guilty of cruelty to pilgrims, when your duty is to protect them.’

  He stammered his regrets and sent for coffee, and a doctor to dress her wounds and give her a sedative. But she carried the welt mark for months.

  On the way back to the ship Karum Bux turned on her, his temper out of control. ‘Wherever you go there’s trouble. I should have left you in Oodnadatta where you belong.’

  ‘And I should never have married you,’ she replied.

  When they got to the jetty she looked around anxiously for Pansy. In her frenzy she had forgotten the child and was relieved to see that she was still on the beach. She ran to her, gathered her up in her arms and cried bitterly, all her pent-up emotions spilling out.

  Later the sedative began to take effect and the pain in her back started to subside. She became more composed and prepared to go on board, hoping that her husband had gone ahead to find them a place to put their things. There were still passengers milling around waiting for a place on the small boats that transported them to the ship. Rather than join the long queue standing in the hot sun, Winifred waited with Pansy in the shade and noticed two young women also standing apart. They looked so sad and forlorn that Winifred walked over to them.

  ‘Why are you waiting here alone? If you don’t go on board you will have difficulty finding a place to sleep.’

  ‘We can’t go on board. They won’t let us. The agent stole our papers and now he has disappeared.’ The older of the two girls spoke, while the younger one clung to her arm.