An Impressionist Visits Port Said.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 18959, 4 January 1930, Page 19 (Supplement)

An Impressionist Visits Port Said.

“ Gaily-Gaily-Gaily, Burr-r- r.”

(Written for the “Star** by

BERNICE SHACKLETON.)

USUALLY - GALLY-GALLY, VJ burr. Anyone give me a two shilling-piece, I give it back. I give it back. Sure .. . You English. I’m a Scotchman. I’m from Aberdeen. . . . Thank you, Mr Bogey. I give it back. Sure . . . Gaily-gally-gallv, burr.” There -were two of them, as brown as chocolate, a thin man in short sleeves in flowing garments, and a fat one in mere voluminous garments and long sleeves. They had both the same smile to charm, and the same mincing manner as they coaxed two shilling pieces out of the pockets of the most likely looking men in the encircling crowd on the deck of the big steamer that lay out from the quay .at Port Said. One sat cross-legged on the deck, interjecting as the other did his conjuring tricks. The coins disappeared to appear again in the most unexpected places. They were drawn from the noses of one man, plucked out of the mouth of another. They vanished from handkerchiefs and were found in someone’s palm, then melted again into that of his neighbour. Corks under brass bowls behaved with the same bewildering cajDrice. A chicken became two chickens, then half-a-dozen, and a surprised spectator found that he was harbouring the whole brood in his breast pocket, another that a snake was curled up in hi£. “ lie no hurt. He no hurt! ” exclaimed the conjurers as the man drew the latter forth somewhat squeamishly. The mango tree was promised us; but the fat one already had his brass bowl full of money and the thin one was perspiring freely. Still their patter went on. “ Anyone got a cigarette ? Mr Prince, you give me a cigarette? Mr Macpherson? I no smoke if .... I light it It burn my stomach. ... I no smoke it.” he assured the crowd in an injured tone at their disbelieving “ Ah.” He held the cigarette over an upturned hat as if in preparation for some new turn. “Queen Mary you say, ‘I want you go.’ .... All say 4 Go.’ ” The crowd in the proper mood addressed the cigarette with one voice,

“ I thank you, ladies and gentlemen. I do what you say. I go ! In a few moments the two old tricksters were chuckling gleefully as they bobbed up and down in the rowing boat on their way back to Port Said. -r- -i- -fc -fBut there were others who departed not so easily. They were the vendors of rugs, tapestries, fans, beads, bags, and Eastern merchandise, who clung to the sides of the ship in their small boats like hot-weather flies round sweets. These tireless fellows bargained all through the day at the very top of their voices with the passengers who enjoyed the fun from the promenade deck of the steamer. “Lady, you like this?” They held up an Oriental rug. “ Eight pounds, ’ they said as their hands smoothed the Turkish mosques on the mat affectionately, and they counted eight on their fingers to make no mistake. “No ! Two pounds,” a shrill voice called from the ship. Remonstrance keen on both sides, to their mutual enjoyment. When the battle flagged at last, the man in the boat shouted, “ I send it up to you. You look at it.” IT is assistant stood in the bow with a coil of rope weighted at the end and with unerring aim he shot it up to the prospective purchaser on deck. The rug ->vas then folded and put into a flax basket tied midway along the length of the rope and the lady on deck hauled ■while the boatman held the other end of the rope. If she approved and an agreement was reached the money was put in the basket; but if she disapproved the rug went back in the basket over the side of the ship. Thus the shouting and the bargaining went on, a great hauling up and down, and as the time of departure drew nearer the bargains made were more and more in favour of the purchaser and the excitement more intense each boatman shouting down the other. And the perspiring, smiling, red-fezed Arabs departed not till as the sun went down over the desert in colour more vivid than their most gorgeous tapestries the big ship steamed “ Gally-gally-gally. burr. Anyone give me a two shilling-piece. I give it back. I give it back. Sure .... You Eng-

.lish. I'm a Scotchman. I’m from Aberdeen. . . . Thank you, Mr Bogey. I give it back. Sure .... Gally-gally-gally, burr.” This time it—was an Arab child of about ten who suddenly appeared before us in the tender on the way to the quai. He too -wore the flowing garments of his kind, had the same patter, and did a simpler edition of the other men’s tricks. He gathered up his supply of pennies and curled up again comfortably in the stern of the boat. I wonder if the canny Scot who passed this way once and told the pestering Arabs that he was a Scotchman and that he came from Aberdeen, Realizes the proportions to which his joke has grown. The Arabs cling to one all the day, with offers to sell this and that (“ Guaranteed real amber,” or “real ivory”) and to guide one here and there. One walks along the street and they step out of their shops with mechanical regularity with invitations to come in. They know your name. It is Queen Mary, or Queen Elizabeth, or Mrs Langtrey, or Mrs MacGregor, or Mrs Bogey—they all say the same ones, and then they will add that their name is MacPherson. “ You English. I'm a Scotchman. I come from Aberdeen.” There it is again. And they wait for the appreciation of the joke. One thing is certain. The Scot who scattered at this wayside was either a MacPherson or a MacGregor, for all the day the Arabs roll out their names with relish. There are two ways of shaking off the attention of these garrulous liars. One is to hail one of the haughty soldiers in snow-white array, who patrol the streets on the handsomest of steeds, and to indicate your desire to be free of the pests (he will turn his horse and wave his hand slightly; but the face under the white hat that covers the fez moves never a muscle) then you may breath again till the next corner. A better way is to strike a bargain with the driver of a carriage and view' the streets from the security of his fly\ Interesting as are the fine flat-roofed buildings in the European quarters and the streets where the palms are planted, the Port Said of the more respectable Arab quarters is really what one

comes to see: the tailor mending the coat in his doorway, the carpenter's shop that spills out on to the street. the chairmakers tacking on the red plush working on the pavement; the potter’s shop stacked wuth earthen jars; the Arab school; the wineshop and the men playing cards in the street, the black-veiled women with their babies on their hips and the other women sitting cross-legged at the door; men asleep by the verandah posts; human beasts of burden pushing heavily laden carts; boys with their barrows of unleavened bread; goats running in the streets (they are milking one over by the fence), and near the mosque a traction engine is employed in the reconstruction of the road. If you will slip on the crude flax slippers at the door uf the mosque you may go inside and slide awkwardly past the men praying there to the courtyard where the others are washing their hands, faces, and feet under the rows of taps against the wall. You will be taken to a room and shown the Koran and asked for a sixpence and then you will be allowed to slide out again. It was in these streets of thronging interest that we met a procession of Moslem women. Our driver told" us that a rich Egyptian had died. A few minutes afterwards the funeral procession passed by. It was headed by what looked like a young bullock. A fiat carriage on which were great covered baskets of food was followed by a wailing band of beggars and mourners who carried seven banners and flags in red and yellow and green with symbolical inscriptions and designs. As they went along they chanted at the top of their voices, for when the funeral is over they will be apportioned alms from the funeral expenses. The coffin was carried between this ragged group and the silent crowd of well dressed men, in European clothes and red fez, who were the rich man’s relations and government officials. We waited till the wailing had died away down the street and then turned back to the avenued business quarter where the white donkeys ambled and the new taxis honked their way past the white clad policemen who was controlling the leisurely traffic at the intersection.