CHAPTER XI

HAWARIA, A LANDMARK OF KUFRAIt can be seen for hours before arriving at Kufra, and once it is sighted the caravan is safeThere are two villages at Jalo, over a mile apart, Erg and Lobba. Between and around them are scattered the date-palms in picturesque profusion to the number of nearly a hundred thousand.Twelve miles to the west lies Aujila, which is the ancient oasis mentioned by Herodotus as famous for its dates. In Aujila is the tomb of Abdullahi El Sahabi, who is reputed to have been a clerk of the Prophet Mohammed. Whether such is actually the case is somewhat problematical; but at least the prophet did have a clerk named Abdullahi El Sahabi, that Abdullahi did come to North Africa, and the tomb of a man of that name is found at Aujila. Many a tradition has been based on flimsier evidence. The story is told that the Grand Senussi found the body of Sahabi buried in a remote spot, and forthwith saw in a vision the spirit which had once inhabited the body.“Dig up my body,” said the ghostly visitor, “put it on a camel, and go forth. Where the camel halts, there you shall build my tomb.”The Grand Senussi obeyed the injunction and journeyed till he came to Aujila. There the camel stopped dead and refused to go on, and on the spot the tomb was built.The founder of the Senussi sect and all the members of the Senussi family and even their prominentikhwanare believed to possess occult powers and second sight. Sayed El Mahdi is credited with having particularly strong occult powers which the Bedouins call miracles. One of theikhwanat Jaghbub told me the following story about Sayed El Mahdi. An ignorant Bedouin came to him intending to study under him at Jaghbub. Suddenly the man realized that it was the sowing season and that he had nobody to look after the sowing of his land. So he thought it best to go away till after the crop season and then return to his studies. He went to say good-by to Sayed El Mahdi. He entered the room, sat down, and, as is the custom, waited until he was spoken to. Sayed El Mahdi appeared to ignore him for a few minutes. The man felt sleepy and just dozed off for a minute or two, awaking to Sayed El Mahdi’s gentle voice saying, “Now you feel at rest, and you know that matters have been arranged for you.” In that short time the man had seen in a dream his brother plowing his land and sowing the barley crop. “Now you shall be our guest,” continued the Sayed, “and study and pray that God may guide you to the right path. All will be provided for, as you have seen, and you will have no reason to worry. God is merciful, and He looks after us all.” The manremained at Jaghbub and afterward went home just in time for the harvest. On his return to Jaghbub he told one of theikhwanthat not only had his crop been sown as he saw in the dream, but the place seen and the time of the dream were exactly corroborated by the facts.Another incident was told me by thekaimakamof Jalo. He was traveling with a party from Benghazi to Jaghbub to visit Sayed El Mahdi. They missed a well and were in dire straits. At night a man, the least enthusiastic of the pilgrims, turned to him and said, “Now that you have brought us to visit that wonderful man Sayed El Mahdi, will you ask him to send us some water, if he be as saintly as you say he is?” That same night at Jaghbub, Sayed El Mahdi, so the story goes, ordered two of his slaves to take five camels loaded with water and food, and going out into the open he indicated the direction they should take, adding that until they met a caravan they must not stop by the way. In due course they came across the caravan in distress and rescued it.There are some of the oldikhwanstill living whom even members of the Senussi family themselves avoid displeasing because they fear their occult powers. One of these who lives at Kufra was theikhwanof azawiain Cyrenaica. A Bedouin once broughtsome sheep to water at the well, and some of them strayed into the patch of ground attached to thezawiaand ate the young barley. Theikhwanwarned the Bedouin to stop his sheep from doing this, and the man pretended to pay attention but was really determined that not only these sheep but the whole flock should go in and help themselves to the crop. And when theikhwancame out again it was to see all the flock feeding on his barley. “May God curse them,” he cried, “the sheep that eat the crop of thezawia.” The story goes that not a single sheep emerged alive from thezawiagarden.Until this day the Bedouins fear the Senussi family not so much because of any temporal power but on account of the spiritual powers with which they credit them. A