Chapter 8 SUBSTANCE OR COLOUR? THE VERSATILITY OF INDIGO Introduction Although the primary and most obvious function of indigo is for textile dyeing, it has been used in different cultures, not least the Islamic lands, for a host of subsidiary purposes, ranging from medicine and calligraphy to staining the beard. Before looking at these diverse uses it is worth examining just what indigo has meant to the Arabs. In the Arab world the connotations surrounding the word ‘indigo’ tend to snowball. For the Westerner the word is likely first and foremost to evoke the image of a hue, the elusive seventh colour of the rainbow perhaps, or the colour of jeans, whereas the first image conjured up by the word nil in the mind of the average Arab is that of a dark substance, however aware he or she might be of its various attributes. This distinction is crucial to any study of indigo in the Arab world. I is all too easy to fall into the trap of interpreting the significance of the word, as the West tends to do, in terms of colour and then getting carried away by fanciful and factitious notions of colour symbolism. Colour does, it is true, have intriguing associations for the Arabs, as we shall see. These are not always of a kind readily understood by the Western mind; but in studying any non-Western cultural Phenomenon we must first try to understand the preconceptions of the people concerned. Bearing the above provisos in mind, and the fact that colour perception is relative to culture, epoch and the individual viewpoint, there is no doubt that indigo has been appreciated for its ‘blueness’ as well as for its ‘darkness’ by the peoples of the Arab world, and in addition for its other aesthetic qualities, such as its lustre and its range of shades, which have defined its status value. Colour symbolism in Judaism and Islam has always been significant, so it is worth finding out where both blue and black slot into the perception of the spectrum in that part of the world. One of the key aspects of blue as a colour is its rarity value in the vegetable world ~ even with flowers blue is much less common than yellow. ‘The mere fact that there is less of it about in nature must have made it 155Indigo in the Arab World attractive to primitive man, When man was limited to mineral pigment colours, red, white, ochre, brown and black were much more common than green or blue ~ nearly all cave paintings, or primitive body paintings, are restricted to a this palette of ‘earth’ colours. Once plant and animal dyes were discovered, the extension they gave to the available colour range, as well as their durability on textile fibres, must have enhanced their desirability, hence the reverence for purple, blue and scarlet dyes in the Old Testament. The semantic complexity of colour in the Ancient World, where colour was related to nature and was not a pure abstraction, was examined in Chapter One (pp. 4-6). We have seen the religious associations of colour in Judaism;' even in its Babylonian Talmud an attempt is made to define the blue-black colour of the garments of the Arabs.” At some point in the development of dyes the attractions of colour per se must have come to the fore, and overshadowed the original reason for its desirability. Once successful synthetic dyes were readily available colour could shed its complicated origins, while retaining in the folk memory some of its symbolic patina. ‘And what were, and still are to some extent, these symbolic values? One thing is certain, and that is that the symbolic meanings of blueness and darkness in the Arab world are too intricate to be properly disentangled, and can even appear to the Western mind to be downright contradictory.’ ‘And yet in Western culture too the significance of colours can be equally equivocal ~ red, for example, has innumerable connotations, cheerful or violent, political or sensual; it can be prestigious (the ‘red carpet’, ‘cardinal red’) sleazy (‘the red light district’) and revolutionary (‘Reds under the beds’), In Russian the same word (krasny) means both ‘red’ and ‘beautiful. Fashions for colour continually fluctuate too (in the past often closely related to the price of dyestuffs), especially in the West, where, for example, a passion for blue and white developed in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. It is hardly surprising, therefore that the colour produced from the textile dye that dominated much of the Islamic wardrobe is rife with apparently contradictory meanings, especially as it is capable of producing such a wide range of shades. Apart from the general words ‘azraq/zarga’ (blue) and ‘aswad/sawda’ (black), there are numerous Arabic terms to describe the various shades of blue and black.* Sometimes the same word can mean ‘black’ in one part of the Arabic speaking world and ‘blue’ in another.’ Blue in Islam was often considered beautiful, mysterious and hucky, but equally it was sometimes regarded as so inauspicious that a person would even say ‘green’ when he actually meant blue, in order to avoid uttering such an ill-omened word. Blue eyes, like those of Christians, are considered sinister by a Muslim.® Goitein encapsulated the contra~ dictions when he described the colour blue as being, for the Arabs of the Middle Ages, ‘a kind of homoeopathic repellent’; in other words, as blue, especially its lighter shades, is a pleasing colour, wearing it might have 156Substance or Colour? ~ The Versatility of Indigo attracted the ‘evil eye’s children and pregnant wives therefore who wore blue clothes needed the protection afforded by blue beads and other amulets whose function was to deflect the ‘eye’.” Even animals were safeguarded from the evil eye with adornments of blue beads and tassels, and in Palestine young children were protected from vindictive spirits by being annointed with ash made from blue cloth burnt for the purpose.” In Morocco magic remedies for illness were sometimes written on pieces of blue paper,'? and the burning of blue sugar paper could help to cure impotence (although it is unclear whether it was the colour of the paper or the designs upon it which did the trick!)."! Blue paper was used for warrants of execution in those countries where indigo had associations with death and mourning, notably Egypt and Syria.” In these countries chanting an incantation while burning salt stained blue with indigo would also appease the malevolent spirits associated with it," and a necklace specifically for mourning in Egypt would be made of dark blue beads." he protective function of blue amulets has retained its potency over the centuries throughout much of the Arab world;!> their original significance has been traced by one scholar to the spiritual value placed on turquois and lapis lazuli in ancient Egypt and Palestine.'® As Islam itself does not sanction superstition, many of the associations connected with colour may well stem from pre-Islamic attitudes. On a general religious level the value placed on indigo blue garments clearly displays its dichotomy, as it was both associated with funerals and death yet also with purity and Heaven: for example, those on the lowest rung in the spiritual progression of a Sufi wore indigo, but a Sufi would also wear indigo to represent his spiritual triumph."” The symbolic values attached to indigo-blue in India display an equally confusing ambiguity, the word nila often carrying associations of ill omen although blue was also the colour of infinity and associated with the God Krishna.!® Although the uses of indigo in medicine, cosmetics, hair dye, mourning ceremonies etc, are clearly linked, they will be treated under separate headings for the sake of clarity. Indigo in Traditional Medicine Just as the aesthetic and utilitarian aspects of indigo were often barely separable, so too were its uses in medicine and its superstitious accretions. As is the case for other herbs, it is hard to disentangle the medical properties of indigo which appeared to be effective from the mythologies which grew up around them and became invested with their own independent symbolic potency. As Simon Mills, of the centre for Complementary Medicine at Exeter University put it to the writer:'° ‘Herbal medicine began from the simple wish of people to survive. Cultural strategies developed to help deal with illness, and this in itself could be valuable, as the body basically has the 157Indigo in the Arab World capacity for self-repair. If everyone in a culture agrees that such and such a herb has medicinal value, it only requires a modicum of toxicity to be effective. Indigo almost certainly has some toxicity, and even its colour is relevant, since blue has been universally considered a ‘cold? colour, and therefore potent as an anti-heat substance.’ (Madder by contrast was used in traditional medicine for ailments involving blood.) The peoples of the pre-Islamic Arab world, then, in common with other so-called ‘primitive’ cultures, clearly had a need to master and understand the perplexing natural world around them and to make use of their local plants. Presumably in the distant past it was discovered that indigo rubbed on a wound aided healing and this practical-use in turn bestowed ‘magical’ Properties on the source ~ hence its coittinuing connection with the jinn in Oman for example. Even when the rationale of its curative properties, so far as there ever was one, is forgotten, the long tradition of indigo’s use asa medicament has clearly deposited in folk memory a vague belief in its virtues, overlaid with the mystique surrounding the substance itself and related to its curious dye properties. And so traditions, fears and beliefs that were once part and parcel of daily life in the Arab world now appear to the late twentieth century mind, particularly in the West, to be mere quaint superstitions. What then are the medical properties of indigo? Although not among the world’s most notable medicinal plants, like many other dye substances it has featured in traditional medicine. This is not so surprising when one questions their function in nature. Chemical constituents are not present in certain plants and insects in order to furnish mankind with colouring matter, but may exist as repellents for predators. In some, such as cochineal, it is possible that the very colour itself also acts as some kind of repellent. but in the case of a dye like indigo the chemicals which are present in the plant are colourless until converted into dyestuff. It is therefore quite likely that the chemicals in dyeplants that are exploited for their colour do also have some genuine medical effect which future scientific analysis may pinpoint. At present chemists and pharmacists are not able to explain why the chemicals present in indigo seem to have a certain medicinal function, but accept that this may be so. Since the days of Ancient Greece and Rome indigo has been widely used medicinally in many countries. Dioscorides, for example, mentions both woad and indigo in his Materia Medica.” The early (mainly eighth and ninth centuries) Arabic medicinal treatises, which far surpassed the Greek and Latin antecedents on which they were based, frequently emphasise the antiseptic and numerous other medicinal uses for indigo, both applied externally and taken internally. The thirteenth century botanist, Ibn cl- Baytar, who collected plants throughout the Arab world and collated his own observations with those of his predecessors (including Dioscorides, Avicenna and al-Razi) in his great work, the Traité des Simples, lists a long 158Substance or Colour? ~ The Versatility of Indigo string of uses for indigo, although he, in common with his sources, clearly found confusing the relationship between indigo from Isatis tinctoria L. and that from dye-bearing species of Indigofera.”’ It is hardly suprising that there are those who still believe in indigo’s curative powers when one learns what a cure-all it was considered to be in the past. The citation by Ibn el- Baytar of all the medicinal uses for what he calls the ‘second indigo’, i.e. indigo extracted from Indigofera species, begins with the general statement that indigo has a cooling effect. From the detailed list that follows we learn that indigo soothes all tumours and abcesses, and that a weak solution dissolved in water and taken internally lessens not only pain but even sexual desire. Its cooling qualities help to cure violent coughs of the ‘hot’ variety, lung complaints (especially when blood is coughed up) and all manner of skin complaints, including baldness and burns. He quotes one author who suggests that Indian or Kirman indigo, when added to a rose conserve, will check both stupidity and sadness: the same quoted author recommends a concoction of indigo, lead monoxide, pepper, rose oil and wax to calm palpitations, and a lotion of indigo, plantain oil and honey for gangrene. Another quoted source suggests rubbing a combination of indigo and vinegar into head ulcers.”* Other Arab authors of the period list similar properties in less detail.* The European successors (who also tended to copy from one another) to the Graeco-Roman and Arab herbalists were equally convinced of the wide- ranging properties of their own woad indigo, extolling them in hurid language. A sixteenth century herbal, for example, tells us that the leaves of woad ‘arrest all forms (prostuvia) of haemorrhage and stop attacks of St Anthony's Fire, gangrene, foul and rodent ulcers’."* From a later English Herbal we learn that woad can be used in various ways as: “1. A Liquid Juice, 2. A Decoction in Wine or Water, 3. A Balsam, 4. A Distilled Water, 5. A Pouder of the Herb,’ and that amongst its many ‘Virtues’ it: ‘Stops Bleedings of all sorts, whether inward or outward, by the Mouth, Nose, Fundament, or private Parts; and therefore is profitable to stop the overflowing of the Terms and Loches in Women: used to Green Wounds, it sodders up their lips and quickly heals them; and is no less profitable to cleanse and correct the putridity and malignity of old running Sores, and eating: Ulcers, rebellious Fistulas, pernicious Cancers, and the like . . . it is good against the Bloody-Flux, as also all other Fluxes of the Belly, or Defluxions of Humors upon any part, vehement Catarrhs, and the like.’*> ‘The seventeenth century herbalist, Culpepper, cautions against the after- effects of taking woad indigo internally: ‘It is a cold and dry plant of Saturn. Some people affirm the plant to be destructive to bees, and fluxes them; but I should rather think, unless bees be contrary to other creatures, it possesses them with the contrary disease, the herb being exceeding dry and 159Indigo in the Arab World binding’.2® Given the apparent chemical potency of indigo it is not surprising that it would be toxic if taken internally in excessive amounts, and recent scientific research has confirmed the toxicity of some Indigofera species.” The toxicity of small quantities taken internally may work on homoeopathic principles. Clearly in the nineteenth century the doctors were still at odds about its effects on the system, for we learn from one source that ‘Some physicians recommend indigo in the quantity of a dram, while others condemn the practice, and look on it as a poison’ and even that ‘the internal use of indigo is prohibited by law in Saxony’.”* A pamphlet on indigo in India recommends the root of one species of indigo boiled in milk as an antidote for poison,?” but Mrs Grieve in her Modern Herbal (of 1931) also notes that although indigo is common in medicine ‘it is said to produce nausea and vomiting’,®° and another source agrees that that an overdose can be ‘clearly injurious’. The latter, when describing the medicinal uses of indigo (from Indigofera) in the Malay Peninsula, specifically mentions its use for children’s ailments, including a curious belief that a poultice of indigo leaves placed on a child’s head will draw out worms.*’ Less surprisingly, a decoction of the root bark of a certain species of Indigofera in Africa was used by the Zulus to eliminate worms, especially roundworm. In black Africa the medicine men made widespread use of indigo, the recorded death of one woman being caused by an incorrect administration of a toxic indigo decoction by a local herbalist.** In the countries of southern Arabia in the late 1980s (and presumably still today) plenty of women, many of them bedouin with scant access to modern medicine, or who combined modern and traditional remedies, were anointing themselves and their offspring with indigo.** Among the Omani bedouin it has been considered such a useful panacea — and in’ addition it even warded off evil spirits - that it is nicknamed haras, ‘the guard’. They were using extracted indigo dyestuff when they could obtain and afford it,” otherwise substituting their own concoctions from local wild indigo plants, Pieces of indigo-dyed cloth were wrapped around a newborn baby’s umbilical cord and indigo paste was rubbed into its navel; sometimes the whole body was smeared with indigo and oil.