In the Desert of Sinai by Mrs. Isabella Bird Bishop

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Oct 7, 1886

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 12, No. 39.

In the Desert of Sinai.

By Mrs. Isabella Bird Bishop

We began the march soon after the sun had risen, turning the eastern sky into the aspect of a conflagration. The heavens above were “as brass,” and the earth beneath “as iron.” I breakfasted on raisins and half a cup of stir-a-bout made with some stale water which had been begged the night before from the scanty stock of some nomads. These folded their tents and passed away on that search for water, which is the life-long occupation of the dwellers in the desert. They left not a trace behind. Soon after they went out of sight I walked on alone, as is my usual practice, in advance of the camels, but soon sank on a stone from exhaustion and suffering. Hassan had pebbles in his own mouth, and gave me some to put in mine, but he spoke thickly, though doubtless he had taken more water than he gave to me. We marched for four hours—a burning, weary, silent march—and halted at noon in the sharp, deep shadow of a high rock, where the mercury fell to 111 degrees. The glare on the sand beyond the shadow was blinding. The lower strata of the air were simmering with heat. It was terrible to emerge from the shadow of that great rock into the furnace glare and plod on once more under the fiery sun.

I usually soaked a towel, several times folded, in water, and laid it on my head under my hat, letting the end hang over the back of my neck; and being unable to get any water, I suffered severely from the sun. As the afternoon went on, I became dizzy and distracted; I felt that I should soon be delirious. I tried to speak to Hassan, but my tongue only rattled in my mouth. I felt that if any one were carrying water and would not give it to me that I would take it by force—that I could even commit a desperate crime to get one cupful. And still we marched on silently under the blazing skies, through the heated, simmering air. I felt my reason going, and tied a handkerchief over my eyes; then lassitude came on, and the longing for water turned into a longing for death, and the fancied murmur of the “dark river” in my ears was a pleasant sound.

Then there were voices, and Hassan, speaking thick, uttered the one word “Water.” I took the bandage from my eyes, and saw that we were in a valley. In front palms waved, and there was a greenness on the earth. I thought I was being again mocked by the mirage, but the blessed reality was confirmed the next moment, when I saw in the distance the Sheykh Barak running toward me with a pitcher of water in his hand. I seized it, and in unreasoning haste drank an enormous quantity, when Hassan, poor fellow, forced the cooler from me and drank the remainder. The thirst still raged, but there was hope, for in the long valley which we had entered, I recognized the Wady Feiran, the great oasis of the Sinaitic Desert. The Arabs lifted me very gently from my camel and laid me on a blanket under a palm tree. Hassan brought me a cup of goat’s milk, warm and healing, and putting a water-cooler beside me, warned me to take the water only by sips. It was pure and ice-cold; it was abundant; and reason having returned, I drank it rationally.

Three thousand fruit-bearing palms, and perhaps two thousand young ones, grow in that grand oasis. Barley was springing, flocks were nibbling herbage, which, though scanty, was green; there was a murmur of water, and I fell asleep.—Mrs. Isabella Bird Bishop.