REARING.
REARING.
REARING.
At seven o’clock it began to grow hot. Our guide threw his burnous over his shoulder, and,placing his staff at the back of his neck, grasped the two ends with outstretched arms. Thus he stepped briskly forward over the uneven stony ground, or on the flat hard clay surface, that was riddled with holes by the jerboas.
In the quivering sunshine we saw herds of sheep and goats grazing in charge of a guardian.
After again crossing a couple of dry watercourses we reached once more the vicinity of the mountains. Before us lay a valley, in the distance were palms and olives, and far away at the highest part of the valley a single upright palm. This the guide indicated, saying it was our destination; as Hadeij, the end of our journey, and where we were expected for the wedding feast, was not far thence.
I now dismissed the guide, who said he would return in a direct line across country to El Hamma. His white figure was soon left far behind us, as we rode down the valley with the mountains on either side. To our right I was told there was a little cave village. I did not distinguish it, but we passed the palm and olive trees belonging to the inhabitants.
On the slope of the hill farther on, still to our right, lay the village of Judlig—that of many women.
At last we came to a torrent racing into a broad valley, and knew that we were nearing Hadeij. The bottom of the valley was uneven and furrowed, and scattered with palms with fan-shaped crowns.
Downthe mountains and over the hills and valleys flocked the people in numbers. Amongst them were a few riders carrying guns and making their horses curvet along the path, marked by a dust cloud. Burnous-clad men straggled along in small or large parties, which showed at first as mere white patches on the mountain side, but grew larger and more distinct as they drew near. Women in bright clothing and mounted on donkeys came from their villages, accompanied by their husbands and children; other women were afoot, wrapped in red, yellow, or blue draperies; the midday sun lighting up the trinkets on their arms and ankles.
All these groups made for the cave in the valley—the Khalifa’s village. A couple of his men came riding to receive me; they closed up the troop with Hamed, and other guests overtaking us swelled our train, so that almost unconsciously I found myself at the head of quite a little cavalcade; the horses snorted as their hoofs beat the ground and raisedthe whirling dust, and the clink of spurs and the sound of voices reached my ear.
There was an air of festivity about the riders behind me, as, with the hoods of their fluttering burnouses flung back, they hurried along to the feast, passing the parties on foot, who drew aside as the horsemen trotted merrily past, their restive steeds curveting and snorting as they emerged from the shade of the palms into the sunshine.
When the dust-clouds had subsided, we halted under some olive trees, where the Khalifa sat surrounded by male friends and neighbours. Here I dismounted, and saluting first amiable old Sid Fatush, who received me most cordially, I then shook other outstretched hands and received their welcome.
On the open square which I knew so well, were raised camel’s-hair tents for the reception of the numerous guests. Outside these the horses and mules were tethered. No women were visible; they remained in the caves, but hundreds of men moved about, or sat in groups with upraised guns, whilst a swarm of romping boys clustered around them.
Guests were continually arriving; they kissed the Khalifa’s hand, and greeted one another. Many of these dark-eyed, fine-featured men were known to me, and I heard incessantly the salutation of “Salam,” to which the reply is “Salam alikum.”I felt secure and proud of my position as a friend of these mountaineers, and of knowing that, though the only Christian here amongst the “faithful,” I was safe, thanks to the Khalifa’s influence and protection.
Most of the men were clothed in the ordinary white burnous, or the brown toga-like haik, draped about them in picturesque folds; but others, especially the riders and those who intended performing the “powder-play” on foot, had discarded these garments and assumed silken costumes of golden, green, or blue embroidered gala burnouses with wide sleeves. A very few wore the ordinary burnous or the haik over their silk attire.
My good friend Belkassim was the only person present, as far as I could see, in old, worn, or ragged clothes; his upper garment resembled a frock coat. But he had to supervise the horses and mules of the guests, and I saw him hard at work, dragging them about, scolding and dealing blows right and left in his efforts to make room for the numerous animals.
His duties were evidently those of a marshal, and he did not spare the stick with which he made play at times amongst the idle lads who were heedless of his directions. Though very busy, he found time to give me a look and a warm greeting.
The bridegroom, Mohammed, was not visible, neither was he mentioned. According to custom, he kept himself concealed with his closest friends.
Mansur was not at home, having gone to fetch the bride; so Amor was the only one of the Khalifa’s sons who bade me welcome.
I was shown to my quarters in the guest-cave, and our horses were stabled in the cave passage, as on my first visit. A first-rate gala dinner refreshed me; the table being laden with dishes and bowls of well-cooked food, which I relished with the good appetite of a hungry man. The Khalifa himself came to look after me during my meal, followed by an inquisitive mob who crouched round the cave, darkening the entrance.
The onlookers remained silent while the meal lasted, and when it was over were hustled out, and I ordered Hamed to post himself at the door and forbid ingress to each and all, as I desired to change my dress and attire myself in my festal costume—a white linen suit.
When this was done, Hamed entered, leading by the hand a sprightly eleven-year-old lad, who addressed me in pure French, and was introduced by Hamed as his little brother Ali, who was invited to the festival, and had arrived with his mother and sister from Gabés, having ridden thence on a donkey.
Ali attended a French school at Gabés, and, being a bright intelligent lad, had soon learnt to talk fluent French. He told me that the Khalifa hadsaid he might come and ask if I would employ him as interpreter.
I was much pleased with this acquisition, and during the hour which remained before the bride’s arrival, and the consequent commencement of festivities, occupied myself, with little Ali’s help, in gathering information on the subject of the wedding customs in the Matmata mountains, which enabled me to more fully understand what I witnessed later in the day, and thus add to the knowledge I had already acquired from both Mansur and Amor, and from several others of the better class of mountaineers.
And here I will diverge a little to describe the ceremonies that had preceded this last great function; and, in the meantime, my readers may picture to themselves the crowd eagerly scanning the mountains to espy the expected little caravan led by Mansur, who was to bring home the bride; the guests steadily increasing in numbers, and the bridegroom in his hiding-place, listening to the sounds of rejoicing, and perhaps dreaming of his bride-elect; whilst muskets were being loaded, locks examined, horses saddled, women adorned, and the bridal chamber made ready.
On his son Mohammed’s behalf, the old Khalifa discussed the necessary arrangements with the bride’s father, who is one of the tribe of Uled Sliman. Themarriage is then concluded, but by merely a civil contract. Before the bridegroom can be left in peace with his second wife, there must be muchfeu de joie, many songs sung, quantities of kus-kus eaten, and many preparations made in both the bride’s and the bridegroom’s homes. In the latter especially, where festivities must be kept up for eight days, men and women vie with each other in making ready for great rejoicings.