** To cool fever a ring of indigo paste was smeared around a child’s wrist and elbow and onto the forchead and left there until it took effect. The women were also applying it around a baby’s eyes ‘for good luck’, although this was clearly a prophylactic measure as indigo has in any case been widely applied to soothe eye ailments since Classical times.** It has been widely applied to burns. A letter written at the end of the last century records the sad case of a woman in Bahrain whose clothes caught fire while she was baking bread. After plunging her into the sea, her friends covered her burns with indigo. but they failed to save her life.*” The crushed leaves of indigo when mixed with pounded sidr (Zizyphus spina-christi) leaves and goat hair have been used as a poultice.’® Combined with egg-white indigo has been used for 160Substance or Colour? ~ The Versatility of Indigo setting broken bones.° Even the crushed root and bark plays its part in treating snake bites and acting as a diuretic, the seeds form part of the treatment for tapeworm,*° and when drunk its juice is said to heal coughs. In the Gulf region, when a woman makes a face mask from indigo-dyed cloth she will keep the remnants handy in order to rub them onto her children’s wounds when required.** In the oases of Upper Egypt, where indigo used to be cultivated, many people can recall the traditional beliefs in the dyestuff, similar to those of Arabia, A few men in the late 1980s were even trying to grow a few indigo plants on their land in order to succour their womenfolk; for a link between indigo and fertility still persisted with the conviction that a woman’s infertility problems could be solved if she stepped seven times onto a patch of ground that had been soaked with a solution of crushed indigo leaves and water, or if she bathed in the same solution.” Conversely, Walker recorded the curious belief that if a woman wearing an indigo dress entered the presence of a woman who was giving birth, the latter would lose her ability to conceive in the future; however, this affliction could be ‘cured? if she payed a visit to an indigo dyeworks. Walker tells us that this indigo spell was known as Mushabara bi’l-Nila.“* The beliefs linking indigo with female fertility are common to other cultures too; they spring, as mentioned on pp. 88-89 above, from the ‘living’, erratic qualities of an organic indigo dye vat, as well as from the medicinal use of the dyestuff and the various ritual uses of the dyed cloth. Among the Hausa of Nigeria indigo extract was used as a contraceptive and abortifacient as well as a general antiseptic.” In South-East Asia, as has been noted, it is believed that the presence of a fertile woman who is not pregnant is injurious to the dyebath, and that once conception has occurred the indigo dyebath has power to dissolve the foetus, although the dyer in charge can sacrifice her dye vat in order to save the foetus of a pregnant visitor who has ventured near it.“ It is not only the afflictions of women and children that could be treated with indigo, for men too have also been convinced of its versatile medicinal and prophylactic potential. Even when modern medicine has been available, many have remained convinced that, for example, wrapping an indigo cloth rubbed with beeswax and oil around a wound would be more effective than modern antiseptic lotions (both treatments having been tried out).** Even the indigo-dyed turbai has had its medical aspect, preventing headaches, as well as protecting the wearer from the jinn. The Chinese and Japanese peasants’ preference for indigo-dyed socks, nappies and other articles of clothing was enhanced by a belief both in their antiseptic qualities and the power of their smell to repels snakes and dangerous insects.‘” With such confidence in its medicinal potency it is surely not surprising that indigo was still featuring in the 1980s in the propitiation ceremonies being held in Southern Arabia, particularly in Oman, where all sorts of pre- 161Indigo in the Arab World Islamic or non-Islamic beliefs of this kind abounded, even though they have officially been frowned upon or their existence denied. Tom Johnstone wrote: ‘It is certainly true of Oman that no one can be long there without remarking such beliefs and superstitions,’ for in this corner of Arabia ‘belief in the spirit world is much nearer the surface of all human activities’ than in the rest of the Arab world,’® although North Africa must come a close second. Certainly the words jinn and zar surfaced frequently during this writer’s conversations with those associated with indigo in Oman, and more rarely in Yemen and elsewhere. Although each source has a different interpretation, the general consensus is that the jinn are capricious spirits, both good and evil, whose presence can affect all aspects of daily life. They can appear in innumerable physical guises, commonly as donkeys, snakes or cats.” The zar — the word originates from the pre-lslamic Abyssinian sky-god® — is a specifically evil spirit that gains possession of a person and causes him or her all kinds of ills, both physical and mental.°! The zar is best propitiated at late-night ceremonies (avoiding Thursdays or Fridays, the Muslim equivalent of the Christian Sabbath) called darab al-zar. These are presided over by a leader, or shaykha, known as umm al-zar (mother of zars), who is often a negress of East African origin.” After much dancing and chanting the shaykha draws out the zar from the body of the possessed, who is usually in a trance by now, and the zar proceeds to make demands through the shaykba’s mouth. A sacrifice of blood is usually required, and other demands include gifts of silver or that the sufferer should don clothing of specific colours. This frequently had to be indigo-dyed, presumably because of the general belief in indigo’s curative powers. For this reason the dyers of Oman even in the 1980s were dyeing not only new cotton, which was to be expected, but also old and new dishdashas and dresses brought in to be dyed in indigo and worn, often beneath an outer garment, specifically to satisfy the demands of the zar.** Indigo in Cosmetics ‘Another link with the medicinal aspects of indigo is surely its use in cosmetics, whether as skin ointment, hair dye or for tattooing. Here again is a case where the practical became aesthetically desirable ~ even the fact that surface indigo rubs off so readily, a property considered a disadvantage in the eyes of the West, has been considered a positive asset by many Arabs, both for medical and for status reasons. Two western travellers in Yemen earlier this century commented that ‘although they [the Yemenis] wash their bodies but seldom and smear them with samm and indigo, it is surprising how little one sees of itch and other skin troubles’. They clearly failed to make the rather obvious connection between a healthy skin and the indigo treatment. Indigo for skin emollient was usually mixed with an oil such as sesame oil, which in itself of course 162Indigo in the Arab World may, archaeo-botanical evidence of the existence of woad in Britain in the time of Julius Caesar came to light in 1992 when woad seed pods were identified at an important Iron age site at Dragonby in the north of England.®° In the future, farther chemical analyses of skin remains from ancient burials may prove the point one way or the other. The origins of tattooing in the Arab world are obscure, but some have speculated that the practice may stem from a primarily medical function dating back to antiquity. The disembalmed body of a woman of Thebes who lived five thousand years ago shows traces of scarification, some stained white and others blue, on her abdomen; their configuration suggests a medical, rather than an ornamental, purpose.”? There is no doubt that in Egypt the Copts have used tattooing medicinally, probably continuing the practices of their forbears, while the Muslims have often used it as ornament. On the medical side, children of both confessions were tattooed as a prophylactic precaution (e.g. on the temples against migraine) and to cure all sorts of afflictions, including bone disorders. Many tattoos that were blue would have been stained with indigo, although other plants with antiseptic qualities were also used.’