Long Tale Press

After spending the last thirteen years of my life in this virgin unknown, yet complex part of the world, I think that I have made a perceivably naïve, but very serious blunder. Haven't I known my people well enough to foresee this grievous predicament? How could I fail to grasp the essence of their deceptive nature, their ungrateful, forgetful spirits? I fail to see in their eyes any gratitude for anything good I have ever done for this country, in this bygone part of the world? Has everything I have ever accomplished for this land been dwarfed in their scrutinizing eyes when compared to the works of Sir Samuel Baker and General Charles Gordon?

Or was it my undue leniency what really enticed their defiance? Is it because I weren't built for leadership? Should I have contented with my disposition of being a doctor, a surgeon and a potential naturalist and abandoned the ambition of being a visionary leader? One who might have helped raise those ill-fated savages up the echelon of civility? Should I have appeased with the humble title of Dr. Emin, and forsaken the esteemed Mehmet Emin Pasha, Mudir of Muderyiat Khat-ul-Istwah (Governer of the Equatoria Province)?

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Though I'm courteous by upbringing and education, tolerant and soft-hearted by nature, I deliberately developed an austere rugged personality, thanks to the innumerable hardships I have met in my tortuous life journey and the customary dealings with rough, sinister, ill-wishing people. In addition, I can presume probably, that I have developed during my services, briefly to the Ottoman sovereignty, then to the Egyptian Khedivate, a good understanding of the intricate oriental soul and personality, as well as the plain unpretentious, yet doubtful African nature. This vast acquaintance with human life has enabled me to effectively harness its erroneous exploits and unleash its veritable accomplishments. Nevertheless, handling my denizens upon such vast knowledge couldn't but ameliorate the graveness of a multiplex of disasters. Many a time in my journey in this part of Africa, have I been exposed to critical situations that tested my endurance and threatened my self-composure and integrity. But honestly, none of them comes close to the current grave situation; my officers and subordinates revolting against me into a mutiny!! They believe that their Governor for the last 10 years is going to sell his men and their families, en gross, as slaves to the English government!! And what really adds insult to injury is their atrocious accusation of my involvement in the murder of Fawzia Hanim.

Perhaps I never had a soft spot in my heart for the leagues of Egyptians relegated to Sudan, which they viewed as Egypt's southernmost colony with the most antagonistic conditions. Many of whom were twisted Egyptian clerks banished when caught red handed, while the majority were rebellious officers and soldiers exiled on behalf of their "Urabi"-philia. Naturally, I couldn't bear any affectionate feelings towards their consistently acrimonious attitude and constant tainting of the minds of their fellow Sudanese in almost every walk of life. Those Egyptians, along with the Sudanese who joined their alliance have finally and effectively blown the weak, but enduring backbone of this province. All of them have proved extreme disloyalty after all these years of cheap acting of obedience and submissive hand kissing.

Rebellion is not new to me, but when carried out in such magnitude, it eclipses treason. I am not really frightened of what Fate has for me under his cloak. But what steals the sleep off my eyes, in this compulsory confinement, are the burdens derelict after I am effectually ousted; the welfare of my little daughter Fareda, four years of age with no one to look after, my huge natural collection of African birds, insects, animals and human remains and relics, that need to reach safely to the museums and societies of Natural science in Europe.. and, of course, the destiny of this last abode of order in this final standing hold of Egyptian Sudan. What will happen of the soldiers, civil servants and people, who are fragile and defenseless against the brutality of these obstinate mutineers?

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I rolled over my uncomfortable bed, to suddenly realize that light has entered the room. Has the Fajr/morning prayer been announced? Sure. I might have fallen asleep for a while, or it must have been my avid day dreaming that blurred my sense of time. My eyes fell on Jamel Wed Ahmed, my aide who they allowed to stay in my company. Tears were filling his eyes.

• Why are you crying Jamel?
• If this is not the time to cry, then when?
• Crying will never solve a problem. Only prompt acting does.

