IN THE MOUNTAINS—ON THE ROAD TO AIN HAMMAM.
IN THE MOUNTAINS—ON THE ROAD TO AIN HAMMAM.
IN THE MOUNTAINS—ON THE ROAD TO AIN HAMMAM.
Before reaching the summit of a slight rise we pulled up our horses to a walk, and presently looked back from the top of the eminence.
A haze hung directly over Gabés; the palms of the oasis extended as far as the sea, and behind them glittered the bright waves. Away towards the south we could distinguish the blue peaks ofthe Matmata mountains. Here and there on the plain blue-grey smoke rose into the air.
The heat of the sun became scorching, so we allowed our horses to go at foot’s pace during the remainder of the way. In Africa one finds but two paces—a walk, or rather an amble, and a gallop; but on a long summer journey the gallop or canter is rarely used; Berber horses, therefore, are trained to walk fast. It is expected of acheval de la plainethat he should beun bon marcheur, that is to say, that he can be depended on to cover his five or six miles an hour, and to keep up this pace the whole day long.
When we had ridden about a third of the way, we crossed the river; near it is an ancient well that has been used since the time of the Romans.
From the level of the ground was constructed a walled, paved, and inclined passage; this was covered in, and terminated at the spring, from which were built upright walls to the surface of the earth, forming the well. Thus the water can either be drawn from the top or carried up the steps.
During the next couple of hours we met only a few riders and pedestrians.
A mountain plateau of no great height now showed before us, but a little to our left. Towards the north it lost itself in the plain in a level slope, over which wound the track.
On the hill the soil was washed or blown away, leaving the barren flat rocks naked, and the horses had difficulty in keeping their footing amongst the large rough stones. In one place the path wound on either side of a small pile of stones. This heap was the length of a man, and lay east and west. Hamed informed me that it covered the remains of one who had been murdered on this spot many years ago.
After a time we reached the highest point of our day’s journey, and came upon a magnificent view.
The foreground was composed of a level, stony slope of dull-yellow soil. Where it ended we saw a long, narrow, grey strip with a tufted border; this is part of the palm grove of El Hamma oasis. Beyond it, to the left—therefore to the south-west—ran a mountain ridge, and farther on the right was a shining level plain, somewhat white in appearance. This is the “shott” of El Fejej. It resembled the sea when dead calm, and seemed as though it had flowed thence to lose itself far away in the western horizon.
North of the “shott” the mountains tower up in successive tiers, the foremost, of a deep blue tint, contrasting sharply with the white flat surface of the “shott.”
Beyond are paler blue peaks, and beyondthem again the vague outlines of far-distant mountains.
Shott Fejej is the most easterly of the “shotts” that extend in a long line from the Sahara south of Biskra to the Mediterranean, thus covering a track of between two and three hundred miles.
It is only separated from the Mediterranean by Le Seuil de Gabés, a small strip of land about eleven miles wide.
A “shott” is low-lying land of which the soil is clay saturated with salt; this in the rainy season is flooded by the overflow of the rivers, and dries by evaporation. Seen from a distance, a shott has the appearance of a lake, but on approaching it one is disappointed to find that this glittering flat surface is only a crust of saltpetre.
Not only is travelling extremely dangerous on this sodden ground, but the shott is stifling hot in summer, and in winter bitterly cold.
Drummond Hay told me that at the beginning of the year, he, with only one servant and a guide, had ridden over Shott Jerid on his way from Kebelli to Tozer. Though warmly clad, he was nearly frozen, and his fingers could scarcely grasp the reins from the cold. The way lay along a narrow path, and on either side was bog; a single false step means death.
It is asserted that it is only in the centre ofShott el Jerid that there is always water; but this is not apparent, as it is entirely covered by a crust of salt, on which footsteps resound as they do when passing over a vault. The water naturally flows to the lowest level; but when the wind blows, it sweeps the water in various directions over the salt crust; this breaks under the weight, and the level is thus altered. At times there may be as much water in the shott as would reach to a horse’s girths.
The crust is also occasionally forced up from below by water and certain gases, and, rising, forms small conical mounds, giving the impression of an impending volcanic eruption. These little mounds lie like islands on the sea; but, in consequence of the reflection from the surface, appear to be hills of some height, and are visible for many miles around.
One of these, the largest, is called “Jebel el Malah” (the salt mountain). It is only some twenty paces in diameter, and scarcely a yard in height above the level of the shott, but looks from the distance like a fair-sized hill. In the centre of this hill of salt was formerly an old well, now filled up. It contained water of the same quality as that still found in several other wells in the shott, which is not more brackish than that found in the oases of the vicinity and considered drinkable.