Bedouin cursed by one of the Senussi family lives the whole time in fear of something awful about to happen to him. His friends, even his own people, try to avoid his presence lest the curse upon him should account for a harm to them also.There is the famous case of the chief clerk of Sayed El Mahdi who lies in Kufra now half paralyzed. I went to see him. He was quite happy and very content in spite of the fact that he could not move his body. On my second visit he was getting confidential and—half believing, half disbelieving—asked if I had any medicine for his malady. I hesitated, for I did not want the man to lose hope entirely. He saw this and, without even giving me the chance of answering him, said: “No, it is decreed that it should be thus. It was my fault. Sayed El Mahdi wanted me to journey north. I could not disobey him, but I tried to avoid the journey. I went as far as Hawari and there wrote to him pretending to be ill. The answer came by a messenger that if I were ill I should certainly be relieved of the journey. The next day I was struck with paralysis and brought back to Kufra and have been here ever since. That was twenty-five years ago.”CAMELS CROSSING THE SAND-DUNESThekaimakamat Jalo told me a story when we were discussing miracles. He said that on one occasion there was a very severe sand-storm which nearly covered the whole of the tomb at Aujila. So they brought the slaves to dig it out again. As it was being dug out thekaimakamcame into the chamber which contained the shrine and noticed a very strong smell of incense. He called one of the slaves and asked whether he had burned any incense. The man denied it, yet till now, upon occasion, a visitor to the tomb will smell this incense, though it is known that none has been burned.Jalo is the headquarters of the Majabra tribe of Bedouins, the merchant princes of the Libyan Desert.A few Zwayas are also found there, but the Majabras make up the great majority of the two thousand inhabitants of the two villages. The Majabras have wonderful business instinct. The Majbari boasts of his father having died in thebasur—the camel-saddle—as the son of a soldier might boast that his father died on the field of battle. When I was in Jalo, the Italian authorities, who were then on unfriendly terms with Sayed Idris, had prohibited the sending of goods from Benghazi and the other ports of Cyrenaica into the interior. Consequently prices of commodities at such inland places as Jedabia went up with a leap. Majabra merchants, arriving at Jalo with caravans of goods from Egypt, heard of this abnormal situation in the north. Without a moment’s hesitation they changed their plans, trekked north instead of south, and sold their goods to splendid advantage in Jedabia. Then back they dashed—if the camel’s pace of less than three miles an hour can be so described—to Egypt or the south for another caravan-load. Arrived again at Jalo with their merchandise, they inquired carefully as to comparative conditions in the markets of Jedabia and Kufra and directed their further journey accordingly. Considering the remoteness of the desert places—Jalo five days from Jedabia, Kufra from twelve to eighteen days from Jalo—and the snail-likespeed of a caravan, news travels across the desert with surprising swiftness. At least it seems so. I suppose the true explanation is that all things are relative, and while news moves at the camel’s pace, so does everything else.While the Majabras are the great traders of the Libyan Desert, the Zwayas have also their claims to prominence. The rivalry between the two tribes is always present under the surface, and occasionally it flashes forth into the light.There is some envy of the Zwayas by all the other tribes of Cyrenaica because the man second in importance to Sayed Idris among the Senussis is Ali Pasha El Abdia, who is a Zwayi. Abdia is a splendid soldier, a powerful support to Sayed Idris and a man much trusted by the Senussi leader.One evening after dinner at Jalo some expression of this rivalry was given by Sidi Saleh, who belonged to no tribe in Cyrenaica and was in fact asherifor descendant of the Prophet, in an argument with Moghaib and Zerwali, who were both Zwayas. Moghaib launched into a little history of the achievements of the Zwayas. Sidi Saleh listened to the Zwayi’s eulogy of his tribe, shook his head, and remarked, “Their history may be as glorious as Sidi Moghaib tells you, but they do not fear God.”At this Moghaib burst forth: “By God, SidiSaleh, they may not fear God, but neither do they fear man. Woe to him who dares molest their caravan or attack their camp.”Then