! Certainly indigo was chosen for its colour for the decorative tattoos of women of lower rank in Egyptian towns and villages. Lane recorded some of the tattoo patterns and the parts of the body generally tattooed — hands, arms, feet, cleavage, forehead, chin and lips — as well as the method of tattooing with groups of needles. He noted that there was a more complicated method of achieving a blue stain, but that indigo was simpler.” Many travellers, especially of the nineteenth century, have commented on the indigo-stained tattoos of faces, hands, feet and even chests of country people and bedouin in Arabia.”? Niebuhr remarked on the women’s blue tattoos in Yemen in the cighteenth century.” Isobel Burton noted that bedouin women of Syria had blue tattoos on their bodies as well as on their faces,’> and Burckhardt noted of the bedouin that ‘all the women puncture their lips and dye them blue; this kind of tattooing they call bertoum, and apply it likewise in spotting their temples and foreheads’. He added that one tribe punctured cheeks, breasts and arms, another the ankles, and men too sometimes tattooed the arms.”° The more recent Naval Intelligence Handbook: Western Arabia and the Red Sea tells us: ‘Nearly all women are tattooed with indigo’ on lips, cheeks, nose, breast and abdomen, generally in a pattern of circles and triangles.””” One such pattern is reproduced by Freya Stark in The Southern Gates of Arabia.”* Even in the 1980s some Bedouin women of Saudi Arabia still favoured a blue tattoo.” But the practice was not to everybody’s taste - Conder, for example, in Palestine noted that: ‘The women have fine eyes, and the use of kohel ... has certainly a good effect; but the little daubs of indigo or soot, rubbed into 164Substance or Colour? — The Versatility of Indigo punctures which are made by a bunch of needles, forming regularly tattooed patterns on the face, breast, feet, and hands, have anything but a pleasing appearance.®? He then refers the reader to Leviticus (XIX.28) - ‘Ye shall not make any cuttings in your flesh for the dead, nor print any marks upon you’. Indigo was not the only available dark stain - soot, antimony (kohl), gall- nuts and even pulverised gunpowder were amongst other substances commonly used,*! particularly in northern and central Africa.®? Herber describes the almost religious mystique surrounding the profession of ‘tatoueuse’ in Morocco,® a skill which was handed down from mother to daughter and relied upon the blessing of the local saint or other more dubious spirits. He tells us that the reputation of official ‘tatoueuses’ differed between tribes, as did their methods of tattooing. Some used a knife rather than needles, and occasionally a kind of branding too, although the methods sometimes existed side by side. The pain caused during tattooing and scarification was a measure of its overal] importance and the occasion of a tattooing was a cause for celebration. In the past the practitioner was well paid with food, but today she has lost much of her status in tribal society. Different tattoo designs had specific functions — some being medicinal, some religious and some (often the circular ones) to deflect the evil eye.** Many of these designs bear a close resemblance to those found on tribal rugs. Indigo as Hair Dye Al-Biruni, in the early eleventh century, noted that indigo ‘masks the defects of ageing’, and ‘bestows samat (beauty) and that it was frequently mixed with henna and used to dye both skin and hair.$* This practice has continued ever since, in a culture where grey hair is not appreciated and where facial hair has been a significant symbol of male virility. Once again, the aesthetic and practical mingle, for indigo and henna, as well as enhancing its colour, are beneficial in other ways to the hair too, adding to its Iustre and also counteracting common minor ailments. Numerous medical books, including those already cited, specify this quality: indigo in various forms, such as ash from the burnt plant,®* or a decoction of the root®” or leaf extract,** has been applied to counteract dandruff, head lice, scalp itches and even baldness. Dyeing the hair and beard was a surprisingly important issue in early Islam, which gave rise to much debate and a plethora of written references, although the specifics are hazy. A detailed study by Juynboll examines the reasons for the disproportionate interest in what might be considered a fairly minor matter.®” He suggests that the custom may well have existed in pre-Islamic Arabia as it has been alleged that the prophet’s grandfather, on a mission to a Yemenite king, was offered wasma (indigo) to dye his beard. 165Indigo in the Arab World From this he infers that indigo was uncommon or unknown in the Hijaz and that it was sometimes used in Yemen without henna to blacken the beard. There is some evidence to support a theory that dyeing the hair and beard dark with a mixture of indigo and henna might have become a recommended Islamic practice in order to distinguish Muslims from Jews, who did not dye their hair, and even that it may have been used in battle to frighten the enemy. Whatever the earliest reasons for adopting hair dye, the practice has continued ever since, throughout the Arab World, and is mentioned in many Materia Medicas already cited. Despite the confusion over the terms used (wasma and katam) a fourteenth century Medicine of the Prophet indicates the conflicting strictures on dyeing the hair in this way.?? ‘The Persians were particularly partial to black facial hair. Chardin in the late seventeenth century informs the reader that: “Black hair is most in Esteem with the Persians, as well as the Hair of the Head, as the Eye-brows and Beard: The thickest and largest Eye- brows are accounted the finest, especially when they are so large that they touch each other. The Arabian Women have the finest Eye-brows of this kind. Those of the Persian Women, who have not Hair of that Colour, dye and rub it over with Black to improve it .... They likewise generally annoint their Hands and Feet with that Orange- colour’d Pomatom, which they call Hanna, which is made with the Seed or Leaves of Woad or Pastel ground . . . which they make use of to preserve the Skin against the heat of the Weather.” Here is a clear case of confusion between the roles of henna and indigo, presumably because both were used together. An early nineteenth century traveller noted that ‘indigo is cultivated for the dyeing of linen and of beards’ in southern Persia.’? Black beards were particularly in vogue at his time as the ruler, Fath “Ali Shah, modelled his appearance on Persian kings of old, whose fine beards are portrayed in ancient sculptures. Porter, who sketched the Shah and was most impresed by his style, calls his beard ‘black as jet’, and adds that ‘this extraordinary amplitude of beard appears to have been a badge of Persian royalty, from the earliest times’ (see Plate 16(b)).°? Later he culogises: ‘The almost sublime dignity which this form of beard adds to the native majesty of his features, is not to be conceived’.”* We learn how the effect is achieved from a vivid description of the activities in the royal bathhouse of the heir apparent at Tabriz: “Understanding that the process of the bath is much the same, when applied to either sex, and as it is rather curious, I shall describe it in a general way’. [The attendant washes the bather then] ‘takes his employer’s head upon his knees, and rubs in with all his might, a sort of wet paste of henna plant, into the mustachios and beard. In a few 166substance or Colour? ~ The Versatility of Tndigo -jninutes this pomade dyes them a bright red. Again he has recourse t0 | ae pail, and showers upon his quiescent patient another torrent = Sf warm water’. [The body is then scrubbed and pumiced]. “The next _ process seizes the hair of the face, whence the henna is cleaned away, «en replaced by another paste, called rang, composed of the leaves of ar liga plant. To this succeeds the shampooing. -the writer notes that women spent up t eight hours in the bathhouse, and glso dyed their hair black, as well as decorating their bodies with red parterns.”° The indigo and henna mixture was also used in the Punjab;’° in fet in the late 1930s there were places in India where the only use for indigo, and for henna too, was as a hair dye.2” Even today indigo is an ingredient in a popular Indian herbal hair oil.