It was, as my readers may remember, eight days earlier, on the 17th October, that I had witnessed the festival of the opening day. At first the women had been mainly occupied in collecting wheat and barley to be ground in their small stone handmills, many people being expected; so there was much work that had to be done, but joy and festivity would reign in Hadeij, so the village women met in the evenings and tried to surpass each other in improvising songs.
Whilst the chorus and joyful “Yu, yu” re-echoed in the still evenings, the men, as we have seen, sat in groups listening to the songs of the women, the negro comic singers, and the noisy drums and clarionets. Now and again there would be the flash of powder and report following report, all tokens of universal rejoicing.
The two first fête days are called “Faraja.” The third, “El Henna,” is so named after the plant, theleaves of which stain red the nails on the hands and feet of the women. A young bride must never be without this beautifying preparation in her new home, and every day she must adorn herself to please and attract her husband.
On the fourth day, “Nugera,” the women again assemble and work and sing, busying themselves with preparations for the festival.
At last on the fifth day, “Mahal,” the rejoicings begin. The tribesmen and women arrive to devour enormous quantities of various kinds of food, in addition to their well-loved “kus-kus.” The negroes dance, sing, and earn much money, as they are never overlooked by either host or guests.
The next morning, that is, of the sixth day, called “Follag,” the men begin by again revelling in “kus-kus” and meat dishes; they require to be well fed and strengthened, for in the evening after sunset they must sally out to collect wood for fuel. They return in the early morning, and then the women’s turn comes, when they will make their last and greatest effort to render the bridal banquet worthy of the occasion, and to do credit to themselves and to the Khalifa. Many oxen and some score of sheep are slaughtered, for no festive occasion passes without every man gorging until he is almost unfit to move.
The seventh day, “El Kesuar,” is appointed forthe presentation to the bride of her dresses and ornaments. In this case this honourable commission was entrusted to Amor, the Khalifa’s second son.
Soon after midday he swung himself into his saddle and led the way, followed by some ten horsemen and a number of men on foot. The latter led mules laden with the bridal gifts. On the way the riders galloped in wildest “fantasia,” riding gallantly as they proceeded towards the bride’s home on the other side of the mountains, whilst muskets were discharged, and the smoke of the gunpowder rose amongst the hills. The negro musicians, who accompanied them, played on their flutes and beat their drums to warn the Uled Sliman of the approach of the people from Hadeij.
These are expected, and a festal welcome prepared in the village; for there also, during many days, great preparations have been made, the tribe being proud that little Mena should go to Hadeij as bride to the Khalifa’s son.
What a crowd there was the other evening, when, after sunset, she stepped from the cave into the open court, shy and timid, to allow herself to be seen by the men of her homestead, who had gathered on the top of the bank, whence they could see down into the deep courtyard to where the light flickered from the candle she carried, and where her shadow wavered on the perpendicular walls. For the lasttime they looked on her maiden form and beautiful features, and could not but acknowledge that little Mena was a fitting bride for Mohammed, son of the Khalifa of Hadeij.
The previous day the village women of the Uled Sliman sang the live-long day—morning, noon, and night their joyful songs arose from the caves.
There was no more work to be done. Enough food was provided for their own tribesmen, and for the strangers who were to come and fetch the bride.
After Amor and his men have done honour to the Uled Sliman by the “fantasia” on horseback, they are led into a cave, the residence of the bride’s father. Here they hand over the lovely clothes, and are regaled with roast and stewed meats.
Before leaving, they pass into another room, where the women have ranged themselves along the walls, each seated on her own “senduk” (chest). On the head of every woman they place pieces of money, intended for the negress who will adorn the bride, for she must have encouragement and be paid in ringing coin to embellish the bride, that she may prove attractive in the eyes of her future husband.
Not until after sunset does Amor return to Hadeij, where again the musket shots re-echo and the negroes dance and play, richly rewarded by the spectators.
In the village of Uled Sliman there is also feasting: the last great festival before the little girl leaves her home for ever, for next day she must bid farewell to all those who have been so good to her, to become the wife of a stranger, a man with whom she may be scarcely acquainted, except by name. But she probably dreams of her coming prosperity, and of him who will shortly be her husband and master. Lucky for her if she does not dwell on the thought that perhaps in seven, eight, or even fewer, years,—when she is faded, old, and ugly,—she may become a beast of burden, and make way for another and more youthful woman, whom she may gratefully welcome as a help in her work.
But we will not overshadow a happy hour with such forebodings. Sorrow may come early, but, possibly, never!
At dawn of the final day, called “Sjiffa” (a canopy), all were early afoot in Hadeij. During the previous evening, and late into the night, guests kept arriving from distant regions, and more would arrive that day. People had been invited from all the villages in the Matmata mountains—first and foremost, those of Uled Sliman, but also from Ras-el Ned, Beni Sultan, Tujan, Smerten, Beni Aissa. Many hundreds would assemble, and, with the men, women, and children of Hadeij, between one and two thousand would be present.
In the Khalifa’s house, in all the caves, and in the tents, the guests were fed in the early morning. Belkassim had his hands full, taking care that everyone had his appointed place.
The meal soon being finished, the people flocked to watch Mansur start with the canopy (Sjiffa) perched on the bridal camel. He rode a donkey, and was accompanied by both horsemen and men on foot, the latter firing off muskets and performing the most graceful and joyous “fantasia,” whilst the negroes played gaily on flutes and tambourines as they disappeared amongst the mountain paths.
But we must glance at the home of the bride, where Mansur is expected to arrive some hours later.
The father of the bride had given a banquet to the men, women, and children, and even to the negroes, followed by muchfeu de joie.
Towards midday, when the bride has been adorned, and only waits to be fetched, the men of her tribe enter, and each lays his mite on her head. All is for the negress who has dressed her and striven faithfully that the result may be superlatively impressive.
But hark! The report of guns is heard in the distance, the men from Hadeij are coming. Haste, oh, Uled Sliman, to receive them, for the powder speaks, the clarionets shrill, and the tom-toms boom incessantly.
CAMEL WITH CANOPY.
CAMEL WITH CANOPY.
CAMEL WITH CANOPY.
The palanquin is decorated and enveloped in many coloured draperies. Within it is placed the bride, completely veiled, the hangings are drawn around it, so that she can neither see nor be seen, and the joyous procession starts homewards towards Hadeij, Mansur leading. The bride’s mother, sister, and father follow afoot, the negress with them—all walking immediately behind the palanquin. Before it go the negro musicians playing.
A message was brought me that the bridal procession was to be seen coming down the mountain. We hastened out and joined the stream of people hurrying to a great open space, where the “fantasia” was to be held. Thither rushed also a flock of females, enveloped in yellow and red draperies. These were the young and half-grown girls. They kept close together, and grouped themselves under the shade of a palm tree. The old Khalifa sat on his mule, a clubbed stick in his hand. He, Belkassim, Amor, and some of the men, directed the crowd to stand in long rows on either side of the open space.