he came quickly over to me and continued, “We have the blessing of El Mahdi upon us, for it was to our headquarters in Kufra that Sidi El Mahdi came and from which he disappeared.”The Senussis will never say that El Mahdi died, but always that he “disappeared” or some equivalent expression. In fact there is a legend among them that he is not dead but wandering over the earth until such time as he shall come again to his desert people. To the Zwayas El Mahdi is the most beloved of the Senussi leaders because it was he who moved the center of activity of the brotherhood to Kufra, their headquarters. Thekubbaof the mosque that he built is the glory of Kufra.In my own experience the Zwayas at times showed hostility and made it clear that, although I was a Moslem, the son of a religious man, and a confidant of Sayed Idris, they did not want me in Kufra. Some of them even expressed the hope that they would have seen the last of me when I left Kufra. In spite of this scarcely veiled antagonism to me, however, I never expect to find better men for a desert journey than the Zwayas who formed part of my caravan. Zerwali in particular, a typical ZwayiBedouin, was the best of companions and the most reliable of associates.SAYED MOHAMMED EL ABIDRuler of Kufra and cousin of the head of the Senussi sectTHE HOUSE OF SAYED EL ABIDSheepskins of water are seen hanging from their tripods to cool in the shade, and beneath them are shallow copper pans. In the foreground is a tea-pot.The Bedouin of Cyrenaica has in him the blood of the Arabs who passed through the north of Africa on their way to Spain. Although he has mixed with other native tribes of North Africa, he still preserves the old Arab tradition. In the case of murder, among the Senussis, the Bedouins have their own law. As a rule the Senussiikhwanintervenes as a peaceful intermediary. He takes the murderer and an old member of his tribe and goes to the murdered man’s camp, pitching camp near-by. Theikhwanthen approaches the family of the murdered man, saying, “He who murdered your man is here”; and, taking him by the hand, he adds: “This is he who murdered your son. I hand him over to you that you may do as you will with him.” Usually the answer is, “May God forgive him, and may God’s justice and mercy fall upon him.” Thereupon theikhwanstarts arranging for the blood-money, which is generally three thousand dollars and a slave, the market value of the latter being known. The injured party may choose between accepting the money or having its equivalent in camels, sheep, or other commodities. The money may be paid in instalments extending over from one to three years, and the arrangement is generally carried through. In very rare cases or a deep-rootedfeud the family of the deceased refuse to accept blood-money, which means that they intend to kill the murderer himself, or else one of his relations or a leading member of his tribe.Bedouin boys and girls mix freely; it is only in the higher families that the women are kept in seclusion. As a rule a boy knows his sweetheart, and he goes to her camp and sings to her, generally in verse of his own making. If she likes him, she comes out and answers his song, not rarely in words of her own composition also. The boy then goes and asks for the girl from her people, paying a dowry if an agreement is reached. Then with ceremonial he goes with his friends and takes the girl home to his camp amid displays of horsemanship and much firing of guns. Cases have been known of elopements, which usually end in feuds between tribes, for the Bedouins look upon the man as having stolen the girl from them. There is a marriage contract, in many cases drawn up by theikhwan, and the marriage takes place according to the Moslem religion. Marriages take place at a very early age, according to the development of the girl, who may be thirteen or fourteen, while the boy is between seventeen and twenty. Bedouins who can afford it marry more than one wife, but in that case the first wife remains the mistress of the house and takes precedence even overthe favorite wife in anything that has to do with household management.I have heard of many cases of lads going off their heads through falling in love with a girl they could not marry. A Bedouin boy once came to me to ask for medicine. He looked very frail. He was slim, with a rather refined face, and spoke very little. “I have come to ask you for medicine to give me health,” he said. He shook his head when I asked what was his ailment and answered, “God knows best.” There was something queer about the boy, something that puzzled me, but as usual in