My Three Days In Gilead
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Elmer U. Hoenshel >> My Three Days In Gilead
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My Three Days in Gilead
I love to breathe where Gilead sheds her balm;
I love to walk on Jordan's banks of palm;
I love to wet my foot in Herman's dews;
I love the promptings of Isaiah's muse;
In Carmel's holy grots I'll court repose,
And deck my mossy couch with Sharon's deathless rose.
--J. PIERPONT.
MY THREE DAYS IN GILEAD
By Elmer U. Hoenshel, D. D.,
Principal of Shenandoah Collegiate Institute and School of Music
In profound gratitude, this little volume is dedicated to the
memory of William Barakat of Jerusalem.
My faithful, careful dragoman, who in manhood's prime, yet not
many months before his death, guided me in safety, not only during
my trying "Three Days in Gilead," but also throughout an extended
tour otherwhere in his native land--the Holy Land of my faith.
THE AUTHOR
INTRODUCTION
At last, after waiting twenty leaden-winged years from the time in
which a fixed purpose was formed in me to visit the Orient, the
realization came. The year that saw the fulfillment of my
cherished ambition was definitely determined upon eight summers
before it took its place in the calendar of history. Fortune
smiled upon my plan. I was ready. My joy was akin to ecstasy.
Imagine my disappointment when, in the month of May of my chosen
year, 1900, I learned that no agency would organize a tourist
party to move at a time in the summer or autumn that would suit
me! There was but one alternative--to travel independent of any
organization. This I would do. The decision to do so brought
instant and happy relief.
At no time in my period of absence of five months did I meet a
single former acquaintance. I planned every move, and held myself
in every way responsible for results. The experience I thus gained
in the many countries visited I value highly. Not infrequently I
found myself in trying situations; but all ended well. To-day, in
my inventory of life's rich and helpful experiences, though it
were possible for me to do it, I would not eliminate one of these.
It was a kind Providence that denied me the luxury of a place in a
modern "personally conducted" tourist party.
A few articles descriptive of certain experiences have been
written by me for publication. Some themes I have presented on the
lecture platform a few hundred times. My auditors, universally,
have been kind in their criticisms. Many have been the requests
that I write a volume reciting the story of my travels. In
response I have steadily refused. Many books on travel have
appeared in recent years, possibly too many; but I have seen very
little that has been written about the trans-Jordanic highlands.
And it is not strange, for, though multitudes of tourists annually
visit Palestine, not one person out of a thousand of them ever
goes east of the Jordan. And is it worth while? We shall see.
On my trip I tried to identify no biblical site; I tried to locate
no city of antiquity; I dug into no mound; I disturbed no ruin.
All this I left to the geographer, the historian, and the
archaeologist who had preceded me, or who should come after me.
True, with the help of my Bible, map, guide-book, and guide, I
formed opinions, and was happy in the fitness of some of them;
but, in the main, I was content to rest in the conclusions reached
by those who had studied scientifically and reverently every hill
and valley and ruin in this neglected region.
But my observation and experience no other has had. I know of no
other who mapped out or traveled the route chosen by me. I sought
and expected much; I found and experienced more. And though eight
years have passed since my journeyings in Gilead, yet so fresh is
the memory of those days that I need make but slight reference, as
I write, to the notes that were then written. Often, in recent
years, I have found myself lingering in thought on some high ridge
looking out over an extended panorama filled with sacred
associations, or silently gazing up into the strangely impressive
Oriental sky by night. Even as I write I seem to catch again a
perfume-laden breeze, bearing repose to my weary soul. And if the
memory of this land seen in its desolation is so refreshing to a
foreigner, what must not the possession of the real in the days of
its fatness have been to the weary, battle-scarred Israelites who
secured permission to abide here!
So, in response to the call of my friends, and with the hope of
adding somewhat to the meager fund of information concerning a
once famous district, or, at least, to create additional interest
in the territory occupied by the tribe of Gad in the days of early
allotment, I undertake to tell the story of "My Three Days in
Gilead."
Dayton, Virginia, February 20, 1909.
Contents
Chapter I. "Waiting at Damascus"
Chapter II. "Through Bashan"
Chapter III. "Among Bedouins"
Chapter IV. "At Gerasa"
Chapter V. "Up Into the Mountains"
Chapter VI. "By the Watch-Tower"
Chapter VII. "Down to the Jordan"
Chapter VIII. "At the Bridge"
"Waiting at Damascus"
CHAPTER I.