But who was I fooling? This isn't the time of prompt acting. It is already too late. At any time, when my former lieutenants run of patience, or get over run with insanity, two filthy rugged soldiers will come; guide me to my execution, perhaps an honorable shot to the chest. If Fate is merciful, this moment might have to wait for some time till the confrontation with the Mahdis is over. If the Mahdis conquer the Fort, my destiny won't differ greatly. But it will be far less humiliating to die at the hands of my enemies than at the hands of my own soldiers. The Mahdis don't have a reputation for torture and that should ensure execution in solace.

Prompt acting should have been done earlier, perhaps before accompanying Stanley's lieutenant, to all the stations of Equatoria, where he effectively provoked all the officers and soldiers and their families. Perhaps, it should have been even earlier, five months ago, when I have first met Henry Stanley and his few men, fatigued and worn out by the lengthy journey (from London to Cairo to Zanzibar, around the Cape, finally to Banana point at the mouth of river Congo, starting from which they launched wandering astray in the heart of central Africa before reaching at Kavalli on the shores of Albert Nyanza). It was bright as daylight that his good will campaign was ill fated. In a rough voice assuming a commanding tone, Stanley told me that the British government, initiated by my continuous pleas for help and pressured by the public concern over my safety, has decided in accordance with the Egyptian government to endorse him with the mission of raising and commanding this heavily financed relief expedition whose sole goal was to; "get ME out of Africa, along with the Egyptian civil servants and military" that is if they wished leaving!!

I tried arguing with him, that the help I needed was to effectively administer and organize the district Equatorial governate, protect its boundaries and provide it with safe passage to sea, but he shunned off my discussion firmly claiming unfavorable conditions and the hefty expenses that require undepletable resources to finance it. It appears that the incapacitated Egyptian government lost complete interest in Sudan, under the realm of the Mahdis. The country needed its resources dearly to rebuild from the debilitation brought by the Urabi revolt and the subsequent events that lead to a confrontation with the British forces, with the eventual occupation and mandate over Egypt since 1882. However, Equatoria has valiantly survived the fist of Mahdis. My fears visualized expected austerity measures, even replacing me with a British governor general. Never in my wildest dreams, had I thought that they might relinquish the whole province, and evacuate the civil servants and the military.

Mr. Stanley fetched five bottles of Champagne and celebrated the moment of locating, and eventually rescuing me (even though it was me and my men who actually extended hands to the weary, fatigued members of his dismembered expedition, leaving behind them a lost rear column. Perhaps he would like to mention our Champagne cheers in his upcoming book commemorating his latest enterprise). I didn't give him a ready answer, and told him that I would think it over. With nothing left to discuss, I was pressed to ask for one of his lieutenants to accompany me to tour him on the different stations of my governate and recite on them the summons of the Khedive and the Prime minister to Egyptian army personnel and bureaucrats to return to Egypt via a safe passage, making in clear terms that the government will be free of responsibility towards those who refuse deportation to Egypt. And so we departed, Stanley back on his tracks to reassemble his lost rear column, and me with a young Jephson, to speak on behalf of the Egyptian government and Henry Stanley. We were joined by a scholar, a gentleman interested in the study of linguistics.

Richard Mirovan was a virtuoso in the various dialects of Arabic, and exhibited a special interest in the native languages of central Africa, that could have been influenced by the Arabic tongues of merchants from East Africa.

Prospect looked amenable even promising, when I started my tour with Jephson reciting the directives of the Egyptian governments and the incentives of Henry Stanley. Head officers and clerks showed earnestness to oblige by whatever option I was going to settle on (which I didn't declare till that time). Evidently, the Sudanese were more reluctant to leave their homeland than the Egyptians who were eager to return to their homes and families. This is very understandable, keeping in mind the fact that virtually almost all of them have been brought to Sudan as some sort of punishment or political purge, and never came to Sudan on their own free will.

That being said, the dissent, ironically, began with some Egyptian clerks spreading a rumor about the evil objective of the relief expedition. I was still at my headquarters, at my residence, in Wadelai, examining, joyously, my recently awarded certificates, testimonials from the various European scientific societies in gratification to my contributions, through articles and artifacts, to the advancement of Natural Science. Henry Stanley was kindly mindful enough to bring them along with him. However, morning heat and the overwhelming humidity of equatorial summer were frustrating my senses, and blunting my transcending happiness. What remains of my peace of mind was abolished by the unannounced arrival of Jamal, my servant. Concern was flooding over his face.