these cases a few malted milk tablets were wrapped up carefully in paper and given to him with strict orders not to take more than three each day. When the boy had gone, an elderly man came to my tent. He squatted on the floor. “May God give you health and make your hand give recovery. My son came to you just now, and you gave him medicine. I have come to explain his ailment. He is always weak and afflicted by headaches. When night falls he shuns everybody and seeks solitude; often he goes out to spend the night in the open.”I told the old man that the medicine I had given the boy was the only one I had that might give some relief. “Recovery comes from God,” replied the man in a sad voice. “We know his remedy, but it is decreedthat he should not have it. The boy is in love with a girl whose parents refused to give her to him in marriage.”“Why don’t you make an effort, if you know this is the reason of your son’s illness, and try to get the girl in marriage for your son?”“It is too late, now,” replied the father. “She is already married. But God knows best . . . She may be many days’ journey away from here, but she is suffering from the same ailment.” With that he rose and left my tent, a resigned, pathetic figure.At Jalo, as at Jaghbub, there were no camels waiting for me when I arrived. But the reason was not the same, nor the uncertainty so disturbing. The hire of the necessary camels had been arranged for, and Omar Bu Helega, their owner, was ready to start just as soon as the beasts returned from grazing. No good Bedouin starts out on a long trek until his camels have been fattened and especially have had their fill of green fodder. A long stretch like that to Kufra, with no grazing on the way, means feeding the camels on dried dates exclusively. Dates, say the camelmen, are hot on the liver. Therefore, they prepare their animals for the ordeal by a course of green feeding before they start.Bu Helega’s camels had been taken to near-by grazing grounds for this course of preparation, andon the appointed day for their return they did not appear. The next day I wondered about them, the second day I was concerned, and the day after worried, lest, when taken from grazing, the beasts might have run away. However, they had not done so. They put in their appearance on the fourth day, and when they came they were in excellent condition.TEBU GIRL WEARING BEDOUIN CLOTHESA TEBU WITH HIS CAMELI hired thirty-five camels, paying a high price for them. I could have bought the beasts outright for from twelve to eighteen pounds, while Bu Helega demanded thirteen and a half pounds for their hire for the two or three months’ journey to Abeshe in Wadai. But it was better so. If I had owned the camels myself the responsibility for their welfare would have been all mine. It would have been my men who had them in charge, with no motive beyond the general one of loyalty to the leader and the job for carrying the camels through in good condition. But when Bu Helega’s men went along with his own animals they were sure to have the best of care. During the trek to Kufra he kept his eye expertly on each one of them. If a camel weakened or seemed ill, he shifted loads to meet the emergency. He did everything to keep them fit to the journey’s end, and his care of them was worth to me all that it cost.In addition to camels I needed more men. The four who had been hired in Cairo, Sollum, and Siwawere still with me: Abdullahi, Ahmed, Hamad, and Ismail. I now added five more: Zerwali; Senussi Bu Hassan, the guide; Sad, who came from Aujila; Hamid; and Faraj, a slave. Bu Helega had with him his son and two camelmen. The list was supplemented at the last by five Tebus, nomadic blacks from Tibesti, a region northwest of Wadai. Abdullahi and Zerwali were the two headmen of the caravan. The former was in command of the luggage and the commissariat, while Zerwali was in charge of the camels and the men. They were the best companions that any man could have on a desert trek.We needed clothing, certain articles of food, and shoes, especially the last. The heelless Bedouin slipper is the only possible wear for the desert, but it will wear out, and it often has to be repaired on the way. It was necessary to be sure that each of us had not only shoes but the leather that we should need for patching them until we reached Kufra.At Jalo I found a famous shoemaker, Hemaida, whom I had met at Kufra two years before. I had with me the very shoes that he had made for me then, with soles badly in need of patching. Great was his delight when I took them to him for his ministrations. He was a venerable-looking