My place, on a chair under a palm tree, was pointed out to me. Beside me were Ali and Hamed; and the Khalifa rode up now and again and halted near me, when we would smile at each other; while he inquired whether I was satisfied, if I was comfortably seated, and expressed his gratification at my presence on this festal day.
Behind me rose a rampart of earth, banked up about the palm trees; it was tightly packed with rows of men; and above this white crowd the palms towered into the air. Farther off the crowns of other palms and olives were visible, scattered here and there over the valley of which the horizon is bounded by blue mountains. Clinging to the tops of the neighbouring palm trees I saw boys, who had climbed there for a better view.
Behind the men stood groups of women; amongst the former were the negro musicians, and beside these were men in silken apparel and carrying muskets, in readiness to perform the gun dance (or powder-play).
Far to the left, on an open space between two roads, were gathered a number of horsemen, clothed in flowing garments and with their silver-inlaid guns held pointing upwards, prepared to spring forward at a given moment and pass us at flying speed.
To the right, the ground rose in a gentle incline to the caves in the bank.
It was hot at the midday hour, and the sun burnt scorchingly in the valley, but the attention of all was strained watching for the long-expected procession, so no one noticed the heat.
The flutes, clarionets, and drums began to play. The boys started running across the open space, followed and driven back by Belkassim and hisassistants, and roundly abused even by the Khalifa himself; for the space had to be kept clear for the horses to gallop over.
Suddenly the sound of gun-shots was heard coming from the opposite groups. The smoke rose amongst the palm leaves, and then I saw men beautifully dressed and wearing red caps and full white trousers, performing the gun dance, either two or four at a time.
Two men sprang forward from the group. The first rested his cheek on his gun, aimed at his companion, and danced round in a circle with little tripping steps, still steadily sighting the other, who, opposite to him, danced in the same circle, the butt end of his gun held in a similar position. Thus they tripped from side to side, keeping with their guns a steady aim at each other. Then, suddenly, a report sounded from the two guns simultaneously. The dancers then sprang round to the staccato and nasal notes of the clarionets, now playing in quicker time. One of the men threw his musket up in the air to catch it again as it fell, the other whirled his whizzing round in his hand. So they danced for a while, and then dropped into slower measure, aiming at each other as at first, and ending by abruptly vanishing amongst the crowd to reload their guns, whilst others danced forward and the firing was repeated.
Two and two, aiming at each other, four men danced in a circle; as they tripped from one side to the other, reports re-echoed and guns whirled in the air. The sun gleamed on silver-inlaid weapons, on the dust, the dazzling white burnouses of the men, on the women, the palms and the olive trees, whilst the music’s monotonous nasal clamour resounded hideously.
Then the riders to the left stirred into activity. Two men started their horses at a gallop, forcing them along at furious speed. Like lightning they approached, the riders leaning towards each other so that their heads pressed cheek to cheek. Their caps seemed one red spot, their two faces were not distinguishable the one from the other. The rider on the right held his gun in his right hand, the other in his left, and as they galloped they swung them to and fro and up and down in the air. When they were quite in front of us, just outside the group of dancers, one of them fired his gun into the ground and the other into the air, then they parted, galloping quickly back to join their ranks.
Other horsemen followed in the same fashion.
In El Hamma I had noticed some riders whose horses had silken coverings flowing over their quarters, but here I saw none.
Some thirty horsemen came forward in turn to take part in the powder-play. The dancing groupdid not cease firing when the riders passed; the flutes and clarionets wildly intermingled their din—it was deafening. But the riders’ prowess was a beautiful sight. Some of them had no guns and only galloped past; one carried, hanging by his saddle, a splendid long silver-mounted sword, resembling our own old Viking swords. This I was to see used later, during the bridal ceremony.
After some time passed in this way, I heard the sound of other flutes and drums. The dancers and riders redoubled their exertions, for at last the bridal procession was on the point of arriving.
Mansur on his mule came riding into the square, and was nearly trampled on by the “fantasia” riders.
After him followed the camel with the canopy. It was led forward by men on foot, others supporting the palanquin on either side as it swayed backwards and forwards.
Behind the camel came some women, and the procession was closed by a mule laden with dresses and gifts.
Just as the camel was about to halt beneath the shade of the palm trees in front of me, two horsemen came tearing up. They fired their guns quite close to the canopy. Their horses reared, and I saw their forelegs right up in the air as the guns whirled over the men’s heads.
At short intervals other riders followed, somesingly, others in couples, or even three riding side by side. In the last case, the two outside riders leant towards the central figure. All fired off their guns close to the palanquin, where the bride sat ensconced. She must have been unconscious of all save the fiendish noise made in her honour, and the unpleasant rocking motion produced by a camel’s action.
THE BRIDE ESCORTED OVER THE MOUNTAINS.(From a sketch by Knud Gamborg.)
THE BRIDE ESCORTED OVER THE MOUNTAINS.(From a sketch by Knud Gamborg.)
THE BRIDE ESCORTED OVER THE MOUNTAINS.
(From a sketch by Knud Gamborg.)
The horsemen returned to their starting-pointafter each gallop. The reel and gold canopied palanquin with its pointed top was now just in front of me. The music continued, and the clatter of the horses’ hoofs, and of shots fired into the ground; whilst the spectators in their white burnouses stood almost motionless, enjoying the beautiful sight. The sun shone brightly, and many drew their hoods over their heads to protect themselves from its rays, and the horses were white with foam from excitement and heat.
Behind a couple of the horsemen, a stark-naked negro lad, bestriding a little jennet, came galloping up. He waved his arms and gesticulated wildly with a stick, using it as a gun. Alas! the mule stopped suddenly, sticking his forefeet into the ground. The negro lad, with an indescribable grimace, threw his arms about its neck. The mule reared with a bound; the lad clung fast and anxiously to its neck as he still hung on, but was fated to fall, for the mule finally plunged to one side, pitching the naked boy on to the sand. For the first time I saw the spectators smile, some even laughed aloud. The mule trotted off towards the hills, followed by the shouting lad, whose unclothed form was covered with dust.
Such clowns often appear on the scene during a festival; the part always being played by a negro.
The black boy must soon have caught his mule,for a few minutes after his first performance he again rushed by to repeat his uncouth “fantasia.”
After the palanquin had been present at the “powder-play” for about half an hour, it was conducted towards the caves. The “fantasia” being at an end, all the people followed the bride; some going before, some behind the camel, and others alongside of it. The whole ground seemed sown with a crop of burnouses.
The Khalifa rode up and gave directions to Hamed and Ali as to where I was to be placed during the remainder of the function.
We took a short cut back to the Khalifa’s house, where I was stationed on a chair, over the entrance gate through which the bride would pass.
From my commanding position I looked down on the spot where the women sat and sang to me on my first evening.