• Your Excellency, Mudir pasha. I was on my way preparing your breakfast when some bad news unsettled my composure
• What have you heard?
• Some Egyptian clerks and military officers are spreading some vicious news.

The brutes were wide spreading the curiosity over the true purpose of the expedition. Alarm arose from the status of the envoys of the relief expedition, being foreigners, not employees of the Egyptian government. Their second concern was the escape route, being east through east Africa rather than north through Khartoum.

Evidently, a substantial number of the bureaucrats never seemed to fathom the truth of the fact that the strong central Egyptian government in Khartoum did fall in the hands of the barbaric chaotic forces of the Mahdi, even three years after it actually happened. The malicious rumor claimed that the sole purpose of this campaign was to deceive the Muslim residents of Equatoria and enslave them into the service of the English people. However righteous in their alarm, people can't be let to spread rumors, especially when as extravagant and damaging. I summoned the culpatory brutes, and gave them a sound bashing and a harsh punishment of home detention. Lowering their heads, two of the three brutes left in shame, while the third dared me with his suspicious eyes.

• Why do you cooperate with the English expedition?

The middle aged man was a rebellious officer, called Sayed Effendi Marzouk from a battalion that fought under Colonel Urabi at Tal el Kabir against the British forces. It was a battle in which the national Egyptian army under Urabi received an excruciating defeat, the aftermath of which proved the fall of Imperial Egypt to the army of the British Empire. The ousted Khedive was immediately restored and a post war government allied to the British, rigorously prosecuted and severely punished officers who fought on Urabi's side. One of them was this rebellious officer, who was exiled to Sudan instantaneously post war. No wonder he has a sore side to anything British.

Before I had a chance to reply to his angry inquiry, he fired off

• They must have bought you already.

I jumped in disbelief.

• How dare you?
• I know that you have sent for the help of the British government, and have even offered your willful cooperation to help them annex Equatoria under the British flag. Now, you can do nothing but obey their orders and sell your soldiers cheaply.
• You have exceeded all limits.

A ruse like that must be sternly disciplined without compromise, to curb any further insurgency. I beckoned for the guards and ordered them to constrain the rebel,until the next dispatch to the Fort of Dufile is discharged. He was to be restrained to a confinement in the Fort of Dufile, farther north, away from the -relatively- urban centre of Wadelai.

Seemingly, my punishment for the rebellious brutes stirred a few whirlpools. One of them caught the eyes of the watchful, omnipresent Fawzia Hanim, the pinnacle of the city's literacy and aristocracy. For in the afternoon, I was invited, along with my British convoys as guests at her table for dinner.

Fawzya Hanim, is the elite of Equatoria... not amongst the elite, because no other resident in Equatoria could, rightfully, ascend into the class of elite but herself. One of two wives of a major Egyptian merchant, now in ivory husks amongst others, and formerly in virtually everything including slavery, she lives in an estate of 20 acres on the suburbs of Wadelai. Her husband fled four years ago amidst a battle with the Mahdists and escaped. With the knowledge of routes exclusive to the notorious Slave traders, he made a break to Zanzibar and then to Egypt, where he stays now with his other wife. Fawzia Hanim had one son, a youngster, but he was incarcerated by the Mahdis during the fight and is kept as a hostage in El Obeid since then.Her residence, built on the style of the mansions of Arab Sultans of Zanzibar, and which was at one time the station of her husband's obnoxious slavery trade, is a landmark of Wadelai. Served by more than ten servants and thirty -informal- slaves, the Hanim lives the life of queen (save for a golden crown). Not only crowned by her amazing beauty - thirty five and at her prime - and her wide knowledge and culture, the woman had a commanding personality and an intriguing sway over men; owing, perhaps, to her excessive femininity, her lavish living or her command of knowledge and language. All that enabled her to become abode to the Cultural and intellectual -even though meager- life of Equatoria, thus acquiescing for herself a tremendous popularity and influence over life in Wadelai and Equatoria in general.