Damascus! A city that numbers the years of its existence in
millenniums; that witnessed in the dawn of history the migration
of Abraham as he went out from Ur to a land not known to him, and
to whom she gave one of the best of her sons; that sent out the
leper, Naaman, to Palestine for healing and received him back
whole; that hailed with great preparations the coming of Elisha,
who had previously blinded her army at Dothan; that welcomed Saul
of Tarsus in his blindness, restored his sight, and sent him,
transformed in his life, to transform Asia Minor and classic
Europe. Damascus! A city surviving an age-long struggle with the
encroaching desert--a struggle that must go on through ages to
come; but, as long as the Abana and Pharpar continue to flow, the
sands that would bury her forever in oblivion will be changed into
a soil of life-giving and life-sustaining fertility sufficient to
support her thousands of inhabitants. Damascus! A city of the long
ago, practically unchanged, where the Occidental may look to-day
with unfeigned interest upon architecture, costumes, and customs
similar to those that prevailed in the East while Greece and Rome
were yet young. Damascus! A city celebrated for a thousand years
for its bazaars, work-shops, and roses; a city so beautiful
thirteen hundred years ago that Mohammed, viewing it for the first
time from a distance, is said to have exclaimed: "Man can have but
one paradise. My paradise is heaven; I cannot enter yonder city!"
a city to-day of unsurpassed beauty, when viewed from the
distance, with its white domes and slender minarets rising above
the shrubbery and trees of its thirty thousand gardens. Here in
this old city; in this historic city; in this beautiful city; in
Damascus, I greet you and extend to you an invitation to join me
in my proposed trip through Gilead.
My party as yet consists of but two persons. My dragoman, William
Barakat, of Jerusalem, in response to a telegram sent from
Constantinople, met me several days ago at Beyrout. He is a native
Syrian, talks good English, dresses like an American, (save that
he wears a red fez,) and is a Christian in faith. Before reaching
this city he has already rendered me excellent service. He is
intelligent, having attended the American College at Beyrout. I
can trust him.
My arrangements with my guide are simple. He is to take me over my
desired route by best possible methods of travel; to furnish the
best of fare and lodging obtainable; to guarantee me a safe
escort; and he is to do all this within a specified time and for a
stipulated price. I did not then know how little I was asking as
to fare and lodging, but when I knew that he was fulfilling his
part of the agreement I had little cause for just complaint.
By early dawn, on October thirtieth, we had breakfasted and had
bidden good-by to all the servants about the hotel, (many of whom
I did not know to exist, but who, somehow, had learned of me, and
had risen thus early to witness my departure and to ask a fee for
services that I am quite sure some of them had had no part in
rendering,) and had ordered the driver to lose no time in reaching
the station of the Damascus-Hauran Railroad, about two miles
distant. But, notwithstanding the early hour, the streets were
already crowded with people, mules, donkeys, dogs, and other
things. It was only with great effort that we could make any
headway, and at times it seemed that the crowd, angered at our
persistence, would stop us entirely in our struggle to pass
through. We did the best we could, but we missed the train. Since
there were ONLY THREE TRAINS A WEEK on that road, it meant that I
must go back to that same hotel and spend two more days in
Damascus at the rate of ten dollars a day, and then, again, on
leaving, must fee those same servants for service that I did not
want, and, generally speaking, did not get. But, though the
disappointment was great, it brought additional opportunity to
study the wonders and ways of the wonderful city wherein I was
forced to remain.
A second time my dragoman prepares food for our journey; and
again, on the morning of November first, we hurry to the station.
This time we do not miss the train--we wait for it--and we wait a
long time; but with the waiting there is contentment, for, if the
train move south, I, too, am sure of going.
"Through Bashan"
CHAPTER II.
At the time of this writing there is a railroad extending from
Damascus to Mecca, but at the time of my visit the terminus was at
Mezarib, a small town about fifty miles south of Damascus, near
the northern boundary-line of Gilead. It was in my plan to travel
that distance by rail; hence my presence at the city railroad
station.
The ride to Mezarib, through Bashan, especially that part of it
now known as the Hauran, is one of more than ordinary interest.
