In The Tail Of The Peacock Part 17

A man did the same with pills--was so much pleased with the effect of one that he devoured the rest all at once. They invariably ate the paper in which pills or powders were wrapped.

On one occasion Miss Banks went to see a girl whom she was attending, and who seemed worse. The answer, when asked if she was having her medicine regularly, was, "Oh no! she's so ill just now. When she's a little better, we shall give it to her."

Supposing that a patient dies, or a man who has once been a patient dies, the people have no hesitation in saying to the missionaries when they meet them in the street, "Oh! So-and-so's taken your medicine, and it's killed him."

It is impossible to trust Moors with medicines which could damage them; this seriously handicaps a doctor: in extreme cases the dose must be administered by the doctor personally.

Besides the dispensary, the missionaries had day schools for the children, night schools for boys, and mothers' meetings for women. Here, again, the mothers who attended the meetings were given the material of the clothes which they made for nothing; but they were obliged to sit down and listen to a Bible lesson first. It was one way, it was an opportunity, of bringing Christianity before Mohammedans.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MOORS AT HOME.

[_To face p. 222._]

Thus through the meetings and the schools and the dispensary the missionaries knew many of the women in Tetuan, and there were few houses into which they had not been at one time or another. Sometimes it was possible to read to the people in their homes, sometimes to talk. But with the men they seldom came in contact. Never with an educated Moor. He would despise women in general, despise Christianity past words, and decline to argue on such a point with a man.

People are apt to forget that Mohammedanism is a faith to which many millions of earnest and intelligent men and women have pinned their salvation. To talk and argue with these--it is almost a truism to say--a missionary must be "up" in that subject which they have at their finger-tips--namely, their religion. This means that he or she must have a complete knowledge of the Kor[=a]n; must know the traditions relating to Mohammed and his companions; must be able to converse about the divinity and the innumerable saints of Islam; must have read various religious treatises; and, above and beyond all, must understand to the smallest point the habits of the Mohammedan himself, know his life, be able to follow his thoughts, understand his actions, and be in sympathy with his recreations as well as with his work, otherwise the missionary treads on the Mohammedan's toes fifty times a day, and provokes amus.e.m.e.nt, mingled with contempt, of which resentment is born.

Needless to say, few missionaries in Morocco, except at the end of their life's work, possess these qualifications. Only a limited number know the Arabic language: they speak it colloquially of course, but the immense difficulties, which a thorough knowledge of it entails, debar most of them from satisfactory study. After years upon years of hard work, an Arabian scholar frankly avowed to me that he had but skimmed the surface of the depths of the Arabic language.

As far as the old idea of missionary work goes--of preaching to an attentive throng of Mohammedans and baptizing converts--Morocco ranks nowhere. The missionary who comes out to El Moghreb does incalculable good in curing the hereditary disease and taint with which an Eastern nation is rife, and many influence the surrounding people by the example of a good life and contact with a civilized mind: he or she is to be profoundly admired for the determination with which one end and one aim are held in view from first to last, and to the furtherance of which the whole of life is made subservient; and yet the shadows of disappointment must darken that missionary's path sometimes, unless he or she is a philosopher. For we met with none who could point us out a single convert, openly declaring himself to be one. In Tetuan, after twelve years' work, there was not one. Two women there were, who acknowledged to the missionaries, that they preferred Christianity to Mohammedanism, and who in private make use of Christian forms of prayer, but they would not "declare" their belief.

It is said, and no doubt truly, that there would be many converts to Christianity in Morocco among the lowest cla.s.s, if it were not for the persecution of the Government, and the strong anti-Christian feeling which exists amongst those in authority. The religion and the Government are one; the Sultan is the religious head, a direct descendant from Mohammed; consequently Mohammedanism is _enforced_. A woman who declared herself a Christian would have her children taken from her; a man would be flogged round the city and boycotted, if he was not killed. Thus the prospects of the would-be convert are not happy: all which the missionaries have to offer him is, on the one hand martyrdom, on the other a miserable line of compromise--a life, that is to say, of concealment and deceit towards those nearest him, for though Christian at heart, he must yet remain Mohammedan to the world. This latter course of compromise is the line which is followed, and it is the course which is tacitly inculcated by the missionaries. I heard of no martyrs, nor Christian Moors openly declared, living in Morocco at peace with mankind.