Along with Jephson and Mirovan, I took my Ferida, my lonely four year old, who loves to play in the Hanim's vast garden especially with one favorite maid. We were summoned into her vast indoors courtyard via a neat African butler, who seated us on fat feathery cushions, handsomely arranged on soft Persian mat. We could see her at a distance smoking off the last breaths of her hookah. She gurgled some minty juice and puffed some perfume around her to avert away the smell of smoke off her, then notioned her butler to light up some incense to sweeten the air. Finally she advanced gracefully to our presence, with a smile radiating over her angelic beautiful face. I couldn't help but noticing that her beauty had a claim over the sights of my young company. She accepted our greeting hands and sat a queen amongst her subjects. She greeted us hospitably

• Welcome Mudir Pasha to my humble shack. Welcome Mr Jephson and Mr Mirovan. We are happy to host you into our hospitable yet ill fated city, Wadelai.

Jephson blurted out

• Why would you call it an ill fated city?
• Do you have any other description for, a soon to be, abandoned city?

Silence

• Isn't that what you and Mr. Stanley have come to ask us? Abandon our city, our land.

She was probing us with her strong scrutinizing eyes. A round of strong Turkish coffee of the best, freshly brewed beans arrived. We sipped through our coffee while Jephson was giving away clarifying explanations he has exercised with for the past few weeks.

• I don't know if your Grace knew of the deplorable internal situation in Egypt following the Urabi revolt. Such atrocious insurgency has eroded the country's deficient resources, not to mention the sorrowful fall of the entire Sudan under the tyranny of the Mahdis, which has removed Equatoria from any central Egyptian government by a distance greater than a thousand mile. These gruesome conditions are too expensive to be handled immediately by the recuperating government in Egypt.

Even with the expertise of an excellent governor as Emin Pasha, maintaining a detached governate as Equatoria will need inconceivable measures. Even then it is an awesome burden, even for a strong brave state as your own. It takes more than just a help from the central government in Egypt. It needs a grand reinquistion campaign on a large scale. One like that granted by Muhammed Ali pasha when he first conquered the lands of Sudan 67 years ago. Sorrowfully this might never happen. At least for now. The Egyptian government doesn't have the strength for such an adventure.

• Nor desire. And will never have so long it is occupied by a foreign power that decides her destiny.

A tense atmosphere clouded the room. Apparently exuberant Jephson was to shout of the gallantry of the cause for the British occupation of Egypt

• A resolute British nation couldn't but extend their hands to their friend, the Khedive, in his plight. The British people, being an integral part of the civilized world, couldn't abandon her burden in protecting a lonely candle of civilization, in the midst of darkness, from being extinguished.

She laughed heartedly.

• Oh my dear guest, you can extend this speech to your country men who would take instant pride in hearing it, or to the ignorant dim minded people who are deprived of lucid thinking.

Perplexed by her sudden unexpected turn, he mumbled

• I am afraid I don't understand you clearly
• You don't... let me tell you in straight clear words. The British government couldn't afford the re-rise of another powerful imperial Egypt. The last time Egypt was seen with a strong army, it had increased its dominion five folds, and that was with an autocratic tyrant, though wise and strong. And that was when there wasn't the Suez Canal to protect. Your government doesn't want to assume a situation in which a dissident Egyptian national government, with popular acceptance, controlling the blood flows to the heart of the British Empire in India. You got very lucky with a day dreaming ambitious fool called Khedive Ismail. It won't be, but wise to jump over the opportunity of the massive debts this imbecile owed to European businesses. My father, a former diplomat in the court of Mohammed Ali Pasha, has been speculating a British invasion since the opening of the Suez Canal.

Jephson almost jumped to his feet. However, he sat down to compose himself. I couldn't but intrude

• You are being carried away by your assumptions, imbued with patriotism. You have directly and wrongfully abused our beloved former Khedive Ismail, an enlightened most honorable man. If not for his avant- garde thinking and progressive schemes, you wouldn't have been here in this mansion enjoying the life you are living now. It was possible, only during his tenure to conquer all of Equatoria and introduce civilization to its people.

