As a rule the
themes were homely.
"To-morrow we shall eat rice and meat," the singer would wail.
"_Yaha lili-amali"_ (my endeavor be granted), came the full-throated
response of all the others. The chorus was tremendously effective.
Sometimes the singer would indulge in pointed personalities, with
answering roars of laughter.
These dances lasted for hours, and as they progressed the men gradually
worked themselves up into a frenzy. I never failed to wonder at these
people, who, without the aid of alcohol, could reproduce the various
stages of intoxication. As I lay by and watched the moon riding serenely
above these frantic men and their twisting black shadows, I reflected
that they were just in the condition when one word from a holy man would
suffice to send them off to wholesale murder and rapine.
It was my good fortune soon to be released from the noise and dirt of
the mosque. I had had experience with corruptible Turkish officers; and
one day, when barrack conditions became unendurable, I went to the
officer commanding our division--an old Arab from Latakieh who had been
called from retirement at the time of the mobilization. He lived in a
little tent near the mosque, where I found him squatting on the floor,
nodding drowsily over his comfortable paunch.
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