444
CAIRO TO DAMASCUS
where he prepared the special water-pipe called josie—and returned with a narrow bottle to which was attached a long
bamboo stem. He stood in front of me, stirring the charcoal
and the hasheesh in the form of pale-green pellets, then
turned the bottle around so the bamboo stem came to my
mouth. Hagop had told me that as soon as this was done, my
role was to take the foul thing and inhale the fumes. I hesitated before taking a reed that had been used by others.
Hagop had insisted there was no danger of infection. "Hasheesh is a strong disinfectant. Germs cannot survive it," he had
insisted. "I'll leave it to God," I said to myself and seized the
reed, inhaling deeply.
The hasheesh seared my throat, and burned my lungs, choking me, I thought my eyes would pop out, so intense and
scorching were its effects on nasal passages. I coughed violently. Then I began to hawk and spit. My eyes watered as I
alternately coughed and spat. Everything about hasheesh is
violent. The proprietor stood above me, beaming, proud of
what his concoction had done.
"It's pure hasheesh, eh?"
"Aal!" I said. "Aal! Excellent!"
Still coughing and spitting, I saw the josie passed around
to the Arab next to me (Hagop declined to take it). My
neighbor took to the reed like a starving infant at his mother's
breast, and sucked in the hasheesh with a desperate craving.
He took two, three long puffs, holding the last inhalation long
and dreamily in his nostrils, leaning his head backward so that
the fumes penetrated lungs, throat, and nose. Then came the
reaction—as violent as mine. He doubled over, coughing spasmodically, his eyes rolling. He spit, and coughed, coughed and
spit again and wiped the water from his eyes with the back of
his hand. Then he settled back in his chair, tilted his head
against the wall, closed his eyes—and dreamed.
"Hal keif aal, your hasheesh is most excellent," I said to the
Arab.
The josie kept making the rounds, from man to man, each