COLOURFUL CITY

Rotorua Morning Post, Volume 2, Issue 255, 20 June 1932, Page 2

COLOURFUL CITY

Ceredig

Richards.)

, t PORT OF ADEN j MEDLEY OF NATIONALITIES | KALEIDOSCOPE OF EAST. NIGHT IN THE BAZAARS.

(Specially Written for the "Morning

Post" by

uur nrst view ot Aaen, garrison , town of Britain at the eastern en- ' trance to the Red Sea, was as surprising as it was spectacular. Visitors had described to all on board the j barren rock 'on which the town is ! built and we were unprepared for the rugged beauty of the coast. The sudden sunrise of the tropics found a slight mist on the western horizon. The sun, glowing fiery red, suddenly flung the veil aside and threw its coloured beams right across | the mysterious blue morning sea to ! jagged pinnacles rising abruptly close j to hand. Pink lights played awhile among the brown peaks and turned to gold long rivers of sand which flowbetween gaps from the desert beyond. Every tiny detail outlined against the pure light blue of the sky stood out sharp and distinct. A few white specks showed against the brown — the lighthouse and lookout station. Aden itself is a jumble of white flat-roofed buildings perched along the rock slopes, houses of Spanish design and long barraclcs sheltering British soldiery and ofiicials. It is only during the past few months that Aden has been a regular port of call. j It is a refuelling station for oil-burn-ers, crude oil being appreciably cheaper than at an other point along the j route from England to Australia. I Tankers from all over the world meet | here to carry the product of the An- i glo-Persian fields in Mesopotamia. A I huge pipe-line many hundreds of j miles in length is at present being . constructed across the desert to bring | oil direct to Aden, where pipes under | the sea will carry it to the various | anchorages ready for pumping into j the ship's tanks. i j Camels Everywherc. There are no wharves for big ships,

1 but, even before we had made fast to buoys in jthe stream, lines of boats were coming from the shore, some motor-powered, others rowed by na- ; tives in turban and loin cloth. Then, in the streets, camels were moving everywhere. There was the usual ' line of waiting taxis ready to take . the visitor anywhere for an exorbitant fare, but motor transport seem- : ed to serve no other purpose. Up j and down the main road went lumber- . ing- big camels, some drawing water- ' carts with a slow swinging stride that nevertheless managed to cover the ■ ground surprisingly fast. Then there / were one or two"Tacing camels, draw- j ing light carts and running with the j speed and action of a trotting horse, | legs on the same side moving together. | It is this which makes camel riding l so uncomfortable to the inexperienced, j a rocking motion like that of a ship | in an exceptionally rought sea, often j resulting in sea-sickness. Leaving behind a group of excited , native taxi-drivers loudly complain- . ing of the hard-hearted Eng'ishman , who would not ride with them except at ruinous fares (in two mi j. ites bargaining they had reduced t^eir charges by more than fifty per cent), 'I turned down a tiny side-street toward the native quarter. Under the fierce sun the dusty stone streets threw up a blinding glare and the heat beat in wa-ves against the unprotected eyes. On all sides strange odours crept forth to mingle in one gigantic nauseating smell which appeared to grow every minute. Arabs were walking up and down or squatting in groups around their pipes. Some sat on their wieker sleeping stretchers, which in the daytime are generally hung from pegs outside the houses. Goats of all breeds, sizes and shapes were running everywhere or nosing among the rubbish piles for delicacies. There was not a blade of green to be seen in the town, only dust — red dust, brown dust, white dust. Call of the East. If Aden is a fair example, the "call of the East" must be "Baksheesh." Unwashed children by the score attach themselves to anyone venturing out of the main streets, keeping up a continuous cry of "baksheesh," or a tip. They would cluster into the fore-

ground when a pieture was being snapped, demanding "baksheesh" for the ' privilege of taking their photos. If this dodge failed, next time they would dance and caper just in front of the camera and demand a tip for remaining out of sight. The only escape lay in calling one of the native police who, with a few cuts of his whip, would soon . scatter the rabble. The children were artful, too, in assuming the most hideous deformities of the limbs or face in the hope of more "baksheesh." Rain falls in Aden about once every seven years. Drinking water comes from wells in various parts of the city, where half-naked Arabs draw up the brackish fluid in buckets of hide. They fill their big waterbags, made of the complete skin of a goat, and distribute water around the houses. - More distant parts' are served from huge barrels on low carts drawn by camels. On the dusty road close to the Sultan's gardens natives lay the dust with sprinklers fastened to their - goat-skin bags. A camel train had- just come in from the desert, covered in sandy powder. A huge Arab with flowing robes and fiery beard rocked to and fro on the hump of the leader, then came grumpy beasts with heavy packs, heads swaying ridiculously at the end of their long, arched necks, huge lower jaws crunching and dripping saliva over their stiff bristle beards. They knelt in a half circle in the camel corral to be unloaded, easing themselves to their knees with loud sighing and lusty blowing through their nostrils. One set up a terrible roaring and snapped the air viciously with his huge discoloured teeth. • The jouiv ney had been a difficult one and both men and beasts were in bad temper. Native Quarters. The native quarter is certainly interesting and quite a bit exciting. In half an hour I spent wandering alone through narrow streets kept perpetually cool — and darlc — by rough awnings, I met no other white man and saw only one polieeman. At night the tiny bazaars are lighted dimly with tallow dips. A white man never visits here after sundown. Back in the English settlement I joined a party from the ship. We

hired a taxi after much bargaining and passed out toward the famous water tanks in the hills, said to have been built by Nebuchadnezar many years B.C. The breeze of our movement was cold and refreshing after the stifling air of the town. Native police pickets along the road saluted our passing. More were stationed at the entrance to the tanks, giant reservoirs in a yalley which could have served a modern city larger than Auckland. Great climafic changes must have taken place here, as there is now no sign of the huge fertile area which must have once supported the people for whom the tanks were built. They were discoVered by accident late last century, hidden. by piles of rubbish and badly cracked. Repairs were made with ! cement, a modern touch among the ancient ruins. A violent quarrel suddenly hegah. between our driver and one of the police. One man had been ordered to keep away from us. He seized the polieeman by the throat and shrieked curses at him. The other retaliated j in kind, catching the driver's ear be- ! tween the teeth and biting savagely. More police rushed up and joined the flurry of arms and legs. There was much shouting and confusion but no one appeared even bruised. . We inspscted the tanks and were back at the taxi when a polieeman came up with a piece of paper. "Please, sahib. Names of witnesses," he asked, explaining brokenly that he would later send the car driver to gaol for assault. The ship was to sail shortly so we could risk no delay, but no one wanted to be drawn into the case. More police came up, waving their hands, making motions as though they would pat and stroke us, and repeating their pleading "Please, sahib." Time was passing quickly. Finally someone took the paper and signed in rapid succession the names of Greta Garbo, Norma Shearer and other film stars of Hollywood. The police skipped around full af gratitude. "Thank you, sahib. Thank you," they cried, with low bows to each of us in turn. "Now we put this insolent one in gaol for sure." An hour later we east off from the buoys and entered the Red Sea for Suez.