There is a hitch somewhere. Christianity is in danger of being dragged in the dust. If it were possible for missionaries to make their doctrines appeal to the powerful and more enlightened cla.s.s among the Moors, influencing the country to such an extent that it should adopt Christianity of its own accord, this could never be so. But it is not possible. In the present state of Morocco the idea is laughable. It is hardly to be expected that the most fanatical and conservative nation ever evolved, will cast its religion, like a snake its skin, at the bidding of a body of despised Europeans. Before such a revolution could take place, the character of such a nation must entirely change; the Moor must be broadened and given a scientific training, if he is ever to become of a "progressive" turn of mind, desiring other ideals than those of his forefathers.

At the same time the missionary must be adequately equipped for the fray, must be a "strong man," must possess some of the qualifications of a leader.

The first point is the all-important one: that more knowledge should be given to Mohammedans--scientific knowledge; that they should be fired to improve their own condition and that of their country, making themselves capable of mixing as equals with men who stand for the highest products of civilization the world so far knows.

Then, educated and self-educating, their creed, whatever it is, will be the outcome of their secular training. It matters little what the belief, so long as the individual is free as air to adopt it or not at his own discretion.

It would appear, then, that Morocco needs schools, colleges, and men of unusual calibre to deal with them. The doctor-missionaries do a vast amount of good; but it would seem that effort directed in fresh channels should meet with better results, and that so far there has been a tendency to "begin at the wrong end."

It is easy to sit down and criticise; it is easy to map out new paths, the difficulties connected with which, few critics can realize. While we see that many of the old by-ways are tortuous and lead to error, and that many of them only result in waste of energy, let us at the same time not forget to give all honour to those who set out to dig them, for even "defeat, is great."

One afternoon I walked round with Miss Banks, visiting patients. We started from the Mission House with a basket of medicines, ointment, thermometer, paint-brush, etc., and dived into the little, narrow, crowded streets of countless windowless houses. The first call we paid was at the house of a Moor in the capacity of "gentleman farmer": of course he was out. Miss Banks knocked; there was a movement on the other side, but no answer. She called through the keyhole, "Anna. Tabiba" (I.

Doctor); and a discreet slave, trained by a jealous and distrustful master, opened at the sound of her voice. We walked into a three-cornered, tiled patio: the lady of the house came to meet us in a pink jellab, shook Miss Banks's hand and kissed her own, shook mine and again carried hers to her lips; then led us into a room opening on to the courtyard, with divans, in white, all round upon the tiled floor next the wall.

We all three sat down cross-legged on the cushions, and our hostess related her symptoms to Miss Banks. She had a bad cough, and seemed glad to have her chest painted with iodine. She was the daughter of her husband's cowman; and if, according to English ideas, somewhat below him in rank, was no worse educated than the first lady in the land. It is odd that, while Moors are gentlemen born, their woman-kind, narrowed and degraded, are in no sense aristocratic. They will stand upstairs and shout "Come!" to any one who is calling upon them and waiting below.

"Sit down," they will say imperatively: it is always the imperative. If they are asked to show anything, they will bring it and almost throw it at the visitor's head. They have no "breeding."

Our hostess was thin, and not at all typical of a Moorish wife; for a Moor likes a waist which he can barely clasp with both arms, and women, when they desire to attract, fatten themselves at once. A woman who is engaged, is crammed with sweet fattening pills and farinaceous food.

At one end of the room we sat in, was a gorgeous four-poster bed, hung with scarlet, and covered with embroideries, the posts painted bright green, and a great gilt crown on the top of all. When no furniture is bought except divans and a bed, all the dollars can be piled on the bed.

We left a bottle of mixture out of the basket and a doll for the only child, which would be treasured, for a bunch of rags is the nearest Moorish approach to a doll.

From this house we went on to our hostess' old home, where her father, the cowman, lived. The patio there was cold and bare, and seemed the general living-room; some wood was stacked in one corner; there was a well in another; there was an overpowering smell of "drains" everywhere; while in the third corner a poor, miserable little girl sat huddled up, with frightened eyes. Several families lived together in this small house, and no fewer than six women crowded round the girl to explain her symptoms to Miss Banks. It was only too apparent what was wrong, when she uncovered her neck. Syphilis, hereditary--a terrible evil, to be found all over Morocco, the result of Mohammedan customs and bad food.

