The Maccabaean

WEDNESDAY is market day in Beersheba, and with the first streaks of dawn hundreds of Bedouin men and women come streaming into the town, bringing their produce and their cattle. The quiet, sleepy little town, consisting of a few rows of low stone houses and stalls, becomes awake and noisy with sounds of barter and trade. Here are women of the desert bedecked with coins and trinkets on their heads and faces and bosoms and arms. Tall, dark, dignified-looking Bedouins in flowing robes and turbans stride about leisurely or sit in front of the stalls sipping thick black coffee and smoking narghilehs.

In the market on the outskirts of the town there is a Babel of sounds and noises. Men and women are haggling over camels and asses, goats and sheep, saddles and heaps of grain and fruit. Little swarthy, chubby infants, covered with dirt and flies, crawl about under the very hoofs of the patient camels. The fair lasts all morning, and in the afternoon many of the Bedouins attend the Sheikh's court, where their individual and tribal differences are heard and adjusted. The court is held in the large hall of the Administration Building. At the head of the hall sits the presiding judge—a tall, lean, smooth-shaven British officer. On one side are seated a row of Sheikhs of tribes—bearded, stately Bedouins in their colored robes and with long curved scimitars in heavily wrought silver scabbards at their sides. They are silent and stern and look like a group of reincarnated warriors of Saladin. A plaintiff and defendant are brought in by a soldier. Each chooses a Sheikh to represent him, while the presiding officer chooses a third Sheikh. Plaintiff and defendant squat down on the floor in front of their three judges and each one tells his side of the story. When they have finished the judges put their heads together and discuss the merits of the case. The decision is recorded by the court clerk. The Sheikhs set their signet-ring seals to the document and the litigants press their thumbs into the inkpad and affix their finger prints to the paper.

At least a half dozen cases are being tried in the court simultaneously. Most of the disputes are concerned with inheritance, strayed or stolen cattle, land boundaries and occasionally a woman. When an agreement cannot be reached the contending parties frequently adjourn to the tomb of some noted and venerated saint where each swears the other out of countenance. Or sometimes, though rarely, they resort to the mediæval trial by fire. About twenty miles to the south of Beersheba there dwells a holy hermit who is in direct communion with all the saints of heaven and the spirits of the underworld. He places the end of an iron rod in the flame until it is red and glowing. When this is applied to the tongue of one who lies the flesh will immediately be scorched and consumed while the truthful tongue will be spared. There is no record of this test ever having failed.

The supreme unwritten law of the Bedouin is "Gaum"—vengeance. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, blood

for blood. If a tribesman is killed the slayer will pay the penalty with his own life. But if he be not known and his identity be concealed then another cent quickly and secretly. If the Arab has been killed near a colony a few of the tribesmen will lurk in ambush until they have washed off the score in blood. Then they ride away satisfied that their kinsman will now lie at peace in his grave. It does not matter that the Arab was slain while he attempted to rob and kill. The law of Gaum knows but this flee and the pursuers are close upon his track he can find no safer shelter than in the midst of the tribe of his victim. Nay, the very tent of the nearest kinsman of the murdered man will be his surest refuge. Here the pursuers will not enter, nor will they molest him. He will be given food and drink and a corner wherein to rest and sleep. And that will last for three days. On the fourth day the host will escort him on his way for a mile or more, and on parting place his hand on his forehead and over his heart in token of friendship and forgiveness. But a short stretch down the road a band of horsemen will suddenly appear as if springing from the ground. The fleeing fugitive will be surrounded and bloody Gaum will be achieved.

June 8th, 1919.—This afternoon as I was coming out of my clinic in Yemma I perceived a commotion in the midst of the colony. People were gathered in groups talking excitedly. Several men carrying rifles slung across their shoulders were hurrying down hill towards the fields, and now and then a horseman galloped by clattering on the cobblestones with his revolver clenched in his hand. One young blonde, bareheaded lad, with his face tense with excitement, his eyes blazing, almost ran me down as he flew by. Someone volunteered the information that a band of Bedouins had swooped down on a colonist driving home win a load of hay and had robbed him of his horses. The hood of last week's murdering assault had not yet dried on the road at the very gate of Yemma and the nerves of the villagers were on edge and their hearts were full of grief and apprehension. More than two score armed men, some mounted and some in wagons drove out of the colony, almost at a moment's notice, in hot pursuit of the robbers. About two miles from Yemma there is a long deep Wady which in winter is a swollen torrent rushing towards the Jordan. At present the Wady is dry and its steep banks and deep rocky channel form an excellent pass in the shelter of which marauding Hauram bands fording the river enter and leave the country. In this miniature canyon the pursuing colonists overtook the Arabs and many shots were exchanged. One of the Bedouins fell from his horse wounded. The rest closed in around him and stood at bay. After a few minutes they sped away taking their wounded comrade with them, but leaving the stolen horses behind.