The caravan roads traverse the shotts, leading from verge to verge amongst the oases. Some of these roads are very unsafe. The traveller has to be most careful to avoid being bogged, or plunged suddenly into a hole; as told of a whole Egyptian army, which, according to tradition, found here its grave. Step by step must the traveller work his way forward, perhaps through clouds of dust; whilst a mirage may rise to tempt and deceive him. Should his guide make the least mistake, or the camel or horse he rides step aside, all is over.
According to custom, usage, and agreement betwixt the tribes, the roads over the shotts are supposed to be defined by stones, or felled palm trunks, placed at distances of about a hundred yards apart; but in places these, which are called “Gmair,” are missing; in others they are replaced by camel bones.
The Arabs relate frightful misfortunes that have befallen on these tracks. Whole caravans have been known to have been swallowed up by this treacherous earth crust, which at once closes over its prey.
The land amidst the shotts ispar excellencethe home of the date-palm. In the oases of Tozer and Nafta are found the best quality of dates known. This clear transparent fruit is sold at £6 the hundredweight. In El Hamma, on the other hand, the dates are not of the best quality, the oasis being toonear the sea, and the air, therefore, too damp. This explains what one hears of the dates of Gabés being sold at only twelve shillings the hundredweight, or one tenth of the price of those from Nafta.
Many authors and explorers, both ancient and modern, have imagined that in the basin of the shotts they had discovered the Triton sea of Herodotus, believing the river bed of Wad Malah to be the lower course of the Triton river, which connected that mysterious lagoon with the sea.
Though this hypothesis has never been proved, Raudaire, captain of the general staff, conceived in 1878 the bold project of reconstructing the old Triton sea, by leading water into the immense basin of the shotts. He thought it would be only necessary to dig through the eleven miles of the wide chalky tract near Gabés to form a large inland sea. From this scheme great advantages were to be gained. The southern French frontier would be protected by a natural barrier. The re-created Triton sea would soon be traversed by shipping, thereby leading to mercantile relations being established with regions and people hitherto unknown.
And what a change might result in the climate! The moisture would create fruitful stretches of land, where colonists would flock in numbers.
Alas! the project, vigorously supported at the outset by the Government, proved untenable afterfurther investigation in 1876. Raudaire’s survey had not been accurate. The western shott did indeed lie twenty metres below the sea-level, but the immense shotts of “Jerid” and “Fejej” proved, on the other hand, to be as much above it; so that the canal would have had to be prolonged nearly one hundred and fifty miles, and even then only the first named of these shotts would be submerged.
This unfortunate revelation did not dishearten either Raudaire or his celebrated supporter, Lesseps; and, until the death of the former, in 1885, he—Raudaire—defended his project with an energy and determination worthy of a better cause, and in spite of the State having wisely withdrawn its support. Lesseps still visited the ground on several occasions, and positively asserted that at the cost of a hundred and fifty millions of francs the scheme was feasible. From past events it is sad to note that great minds like Lesseps’s often have recourse to dubious expedients when they desire tolancer une affaire.
All other learned authorities—geologists and scientific men, such as Parnel, Letourneux, Doûmet-Adamson, and others—had, long before, sharply criticised Raudaire’s fantastic project, and declared that the sea had never in ancient times occupied the flats now filled by the shotts. Indeed, Cosson further maintained that had this proposed inland sea been successfully dammed, it would soon havebeen imperatively necessary to fill it up again, so much opposed would it have been to the general interest.
All were, moreover, agreed that it was highly improbable that the climate would be influenced to any extraordinary degree; that, by admitting the water, millions of date-palms would be destroyed, and most of the springs which now fertilise the oases of the Jerid would be tainted and spoiled by the salt water, thus causing the ruin of the country; finally, the project would cost a thousand (in place of a hundred and fifty) millions of francs.
Lesseps’s repeated assurances of the accuracy of his researches were received very coldly, though this was before the occurrence of the Panama affair.
Now the question is closed, and one hears nothing more of the company formed in 1882 by the great Frenchman,pour la création de la mer interieure. The old man’s prestige had been on the wane for some years already. Yet the day will come when the memory of his important works will obliterate the recollection of the errors of the evening of his life, and history will again grant him the title which is his due—that of “the great Frenchman.”
Onthe southernmost border of this oasis lies a village built of sunburnt stones, and of which the narrow lanes were almost deserted when we passed through it.
The Khalifa lived on the outskirts towards the south, and when we arrived he was squatting on a stone bench that ran the whole length of the outer wall of his house. The shade was delicious beneath the eaves of the broad roof supported by two rows of felled palm-tree stems. I cannot help thinking that these were the origin of the pillars of the ancients, and suggested to the Egyptians the design for the columns of their temples, and, through them, those of the Greeks and Romans in their magnificent temple halls.