Considering that women are divorced and remarried over and over again, and that the conditions under which they live are so unhealthy, it is small wonder if disease in some form or other does not show itself.

Examples are to be met with in almost any street--the features of the face obliterated, and so on.

The poor child, whom Miss Banks was treating, had been married. Now that this disease had broken out, her husband would probably divorce her. If she were cured, she might marry again. Her friends had brought her all the way from Shesaw[=a]n to Tetuan to be cured, and a Jew doctor had offered to put her right for the sum of 4.

"But," said her friends, "suppose she dies? What shall we get for our money then?"

So they sent to the English tabiba, who cures for nothing.

Miss Banks left ointment and medicine. Cases can be cured if the patient will persevere long enough with the medicine; but many of them are too far gone when they first come.

An old man upstairs in the same house, but of a different family, claimed her attention next. Three weeks ago he was perfectly well. He went to a cafe one evening, drank a cup of coffee, came home, was seized with pain, and became completely paralyzed. It pointed to poison, but he had no enemies.

Mercury is very largely used as a poison, and is given in different forms. Little is thought of ending life by this means, unless there happen to be influential relations who object to their relatives being in this summary manner "put out of the way."

There is a girl now in Tetuan who keeps a shop. Her father and mother kept it before her, but she said that they were both so old, had lived so long, and had had their day, that she felt something must be done to secure her own turn, and that speedily. Therefore she gave them both some poison. There was a funeral. She took over the shop.

Another woman was anxious to poison her husband because he was about to take a second wife. She prepared him the dish with the poisoned pieces.

Suddenly she saw her child run into the house and join his father at the meal. Careless of betraying herself, she rushed to her Benjamin with cries of alarm,--too late; he had eaten, and he succ.u.mbed that night. The husband died at the end of a year from the effects of the same poison.

Some of the drugs which Moors use take even longer to destroy life, but it is only a matter of time. The woman was put in prison, but she came out after twelve months, and another man has taken her to wife.

Some missionary and poisoning experiences are amusing. People often came and asked for poison to administer to somebody who happened to annoy them.

A slave appeared once and said, "I have a mistress: she's very old, isn't she?"

"Yes," said the missionary.

"She doesn't enjoy life now much, does she?"

"No, I don't think she does much."

"Would she enjoy being with the Lord much more than living on like this?"

"Yes," said the missionary, "she would be far happier with the Lord."

"Then," said the slave, "give me some poison to send her to Him."

Meanwhile, Miss Banks looked at her patient, who might or might not have had his life tampered with; but there was little she could do then. We left that house and walked on into the poorest part of the city, down a little alley which was hard to find, in search of a certain door which was still harder. After two or three mistakes, we hit upon the right one, and knocked at an old, battered, rat-eaten entrance falling to pieces.

"Anna. Tabiba," called Miss Banks; and the door was opened by a countryman, a Riffi, rough-looking, only a coa.r.s.e jellab over him, but with a kind expression on his face. The s.p.a.ce inside was something like a chicken-pen. We stooped under a very low doorway in the farther wall, and went into a little shed-like lean-to, where the inhabitants evidently lived entirely. A boy of thirteen was lying on the ground, covered with a piece of sacking. The father squatted down beside him. Two girls were grinding beans close to them in a hand-mill--the old mill of . . . "the one shall be taken, and the other left."

Miss Banks and I seated ourselves on a wooden rail, which was part of a manger or a sheep-pen. These Riffis had been forced by famine to abandon their home and come down into Tetuan, where at first they had lived in a cave, on roots princ.i.p.ally. The father would go out and hoe when he could get work--every land-owner has hoeing to be done; but lately he had had fever. The boy had an abscess, and could not move. In spite of it he smiled cheerfully, and was delighted with a new red jellab which Miss Banks brought him. Poor little chap! he did not live to wear it. I gave him a trifle to buy food. Beyond the dried beans in course of being ground, and half a lemon, there was no sign of anything to eat. Beans and lemons to fight an abscess!

[Ill.u.s.tration: STRAW FOR SALE.

[_To face p. 230._]

After Miss Banks had attended to the child, we took our way to the house of a Moorish doctor, who had been unable to cure himself, and had sent in desperation for his European rival.

He was lying on a divan upstairs, himself the colour of oatmeal porridge, with his wife attending to him; and he had a terrible sore on his thigh.