® Women of Upper Egypt add incia seeds and tea to their synthetic rl to make a hair dye, and there has eon a continuing demand in rural Yemen (where Freya Stark also noticed indigo-stained beards) for indigo as a hair cleanser and dye.” Indigo in Mourning Rituals and Relaved Beliefs Indigo dye and indigo-dyed clothing have been associated with mourning iva and death in many cultures including Arab, and this has contributed to the superstitions, myths and sense of awe that have adhered to the use of indigo. Even today, despite the de-mythologising that goes with increased understanding of organic chemistry, indigo still retains some of its aura, including its association both with death and, as we have seen, with fertility. It is impossible to trace the origins of funerary customs with certainty but itis likely that indigo-dyed garments became part of the funerary ritual because indigo was dark, rather than because of any hidden symbolism in the substance of indigo itself. It is easy to imagine though how indigo would have acquired a significance both through habitual use and because of the inherent mysteries involved in its inexplicable behaviour as dyestuff and as a medicine. In antiquity a dark-coloured, simple style of garment seems 10 have been favoured by the Babylonians as suitable attire during the mourning period.'° Likewise the Romans wore for their funeral processions the dark (lugubria) toga, which may have been dark blue or black (purple being reserved for imperial mourning)."”' In the early Islamic period there are references ro che wearing of blue (as well as modest) clothes for mourning; al- Washsha’, living in Baghdad in 9th century AD, says “blue and mourning garments are the colours worn by bereaved women and those in trouble’, While ‘abandoned women’ wore white.'® Likewise blue and black garments were worn in Samarkand for the mourning of Timur’s son.!08 In many Islamic countries the colour of mourning is white, but in some it is dark, traditionally indigo blue, The most notable example of the latter is Bgypt, especially Upper Egypt, where Islamic funerary traditions, along 167Substance or Colour? — The Versatility of Indigo Description de l’Egypte, the period of mourning in Egypt was measured by the length of time it took for the last indigo stain to fade naturally from the skin" — eight days, according to Burckhardt, who adds that the women were ‘all that time abstaining from milk, and not allowing any vessel containing it to be brought into the house: for they say that the whiteness of the milk ill accords with the sable gloom of their mind’.'!7 A widow would continue to wear an indigo-dyed dress throughout her widowhood.™* More recently, mud, ashes or some kind of blue grit have been smeared on the body by those who would have used indigo in the past.?"? The word ‘nila’ features in some funerary laments,’?° but the close connection between indigo and death has given the former such an unfortunate association in Egypt that it can even complicate field study, for the word ‘nila’ now appears in many common terms of abuse. For example, to curse someone with the expletive ‘gatak nila’ (literally, ‘may indigo come to you’) is as insulting as exhorting your enemy to ‘go to Hell’, The association between indigo and mourning is not confined to the Middle East. Its use in West Africa may well have derived from the Egyptian practice. In Cameroun and the eastern regions of Nigeria, where indigo is closely linked to religious myths and legends," indigo costumes are used for funerals. Women in some areas for example dye their own head cloths, and those of their menfolk, in dark indigo blue for ultimate use as part of their own burial attire; and until recently cloths of a special pattern of indigo and white were woven specifically for wrappings for the corpse.'?* In both Nigeria and Cameroun plain and patterned pieces of indigo cloth also feature on talismans during masquerade ceremonies, where the world of the spirits is invoked.'° Indigo as Paint Pigment Although to dye cloth, as we have seen, indigo needs to be chemically converted by reduction in the vat, the pigment itself (in its oxidised state — indigotin) can also be ground up like a mineral and used to colour inks and paints. Egypt is generally regarded as the mother country of western chemistry and alchemy; indeed, the word ‘alchemy’ has an Arabic derivation. (In ancient times the chemistry of metals, dyes and medicines were clearly also developing in India, China and probably other Asiatic countries too.)!* Indigo pigment could have been manufactured in Egypt for painting or dyeing and, as we have seen, it was certainly being imported from India via Egypt by the Greeks and Romans for medicinal use and painting ~ its purplish hue was much admired.12° The Italians in the early Middle Ages continued to import indigo as pigment before they used it as a dye,!° and painters of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries especially made much use of it, particularly for 169Indigo in the Arab World with other religious rituals, have been strongly influenced by their Pharaonic and Coptic antecedents.'°* The importance of public ritual mourning to the Egyptian psyche since early times can be clearly seen on wall paintings such as the famous scene in the tomb of Sennofer in the Valley of the Nobles, which depicts a group of grieving women wearing dark clothes. Coptic and, later, Islamic customs have continued the Egyptian predilection for exaggerated communal displays of mourning by their women, for death is allied to regeneration of life and, by extension, to fertility. It is important that mourning is carried out correctly, both for the sake of the new life for the deceased and also for the wellbeing of the living. For this reason food eaten at the graveside is associated with regeneration, and items such as sprouted beans and dolls made from wheat still play their part in both birth and death ceremonies. There is therefore no contradiction in the fact that indigo functions in both fertility and burial rites, just as green, the Muslim colour of life, is also used for grave clothes.’ It was not unusual to cover the the deceased with indigo-dyed cloth. Sometimes in Oman a shiny piece of polished indigo cloth covers the corpse underneath the visible white one.!® In eighteenth century Syria there was a market for woollen bier cloth of indigo and white stripes woven specifically for the purpose in Kashmir.'°” There is some evidence from tomb paintings that even in Ancient Egypt blue garments may have been worn by women for mourning. Once indigo became widely available it would have been an obvious choice for funerary textiles and rituals, being both dark and mysterious; the colour of embalmed corpses in Ancient Egypt, which became blue due to the effect of the resins used, may have contributed. Coptic women especially took to extremes the mourning rituals, especially on the occasion of the death of the head of the household, by having curtains and sheets, as well as clothing, dyed in indigo. Sometimes even the very walls of the deceased’s house were smeared with indigo.1°8 Poorer country women put on their oldest indigo dresses and blue headscarfs, others had their clothes and face veils dyed with indigo.’°? All decorations were eschewed ~ in Palestine colourful embroidery was often dyed blue for mourning,"? and in Siwa oasis the shells and mother-of-pearl adornments to the indigo shawls were removed.!"? Today black drapery has become the norm for both Copts and Muslims as the indigo traditions die out, but a woman in mourning will still take garments and drapes to the town’s former indigo dyeworks in order to have them dipped in his black substitute for indigo.''? There were, however, still some women in the late 1980s who maintained their beliefs in the superior powers of indigo itself, by buying ‘nil” (an imitation indigo by then) in order to dye their mourning clothes blue in the privacy of their own homes.'"? Indigo dye was also smeared on the mourner’s face, arms, hands and feet in the past,''* and even on the funeral drum." In fact, according to the 168Indigo in the Arab World depicting draperies. It was usually mixed with tempera and a white substance such as lead or lime, to brighten it and make a range of shades,’”” and it could be applied to all grounds, including paper, wood, cloth or walls, Cennino Cennini details many recipes involving indigo (sometimes stipulating ‘Baghdad indigo’), including the manufacture of much admired greens in combination with orpiment (a yellow manufactured from arsenic) and of purples with haematite (iron oxide ore).'