Around the Khalifa were sitting, standing, or lying, groups of loud-voiced men, all talking. He was holding a court of justice, which was attended with the wrangling, jostling and thrusting, usual on such occasions.
Crouched in front of him was a man, near whomwere a woman and child, and around them was gathered an interested, excited crowd.
The woman, with outstretched hands, addressed the Khalifa, speaking in a subdued voice and with the striking gestures peculiar to Orientals. She was immediately interrupted by the man, who shouted and gesticulated. Other men joined in. I saw arms and clenched fists in constant motion, and was deafened by the noise rising from every side.
The Khalifa, a man of about fifty, sat, mild and amiable, gazing at the crowd with his deep black eyes. His fine figure was slight and noble, and his features refined, with a slightly hooked nose and a full beard, through which his fingers were occasionally passed. Now and then a hidden fire flashed from his expressive eyes as he made a remark. Then the shouts of the crowd would moderate, but only for a moment, and again the storm broke loose.
At last it really grew too bad, and what I had expected for some time came to pass—one of the Khalifa’s men punished the crowd with a stick. Some retreated a little, others remained calmly seated, and the inquisition recommenced, until again the demonstrations became too violent.
Our arrival interrupted this scene for a time. I was kindly received and shown to a dwelling on the first floor of a side wing.
When my baggage had been brought in, at his invitation I seated myself beside the Khalifa on his carpeted bench, where we partook of the “welcome” of coffee in tiny cups, whilst we discussed my journey and my motives in undertaking it.
The man, woman, and child remained unmoved all the time, and stared at us from the same spot where, probably, they had been for hours. She was old, ugly, and wrinkled, and gazed vacantly before her. The child, a pretty ten-year-old boy, looked inquisitively at me with his fine black eyes, whilst the man drew his hood over his head and hid his hands under his burnous, so that he appeared to be a mere white bundle.
Thus they sat, resigned to their fate, the men around keeping moderately quiet. If one or another became noisy, he was silenced by one of the Khalifa’s attendants.
I begged the Khalifa to continue his judicial proceedings, and, after some hesitation, he did so, leaving me seated on his carpet, and going aside a little took his place beneath one of the pillars.
Whilst the flies swarmed in myriads about me, and the hubbub of men’s voices buzzed in my ears, I leant against the wall and gazed before me. From the subdued light beneath the shade of the eaves my eyes scanned the sunlit plain which extended to the mountains. To the right the palm tops on thesouthern edge of the great groves of the oasis quivered in the glittering light. Below them I perceived the brown tops of tents. Before me, close to a stone dyke which crossed the foreground, the plain was covered with long low mounds. On each of these stood, facing the east, a small flat stone, or a little dazzling white cupola. This is the cemetery, suggestive of a stone-strewn strand.
Among the graves sat in clusters some white peaked bundles. I imagined them to be people performing their devotions, but soon they moved, and I caught sight of an implement shining in the air above the white points, and was told they were men digging a grave.
Only a few hours earlier, in the tents below the palms, a man, still in the prime of life, died of the insidious fever of these regions, and was shortly to be buried.
When the brawling of the crowd around me was hushed, I heard a wailing sound as of hounds baying in the distance. No doubt the lamentations of the women.
The grave was soon ready, and some of the white figures strolled off to the village, the rest returning to the camp.
For about half an hour I sat gasping with the heat and endeavouring to keep off the flies with a palm-leaf fan.
The man, woman, and child were still before the Khalifa, but I hardly noticed any longer the loud tones of the bystanders. Not that they had ceased wrangling, but that my ears had grown accustomed to the sound. Now and again one of the sons came and conversed with me, but I begged to be left in peace.
At last came the funeral. Four men bore on their shoulders a bier, over which was thrown a burnous. The bearers hurried along, followed by some fifty men clad in white burnouses, and behind them as many women in dark dresses. From these arose sobbing cries in measured time.
The noise near me subsided a little; some of the crowd wandered down to the plain to join the funeral, and gradually dispersed altogether.
The wailing of the women came distinctly to my ears, and in the centre of their group I saw a pair of white arms stretched to heaven.
Now the lamentations were stilled, and a deathlike silence reigned during the midday hour; only the buzzing of the flies was to be heard.
Taken aback by the sudden hush, I looked about me; there still sat the man, woman, and child gazing over the plain.