For the first twenty-five miles the land is literally covered with
black basaltic rocks, as is also part of the remaining distance.
How it is cultivated I can scarcely understand, for I am sure that
the American horse could not be made to serve well here. But I was
told that the natives do cultivate it, and that they raise
excellent crops of grain. When I looked upon them at work with
their crude wooden plows and brush harrows, and then heard that
they raise excellent crops of grain, I was satisfied that the land
must be very fertile; and I was reminded of a certain humorist's
remark about the fertility of some land in Kansas, of which he
said, "All you need to do is to tickle the ground with a hoe, and
it will laugh with a big harvest." Farther on the rocks almost
entirely disappear, and there is spread out a beautiful valley,
extending far to the south, whose fertility and pasturage
attracted the Israelites on their march to Canaan, and which, ever
since, has caused the name "Bashan" to be a synonym for "plenty."
And, because of its abundant production of grain, which finds a
ready market in Damascus, it has been aptly called the "granary of
Damascus."
The manner in which this grain is put on the market is quite novel
to me. I see hundreds of camels loaded with large sacks of grain
moving with slow, swinging tread toward Damascus, or returning
unloaded to the desert. The camels proceed in single file, usually
ten or more in a train, and each is led by means of a rope
fastened to the animal next in front--the rope of the foremost of
all being fastened to the saddle of a donkey, on which the owner,
or driver, usually rides. Many grindstones also are shipped from
this country, one large stone constituting a load for a camel.
This land is, also a great grazing region, and for more than three
thousand years Bashan has been celebrated for its fine breed of
cattle.
Some distance south of Damascus I cross the headwaters of the
Pharpar River, whose clear, sparkling water Naaman considered much
more suitable for a general's bath than the muddy water of the
Jordan. At my place of crossing an athlete could clear the stream
at a single bound.
The distant scenery deserves more than a passing notice, though
but little more can be given here. Off to the west, in plain view,
is Mount Hermon, whose towering, snow-capped summit in all
probability looked upon the transfigured person of the Son of Man.
To the east is the Lejah, in, or near which is Edrei, where Og,
the giant king of Bashan, was slain in the attempt to hold his
realm against the home-seeking Israelites under the leadership of
Moses. South of the Lejah are the Hauran Mountains, now occupied
by the Druses, a people of a peculiar religious faith--a faith
which is a mixture of Mohammedan, Christian, and Zoroastrian
elements. One of their beliefs is that the number of souls in
existence never varies. "Accordingly, all the souls now in life
have lived in some human form since the creation, and will
continue to live till the final destruction of the world." To them
prayer is thought to be an unwarrantable interference with the
Almighty. They, having colonized this mountain, are at present
causing the Turkish government much trouble. They number about
90,000, and are almost continuously at war with the neighboring
Bedouin tribes. And because of the feuds which prevail here, it is
expected, and I believe is a matter of law, that all visitors to
this region must have an escort either of soldiers or Bedouins.
Were not robbery and bloodshed so prevalent in the East-Jordan
country, its ruins and scenery would attract hundreds of tourists
where now but a few ever suffer their curiosity or interest in
Bible lands to turn them aside from the beaten paths of travel. In
my course I pass through a portion of the land of which we read in
Deut. 3:3-5, noted for its many "rock cities." I look upon the
ruins of a number of these, but have little opportunity for a
close examination. The most noted ruins that I see are at Sunamein
and at Mezarib. But those who have pressed farther east, and who
have made a careful study of the best preserved of these "rock
cities" of Bashan, tell us that everything about them is of stone-
doors, gates, windows, stairs, rafters, galleries, cupboards,
benches, and even candlesticks. So perfectly preserved are some of
these "dead cities," that of one, Salcah, Doctor Porter says that
some five hundred of the houses are still standing, and that "from
three hundred to four hundred families might settle in it at any
moment without laying a stone or expending an hour's labor on
repairs." Of Beth-gamul another traveler says in part: "The houses
were some of them very large, consisting usually of three rooms on
the ground floor, and two on the first story, the stairs being
formed of large stones built in the house walls, and leading up
outside. The doors were, as usual, of stone; sometimes folding
doors, and some of them highly ornamental. I wandered about quite
alone in the old streets of the town--entered one by one the old
houses, went up-stairs, visited the rooms, and, in short, made a
careful examination of the whole place; but so perfect was every
street, every house, every room, that I almost fancied I was in a
dream, wandering alone in this city of the dead, seeing all
perfect, yet not hearing a sound. "Much of the work in most of
these cities is on such a large scale as to indicate that the
houses were built by, and intended for a race of giants. When we
think of these fortresses of strength defended by their mighty
occupants, and remember that they were probably in existence at
the time of the exodus of the Israelites from Egyptian bondage,
the victories of Moses gained here become sublime.