?? It is at present impossible to tell from analysis whether the source of the indigo pigment was the imported product mentioned by Cennini and others or the native woad plant, as the scum from the top of woad vats was also used for painting;'°° but imported indigo pigment was more concentrated and, like gold leaf, was costly, as were the other main mediaeval blues obtained from lapis lazuli (ultramarine) and azurite ~a fact that would have impressed the wealthy patrons who commissioned art works.'*! The scribes and manuscript painters of the mediaeval Arab world, who had a broad knowledge of paint ingredients, also used indigo in the preparation of coloured paints and inks to embellish their texts and to enliven the blacks.!3* They acquired an astonishingly deep understanding of the chemistry of their ingredients and were probably aware of the corrosive elements inherent in some of the mineral colours. They may well have sometimes deliberately selected indigo for its non-destructive quality Although indigo is rarely found used alone for blue in Islamic manuscript illumination,!? it is commonly found mixed with orpiment for blue-greens and sea-greens,'** with soot added for the darker shades, probably to avoid using azurite blue and, verdigris green with their destructive copper content,2> and with lead for sky blues. A major source of contemporary documentation on the subject of bookmaking is provided by the treatise of Ibn Badis, written in the first half of the eleventh century AD.'°° He gives several recipes for preparing indigo inks, including a combination with verdigris,2” and for making ligs, which were ink-soaked wads for use with the pen. For a beautiful red /iq he suggests equal amounts of red lead and ‘indian’ indigo, and for blue a mixture of purified celandine, indigo and galinuts, or for an apricot'’® colour ‘Iraqi indigo’ in combination with arsenic and water of gallnuts, gum, rocket or coriander. Other recipes using indigo include different types of arsenic and saffron." ‘The practice of staining leather and parchment, both for bookmaking and for more general use, has an equally long history. The ancient Egyptians used decorated leather for hangings and canopies: the back- ground of a decorated leather funeral canopy dating to the 21st Dynasty was stained in blue.'*° The Ancient Greeks proudly displayed belts and straps stained with costly purple,'*! and very carly luxurious Christian codices, dating from the fifth century, were executed in Asia Minor!*? on purple-stained parchment inscribed with silver or gold letters. The leather backs of ecclestiastical books were sometimes stained with purple, one 170Substance or Colour? ~ The Versatility of Indigo example of which is sixth century Coptic, and by the tenth century purple parchment was also being chosen for important secular state documents of Byzantium and Germany.'*? The exotic effect of gold writing on a richly coloured background is evident in a famous early tenth century vellum Quran’ whose pages are stained blue,"*5 and Islamic religious books were sometimes bound in blue leather too, blue being the colour of the infinite. (More mundanely, indigo was used to stain and treat leather for domestic purpose in the Arab world. In Oman, especially Dhofas, indigo was mixed with ghee and rubbed into leather, especially for hair fillets."°) Detailed recipes from mediaeval Europe and the Arab world for leather dyes are to be found in the Plictho of Gioanventura Rosetti. A section of the manual ‘teaches the art of dressing leathers: to tan them and dye them color by color, as seeks out the whole art according to the manner of Damascus, Syria, Skopia, Turkey, Italy and Venice’. Typical recipes for making an azure colour instruct the tanners to dress the leather with alum and eggs before dyeing it with indigo ground up with whiting and blended with honey, or vinegar, wine or lye, and gum arabic. There is also a recipe for making a green by adding indigo to crushed and dried ‘apples of buckthorn’, To bring out the full colour the recipe advises: ‘give them the strop and the button and they will become pretty and lustrous’.'” Cennino Cennini too gives instruction for tinting parchment and paper blue. He recomends thoroughly grinding together ‘two beans’ of Baghdad indigo with half an ounze of white lead, and adding them to a tempera medium. ’“* From the fourteenth century blue-coloured paper was being manufac- tured for letter-writing and medicine wrappings, as well as for Islamic books and manuscripts, in Arabia, Persia and many other parts of Asia. The practice also influenced the preparation of some Hebrew manuscripts.'“ Indigo was commonly used, as well as being applied in concentrated form to produce black paper. Once again the influence of eastern fashions on Europe was first manifest in Venice, which had such close links with the East through trade, and which also had an exceptionally active dyeing industry.'° In early sixteenth century Venice quite a craze developed among artists for blue paper ~ carta azzura or carta turchina. Painters like Carpaccio drew on blue paper, and this influenced other Italian centres of art; later in the sixteenth century Dutch and French drawing schools followed the trend.'*! Sixteenth century Venetian master printers also produced special editions of books on carta azzura,\*? and this in turn influenced deluxe printing of Hebrew religious books, firstly in Venice, later in other towns of northern Italy and, in the mid-seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, in Holland and Central Europe. (This is not to be confused with the cheap blueish coloured editions produced in eastern European printing houses). In some parts of western Europe, notably Amsterdam, blue-colured deluxe copies of Hebrew books continued to be made until the early part of the twentieth century.'%? 171Indigo in the Arab World In Europe common blue paper colourants were indigo/woad and smalt (made from cobalt glass); as well as other more fugitive dyes such as logwood, until the early eighteenth century when Prussian Blue appeared on the scene and largely took over.'** To achieve a blue colour paper was either colour washed or dyed, as pulp or in the piece. Dyeing of paper pulp is akin to dyeing textile fibres, and in fact the papermakers sometimes called on the help of the fabric dyers. The two come together in the case of blue rag paper, a cheaper way to achieve blue paper than colouring the paper fibres themselves. Much of this was made from re-cycled indigo-dyed clothing; the Dutch excelled in its manufacture, probably due to a particular prevalence in Holland of used indigo-dyed clothing, from sailor’s uniforms and country wear.'°° In this century blue denim offcuts are a recycled ingredient in the manufacture of banknotes. Moving finally closer to the ridiculous from the sublime, the most ingenious and bizarre use of indigo in the Arab world is surely that recorded by Father Gonzales when he travelled to Egypt in the seventeenth century. He recounts how a local Egyptian had caught a stork, fairly uncommon there, dyed it blue with indigo and offered it to the French Consul as an extremely rare bird. The gullible Consul rewarded the man well and made plans to export the rare bird to France in order to offer it as a present to an important personage. Although on his arrival in Cairo Father Gonzales, whose home town was in an arca full of storks, immediately recognised the bird as a common stork, his views were decried, mainly on the grounds that the blue colour had endured for two months without fading (an unusual testimony to the durability of indigo dye!). However, as the stork was put into his care while it awaited the next boat to France, the Father took the opportunity to give the bird a good scrub ~ which soon revealed its true identity and the gullibility of the French Consul.'5* Conclusion - Does Indigo Have a Future? This book has dealt with the past, distant and recent, or has recorded usages that will inevitably be forgotten with time, but in conclusion there is one obvious question to be asked. That is ‘Does indigo have a future?” — in the Arab world as well as elsewhere. As regards the cultivation of natural indigo, the answer has to be that the future of indigo looks bleak. There is, after all, very little point in growing indigo for dyeing, other than as a interesting reconstruction of historical practice, when the synthetic substitute is easily available and gives almost identical results, There are, nevertheless, small-scale revivals of the whole natural indigo process in several countries, notably Japan, where the government has recently taken active steps to protect the livelihood of traditional farmers of indigo and thereby ensure their survival. In Europe 172Indigo in the Arab World masks, like those of Sohar, are unlined. The indigo consequently stains the face, which is considered desirable by the majority of women as it ‘adds to the light of the face.”