The bier was now deposited on the ground. Around it crouched the glaring white figures, their hoods drawn forward and their hands covering theirfaces, while the prayer for the dead was recited. The men appeared grief-stricken. Who could tell when Allah might call away another, or knew but what it might be his own turn to be summoned next morning! For the fever raged distressingly in the oasis. So sounds of lamentation rose from the dark group which showed so sadly and so strikingly against the pale golden-brown of the plain and beside the gleaming white crowd of men.
“He was so good, so proud, so strong, but yesterday.Now he is dead, his wife is all alone,Oh woe, oh woe, oh woe.Now she grieves, his children and his friends weep.Oh woe, oh woe,” etc.
“He was so good, so proud, so strong, but yesterday.Now he is dead, his wife is all alone,Oh woe, oh woe, oh woe.Now she grieves, his children and his friends weep.Oh woe, oh woe,” etc.
“He was so good, so proud, so strong, but yesterday.Now he is dead, his wife is all alone,Oh woe, oh woe, oh woe.Now she grieves, his children and his friends weep.Oh woe, oh woe,” etc.
“He was so good, so proud, so strong, but yesterday.
Now he is dead, his wife is all alone,
Oh woe, oh woe, oh woe.
Now she grieves, his children and his friends weep.
Oh woe, oh woe,” etc.
While this wail rose from the sombre crowd, I saw white arms flung repeatedly heavenward.
The plaintive song increased in strength, till it sounded like a fearful howl, and I saw the women tearing their hair and scratching their faces. This lasted some little time.
Meanwhile the body was laid in the ground; the men sitting around in silence and weeping, whereas the wail of the women resounded louder and yet louder.
When the prayers were ended, the men rose and returned home, each going to his work; only a few remaining to fill up the grave.
A little later the women alone were left, but they had parted into two groups. In the one theystood erect, and from these came wailings; in the other group the figures squatted on the ground, resting while their companions mourned.
The Khalifa returned, and again the original noisy mob gathered around him.
The women out there had meanwhile exchanged places several times to take their turn of wailing. At last, after a lapse of half an hour, they started homewards, going to the encampment where the dead man’s tent was then being struck. Like a rag it lay on the earth, in token of the home being broken up, and not till later, when the first great grief had subsided, would it be raised again.
During this interval a meal had been prepared for me, so I retired to my room where it was delightfully cool.
Up a steep external stair I climbed from the yard to a room, and through that to another adjoining it, this last being very spacious. The roof was built of palm beams, laid one against the other, and supported in the centre by a pillar. The walls were whitewashed and lined below with rush matting, and the whole floor was covered with beautiful thick, soft carpets of great value. In one corner were cushions and pillows for a couch; in another our saddles, bags, and rugs were neatly arranged. A little window with an artistic iron grating overlooked the roof of the pillared verandah; this window wasfitted with a shutter which could be closed at will to keep out the light and the flies.
One of the Khalifa’s sons kept me company whilst I ate.
After Hamed and the other attendants had consumed the remainder of the meal in the next room, I had the door and the shutter closed, and lay down in the half darkness for a midday nap. It was almost impossible to sleep on account of the noise in the verandah, but at last I dozed off.
Hamed woke me presently to tell me that there was a wedding in the oasis, and that if I wished to see the bride brought home I must hasten. So I started, together with some of the sons and dependants of the house. As we passed the cemetery I saw that the women had again gathered there, and could hear their lamentations, so I hurried on into the street, trying to shake off the mournful impression, before joining in rejoicings.
On the way I met an Arab who, with a good French accent, said, “Bon jour, Monsieur.” It was one of the Khalifa’s retainers, who now owned a little palm grove and home in the oasis, but who, some years ago, had served in the Algeriantirailleurs, and therefore spoke good French.
I was delighted with this new acquaintance, as through him I should be better able to make myselfunderstood than through my good Hamed, so I asked him to accompany me.
On the way he told me that he had served in Mexico and, later, in the war with Germany. He had been wounded on three occasions, and showed me his scars with pride. The last time he was wounded was in the battle of Gravelotte. He was afterwards kept a prisoner in a little town in Germany, and since had completed his long term of service in Algiers.
From the street we espied a man on the top of a palm tree behind a high wall; he was busy gathering the date crop. I lingered to watch him, and when he discovered my presence he smiled amicably, and said something to my attendants about wishing to offer me some of the fruit. He really did climb down, and came to me with a bunch of remarkably good dates, which I accepted and sent to my quarters.
When we had passed the village we entered the palm grove. From every side people were streaming in; men, veiled women, young girls, and children, all to see the bride taken to the bridegroom’s dwelling.
The whole scene closely resembled what I witnessed a couple of days later, under better circumstances, in Hadeij. I will therefore restrict myself to mentioning that we saw her arrive in a closelyshut litter, borne on a camel, accompanied by some female relatives and a man who led the camel. Negro musicians headed the procession, which halted in an open space.