We are nearing Mezarib. All forenoon has been consumed in covering
a distance of only about fifty miles. But by twelve o'clock we
have passed almost completely across the land where Og was king,
especially that part of his kingdom which, not long after being
wrested from him and his giant followers, was assigned to the
eastern half-tribe of Manasseh for a permanent possession.
Before leaving Beyrout my dragoman telegraphed to Jerusalem for a
muleteer and three horses to be sent to this railroad terminus.
Must we be disappointed in this! We are both solicitous. My guide
is leaning far out of the car window long before the train stops
to learn, if possible, whether or not his order has been obeyed. I
watch that dark, anxious, perplexed face with much solicitude. Ah,
he smiles! The sunshine of satisfaction chases the clouds of
anxiety and doubt from his countenance, and that dark face looks
beautiful to me. He is happy, and I share in his happiness. Our
muleteer and horses are awaiting us.
"Among Bedouins"
CHAPTER III.
At twelve o'clock our train stopped. I was quickly introduced to
him who had been awaiting us, and who was now to join our party--
"Haleel," of Jerusalem. He was dressed in typical Eastern fashion,
wearing the wide pantaloons, flowing robe, and "kufiyeh"; he was
apparently twenty-five years old, dark-skinned, and blind in one
eye; he could not speak a word of English; and he was a devout
Mohammedan. "Haleel, of Jerusalem!" Notwithstanding his fantastic
appearance, the name and place of residence seemed to me a
blending of mystery and sacredness. I did not hesitate to extend a
cordial greeting, and his smile of confused interest as I tried to
shake hands with him while he tried to give me an Oriental
salutation won me to him. It was his only intelligible language to
me, but it was sufficient to give me assurance of his friendship,
and I was beginning to feel that from that hour I should need
friends. The salutation that Haleel offered to me was a quick,
graceful movement of his hand toward my feet, next to his lips,
and then lightly to his forehead. I had seen the natives do this
in exchanging salutations, and now that it had been offered to me
I sought an interpretation. My guide explained that Haleel meant
to tell me that he felt so honored in meeting me, that he "would
take the dust from my feet, would kiss it, and then place it on
his forehead." Beautiful sentiment! Had I ever previously in my
life been so honored in meeting any one!
The greeting over, I noticed unusual movements about the station.
Many Turkish soldiers were there. They stood about in groups
engaged in animated conversation. Upon inquiry I learned that the
feuds so common in that region were again "on," and that the
soldiers were there to quell lawlessness. As I was the only
tourist there I became an object of special interest. Some of the
men came to my dragoman, and only a few words had passed until I
knew that I was the subject of their conversation. I could
occasionally catch the word "hawadje," which means "master," and I
knew they were referring to me. Then they would look at me and
shake their heads. I was anxious to know what it all meant, but
had to be content with what my guide was pleased to tell of it. He
seemed to have gained his point, but he told me nothing except to
prepare for a hard trip, as a day's distance must be covered, if
possible, before nightfall. As we had already lost two days in
Damascus, I was not averse to trying something strenuous in order
to make up in part for that loss. I felt quite equal to the task,
(though it proved to be a severe ordeal,) when it was explained to
me that it would require a ride of more than forty miles to reach
a safe halting-place for the night. My guide had planned it; and I
was committed to the plan.
After a hurried lunch, eaten in the tent of an Arab, I prepare
for,--I know not what. I put on my leggings and head-gear. Then I
give over my luggage, which consists of a suit-case, hand-grip,
umbrella, and alpenstock, to Haleel. I keep my overcoat, not
because the weather is cold,--it is hot,--but because I think I
may possibly need it as a kind of cushion for my saddle before the
day is over. The need was felt, and SORELY felt quite early in the
afternoon; but most of the time we rode too rapidly for my
overcoat to supply the need,--it just would not stay where I had
hoped it might serve me well. So it happened that I was destined
to experience on that ride such misery as I had scarcely thought
one could endure. But, I anticipate.