Gradually more and more men and boys arrived, till the slopes were crowded. In front of the gate was Belkassim, the ubiquitous Belkassim, keeping back the boys with his marshal’s stick. Amor was there also, and a little later the Khalifa arrived on his mule. These kept a small space clear near the gate. Pressed together close beside it was a group of girls, mostly half-grown; in their light-coloured clothes they were very effective. They chaffed one another as they watched for the advent of the bride. Bychance one of them looked up and caught sight of me; in an instant she had imparted her interesting discovery to the others, and many a pretty, roguish, or inquisitive glance was cast on me. When I nodded to them, they tittered, and the biggest girl withdrew the kerchief from before her face.
FANTASIA.(From a sketch by Knud Gamborg.)
FANTASIA.(From a sketch by Knud Gamborg.)
FANTASIA.
(From a sketch by Knud Gamborg.)
The Khalifa on his mule had enough to do keeping order. His angry voice thundered not only at the boys, but also at the men who pushed forward to have a look.
At length the musicians and the red-topped palanquin came in sight. Gun-shots exploded all around. Four negroes appeared, tripping along with a swaying motion from their hips, and playing, two on drums, and two on clarionets; the music shrieking hideously over the hill. Behind them came the palanquin, followed by the mule with the gifts.
A short distance from the gateway they halted, and the camel was ordered to kneel. The obstinate beast refused; supported by the men, the palanquin swayed from left to right. Poor little Mena: you were to be worried yet a little longer before you were to be allowed to leave your cage.
At last the men succeeded in making the camel kneel and in binding its foreleg, its complaining roar mingling with the rest of the infernal din.
The negress stood beside the palanquin, and I saw that she conversed with the captive—perhapsseeking to reassure her. She stretched her black arm beneath the canopy to pass in a finger-ring which Amor handed her. It was evidently a wedding present, but whether from Amor himself or from his brother, the bridegroom, I was unable to ascertain.
In the meanwhile, on the small clear space in front of the gate, a carpet had been spread, and on it a mattress, on which was placed a large flat pan filled with sand.
The men busied themselves stripping the palanquin of its canopy of hangings and kerchiefs, and when this was done they lifted down the closely veiled bride and set her on the ground. The negress took her by the hand and led her within a couple of paces of the edge of the carpet, where they remained standing. Round it some men had stationed themselves, holding unfolded burnouses spread above their heads, so that carpet and mattress were hidden from view.
I could not understand what these preparations could portend, and asked Hamed. He explained, in a whisper, that some small boys were to be circumcised, and pointed out three men each holding a child in his arms. These children were from two to four years old: one of them was little Hamed, the bridegroom’s son by his first wife; another, Amor’s son Mahmud; and the third little boy was also a relative.
The children wore red caps with tassels richly adorned with gold and silver ornaments, and, so far as I could make out, chains hung about their ears and necks. They were dressed in coloured coats, below which appeared white shirts and bare legs encircled by anklets. The two elder children cried incessantly, as if they knew what awaited them, but the youngest smiled and looked about him.
The music in the meantime drowned the screams of the small boys. Belkassim disappeared beneath the coverings, and one of the small boys was carried in. After a time he was brought out, fainting, and was taken to the cave; the other boys followed in the same manner.
During this ceremony, which lasted at least twenty minutes, the bride stood, closely veiled, by the carpet. Extending her right hand, decked with gold and silver rings, she took some leaves from a basin held by a negress and strewed them over the covering, and, whilst the music played and the drums boomed, I saw the slender little arm continually moving to and fro sprinkling the “henna” leaves above the boys and men.
At last the boys were taken away, and the carpet, etc. removed. The maiden bride had fulfilled the first of her duties—she had blessed the ceremony. The children being now purified, in token thereof water-coolers were broken on the ground, I observedalso that chopped eggs and a great quantity of food were distributed to the assembled children.
The scene I had just witnessed was so full of charm, and, above all, so impressive, that for a moment I was almost awed by its solemnity.
At the end of the enclosure the crowd kept moving restlessly backwards and forwards, endeavouring to see what was going on, for the bride was about to enter her house.
Mohammed’s first wife, closely veiled, came forward, and, taking her rival by the hand, led her into their dwelling. On the other side of the bride walked the negress, who for the last time, after many years of loving care, directed her little Mena’s footsteps. On her head was held a little mirror, whilst she herself grasped with her right hand the hilt of a long, straight, double-edged sword, the point of which, carried foremost, was borne by a man. “Beware! Ill befall those who would injure this pure young woman; the sword would avenge her!”
Thus, to the screaming of the music, the young bride entered the gate.
As soon as the door had swung-to on its creaking hinges, guns were discharged in every direction with a deafening noise, and I was compelled to abandon in haste my exalted seat, for the smoke nearly choked me as the men and boys fired wildly in front of the gate.
It was then past noon, and there ensued a pause in the festivities, the musicians requiring rest, being expected to play with renewed vigour in the evening.
The numerous guests were fed in the dwellings and tents. Before the meal the people collected in groups under the trees, and friends and acquaintances conversed together. The Khalifa, who sat surrounded by the sheikhs of the villages, requested me to seat myself near him.
Several of these men were known to me, and I thanked them for their hospitality; others invited me to their villages. I replied that time was short, and I must hasten over the mountains and on to Medinin on the plains; so on this occasion they must excuse me, for I could not accept their invitation.
“But you have visited Judlig, Ben Aissa, Tujud, Zaraua, and many other villages in our land. You accepted the invitations of their sheikhs—wherefore, then, will you not also visit Beni Sultan?” said the sheikh of that village. “Come to our ‘Ksar,’ and if you will remain a long time you will be welcome.”
I explained that I had to go all the way to Medinin, where I was expected, but the sheikh would take no refusal, and the Khalifa put in his word, saying—
“You can ride to-morrow to Beni Sultan, and eat ‘kus-kus’ there; thence you can go on to Tujan,sleep there, and next day ride straight to Medinin.”
“But I was informed at Gabés that I could not ride a horse over the mountain on account of the road being rough and impracticable.”
“You shall have a mule which will carry you anywhere.”
“But my horse and my Spahi’s horse, what shall I do with them?”
“I will take them to Gabés with greetings from you,” said the Sheikh of Tujan. “I am just about to travel there to confer with the Khalifa, and so must also the Sheikh of Beni Sultan.”
“That is all very well, but I shall not see anything of yourselves.”
“No, unfortunately we are compelled to be away, as the Khalifa has summoned us; but the men in our villages will receive you well, and be pleased at your visit.”
I could but consent, and thank them for their invitation.
The Sheikh of Beni Sultan was a proud, generous man, who was said to be very wealthy.
Tujan is under the Khalifa of Gabés. This official had sent his friend, the Khalifa of Hadeij, a fine bull and five goats as an offering towards the feast.