Then began a “fantasia” of horsemen, who galloped past us firing their muskets. They were richly dressed, and the horses’ quarters were decked with brilliant silken coverings. But there were not many riders, neither did the “fantasia” last long. This, I was told, was because there was mourning in the oasis on account of the many deaths.
After the “fantasia” the bride was conducted into the town, through narrow lanes where the palanquin scraped between the walls of the houses, and down into a yard. Here the camel was made to kneel, and the girl, still closely veiled, was led into the dwelling of the man, who perhaps saw her that evening for the first time in his life.
Passing by the entrance of a small mosque I peeped in. It was cool and shady in the little room, the roof of which was supported on pillared arches. On the floor were rush mats, and in a corner were raised a few steps, whence the “Imam” speaks to the faithful. This stair was simply made of unpainted wood, not even ornamented with carving, as is generally the case.
Towards evening we visited another village,rather more to the north. It was surrounded by palms, amidst which stood a little minaret attached to a mosque close to the market-place.
Between this and the village first mentioned there is an open piece of land, formerly occupied by a town, but now only encumbered with building materials.
In the vicinity, near some hot springs, are also the ruins of an old Turkish fort, now so insecure that no one ventures to live beneath its crumbling walls. It is said that the inhabitants had, as a matter of course, plundered the building of all its timbers and woodwork, and that consequently the walls hardly held together. Rusting amongst the fallen masonry lay a couple of cannon of antediluvian construction. The fort was evidently built to protect the springs, the water of which is warm, the highest temperature being about 113° Fahrenheit. The natives fetch the warm water in pitchers from the basin of the springs, and set it to cool for drinking purposes.
From the days of the Romans these springs have been known and esteemed as having great healing powers, and as such have been resorted to from most ancient times.
When we arrived in the neighbourhood of the village, we were greeted by the same cries of lamentation that we had heard the previous dayin the cemetery, and were told that the women were mourning over a bride, married only four weeks ago, who had just died of the fever. It seemed as though sorrow had overwhelmed the oasis, for wails rose on every side amidst the palm groves.
It was evening, and nearly dark, as we strolled back to the Khalifa’s abode, where we found the meal ready. When I began to eat I could not find my knife, which I remembered having used at breakfast. I searched everywhere, but in vain; Hamed examined the saddle-bags, and then discovered that some pomegranates he had gathered in his garden and given to me were missing, and besides these, from a parcel of cigarettes two packets were gone. Thieves had evidently been at work.
We held a consultation as to what was to be done, and I decided to mention the theft to Ali, one of the sons. At the same time I wished to avoid telling the Khalifa of it, as I thought it might distress him to learn that his guest had been robbed. But I could not be entirely silent on the subject; amongst the Arabs a man must uphold his rights if he wishes to be respected.
As soon as Ali heard of the theft, he went straight to the guard at the gate, and asked him who had been up to the guest-room.
One person, it appeared, had carried a bunch of dates there at my request. This had been one of the Khalifa’s own men, so the guard had not thought it necessary to prevent his going up.
Ali had, however, caught this same fellow some time ago stealing gunpowder, so he readily suspected him and hurried off to the man’s dwelling, which was near at hand. Here he advised him to confess and at once restore the stolen property, and thus escape punishment.
This the fellow would not do, so Ali, assisted by others, searched the house, finding the knife and a packet of cigarettes. In the few hours that had elapsed since his theft, the ruffian had treated himself to five-and-twenty first-rate cigarettes and the pomegranates. The culprit was very soon thrown into prison, and there he remained when I left El Hamma on the following day. Whether or not he was set free after my departure, and whether the Khalifa ever learnt the story of the theft, I am ignorant.
It was late in the evening, near ten o’clock, and I was about to retire to rest, when Ali noticed that I had caught a slight cold. He insisted that I should at once go down to the wonderful healing waters of the warm spring, declaring that in a quarter of an hour I should be perfectly well.
It was pitch dark when Hamed, Ali, and I, carryinglanterns, strolled through the village to the spring near the ruined old “Borj.” We descended a stone stair which ended in a dark, paved lower room, from the opening into which steam issued into the cold outer air. By the light of the lantern I saw that the water rose within the room, through which it flowed, and was discharged through a small opening into a basin outside.
In the centre of the room stood a clumsy pillar supporting the roof, and surrounding the fountains were tanks built of stone. Within one of these lay the black figure of a negro. We requested him to move. This he was quite willing to do, but it took him a long time; and we had to assist him, for he could scarcely walk, his legs being crippled with rheumatism. When we had taken him up to a chamber near the stone steps, and after letting the water run out for a little while, we undressed.