We are ready. I am anxious to be going. I am delighted when my
horse, a beauty, indeed, and of pure Arabian stock, is led up by
two dusky sons of the desert. Surely my long trip to Jerusalem
will be one of pleasure when I am mounted on such a steed! At
half-past twelve o'clock we mount, and, facing to the south, we
set off at a brisk pace for Gerasa, (known to the Arabs as
Jerash,) where it has been planned that we shall spend the night.
Several of the natives accompany us a short distance on foot, one
running on either side of my horse and holding to the bridle; but
soon, with interesting and graceful salaams, they leave us to
pursue our hot and dusty way alone.
There are just three of us, and we proceed in the following order:
my dragoman, who is guide and interpreter, leads the way; I follow
next after him; bringing up the rear is our muleteer, who takes
charge of all luggage, cares for the horses, and especially for,--
me. Why should I not be happy? For the first time in my life I
have two men engaged to look after my wants. They did their duty
well,--were almost painfully attentive at times. But to-day I
thank them for their kind severity.
Not having spent more than a few hours on horse-back in the
previous ten years, I found, after riding a few miles, that it
required more than a beautiful horse to make riding comfortable to
an inexperienced rider. But our way led through such a beautiful
valley, and on either hand were mountains so suggestive of Bible
narrative that there was much in the earlier part of the afternoon
to divert my attention from any physical discomfort. Where we were
riding there was no road,--simply bridle-paths, and frequently not
even a path.
After we had been riding for an hour a young Arab on camel-back
joined us. I did not like his searching looks from a face almost
hidden in his head-garment. But he stayed with us for a half-hour,
and in that time had raced his camel with our horses; then he
suddenly turned from us toward the near mountains of Gilead. We
met a number of caravans in the earlier part of the afternoon, and
I noted that every man that I saw carried a gun, or some sort of
sword, or large knife. They were ready for defense, if occasion
should arise.
About two o'clock we passed a "memorial heap," or cairn. Some
tragedy occurred there, and the custom of the region is that the
passer-by places reverently on the pile of rocks already formed an
additional stone. Elsewhere I had seen this done when it seemed to
me the actor was under the spell of a superstitious fear.
About the middle of the afternoon a soldier, full armed, dashes up
to us in a mad gallop, hands a message to my dragoman, and then as
rapidly rides back again. I am a little alarmed at this until I
learn that he has entrusted a writing to us to be delivered in
Jerusalem. A little later I see another soldier leave the group in
which he is riding and gallop ahead across the open way to the
brow of a hill. There he dismounts, lays down his gun, takes the
robe, or blanket, on which he rode, spreads it upon the ground,
faces toward Mecca, and prostrates himself in prayer. The prayer
over, he dashes down to his party and they are off like the wind.
About four o'clock we passed near a little village, the only place
where I saw a house on that long afternoon ride. It is not safe
for any one to live outside the villages; hence there are no
isolated dwellings in all this region. We did not halt for one
moment, but kept pressing steadily on.
After five o'clock the plain was deserted; we saw from that time
neither man nor beast. I was cramped and painfully tired, and
feeling that if I could but walk for a few minutes it would be
quite a relief, I dismounted--quite a difficult thing to do and
keep from sprawling upon the ground. But I was no sooner off my
horse than Haleel was beside me, and my dragoman, who was at that
time nearly a hundred yards ahead of me, rode back and sternly
commanded: "You get right back on that horse; this is no time to
think of walking; you can do that some other time." Inwardly I
resented it; how could I stand it longer! I blamed it on the
saddle, then I thought that they must have given me the worst
horse of the three. But all this helped nothing. They assisted me
again into the saddle. Then my guide delivered a little speech in
Arabic to Haleel. I did not then understand it, but shortly after
I learned the essence of it; it was, "You keep your eye on him and
see that he keeps his horse moving." When I found myself again in
the saddle I determined that if I must ride there would be no more
trotting of my horse,--I would proceed as gently as possible. But,
alas! Haleel had his whip and my dream of controlling my horse was
over. After that I kept close to my dragoman. At that time I
thought it harsh treatment, but later I understood.