?°* The belief in the power of indigo to ‘whiten’ the skin is widespread throughout southern Arabia.'®’ The importance of the sheen is part and parcel of the attraction of indigo-dyed cloth, and masks are regularly burnished with shells or smooth stones to prolong the iridescence. The addition of ornamental gold discs for weddings adds further glamour.'* As well as wearing the indigo mask, women from rural areas of the Gulf were also wearing an indigo-dyed hair veil (of Indian or Oman origin) which could be unfolded to extend over and conceal the entire face.1”” The bedouin of Oman, like those of the eastern provinces of Saudi Arabia, are more concerned to conceal the whole face, traditionally with an indigo-dyed mask. Their more cumbersome mask only has small eye slits and a stiff central wooden spine.'®* The size of the eye slits does vary — in the Wahiba sands they are larger, °° while those of the Duru®, Janaba and Harasis*©? tend to be smaller. The length varies too, although never less than the full length of the face (see Plate 13(d)).?°' They are generally unadorned, the embroidered ones of Salala being an exception. The Levant In the Levant indigo-dyed cloth formed the basis of the most elaborately embroidered garments worn in the Arab world, the most renowned of all being the much admired dresses of the Palestinian women. Indigo-dyed cloth was also widely used for less spectacular everyday garments by both sexes throughout the region, and travellers there in the past found blue or blue-black to be the predominant clothing colour.”° Burckhardt, as already noted, found indigo dyers in many small towns of the Levant supplying the local populace.?°° In Syria indigo-dyed cloth was used for men’s garments, the most common being the outsize sirtval”°* and dara‘a (the term is used for a front-opening jacket and coat for either sex). This was standard dress for the working classes, other than those who did ‘white’ work, such as stonemasons and bakers, who, for obvious reasons, preferred their clothes to be the natural off- white colour.°° Indigo was also used to dye silk thread, both plain or tie- dyed, to be woven into elegant gowns and wraps for the richer city-dweller. It was often combined in stripes with red and yellow in Aleppo, or used there for watered silk, karmazut; and it also featured in many colour combinations for the manufacture of Damascene brocades. Rural women in Syria wore open coats and dresses of heavy cotton, both embroidered. The embroidered coats were most commonly worn in the eastern desert while the dresses were widely worn both there and in the 142Indigo in Textiles of the Arab World Syria’7’), came in blue and white, or brown and white, stripes.'”* In the late 1980s in the ‘Asir the male populace were still clinging tenaciously to their habit of wearing herb-studded indigo-dyed turbans and sabighas, the latter worn either on the naked torso or over a modern shirt to signal a sense of dignity and regional pride. Mauger tells us that: “The men wear a piece of indigo cloth across their chests knotted over the left shoulder. The fabric seems to hamper them and yet is in an integral part of their beauty. This ‘stole’ is wound around their chests, piled unsteadily on their heads, on shoulders, legs and as a sash.”!”? Oman. In Oman, as noted elsewhere in the southern Arabian Peninsula, indigo- dyed clothing of varying styles was standard dress for the majority of men and women in rural areas well into the second half of the twentieth century. A traveller at the beginning of the century noted that locally produced indigo dye was in great demand in order to give cloth ‘that dark blue colour so highly favoured and almost exclusively worn by the women of Oman of all ranks and conditions.1° As in other Arab countries, it was usually townswomen who wore a greater variety of clothing, often beneath their indigo-dyed izar. The unique appearance of the indigo-clad Omani tribesmen, like that of their Yemeni neighbours, attracted the attention of western travellers (see Plate 15).'** As the quantity and quality of the indigo cloth worn was a matter of pride, Bertram Thomas, when travelling in Dhofar, realised that the unfailing way to win over the heart of a poor tribesman was to present him with a new indigo-dyed sabigha (‘mantle’). In a poor village in the mountains of Dhofar, for example, he describes how: Our Shaikh Hasan excited murmurs of admiration by wearing the new indigo blue mantle that was my gift, and I told the old man {I was talking to] that I would like to send him ‘the sister of Shaikh Hasan’s mantle’ as a present. ‘Alaik baidh” he cried ... (God whiten your face), a term of cordiality and gratitude. '®2 Earlier in the same book there is a vivid description, with accompanying photograph (see Plate 14(d)), of a spectacular dance by slave girls near Salala: A dozen paces within the ring (of spectators) was the path of the main performers — a stream of young negroes and negresses, who came sweeping round and round the circle in grand parade - young slave girls, singly or in pairs, sturdy, black as ebony, and high of bosom, selected doubtless for their superiority in the eyes of men, A black muslin veil shrouded each girls head and drooped about the shoulders, of so flimsy a material that it did not conceal, but rather 139Indigo in the Arab World accentuated the effect of her flashing eyes, her thick scarlet-painted lips, her nose-ring, ear-rings and necklaces of gold. Her dress, new doubtless for the occasion, was a single mantle of starched indigo that glistened in the sun. One end of its long sweeping train she held up fastidiously between finger and thumb, the arm outstretched level with her shoulder. . 18? The unusual style of these distinctive women’s dresses, cut very full to hang to the knee at the front but trail on the ground at the back, link Dhofar with the Hadhramaut and the Fadhli women of South Yemen, whose similar dresses have already been described. The wearing of indigo still predominated in much of rural Oman in the early 1970s. Tom Johnstone, for example, in a study published in 1974, found indigo dress to be the norm for both sexes amongst the Mahra of Dhofar: ‘The women’, he says, “wear only an indigo-dyed dress and as many ornaments of precious metal as they can afford’. He also found the same style common among the Harasis tribe to the north east.'** But by the 1980s those Dhofaris around Salala who still favoured indigo-dyed cloth usually had to be content with inferior Indian substitute, unle: from Yemen which was sometimes available in modest quantities. Nevertheless, in the Qara mountains north of Salala indigo-dyed cloth was still commonly being worn by people of both sexes for warmth during the winter and the wet monsoon,'*° and all the year round by those who could not afford an extra set of white clothes for the summer months.'°* Further eastwards, on the hot inland plains, it was the Duru® women who retained the strongest attachment to indigo-dyed clothing during the 1970s. Unlike the smarter, often elaborately decorated dresses of the Yemen, those in Oman were much simpler in cut and decoration, sometimes just having a minimal silver trim; they were worn belted, like the poorer dresses of the Yemen. By 1985 the use of indigo dyed-cloth had become increasingly unusual, especially for outer garments, and above all near the towns. However, the desire to wear indigo next to the skin for undergarments and nightclothes was still lingering on, for reasons which will be discussed in the following chapter, and this was keeping the few remaining dyers in business. Their skills were also still required by those for whom, like the Yemenis, indigo clothing represented a traditional national identity, much as the kilt does for a Scotsman, to be donned on festive occasions.'