The room was full of choking hot steam, as in a Roman or Moorish bath; I began to perspire before I got into the water. Counting one, two, three, I scrambled in. Over my whole body I felt an icy sensation, just as though I had plunged into cold water, but immediately after followed a feeling as of being scalded, and I sprang back on to the stone verge. Twice I repeated my endeavours to bear the burning heat of the water, but each timehad to jump out quickly; so I remained seated on the stones, throwing the water over my body, and even that I could hardly bear. The whole time I felt as though everything inside me were being boiled, and I perspired frightfully.
With Hamed it was the same, but he was able to remain longer in the water. But Ali astonished us by quietly enjoying himself sitting in the water, the temperature of which was at least 113° Fahrenheit.
After half an hour of this we dressed hastily, and went to the upper room that was thick with rising steam, but not nearly so hot as the lower one. Here, on the stone flooring, we sat closely wrapped in our burnouses, the hoods well drawn over our faces, to refresh ourselves by perspiration. Twice when I drew my hood aside, a clammy, cold, raw air seemed to strike my face. The lantern had been placed on the stone floor, and by its light, before I hurriedly covered my face again, I caught sight of four other figures lying huddled in their white burnouses.
Thus we sat for another half-hour chatting amongst ourselves, and to the negro. The other three men appeared to be sleeping. The negro told us that on a little donkey, his sole possession, he had ridden a great distance from beyond the island of Jerba, to be cured by this far-famedspring. When he arrived about a fortnight ago he could not stand at all, but Allah had already assisted him, and now he was so much better that he could hobble about a little. Every day was wholly spent by him in the bath, or in this upper room. His food was dates and bread given him by charitable folk, as he, poor fellow, possessed nothing.
I gave him a couple of francs, with the wish that Allah would continue to help him so that he might entirely recover. Throwing himself on his side he sought my hand, and, not finding it, kissed my burnous, murmuring his thanks and praying that Allah would protect me on my journey; and, as long as I was within hearing, continued to repeat his good wishes.
We stepped out into the dark, and returned home nearly at a run, so as to avoid catching cold. Through the lanes we sped rapidly, the light dancing in Hamed’s hand, and beside and after us the deep black shadows of our ghostly figures leapt along the walls, startling a little boy who met us, and who darted like a flash of lightning into a narrow side alley.
When I reached my room and stretched myself on my couch, I was conscious of an indescribable feeling of well-being. I felt quite refreshed, and all symptoms of indisposition had completely passedaway; so I fell asleep, having had ample proof of the healing properties of the holy underground spring.
My friend, the old soldier, had said during the day that in the neighbouring mountain wild boar were always to be found in numbers, and that at the moment they were also lying near the river of El Hamma, about a mile away and close to the shott, for it had been a very dry season, and the boar had moved to the oasis in search of water, and taken shelter in the thickets and brushwood.
I had therefore agreed with the Khalifa’s sons that the next morning at sunrise we would ride out and try for a shot at the boar, which at that hour came down to drink at the water pools.
I was pleased at the prospect of this hunt, and intended to try on the occasion an old flint lock given me by one of the Khalifa’s sons.
Early next morning, before it was light, Hamed woke me, saying, “There will not be many men to hunt with you to-day. All the people have to go to the distant plains, some have already started, and others are preparing to depart; for in the night an express courier arrived to report that rain had fallen in the west.”
I at once told Hamed to say to the Khalifa that I gave up all intention of hunting, as I would not hinder his men from going to their work.
I said this knowing that it was a year and a day since rain had fallen, and that the prospects of the barley crop began to look serious; for it is only when the soil is wet that the corn will sprout; and Allah having had compassion on the people and sent rain, the men should start at once to plough the bare earth and sow the grain.
The rule is that the first arrivals at their destination have the choice of the best land, for, although each tribe possesses large tracts of the plains which, according to ancient custom, belong to them, the ground is common property, and the first-comer can take what he will and as much as he can manage to cultivate.
There was joy that morning in the oasis. Over two thousand men and women departed hastily in small caravans—some going far away to the country south of the western shott, others to the nearer lying plains. Only those who possessed neither camels nor horses remained, with the old men and some women and children.
Whilst dressing I heard the Arabs quarrelling below my window, just as they had done the previous day, and as, probably, they do every day since the Khalifa first held his court of justice in this place.
From the doorway at the top of the stone steps I inhaled the fresh morning air in fulldraughts. Across the yard, where the horses were eating their fodder, I looked over the flat grey roofs to the palm groves. From some of the dwellings smoke was rising, and the murmur of many voices reached me.