Jephson added in disbelief

• It's unimaginable that you insult such an honest honorable sovereign. In Britain and all of Europe, the man is an esteemed image of oriental advancement and human advocacy against slavery.

The woman wasn't shaken the least with the torrent of attack, nor lost the least of her composure. She smiled mockingly.

• So much of a respect that he was deposed of his throne at the hands of the British and French debtors committee, and forced to abdicate the throne for his egoist arrogant treacherous son, Tawfik.

I stood up in protest.

• Hanim, however favorable and friendly our relation might be, but I can't tolerate this ongoing abuse of your Sovereigns. If you proceed further, I feel that I am obliged to put you in state prison.

She smiled in defiance and sipped what remained in her cup of coffee.

• Dear Emin pasha, you are evacuating your state already. So much of state prison you're speaking about.
• I haven't decided on that yet. For now, I am still the governor of Equatoria. I will enforce law and order whenever any of them is breached.
• Not for long dear Emin pasha. People rarely not remain faithful to a hesitant governor. Your tours with Mr. Stanley's envoy, clearly sends a message that you are onboard his ship, that you have sold your people cheaply to the British government.

Jephson gesticulated sarcastically

• You are not going to repeat the foolish claims of the natives; that our expedition will sell all residents of Equatoria as slaves to the English nation.

Her smile widened even more

• It's slavery nonetheless, dear guest, but without bonds. Your army has occupied our land. You have enslaved the nation en tout in its lands.

Jephson looked out of his league, so was I. Nevertheless, I was the one needed to take action. I had to curb the insurgency in its abode. I'll have to arrest this woman the sooner the better. However, a gentle pat on my arm came from self composed Mirovan. He asked permission for interruption.

• If I may speak Fawzia Hanim, I think I might clear some vague inconspicuous clauses.

Fawzia eyed the self composed humble speaker attentively.

• The British occupation to Egypt is just a very brief situation. The British government has declared more than once, to her European counterparts that once order has been instated in the country, the British army will leave.
• Dear guest, armies never leave of their free will. War and revolt are the only means for an empire to leave what it greedily regards as its lawful acquisitions.
• Even then, Equatoria can't live long in its current unstable position. It's safer and wiser to return to Egypt. And while the transition might be difficult for some natives of Sudan, it will be less painful for an Egyptian like you, to re-intangle with your community once again.
• This is very nice pleasant talk. But sorrowfully a falsification. There, in Egypt, was our home, but now an occupied land. Now this is our home, for years past and years to come. It will be a shame if we now abandon it and flee, for no good reason but that the Egyptian government, under the mandate of the British Consul General Eveyln Barring, is unwilling to fulfill its obligation towards its remote vassal state.

Jephson interrupted furiously

• And what are you calling this expensive expedition that is launched to save you? Such disloyal ungrateful citizens!!

She laughed outrageously

• Didn't you remember the summons that you recite indefinitely? The government offers her officers and civil servants to return, if they wish to Egypt, without any further obligations towards those who stay or those who return. The country doesn't promise of provisions for those who return or to their families that have enlarged.

Even the purpose of this expedition is very doubtful.

Jephson once again interrupted

• Excuse me
• But of course, isn't it a fact that expedition is financed by Business men with special interest in Africa; Sir William Mackinnon the founder of the Imperial British

East Africa company and James Frederick Hutton, the African palm oil businessman and the active protagonist for British colonial rule in Africa. Mirovan hobbled in once again.

• But Hanim, if you are unconvinced by the deportation proposal, perhaps you should provide us with another more convincing alternative. She nodded her head emphatically
• Sure. If the Egyptian government, under auspices of the British Consul General, thinks about evacuating Equatoria and offers those who would like to stay to stay and

those who don't want to leave, then I propose for the people to stay.

• But the Egyptian government will not provide any assistance what so ever.
• Sure, that is why we should announce the creation of our Free, independent State. New flag, new blood, new leadership.