For an hour I sat in conversation with the men,to whom I offered cigarettes, the old Khalifa having a positive weakness for these, to him rare, articles of commerce.
After sauntering for some time amongst the various groups to greet the people, I returned to my cave. It was quite dark; I lit a couple of candles, and occupied myself making notes of all I had seen and heard, Mansur, Amor, and several others sitting round me, and giving me any explanations I desired. Little Ali and his brother were my faithful interpreters, but my work was often interrupted, so many came to salute me, perhaps in hopes of being offered cigarettes; and the room filled by degrees.
At last meal-time approached, and they left me. So for once I ate all the good things in peace. Soup, ragout of fowl, roast kid, kus-kus, bread and honey, and dates. Only Mansur remained with me, and overwhelmed me with assurances of his friendship, which I heartily returned.
When I had eaten, I looked out into the courtyard. The great vaulted chamber opposite was lighted, and was choke full of men eating amongst the pillars. Deep silence reigned, for it is not considered correct to be noisy when eating.
In the room next my cave were Ali, Hamed, and many others, busy eating up the remains of my meal, and in the long cavern passage stoodour horses devouring their plentiful fodder. Under the palms, the olive trees, and beneath the tents, all were in full enjoyment of the wedding feast.
I stepped out and went up the hill, where the stars twinkled above me, and all was still.
Out of the caves in the heart of the earth, streaming up from the courtyards on every side, I saw rays of light coming from the women’s dwellings, where they and the children also enjoyed the banquet.
It was nearly seven o’clock, and it would not be long ere the rejoicings recommenced in the enclosure before the gate with song music, and dancing. But the hour was also near when the bridegroom would present himself to his bride, accompanied only by a few friends.
As I stood, lost in thought, Ali came hastily and pulled at my burnous, whispering that the bridegroom had sent me a message by one of his friends, who was seeking me.
As I returned to learn particulars, I met the messenger.
“Mohammed asks if you will accompany him, Sidi. Will you? And shall I lead you?”
I consented without hesitation, whereupon we, the messenger, Ali, and I, started at once on our way in the dark, going through narrow lanes in the direction of the mountains.
All around was quiet, and became even more so as we put a distance between ourselves and the festivities. Suddenly a dog barked in the darkness; we were probably in the neighbourhood of a dwelling-place. Soon after, it ceased barking; we were beyond its domain.
The messenger, who was one of the bridegroom’s intimate friends, took my hand and led me, as he perceived that I had some difficulty in finding secure footing, and my little Ali walked on the other side of me, clinging to a fold of my burnous.
When we had proceeded thus some ten minutes, I made out some dark figures before me. These were the bridegroom and his friends. They were squatted on the ground, but rose when I approached.
By the faint light of the stars I distinguished an average-sized man clothed in a red burnous, beneath which showed a white haik—could it be, perchance, my gift? On his head he wore a red fez with a tassel. This was evidently the bridegroom.
Addressing me he said, “If you will be my friend, as you have become that of my father and my brothers, I shall be grateful to you, and will beg of you to accompany me shortly to my house.”
I thanked him for his invitation, which I was delighted to accept.
The bridegroom’s toilet was evidently only justcompleted, for a young Jew was still present, whose father I had visited during my first visit to Hadeij. He was very busy arranging the folds of the bridegroom’s costume, having doubtless acted as his valet.
We all sat down together. A pleasant scent of attar of rose was wafted from the bridegroom’s clothing towards me, and he produced a little phial of this, and passed it to me to use from. When he stretched out his hand, I noticed that rings glittered on his fingers, and that he held a pocket-handkerchief, a luxury I was not accustomed to see hereabouts.
“Are you married?” he asked me.
I answered, “Yes, surely.”
“How many wives have you?”
“I have only one.”
“Only one!”
I explained that in our country we were in the habit of having only one wife. It was forbidden to us to have several. Why, he could not comprehend, and at that moment I did not think fit to explain.
“See, Mohammed,” I said, “I will confess to you that it is not good to have only one wife, for a man is her slave. Two wives must doubtless be worse, for then there can be no peace; but I tell you that, in my opinion, a man ought to have threewives, neither more nor less. With that number he can pit two against each other, and take refuge with the third; but in such case he must be careful to vary.”
Mohammed understood my joke, and invited me at once to visit Hadeij next time he should marry.
Lighting one of my cigarettes, I passed them round. When I was about to offer them to the Jew, little Ali hastily pulled my sleeve and whispered, “You must not offer him any; he is a Jew.” I did so notwithstanding, and probably by this act fell low in Ali’s estimation, so innate is the contempt for the Jewish race—“Those dogs!”
Afterwards I found it had been a great piece of stupidity on my part to have shown civility to the Jew. He misunderstood it, and became intrusive and impertinent, so that later in the evening I had to set him down sharply, causing little Ali to laugh a laugh of superiority.
Although much tempted, I did not try to converse with the bridegroom about his home life, knowing that it would be considered indelicate. For an Arab never asks even his best friend after his wife’s health. The most he may say is, “How is it with your house?”
When we had waited there for about an hour, a man came running in to say that it was time. We rose, and I was told that amongst good friendsit was always customary to carry the bridegroom part of the way to the bride’s apartment. So, lifting the heavy Mohammed, I carried him a few paces. He was evidently pleased at my doing him this friendly service, and, the form having been gone through, sprang quickly down, and, taking me and one of his other friends each by a hand, began to run. Before us sped a young man; the rest followed. We were breathless when we reached the caves.
All was in order. A crowd of spectators began to gather immediately, and we slipped in through the gates and down the passage, rapidly crossed into the first court, thence through the underground passage and out into the other court. This was half-dark, but from one of the caves shone a light. Here we entered. The vaulted oblong room with its whitewashed walls was brilliantly lit up. At the far end a carpet hung right across the room, concealing something on the ground; in front was spread another carpet. Here Mohammed seated himself, facing the door. There was no other furniture visible.
On the bridegroom’s left his friend took a seat, pointing to me to take my place on the right. There was not the slightest sign on the features of the former expressive of any emotion, either of gladness or gravity. To the looker-on he appearedmerely phlegmatic, and sat, wrapped in his cloak, staring into vacancy. His friend, who was also clothed in red, sat, like himself, in silence.
In the open doorway I saw the faces of Belkassim and Mansur, also some children, Jews, and the men who had followed us. No women were present.
When we had been seated thus for a while, there appeared, from the part of the room divided from us by the hangings, a large dish of kus-kus and, soon after, a pitcher of water. These were placed before Mohammed, who took a mouthful of the food—the first meal prepared for him by his bride.