The sun had just risen, and shone on the distant mountain tops, as I passed through the yard and the long dark gateway into the verandah. There, on his stone bench, was seated the Khalifa, calm, mild, and amiable. My eyes wandered amongst the rows of pillars and over the mob that surrounded him in the courtyard; a quarrelling, gesticulating, noisy crowd. He rose and, laying his hand on his breast, saluted me by bending his head. I did the same, and then we passed on together through the square between his house and the cemetery. His sons, assisted by the farm men and women, were there directing the departure of the last caravan.
From an open doorway in the long white wall came old women dragging heavy corn sacks, and men with wooden ploughs and rope harness. Other women brought water in great bullock skins, and all was bound securely on grumbling camels, amidst much loud shouting and talking; while, leaning against the wall and holding each other’s hands, stood a row of half-naked children.
The Berber women are of fair complexion,and wear the usual blue garb wrapped round the body, and fastened on the shoulders with silver pins, leaving their sides and throat visible. On their bare arms and legs they wear rings of silver, lead, or bone, and their nails are stained with henna. Many of them have good features and black eyes, and their movements are pretty and graceful.
There are other women, however, as smartly dressed, but whose dark colouring, coarse features, and ugly mouths bear witness to their foreign extraction. In these there is negro blood.
Later I expressed my astonishment at finding so many of the latter here. “They are more prolific than the other women,” said Hamed, “therefore many men take them as handmaidens to have the more children, for children signify riches.”
They are descendants of slaves brought by caravan from the SaharaviâRhadamés. Officially there are now no more slaves; but, in fact, over the whole of Southern Tunisia, one finds numbers of negroes who are more or less closely bound to the households of the great proprietors. They are well treated, and therefore remain in their masters’ houses, even though the French have declared that slavery has ceased to exist.
The costume worn by the negresses is the same as that of the Berber women, but their black wool is plaited in thick locks, that fallover their foreheads, whereas the Berber women’s hair is either hidden by a handkerchief or hangs loose like the front hair of our own women.
Gradually, as the camels were laden, they formed into groups, and then began the exodus. The men and most of the women were on foot, the former with muskets on their shoulders or knotted sticks in their hands. A few riders led the way on horseback.
Their path wound across the cemetery, amongst the graves, and out into the grey or ochre-yellow plains, where group after group disappeared.
Other caravans, small and large, came from the town or the palm groves, some of them traversing the road and travelling in another direction. We saw the crowd gradually fall into lines, and, winding over the plain towards various points, vanish out of sight.
The Khalifa returned to his seat in the shade, with the shouting mob about him, whilst the flies buzzed in the hot air.
On the plain the sand seemed to burn; the mountains quivered on the horizon, and the shott lay like a heated furnace far away to the north.
With my guide I went for a stroll through the oasis: first to the Jewish quarter, where I bought an article of dress, and then to the goldsmiths, who, in my presence, made anklets, earrings,and bracelets of silver. Then we visited the blacks, who fashion large and small cooking utensils of clay without the aid of a potter’s wheel. Next, a Jewish shop, where we secretly purchased a couple of bottles of palm wine. A visit to the coffee-house—the only one I saw—followed, where, amongst myriads of flies, we drank scalding hot coffee. On, again, to a man in the market-place, who made the loveliest fans of plaited palm leaves; and lastly to the basket-maker’s shop, and to a weaver in his room.
Everywhere we were followed by an inquisitive crowd, who watched the interesting bargains.
When we returned we found the lieutenant and interpreter from the “Bureau de Renseignements” in Gabés had arrived, riding with their Spahis, to hold a court of inquiry. They had taken up their quarters in the guest-room, where they sat awaiting my return, and invited me to join them at their meal.
This Bureau corresponds to the “Bureau Arabe” of Algeria; but whereas the latter has the right of judging the natives, the former has no such right. They have but one means of control, but through this they, in point of fact, distribute justice almost equally well.
The officers, at the conclusion of the midday meal, would have to hold a court during all therest of the day, as they were obliged to return home the following morning. After a cheerful repast, I started on horseback at about two o’clock, intending to spend the night on the plain, near a well. The Khalifa, who naturally had few people at home, excused himself from sending a guide with me, but the officers declared that alone we should be unable to find our way to Hadeij on the following day. They represented this to the Khalifa, saying he must find a guide, and I heard a loud discussion on the subject, and caught an expression in the usually mild eyes of the Khalifa, which I had never seen before.