That went very far indeed. This woman has gone out of her mind. There was no sense in arguing with this insane woman. I was considering the immediate incarceration of this woman, but consequences would be remotely mild. Fawzia Hanim is the major work master and sole philanthropist in the whole of the Mudariyah. By putting her in custody, I risked a serious internal split, if not an immediate revolt against me. In the same time, I can't tolerate her insurgency. I rose quietly, but solemnly

• Fawzia Hanim, if it wasn't for my friendship with you and your husband, I would have put you directly in custody, in prison. But at the same time, I can't let you blunder in Wadelai spreading your falsifications. Hereby, I announce you that you are under house confinement. You are not to leave you house under any circumstance. I will allow visits, but if anything like a major crowd or demonstration ensues, I will have to intervene immediately. She smiled softly. She understood that she has tested my patience.
• Perhaps, I was over carried by my enthusiasm. I will of course respect your decree. I think we should break with politics now, and allow me to fulfill my duties as a host. Pardon my flawed hospitality.

I was thinking of storming out of the place, but our failure to locate my little Fareda immediately loitered my decision. In the ten minutes consumed to find Fareda, who was playing astray in the upper rooms of the mansion, the table was made ready for dinner. Fawzia Hanim insisted we dine with her to ascertain our chests were clear of any malevolence. Mirovan agreed readily, while Jephson softened with time. We sat at the dinner table, but I never touched my plate. On dinner, speech drifted between the Hanim and the young English men into a multitude of topics. She spoke eloquently on some of the latest literary pieces in Europe.

They were astonished to find her on bar with the latest developments on the continent, lagging behind by the matter of weeks and months, not by years as they expected. Mirovan spoke casually of the purpose of his accompaniment to this expedition.

• I am a linguist, with particular interest in Oriental languages. Nowadays I am particularly interested in the magnificent Arabic languages and its various tongues in Africa. I think I have worked handsomely on the various Egyptian dialects; mainly the Cairene, and the coastal; Alexandrian, Damiettan tongues in addition to the tribal Oasis and the centres of upper Egypt. I was planning on touring into Sudan to grab a live knowledge of the various dialects of the country, but the circumstances there are too precarious to carry on such an unwelcome visit to the country under the Mahdis, so I launched to Zanzibar. While there, Mr. Stanley's expedition arrived to recruit ports and guides. I couldn't but request him to join in this singular tour, to grab in person the essence of the Sudanese Arabic tongue of the people of Equatoria, an area whose future is most uncertain. If they are ever deported, some characteristics of their accent or words of their vocabulary might be lost, when they intermingle with denizens of other territories. That's of course beside some interest in the local tongue of the surrounding African tribe.

And we came to know that this aristocratic youth is the direct heir to some hereditary peerage of Bangalore. I can't but envy this young man. He runs around fulfilling his academic ambitions carefree, with no burdens on his shoulders, like governing a tiresome Equatoria.

Before 10 o'clock, we were on the door threshold. I bid the Hanim a cold farewell. On my way to my ride, I unexpectedly stumbled on a familiar face; an Arab in rags. He had his head shrouded by darkness, but I could identify his green engaging eyes hiding in a face concealed in a bushy lavish beard. I had a sense of familiarity with those bright malicious eyes. I asked him in Arabic.

• Who are you?
• A poor traveler seeking help from the Hanim; food and shelter for the night.
• Where do you come from? And where are you headed?

He raised his head to see my face. I saw recognition in his eyes. His voice faltered.

• I was carrying some merchandise of spices from Zanzibar to a local merchant here in Wadelai.

I didn't believe him, but I didn't care to scrutinize his talk. So I left to join my English company back home. However, in my bed, and just before falling asleep, I remembered the person who possessed those green mesmerizing eyes. He was a British man, English, perhaps a Scottish officer expelled from the service of the Indian corps in Bombay, on behalf of obscene misconduct. He was caught orchestrating a prostitution ring in the city. He jumped on Egypt in the 1870s, and on virtue of his military experience was immediately hired for service in Sudan.

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