We sat silent a moment longer, then Belkassim dismissed the spectators from the door, and I rose, shook hands with my friend the bridegroom, and left. In the doorway I looked back. There sat the bridegroom, dumb and stiff, but behind him I saw the carpet being drawn a little aside, and in the dim light beyond it fancied I caught sight of a woman’s face. Whether it were pretty, young, or smiling, I know not. I only know that it must have been the bride’s.
In the open air the festival was in full swing. Closely packed in front of the gate, and all along the approach, sat veiled women. The banks and hollows were white with spectators. The negroes danced, played, and drummed. There a mulattosang a droll ballad; here two men danced a stick dance, and so on.
I had been requested to take my place amongst the bridegroom’s friends, who held themselves in a group apart, prepared to show him this last day’s homage.
About an hour elapsed, then from the bridal cave a muffled gun-shot was heard; it was scarcely noticeable, as the shrieking and booming of the music overpowered all sounds. Ali hastily handed me a gun, which I discharged, and several shots were fired from our group. Every one of those present knew what this meant, and rejoiced, but none more so than the family of the bride. They, who had waited anxiously, were reassured, for she would not now, under cover of the silent dark night, and wrapped in a grey blanket, be hunted at a given word out of the village, and driven home to sorrowing and disgraced parents and relatives.
The festival was not interrupted, but continued as before.
With the Khalifa by my side, and surrounded by his sons, the sheikhs, and the principal guests, I remained seated all the evening and far into the night, watching the entertainment, that in course of time became very monotonous.
Now and again some men stepped forward,either singly or two together. Over their shoulders hung red cloaks, and they posed in graceful attitudes, with their heads held high, one foot forward, and the left arm hidden beneath the burnous and the red cloak, whilst the right hand was extended. On each side of them crouched a negro, with the flaps of his burnous spread out before him to catch the coins shortly to be thrown to him. Round these figures danced other negroes, whilst the drums played.
Now one of the red figures raised an arm and threw a coin into the negro’s lap, then again, slipping his hands into the folds over his breast, pulled out another coin. This went on incessantly, that all might witness how much money was distributed.
First it was the turn of the representatives from Beni Sultan, then from Zaraua, Tamezred, or other villages, who in this way paid the tribute expected of them on such festive occasions for the benefit of the negro musicians.
When at last the men ceased, and the chink of coin was no longer heard, one of the negroes advanced towards the group of women, and, half-singing, half-declaiming, told them that the men of such and such villages had given so much, at the same time praising not only their generosity, but also their other virtues. Now and then his song was interrupted by the “Yu, yu” of the women,which this evening, owing to the number of voices, sounded quite imposing. When he concluded, the applause was deafening.
Now and then a solo was sung, two or three voices joining in the chorus that followed, the singers sticking their noses as close together as they could during the performance. These songs are always sung in a nasal tone, without any modulation, and the time never varies.
Duringthe night most of the guests wended their way homewards, but a few still remained next morning; some of whom desired to accompany me to Beni Sultan.
The bridegroom was expected to emerge from his cave at any moment, so I lingered awhile, partly in hopes of bidding him farewell, and also because I had been told he would be received with rejoicings, and would distribute sweetmeats amongst the village children. But the time fixed for my departure came, and I had to ride off without witnessing this concluding scene of the festival.
Mansur’s mule was brought me. The Khalifa himself arranged my saddle and lengthened the stirrups, thus showing me the final marks of courtesy. He then gave the guide his instructions, and I took my leave with warm expressions of thanks to him and to his sons, and also to the assembled men. I rewarded little Ali for the services he had rendered me, bowed respectfully to the Khalifa, and rode offwith my heart full of gratitude towards him and his people for their great hospitality, and with the pleasant impression that my stay in the Matmata mountains had given me the opportunity of seeing manners and customs which, to my knowledge, no European had yet witnessed in these regions. I thankfully recognised my good fortune in having had the goodwill and assistance of the authorities; and was, above all, grateful for the great hospitality of the people from whom I had then just parted, and for their friendship which I flattered myself I had gained.
A mule saddle is very broad, and resembles somewhat a pack. Its peculiarity is that the stirrup-leathers are not secured to it. A leather strap with a stirrup hung at each end is slung over the saddle, so that, to mount, one must either vault into the saddle without setting foot in the stirrup or be lifted into it. To anyone accustomed to the ordinary English saddle it is an extremely uncomfortable seat, as it is necessary to bear equally on both stirrups, or one risks losing one’s balance and falling off; but I must say my mule proved to be altogether a success on the difficult mountain road.
For nearly an hour we rode along the mountain top, whence we had a lovely view; then we descended into a long valley in which were manyhalf-dead olive trees and green palms. Just as we began the descent, we met a couple of men on their way to Hadeij from Beni Sultan to complain to the Khalifa that their sheep had been stolen.
In the valley was a deep, broad river bed, then dry, and the mountain sides were furrowed with deep watercourses leading thereto. In these furrows stood a number of palms surrounded by embankments.
We halted in a lovely grove of olives, amongst which sprung a few palms. Here some of our guides awaited us. They had crossed the mountain by a shorter but precipitous path, whilst we had circled round by a less steep and fatiguing route.
From an eminence some way down the valley we observed a village looking like an eagle’s nest. This was the ancient Beni Sultan, now deserted and in ruins, the present village lying on the incline on the farther side of the mountain. A few of the houses in this deserted village were excavated in the ground.
We travelled directly across the valley, and by a very dangerous and slippery path reached the lowest point of the mountain ridge. From thence we looked down on the valley on the other side. Facing us were the ruins of the old village, standing picturesquely against the sky. We rode down in a zigzag line past the farms and houses scattered on the mountain side; the dwellings were crowdedwith domestic animals, with men and women, and especially with children.
Not till we reached the valley did we halt, close to the descent to a cluster of cave dwellings belonging to the Sheikh, in absence of whom I was most cordially received by one of his nearest relatives. The passage to the cave was not covered, and was cut into steps where it sloped down into the ground towards the gate. On one side of the wall by the steps was dug out a vaulted and somewhat decorated cave; this was the guest-room where I dined. Afterwards I visited the nearer of the Sheikh’s houses, with permission to examine them from top to bottom.
In the main these dwellings were on the same plan as those of Hadeij, but I found several cisterns in both the farms and the ruins. Water flowed from the mountains into these through canals and primitive pipes.
The caves were not all dug down and around a courtyard, but were often high up on a perpendicular wall, and were reached by steps.
The women offered me dates and showed me their looms. I saw where they slept, generally on benches like low tables, called by them “mokera.”
In one of the underground vaults, to which the access was through a very heavy gate, was an oil-mill, and in another a granary.
After spending a couple of hours in the shelter of the caves, we again started riding through the valley in a southerly direction, and passing through large palm and olive groves. Nowhere in the mountains had I seen such rich vegetation.