*7 Indeed for this reason in 1975 the dyers of Ibri had twice as much indigo dyeing to accomplish in the run-up to each “Id.'8% hey could afford the expensive cloth Face Masks and Veils in Oman and the Gulf states In some parts of Oman, i.e. in Muscat and the surrounding areas, as well as. in certain settled parts of the interior, women do not mask their faces at all. 140Indigo in Textiles of the Arab World But in the rest of Oman there is clear divide between two distinctive types of mask, burgu‘; the all-concealing full face mask, and the almost provocative model which provides only a minimal covering for the face. The latter mask links Sohar, on the Batina coast, with the Gulf shaykhdoms to its north, and also with southern Persia and Makran (in Baluchistan). Both types of mask were still sometimes being fashioned from shiny local indigo-dyed fabric in the 1980s, but a more easily obtainable modern equivalent was rapidly replacing it. (A woman will even rub washing blue or dark shoe polish into white cloth if she is unable to afford shiny dark indigo-dyed cloth.) The complicated social significance of wearing such masks was touched upon earlier; Western attempts to interpret the reasons for the adoption of the various types of mask can be over-simplistic.18? The mask of Sohar certainly must be the most minimal type. The slimmed-down version favoured there merely consists of two strips, one covering the upper lip and a central portion of the cheek and the other covering the bottom quarter of the forehead, including the eyebrows. ‘The two strips are connected by a stiff central spine which runs up the ridge of the nose. This emphasises the uncovered parts i.e. most of the cheeks, the sides of the nose, the upper part of the forehead, the eyes and all of the chin.'°° The burgu is attached to the head by four strings which pass either side of the ears to tie at the back of the head; when not in use it is pushed to the top of the head. Aithough it is obligatory to wear a mask in the presence of an unmarried man, its use on other occasions is much more flexible, depending on the age and wishes of the wearer and her husband. It certainly seems that for a woman of Sohar the mask can signify modesty and moral propriety while at the same time beautifying the face, particularly dramatising the eyes. ‘The Sohari type mask is also prevalent in the Gulf states!?! and was until recently widely worn in Southern Persia and Makran, where it may indeed have its origins.’°* The southern Gulf states and the Batina coast do after all have long-established trading and cultural links with southern Persia and Makran, and many families of Sohar trace their descent from these areas. When the Shah of Persia ordered all women to abandon the veil in the 1930s, a number of traditionalists chose to settle in Sohar rather than obey the imperial command. A detailed study of masks of the U.A.E. emphasizes again just how important the style of mask can be for enhancing rather than concealing the features of the wearer. There are enormously subtle variations in the cut of the mask, especially the eye slits and the jaw curve. One writer who has studied the subject in depth stresses that the face is beautified not only by the style of the mask, but also by its indigo colour: “The indigo which dyes the mask is believed to contain ‘the light of Joseph’ and is appreciated by the women of the U.A.E. These indigo 141ha London. (See p. 139) 15 Qara tribesman wearing an indigo-dyed waist-wrap (futa) and shoulder cloth (sabigha ‘hfa), used for extra warmth or for cartying posessions n 1945. Copyright Wilfred Thesiger, reproduced by (still worn in the 1990s); Dhofar, permission of Curtis Brown Groupsug; March 1985. (See pp. 9/-¥98) Plate 7(b) Haj “Amer of Sayeda, Tunisia, with hanks of cotton yarn drying in the street after being dipped several times in the indigo dye vats to produce a dark colour; September 1995. (See p. 112) The yarn is woven locally into cloth with red border stripes, melia, worn as shawls and skirts by women of the Sahel and Cap Bon regions.Plate 4{a) ‘The ingredients of the dye vat at Bayt Hakami, Zabid, Yemen, before the 1980s (from top left, clockwise) - natural indigo dye, probably from India, previously of local manufacture; natural soda (hutam) made from the burnt trunks of the salt bush, Suaeda monoica; solidified juice extracted from aloe leaves (sabir); gum arabic resin (samgh) ex- tracted from Acacia ehrenbergiana; fresh dates. (See pp. 90-91) Plate 4(c} Salim bin Rashid al-Sawwad, the last indigo dyer of Ibri, Oman; March 1985. After a morning spent dyeing, his dishdasha remained almost spotless (unlike his hands). (See pp. 97-98) Plate 4(b) Haj ‘Amer Muhammad ‘Eissa stirring indigo paste (synthetic) to add to his dye vats which are arranged around the walls of his dyeshops, as is the case in former indigo dyeshops of Aleppo, as well as in one dated to the Roman period, excavated by Flinders Pettie at Athribis (near present day Sohag) in Upper Egypt. Sayeda, near Sousse, Tunisia; September 1995. (See p.112) Plate 4(d) Imprint, in indigo dye, of the hand of the dyer on the wall above the dye vats to ward off evil spirits - Bayt Haj ‘Amer, as above (b); September 1995.Plate 8 Rubbing neat indigo dye paste into the indigo-dyed cloth prior to beating it with wooden mallets, Bayt Muhammad “Ali “Abud, Zabid, Yemen; December 1983. (See pp. 91-92)Plate 14(a) The Afterglow in Egypt, 1860-63, (oil on canvas, 82cm by 38cms) by William Holman Hunt. It shows accurately the type of indigo-dyed dress worn by a peasant woman of the western desert oases in the mid-19th century. Ashmolean Museum, Oxford, inuno. A267. (See p. 147) Plate 14(b) Embroidered indigo-dyed dress worn in the Yemeni highlands. Decorated with cotton and copper embroidery, brass paillettes, beads and mother-of-pearl. Col- lected San‘a, 1989. (See p. 133) Plate 14(c) Coat-dress (fillayeh) Ramallah area, Palestine, late 19th or early 20th century. Mainly red embroidery on indigo-dyed handwoven linen e {illustrated in colour on p.89 of Shelagh Weir's Plate 14(d) Slave dance in Salala, Dhofar, Palestinian Costume, London 1989). {See p. 144) Oman (detail);1930-31. Bertram Thomas Courtesy British Museum, Dept. of Ethnogra- archive, Royal Geographic Society, London. phy:1967 AS2 15. (See pp. 139-40) :a ie z SS Plate 9{a) Beating the indigo-dyed cloth with heavy wooden mallets to make it stiff and shiny, *Abud, Zabid, Yemen; December 1983. (See p. 92) Bayt cotton with a smooth stone to produce an iridescent | Mutara Ahmad Dhali of al-Bayda, Yemen,; December f Bahla, Oman; March 1985. (See pp. 98-99) Plate 9{b) and 9(c) Burnishing indigo-dyed n resembling carbon paper. Left Awad al $3, and right Amer Salim Salem al-Shemani o2 ea Plate 6(a) Indigo dyeing in the Wadi Bayhan, Yemen 1948. Note the quantities of dye vats and the dyer whisking the liquid in two jars at once. Methods and utensils were unchanged in 1989, although the scale of operations had much diminished. Photo Nigel Groom. Plate 6(b) Amir Salim Salim al-Shamani, dyeing in the last dyeshop at Bahla, Oman; March 1985 (and still at work in 1995). (See pp. 97-98) In Oman the large clay dye vats were sunk into the floor indoors, whereas in Yemen dyeing took place in open courtyards, or outside the town walls in vats above ground (as in (a), above).Plate 5 Dyeing ten metre lengths (taqas} of calico in the indigo dye vats at Bayt Muhammad “Ali “Abud, Zabid, Yemen; December 1983. (See p. 91)Plate 3(a) Pots full of fresh indigo branches soaking in water beside the falaj near Nizwa, Oman; summer 1981. After a day's warmth leaves and twigs are removed and the liquid beaten with whisks. (See pp. 67 and 69) From a slide taken by Paulo Costa. making indigo dye from dried leaves of Indigofera argentea L. at Bayhan, southern Yemen; March 1989. He removed most of the leaves before whisking the liquid until enough oxygen was incorporated to transform the indoxyl into indigotin (indigo dye). (See p. 65) ae ee Plate 3(c) Bayt Ahmed Sa‘ad al-Hakami, Zabid, on the Tihama near the Red Sea, Yemen; December 1983. The area of one courtyard where undyed calico (known as merkani) was soaked, stamped, steamed and beaten against a stone pillar (left) before being dyed in indigo. (See p. 84)Plate 2 Sunaidi bin Salem al-Ghafiri of Dariz, near Ibri, Oman, with his indigo dye-extraction pots (khabiyas) and palm frond beater (ma‘saj); March 1995. (See pp. 67 and 69)Plate 1(a) Fields of indigo (before the summer irrigation) at Bayt Khalfan, Dahak, near Jabrin in Oman; March 1985. (See p.67) : Pie 1(b) Indigofera tinctoria L. (tropical’ Plate 1c) Isatis tinctoria L. (woad), first year ) igo leaves.