I helped take the saddle off my mare, and then we were ushered into a tall, cone-shaped mud house and escorted to a divan where the quilts and rugs were thicker. Before us, face down, on the clean, beutiful quilts, was the cousin of Akmet Haffez. He was mumbling a prayer and our interpreter softly translated it. The prayer was a beautiful sentiment. The petitioner was asking God to release him ever after from work so that he might stand at the caravan routes and tell all generations of the great honor that had been paid to him by us who were going to eat his rice and melons and who were to distinguish him further by sleeping, under his shelter. It is true that the prayer was more eloquently thankful than most hosts would indulge in for a party so big and hungry, but at the close of it we were led out into the yard where all his cattle and goats and sheep were resting and the sight of them made us more cheerful. Then we were taken into the cone-shaped mud house and there was a feast, long to be remembered.

           It was spread on low tables about a foot from the ground, with short-legged little wicker stools for us to sit on. On the tables was spread bread about an eighth of an inch thick and this served as a tablecloth. The bread baked on rocks in the sun, was made of barley and wheat rolled, and now ant then in eating it you came to a full stop; a period as it were, consisting of a small gravel. In the center of the table was a large mound of finely cooked rice and on top of this mound was a roasted head of sheep. The carcass, nicely roasted, was strewn around the mound of rice at intevals. There were red, yellow and green melons; egg plant, chicken cut up fine, and clabber milk of the goat, sheep, camels and cows. There were grape leaves rolled with rice in the center and there were fine light green grapes and fresh figs. To drink there was a mixture of sour milk and water.

          When we sat down, I saw Akmet Haffez roll- ing up his sleeves. I saw no plates, knives or forks, or even spoons, but I took the hint quicker than Jack or Arthur. Possible I had always lived nearer to the ground than they. Akmet Haffez had no sooner plunged into the rice than I did the same. His motions were easy to imitate, still the Bedouins laughed heartily at the quick way I mastered their simple art of eating. We ripped and tore at the table cloth and at the other dishes for more than an hour, and then having washed our hands out of a peculiar brass pitcher, we returned to our sleeping rooms. The program was to lie down and sleep till about three o'clock, when we were to start again and ride,reaching the Anezeh, we hoped, before it got very hot. At three o'clock we were saddling the horses and were soon off.

          A couple of hours after sun-up, we began to realize that we were really in the desert. Two Arabs on mares, a gray and bay, came galloping toward us. They were carrying spears that looked fifty feet long. As they approached Haffez, they, stopped and said "Salam Alakum-"Peace be with you." They talked for some minutes, when Ameene told me that some of the Anezeh had gone across the Euphrates to war, but that Hashem Bey had left his cousin a few miles on where the latter would receive us. We were disappointed that we were not to meet Hashem at once, but there was really no room for complaint, and with the couriers with the long spears we went on.

          It was about eleven o'clock when we reached the top of a small knoll. I was sore and tired for I had not ridden for so long in years and the heat must have been telling somehow on my expression, for Akmet Haffez yelled to me to cheer up and pointing on ahead shouted: "Anezeh!" I looked, but could see nothing. After a while, through the haze I noticed that the plain was covered with blackish tents and camels. And then the whole plain seemed to be covered with camels. In the distance they looked like row after row of teakettles. Wadduda was prancing. She had seen her tribe first. Tired as I was, it was a thrilling sight. It was the realization, at last, of a wish that I had cherished since a small boy, and my emotions got the best of me. We could see horsemen racing here and there. They were preparing to greet us and were getting into holiday garb.Frankly it was too much for me. I tried to tell Akmet Haffez through the interpreter what I felt and to thank him for what he had done, but I am afraid I made a mess of it. That kindly old man saw my emotion and replied with all the native courtesy of the desert combined with the manner of the true gentleman. It was an honor to him, he said, that we had allowed him to introduce us to his Anezeh.

           We were now getting near to the outskirts of the camp, and though I was as sore as an Aleppo button looks, under the excitement I urged on. We saw a big grass plot in front of a large tent. Haffez rode straight for it on his mare and as he dismounted, men came out and kissed him on the cheeks. All of the big officials had done this when an Arab took my mare and I got off. I could hardly walk and the heat was making me dizzy. I tried to be unconcerned, but my hips and knees were about broken. Sheikh after sheikh we met, and we bowed and touched our right hands to our lips and foreheads as they did, and then shook hands. We were led in under a big reception tent. The bridle from my mare was brought in and tied to the center pole of the tent, denoting that we were welcome. We were at last among the Fedaan Anezeh, the most warlike and most uncivilized race of Bedouins in the world. To be frank again, I was much overcome with emotion to realize that we were in the tents of the greatest war tribe of Bedouins and under possibly the most favorable conditions possible.

          Ameene felt that it was up to me to say something. Too tired to stand, almost too weak to talk from the heat, hunger and thirst, still I leaned toward the interpreter, and asked him to tell Akmet Heffez and the Anezeh, that while I had been born in the far western part of what he called "Americ," I had realized, ever since a small boy, that I was just as much of an Arab as any in the desert and that now that I had seen the Anezeh tribe, I felt I had been one of its members all my life. I thanked Akmet Haffez for bringing me to such a people, for it was the supreme moment of my life.

           Without hesitation, this old man reached across the camel's saddle and with a voice full of emotion said:

          "No, the day is ours, not yours; ever since the Anezeh became a tribe we have known that one of us was missing. Now you have come and the number is complete. To-day we celebrate the gathering of the entire tribe." And thus was I received by the Anezeh.

(Lyristes x Diriyah CF)

foaled 1995

photo 1997

*Deyr Tail Male

*Reshan tail female

a Kuhaylan Hayfi

bred by Craver Farms

Owned by

PeggySue Packard  

Page II: Homer Davenport is Received by the Anezeh Bedouin

Page III: How Davenport's aquired the grey Kehileh-Heife mare                         *Reshan

Page IV: The story of the chestnut Seglawi Jedran mare, Urfah