Close to the village were some ten women clad in dark blue, drawing water from one of the few wells on this mountain. Two large columns, formed of hewn palm stems, were inserted on either side of the well, so as to slope inwards. These supported another palm stem placed horizontally on the top of them; this again sustained a wooden disk by means of which the water was hauled up. This system of drawing water is rather comical, for the women, instead of hauling up the bucket by moving their hands on the rope, seize the latter and take a quick run, the distance covered being equal to the depth of the well. When they have thus drawn a pitcherful of water they return to the well to take another run.
We constantly passed spots in the valley planted more or less largely with olive trees, but some of these were in an unhealthy condition, showing grey or yellow instead of a deep fresh green. If rain were not soon to fall these would die, and it would be many years before others could be grown and bear fruit.
It cut me to the heart to see all this wealth onthe verge of destruction, and the more so when I learnt that the Khalifa owned many of the trees. Rain had fallen in many other districts, but none in this.
Quitting the valley we turned to the right, and rode in a westerly direction amongst colossal cliffs and into a wild ravine, where we were surrounded to the north, west, and south by towering rock pinnacles. Only the very centre of this chasm was reached by the sun, which, hidden behind the mountain, streamed in glorious radiance through a rift in the wall of the cliff. On either side of this rift, with the light playing on their roughly piled grey masses, were the two villages of Tujan, clinging to the precipitous sides like swallows’ nests to a wall. On one side, high up the mountain, I caught a glimpse of what appeared to be an eagle’s nest as the sunlight glanced on it. On inquiring what it was I received the reply that in old, very old, days the village people resided there, before they moved lower down the slope.
When we arrived at a difficult pass, my guide, “Erzib ben Hamed,” who had his home in the village, asked me to dismount. So, leading our animals, we walked slowly up, our feet slipping, and the stones rattling down behind us. Beneath some olive trees we again mounted to make our entry.
We were now near enough to discern that the rift was a deep ravine; on either side was an irregular mass of dreary, grey houses piled one over the other, above which the nearly perpendicular cliffs rose steeply to almost the very top of the mountain, broken only in one place by a flat surface. On the side nearest to us stood the ruins of the village of bygone days, perched like a mediæval castle on the summit of the cliff.
I sat in silent contemplation of this imposing sight, till interrupted by Hamed, the faithful Hamed, who came up dragging his horse behind him. He told me to turn round and look at the view of the Mediterranean.
Great heavens! how glorious was the sight when I raised myself and looked back. It was so beautiful that even Hamed and the Arabs were awed by its splendour.
Looking down directly over the slopes, the valley, and the mountains on either side, we saw the blue sea far away beyond the plains. In the evening light all the tints of blue, violet, brown, yellow, and green were softly blended and intermingled as into a veil which spread over the whole landscape, and imagination divined more than was actually visible, thus adding to the fascination of the scene.
By the first house, the Sheikh’s, we halted.Some people came out, one of whom, I suppose, acted as his representative, since he invited me in; but Hamed was already off his horse and had gone in to look at the quarters. He returned and announced that they were very bad, upon which I inquired whether notice had been given of my coming, and whether the Sheikh had not directed that I should be given decent accommodation. The spokesman insisted that there was no other room available. I suspected this to be false, and ordered Hamed and Erzib to mount their horses at once, and we rode up a narrow lane and alighted outside Erzib’s dwelling, where he had already told me I should be welcome. I heard the man following us, and saw that a number of people had gradually assembled.
Erzib’s dwelling lay high up on the side of the cliff, but there were others that were higher still, and yet others below. In front of these dwellings ran a narrow path, that, starting from the highest farms, led in a zigzag course down to those below. The outside of the path was on the edge of a steep declivity, down which all refuse was thrown, and was therefore dirty; looking, as did all the other banks when seen from a distance, as though scored with black stripes. On the slope below us was a house with a courtyard between it and the cliff wall. This yard, in which a woman was working, wascompletely open to view. Thence the ground fell gradually away till it ended in palm-grown gorges and valleys; beyond these were low hills, then a plain, and, last of all, the sea.
Below us, and a little to one side, was the principal edifice of the village—a little mosque, or Marabout’s tomb, outside which a crowd of men had gathered to perform their evening devotions. Kneeling almost simultaneously, they kissed the earth and rose again. A few of them presently disappeared through the open door of the Marabout’s tomb, but the remainder stayed outside.
Looking upwards, the eyrie on the summit was visible above Erzib’s house, that is, one could discern it by stretching one’s neck. On the opposite side, at the end to the left, lay the other village.
In the evening the women sallied forth in numbers to fetch water from the cisterns in the valley, and the village dogs barked, answering each other from every side. Below us, at the foot of the slope, a crowd of men gathered. I could hear their shouts and see their gesticulations, as, with extended arms, they pointed to one figure. Some of them turned and called up the bank to us, one of them being the man who had met me on the Sheikh’s behalf. They shouted that I should come down and live wherever I pleased with the other men, and when I replied that I was well installed, they informed Erzibthat fowls, eggs, and bread would shortly be sent, that the stranger guest might have a really good meal prepared for him.
Through a very broad gateway I descended into a court. Opposite was a long house with its own entrance, to the right another resembling it; and between the two was a passage leading to a third dwelling that was situated at the back. To the left was a wall.
On the flat roof of the nearest of these houses stood some enormous rush-bins for corn, and in the courtyard was another. There also were two fireplaces, one on either side, screened off with branches. Behind the screen to the left sat a woman laying small faggots on the fire to warm her hands, for it was cold since the sun had set. Some children came out of the door, but fled when they caught sight of me, wrapped as I was in the folds of Erzib’s burnous. From the door on the left peeped out an elderly and rather nice-looking woman.
These two were Erzib’s wives: each had her own house; the children belonged to the woman I saw seated by the hearth.
Erzib told his wives to come forward. This they did quite naturally and willingly, retiring again after I had shaken hands with them.
Soon after, I saw people arriving with screaming fowls and a basket of eggs and bread. Erzib atonce drew his knife and vanished with the hens—his intentions were easy to divine.
In the meanwhile carpets had been spread on the floor of the house, and a couch arranged for me. I lit a candle which had been placed in a small square recess in the wall. The room was very irregularly shaped. The floor was of beaten clay, and the walls not whitewashed. In the background a door led into another room containing a loom, and where gala dresses hung on a cord, and household goods on the wall. Through yet another door in the wall to the right was a room with a bed in it raised on four slight stumps: this was made of twigs, and had no coverings.
This dwelling was inhabited by the younger wife and her children—two boys and a little girl. The wife was pretty and not old.
In the house in the courtyard the elder wife resided. In this the anteroom was larger, and contained household goods and implements; behind it was the sleeping apartment.
A grown-up married son, then absent, occupied a house tucked away at the back, and designed on the same plan as the others. His wife was at home.
Whilst the pile of wood burnt and crackled in the yard and the women were busy preparing food, I sat on a bank outside the house in company of my host and several other men.