In Gabés I learnt later that the Khalifa had in his youth been the finest horseman, the boldest soldier, but also the most notorious horse-stealer imaginable. With his weapons in his hand he went off, far away to strange and unfriendly tribes, to rob and plunder. In fact, his forays sometimes extended as far as the regions about Tunis. That these encounters did not always take place without a fight, may be realised when one learns that the Khalifa boasts of having had sixteen horses shot under him.
The officers having promised to send a guide after us to the well, we said adieu and rode off. The mild Khalifa’s sly glance rested on me as I shook him by the hand on taking leave.
Overa slightly undulating plain with mountains on either side, we rode for some distance in the intense heat. On the way we met a Spahi from the Bureau at Gabés, followed by a boy. Hamed was pleased to see a comrade, and lingered to talk to him. It appeared that the Spahi should by rights have been at his post near Aglat Merteba, where we were to stay the night, but our friend the Khalifa of El Hamma had sent him no provisions for three days, and, driven by hunger, he had been compelled at last to desert his post to seek food. He was then on his way to El Hamma to meet his officers, who, he knew, were to be there.
On account of the cholera, which, though then decreasing, had recently raged in the south, especially in the oasis near the shott, in Nafta, and in the yet more northerly Gofsa, a cordon of Spahis had been established to prevent communication between not only the infected and the healthy regions of Tunisia itself, but also with the frontier of Tripoli. Meanwhile cholera broke out amongst the Spahis, who were then mostlyrecalled; but on the particularly menacing roads to the oases on the coast, some posts had been left, especially near the wells, to prevent wayfarers from the stricken districts from penetrating farther.
The plain extended on every side. The mountain to our left rose higher, that to the right retreated in a westerly direction. But far away to the south we could perceive the blue outlines of the Matmata mountains. We passed a dead camel, picked clean by the jackals, and paced quickly along the track, over stony ground, or on the dry golden-brown plain, where there was no vegetation worthy the name.
It was just sunset when we saw before us, in a hollow by a river bed, two small dark peaks. These were empty tents belonging to the Khalifa, and under which the Spahis and herdsmen had lately been encamped.
Now there was not a living soul to be seen. The tattered canvas of the empty tents was supported by weak poles and pegs. Broken pottery, esparto straw, and refuse were scattered untidily about. We drew water out of the paved well in the only water-skin we had. From this both ourselves and our horses drank, for there was no water-trough, and we had brought neither bottles nor pitchers, expecting to find the camp occupied.
A small caravan of some half-score camels cameby, travelling northwards. The drivers fetched a little water, whilst their beasts continued on their way.
We secured our horses to pegs, each by the off foreleg, and gave them a little alfa straw, as there was no barley, and it would be late ere the guide, who was to bring some, could arrive. Then we spread our rugs in the open air between the tents, and prepared to enjoy our evening meal of dried meat and bread. After it was over I lit a cigarette, and lay down, whilst Hamed slumbered. The moon was rising, and I listened to the horses grazing and a cricket chirping. Thus a long time passed. Once a bird flew over the hollow, otherwise no sound broke the stillness of the night. It turned very cold, so I put on, besides my burnous, the haik I brought as a gift to the bridegroom, and, wrapping myself up, lay down in one of the tents, which, though open at the side, protected me from the rays of the moon, for, in the south, sleeping in the moonlight causes illness—so say the Arabs at least.
I had dozed an hour, when I was roused by the neighing of our horses. I looked out, but there was nothing to be seen. Hamed also rose, but could not discover anything. So we lay down again, using our saddles as pillows, but soon heard footsteps, and a voice speaking. It was the guide, who had trudged all the way, carrying a littlebarley for our horses. When we had fed them we gave the guide some bread, as he had only dates with him, and then tried to sleep again. We were disturbed once more by the Spahi returning from El Hamma. From him I learnt that he had complained to the officers, who had reprimanded the Khalifa—the mild, amiable Khalifa.
Before daybreak Hamed and I were in our saddles, and pacing along in the wake of our guide, who, closely wrapped in his burnous, led the way with long strides.
At dawn we passed a mound that was completely covered with stones, and somewhat later we came upon other knolls, shaped like tumuli, and also covered with stones.
“Those,” said Hamed, “are ruins from the time of the Romans.”
On the plains we saw herdsmen driving their cattle. In one spot, lines in the form of a large square had been scratched with a stick on the hard surface of the earth. These are drawn by the herdsmen about their cattle, when they collect them for the night, that jackals or other wild animals may not venture to attack them—at least, this was Hamed’s explanation.
As the distance from the mountains to the south and south-east decreased, we passed various tracks leading to several dry torrent beds; these were thepaths from Gabés to the mountains. Far away to the south appeared a faint blue line at the base of which I knew were the villages of Tujud, Zaraua, and Tamezred.