大象传媒

This story is submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by a member of Market Harborough Branch, Royal British Legion on behalf of Reg Tarry and has been added to the site with his permission. Mr Tarry fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

Reg Tarry, now a lively 94 year-old, kept a detailed account of his life overseas in the RAF Police from September 1941 until December 1944, This episode is from the time he was stationed at a Middle East HQ unit near Cairo.

FEAST OF COURBAN

Today (Sunday Dec 28 1941) begins the Mohammedan Feast of Courban Bairam, and was fortunate enough to be able to see something of the Feast from an angle afforded to very few. Arthur and Jack, two teleprinter operatives at BAO in the RCS invited me to go with them to the house of their bearer 鈥淢ardi鈥�, who is a Bedouin and one of his brothers if a Ghaffir at BAO.

We left the camp at about 09.25 to allow us to get to Helwan-el-Babad in time to meet 鈥淢ardi鈥� at 10.15. It was a grand morning, much warmer than yesterday and, as we crossed the sandy mile to the village, the sun did wonders to the colours of the dress sported by the chikkas for the occasion. Reds and yellow predominated though there was a fair sprinkling of other colours. The women, however, did not depart from their sombre black, they were, may be, a little cleaner but that was all. The men wore their tarbooshes or a small kind of skull cap swathed in white yet leaving the red top and dark blue band of the hat exposed. The whiteness of the swathing was brilliant and surprising.

There was a veritable procession of people of all ages going along the road in the same directions as ourselves and Jack and Arthur got into conversation with them in order to ascertain where they were going and what was in the baskets the women were carrying on their heads. They were going, it appears to the houses of friends and relatives and the baskets we were told, contained gifts and 鈥渕angarear鈥� (food) for it seems that whereas Christmas in England is a holiday traditionally of the home, here it is the occasion for visiting ones friends and relatives.

We arrived at our rendezvous with 鈥淢ardi鈥�, but there was no sign of him so we whiled away the time by amusing ourselves - and the natives, mostly children, in conversation. I鈥檓 afraid I caused most of the amusement owing to my lack of Arabic, but Jack and Arthur kept the party going until 鈥淢ardi鈥� arrived.

We decided to go towards 鈥淢ardi鈥檚鈥� house by way of the main road leaving the village on our left and from this view point it presented the dilapidated aspect of all native villages. The houses appeared to be either half built or half ruined with a leaning towards the latter. Some had trees growing from the roof and all kinds of junk was scattered about, heaps of stones around added to the impression of decay and disuse.

The irrigation ditches from the Nile came up to the road and a twelve foot channel ran alongside on our right whilst on the village side, were ponds and small marshy patches from which grew tall palms. Soil had been collected into heaps ready to be spread for cultivation and several white birds of the heron type (Ibis?)waded among the trees and grass. On the banks were patches of dung arranged in several rows of hand-moulded shapes and left to dry for future use as fuel, this being almost the only fuel the natives have, wood being very scarce as can be imagined.

All this we saw at a glance, as it were, whilst we were walking along the road and along a bank which led from the road to the village. At close quarters, the houses didn鈥檛 look quite as bad and when we came to our host鈥檚 home and were shown inside, I was really surprised at the cleanliness of the room.

It was a chamber of about 10ft square lined with a bench on two sides, chairs on another and a sofa and chairs on the fourth side. Pictures of King Faid and King Farouk and his Queen were on the walls. Much to our amazement, we noticed a picture of the Virgin Mary and wondered what would be the attitude of the occupants of the house if some tactless person told them who it was! For it was evident that, being Mohammedans, they had no idea as to who it was. I suppose it was the bright colouring of it which prompted them to put it there.

鈥淢ardi鈥檚鈥� father was gracious in his welcomes and I rather felt out of it and something of an interloper because I could not return the greetings in his own tongue but apparently Jack and Arthur filled the bill because he fussed round us and bade us be seated. After we had shaken hands and exchanged greetings with about half a dozen men who were already in the house and though I could do no better than a repeated 鈥淪ayeeda鈥� they seemed satisfied and we all sat down to eat tangerines together.
Mohammed Desoucey greeted us anew and asked questions which together with the answers we gave were interpreted by 鈥淢ardi鈥�- his son our host.

We spoke of many things and were getting along fine when we were interrupted by the arrival of four men who were obviously 鈥渟omebody鈥� of importance. Mardi told us that the old gentlemen who fingered his beads ceaselessly was the second headman of the village. The greetings were of course renewed with the newcomers and the headman told us that he was glad he had been able to see us. Jack wished him the equivalent of 鈥渁 Merry Christmas鈥�, and the old man was delighted. Tangerines were again brought and we ate with the newcomers.

Mardi wanted to get us Tiffen, but we told him that we were on duty at 12.30 and that there was no time thank you very much. Mardi conveyed our remarks to our host and lively conversation between them ensued, the outcome of which that was Merlim Alli said that he would have nothing more to do with us if we refused his hospitality whereupon we, with some misgivings, acquiesced and were given towels as napkins. Mardi brought in the tiffen on 3 plates it consisted of a heap of rice and four pieces of mutton, a spoon was given us in courtesy of our not usually eating food with our fingers. The rice was delicious but how to eat the meat? Jack proposed we pick it up in our fingers and bite it, whereupon Mardi full of apologies brought us a fork each this simplified matters greatly without our loosing face by asking for one. The mutton was as nice as the rice and as it was the first mutton I had eaten since before I had left England it was doubly acceptably.

I could not finish all of it by reason of quantity certainly not quality and pushed my plate away. Mardi then brought us a cup of tea with plenty of sugar but no milk. It was delicious!
Tiffen over we said our thanks and chatted a little, during which chatter the head man asked Jack if he was married, he then asked Arthur and I, and I had to show him the photo of Cherry and Babs, with which he was delighted. We noticed a model of a mosque in hand carved wood it was very well done but the curious thing about it was the effigy of Santa Claus tied to the doorway, this, Mardi explained was the priest or rabbi saying to the people 鈥渃ome鈥�. During this conversation the headman told us he had four wives.

As soon as we courteously could we said our goodbyes and with Mardi and Mohammid Desourcey left the house to walk through the village on our way back as Arthur and I had to be on duty at 12.30.
The village street was narrow and twisting, a typical Eastern street and just the kind of street in which Christ must have walked and had his livelihood.

Sayeeda鈥檚 were exchanged along the way and our hosts kept careful watch over us, one in front and one behind. Many of the villagers stopped for a word with us or our hosts and to some we were introduced and whereupon we shook hands and touched our breasts in, Bedouin fashion. Arthur had the good fortune to secure some good pictures of women and children which presented good opportunities of typical scenes of the life in the village. One old father was sitting in this shop 鈥渇inishing鈥� a pair of boots he had just half soled and heeled. I stopped to watch them and he was using the same tools and the same methods that I have seen dad use at home!

Soon after this we met a rich Bedouin who had befriended Jack and Arthur in the past and had allowed them to go with him on duck shoots on the Nile. I was introduced to him, his name is Mr Achmed Achmed.
After a further 5 minutes walk and a few hundred 鈥淪ayeeda鈥檚鈥� we arrived at the main road and hitch hiked back to Helwen and back to work.

This was the first of my visits to native villages. I hope I shall be able to describe more fully other villages as I come to be more observant of the more interesting things they hold for those that have eyes to see. The most striking thing however is that conditions here now are indeed must be very much the same as when Christ lived and worked a couple of hundred miles from here.

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