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The Birthday of the Prophet 229
sion away to make room for the next, so the poh'ce almost
hustled its members off. The second procession was par-
ticularly fine. Its banner-bearers were all in white, with
Moslem green sashes, and there were a number of pilgrims
home from Mecca, waving censers and singing their solemn
chant. The musicians, who led the way, held their tam-
bourines high in the air and danced like David in the familiar
picture. The Sheikh-el- Bekri himself stood up to honour
them—he had remained sitting while the first procession
passed ; there was quite a litany of chanting, and more
white-robed attendants with green belts and shoulder-sashes
played weird tunes on weird bagpipes. There were hundreds
of banners by this time fluttering round the square.
More processions followed. Each halted in front of our
tent, and droned with its drums or its bagpipes. Only a little
thin tune came from the pipes ; but as there were bands all
round the square the effect was indescribably impressive.
Sometimes the head of a deputation began to recite as it
halted. One was a very old man, in blue robes, quite blind.
Many of the processions walked up hand-in-hand with the
simplicity of children ; some came with a loud beating of
Nubian drums ; all chanted incessantly. As procession after
procession came up, each with a fleet of banners and waving
incense from quaint censers, I slipped out from the tent and,
taking my position with the sun behind me, took photograph
after photograph. As I was stepping out with my camera,
our editor, who had taken us, warned me to be very careful
not to be seen. He said that although Egyptian Arabs were
not ordinarily fanatical, they might resent it very much on
such a holy occasion. I do not think that he had taken many
photographs, certainly not as many as I had of Egyptian
Moslems. I anticipated no trouble with them, but I thought
that the police might be troublesome, and that it was not
improbable that I should have to use the fact that we were
guests of the Sheikh-el-Bekri to get over their scruples. I
picked out the officer in command, used my argument, and
requested him to select a good position for me to photograph
from. He said to me impatiently, " I can't speak English," and