Generals by Mark Urban

Author:Mark Urban [Urban, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

The figure who appeared through Darfur’s shimmering desert heat haze bore little similarity to the colonel commanding at Gravesend. Mounted on a strapping charger, the forty-four-year-old Gordon wore the dark blue dress tunic of an Egyptian pasha, or general. The lapels, cuffs and collar were embroidered with florid gold. On top of his head was the red tarboush, or fez, that distinguished a man of substance in the Ottoman culture. His hair was a little greyer and receding; he was a little heavier too, and sunburned; but his blue eyes still burnt with brilliant energy. The Gordon who thus rode out on 2 September 1877, as if dressed for an official do in Cairo, was traversing a province in open revolt, heading for the camp of an apparently implacable opponent. He had with him only a few bashi-bazouks of the nearby garrison as an escort, and knew that these troops manned their posts in Dara (the local caravan stop) in fear and trepidation, daily expecting to be massacred by the hundreds of rebels who lurked near by.

Gordon reasoned that the best way to confront his enemies — a ruthless band of Darfuri slave traders and malcontents — was to behave with the dignity and confidence of a man backed by some huge power. It was vital not to show fear, and this was something Gordon always managed, not because he was good at hiding it but, many accounts and his own writings suggest, because he was so completely trusting in divine providence that he almost never felt it.

Nearing the rebel encampment, Gordon was met by Suleiman, leader of the rebel band. The twenty-two-year-old Arab was the son of a man called Zubair, Sudan’s most notorious slave trader. They knew that Gordon was not good for business. Writing home to his sister, Gordon pasha described what happened next: ‘I . . . rode through the robber bands, there were about 3,000 of them, boys and men. I rode to the tent in the camp, the whole of these chiefs were dumbfounded at my coming among them.’ Once seated inside, the lone general delivered a peremptory summons: Suleiman was to come to Dara to discuss how an end might be brought to the state of rebellion.

During that second meeting in Dara, Gordon told the young chieftain that he would ‘disarm them and break them’, if they did not accept the government’s authority. These were tense moments, for the Darfuris had entered the meeting armed, which was a breach of desert courtesy, as well as being in marked contrast to Gordon’s own courageous behaviour. There was the promise of carrot as well as stick, though. If Suleiman and his cohorts disbanded their raiding party (which roamed the country abducting youngsters, spiriting them away to be sold as slaves), administrative posts would be found for them. There was an uneasy stalemate for days, until one of Suleiman’s lieutenants broke ranks and pledged loyalty to the authorities. Suleiman himself grudgingly followed suit, to be sent to a minor job in another province.

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