The moon had risen and shone clearly over mountain and vale. I could see down into a courtyard at the foot of the slope, where a fire burnt brightly on a hearth. Over it hung a cauldron watched by the housewife. She was young and pretty, and as she moved to and fro a couple of little children trotted after her. Now and then she stood still, shading her eyes with her hand, and gazing up in our direction; possibly in the stillness of the night our voices reached her, for it was not likely that she could see us. By the hearth a white dog lay and growled, and when the woman paused and looked up he moved restlessly, for he also was watching the stranger.
Erzib’s first wife came out and stood leaning against the doorway. She did not speak, but was evidently interested in our conversation. Her husband glanced at her and said abruptly—
“She has a great sorrow, and has grieved and wept for many years. Ali, her only son, who was in service at Gabés, was sent to prison, accused of having stolen money from the tradesman he served. But he was innocent—that we know; he was a good boy, and his mother loved him. It is now four years and four months since we heard from him, and eight months more must pass before we can have him home again.”
“Do you not even know if he lives?”
“Yes, we have learnt through strangers that he is alive, and supposed to be imprisoned at Bona in Algeria.”
The old woman drew herself along the wall till she was close to me when she heard of what we were talking.
“Are you from Bona?” she asked, whimpering.
“No,” I replied, “I come from a much more distant place, and have never been in Bona.”
“Ah! then you do not know Ali,” she said, with a sob.
“No, poor woman,” I replied; “that I do not; but now you will soon see your son alive. You have waited so long for him that the remaining time will soon pass ere he return to you and be happy with you again, for you love him. He will have thought so often of you, and he will be so good to you that both of you will rejoice.”
“Ah! it was a great misfortune, for he was innocent—I am sure of that; another must have been the culprit, for he was so young.”
“How old was he?”
“That I do not remember.”
“Don’t you know what year he was born?”
“No, I cannot recollect; we never know anything of that.”
“Don’t you know either, Erzib?”
“No, Sidi; but it was before the strangers came to this country.”[2]
The poor woman sobbed audibly, and Erzib pushed her inside the door that her weeping might not trouble me, saying, “She is very unhappy, Sidi.”
“Oh yes, Erzib. Would I were able to help you to get back your son sooner, or at least to procure you tidings of him. But this I can promise—I will speak to the Khalifa of Gabés on the subject, and, if possible, send you greeting from your son.”
To my regret, however, I must confess that I was unable later to do anything for these poor folk. Whether the boy is still in prison I know not, and whether innocent or no, I know less. My sincere hope is that he may be worthy of his parents’ touching affection.
The repast was now brought and set out in the house, on the clay floor, where I enjoyed it; the father, surrounded by his children whom he caressed, sat aside with Hamed and the younger wife.
When I had finished, and Hamed and Erzib had also eaten, we remained seated. I talked with the wife about her children. The eldest may have been about ten years old; he was a lively boy, whonodded continually to me, and was indefatigable in showing me all the treasures of his home, from an old musket to his father’s agricultural implements. When I showed surprise at a very primitive and curious harrow used to break up the soil, his father gave it to me.
Next in age to the boy was a very pretty little girl about six years old. Unfortunately she had lost one eye; her father told me that it was in consequence of a severe attack of inflammation when she was quite little, and that the eye had fallen out of itself. Here in the south one meets with an alarming number of people who are blind or suffering from eye complaints. A doctor told me that many are born thus; with others it is the result of dust, heat, and uncleanliness.
The youngest child was a bright little fellow of two, who clung to his father, whose neck he clasped tightly in his arms.
Feeling disposed to take a stroll before retiring to rest, I bade Erzib follow me. As we crossed the court, he inquired whether I would not like to see all the dwellings. Accordingly we went first to visit the elder lady. When we entered with a light we found her crouching in a corner, her face buried in her hands; beside her lay a large dog which growled at me.
Thence we went into the son’s house. Asleepon the bed, quite dressed,—for the natives never undress at night,—was a woman wrapped in blue clothing; she was evidently the son’s wife.
We walked on and up amongst other houses till we were nearly at the top of the village. Beneath, we saw the lights and fires in the courts, and heard the incessant barking of dogs. Shortly after, we climbed a difficult ascent just over the village, to a ledge or terrace of some width cut in the side of the cliff, which from thence rose, quite straight and steep, to the old deserted village that lay in darkness on the very summit. According to Erzib, we could not reach it from the side we were on.
I contented myself with examining some real cliff caves, which I lit up by means of matches. They were excavated from the terrace, and, according to tradition, had once been inhabited; they were irregular in form, and not very large.
After an hour’s enjoyment of the beautiful evening, we descended from this high point.
Wrapping myself in my burnous I lay down on my couch on the ground; in the same room lay both Hamed and Erzib. In the side chamber, of which the door remained open, slept the children and their mother. Just as I was falling asleep a woman came and spread a covering over me; it warmed me well, and I slept till daybreak, and was only once disturbed by a little kid coming in through the opendoor leading from the courtyard and tripping over me. I heard then the children, who with their mother were sleeping in the next room, Hamed and Erzib moving on their beds, and, out of doors, the distant and continuous barking of dogs. I slept again, and when I awoke saw that what had been spread over me was a brand new festal garment that evidently was considered none too good for the guest.
From the doorway overlooking the courtyard I saw through the gate and down into the valley, where grew a solitary palm, and at the same time had a view of the flat roofs of several houses, and of the path where the horses and mules stood ready saddled. From a side chamber the head of a cow came peering in at the gate, and above the gateway a white dog lay on the wall watching me.
I gave some money to the children, ate a couple of dates with a sup of water, and, having thanked the women for their hospitality, mounted, with Erzib in front and Hamed behind me. As we left, the women came out to throw refuse down the slope, and vanished again behind the wall.
From the hearths rose a light blue smoke that was wafted over the valley beneath us.
We had a view over the mountains of the valley, the plains, and the Mediterranean Sea, as we followed the route along the western declivity of the Matmatarange, which commands the low-lying land that extends right away to Tripoli.
For a while we were accompanied by two women who were on their way to the mountains. They tripped along beside our horses, and stared at me in astonishment through carelessly drawn veils.
The mountain tops, where lie the villages of Shenini and Sguimi, are a continuation of the southern range. As I was aware that the inhabitants of these villages were absent sowing their crops, and having been told that the dwellings were similar to those I had already seen, I decided not to visit them. We therefore left them on one side and rode down the mountain and across a small plain encircled by hills, behind which lie the great steppes. Towards the east this plain is bounded by low hills, where water springs are found, and where we could descry herds grazing. It was here that, when passing through a little thicket, we spied a covey of partridges running amongst the bushes. Erzib tried to fire at them from his horse, but it would not stand long enough, and when he got off it was too late—the birds had flown.