No one could predict how long the flood would
last, but the river rarely went down sufficiently to allow the bridge to
be replaced within a week. At that time the railroad went only as far as
Bakuba, and crossed the river on a wooden trestle, so I decided to try to
load the motors on a flat car and get across the Diyala in that way.
After having made arrangements to do this I wandered off into the bazaar
to get something to eat. In native fashion I first bought a big flap of
bread from an old woman, and then went to a pickle booth to get some
beets, which I wrapped in my bread. Next I proceeded to a meat-shop and
ordered some lamb kababs roasted. The meat is cut in pellets, spitted on
rods six or eight inches long, and lain over the glowing charcoal embers.
In the shop there are long tables with benches beside them. The customer
spreads his former purchases, and when his kababs are ready he eats his
dinner. He next proceeds to a coffee-house, where he has a couple of
glasses of tea and three or four diminutive cups of coffee to top off, and
the meal is finished. The Arab eats sparingly as a rule, but when he gives
or attends a banquet he stuffs himself to his utmost capacity.
Next morning we loaded our cars successfully and started off by rail for
Baghdad, some thirty miles away. The railroad wound across the desert,
with here and there a water-tank with a company from a native regiment
guarding it.
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