personage, whom it would have been easy to take for a judge or a member of the council at least. He came to myhouse day after day to work on the five pairs of shoes he made for me, on the making of shoes for my men, and on the repairing of our saddles and other leather accoutrement. It was a pleasure to give him a meal and then to invite him to a friendly glass of tea. One day he was coughing as the tea was brought, and I expressed sympathy for his ailment. He looked at me across his glass of tea and answered in his quiet voice: “But your tea always stops my cough, Sidi El Bey. Not other tea, but yours always does.” I did not ignore the hint so gracefully given. Hemaida received his little packet of the miraculous tea as a present before we left Jalo.Besides my shoes and the leather, I bought cloth for clothing for my men, butter, oil, barley, fire-wood, and eightgirbas. Ali Kaja, who was the favorite slave of Sayed Idris and had been made by him his trusted personalwakilin Jalo, told me that his master had directed him to put all his store of supplies of every kind at my disposal. I thanked him but did not avail myself of the offer. I had just come from Egypt, well equipped, and I knew how much these stores meant to those who lived in this isolated spot.Besides the making of preparations, my ten days in Jalo were spent in receiving and giving entertainment and in scientific work. The entertainment wasup to the best Bedouin standards. The first day I dined with Senussi Gader Bouh, thekaimakamor governor of Jalo. The second day I lunched at the house of El Bishari, the most important of the Majabra merchant chiefs, waited on by my host and his sons. The third day luncheon was sent to me by the members of the council, and I was joined in the repast by Zerwali, thekadior judge, Ali Kaja, and Moghaib. After the meal I had a talk with thekadion Senussi history and was shown letters from the Grand Senussi and from El Mahdi, his son. Dinner that day came from Haj Farahat, another Majbari merchant, with thekaimakam, Zerwali, Ali Kaja, Moghaib, and Abdullahi as sharers of the feast. We discussed the custom of Bu Zafar, which all agreed must not be a meal but the slaughtering and eating of a sheep.On the fourth day I lunched at the house of Haj Ali Bilal, a Majbari. My diary records the fact that there was the “usual crowd” and a “very good lunch.” Dinner was sent to me by Haj Seid, also one of the Majabra merchants, and thekaimakam, Zerwali, and thekadijoined me in it. On the next day I lunched at the house of Haj Ghraibil, and that evening my most interesting experience in the way of hospitality took place. There were living at Jalo several ladies of the Senussi family, including the wife of Sayed Idris and his sister. Shortly after my arrival at Jalothey sent me an invitation to dinner. This was an unusual occurrence, for Bedouin women of high class do not offer entertainment to men as women of the western world may do with perfect propriety. I realized, of course, that I would not actually dine with my hostesses in person, but I was appreciative of the unprecedented honor nevertheless.SLAVE AT KUFRATEBU GIRL CARRYING BURDEN ON HER HEADAt the appointed hour Zerwali and thekaimakamcame to escort me to dinner. The house which the ladies occupied was the former government house of the days of Turkish rule. We were ushered into a spacious room where the soft light from a magnificent brass lantern and innumerable candles served to deepen the mellow tones and the rich combinations of color of priceless rugs and silken cushions. Sidi Saleh, who was the husband of one of the Senussi ladies, acted as host on their behalf. Under his hospitable direction, a splendid banquet was served to us by half a dozen slaves. When we had eaten all that was demanded by courtesy, and, I am afraid, much more than was required by nature, the banquet was completed with the washing of our hands in basins brought by the slaves, the ceremonial three glasses of tea, the sprinkling over us of rose-water, and the burning of incense before us. Then the chief slave came and deferentially whispered in my ear. Would the bey care to hear some music? There was a gramophone,with records made by the famous singers of Egypt. The bey had only to command.Perhaps to the disappointment of my companions—I do not know—but quite to my own satisfaction, I courteously declined the offered entertainment. There was something rare and precious in the perfumed atmosphere of that softly lighted room which the coming of voices from beyond the desert would have profaned. Partly the beauty of the place, the remoteness from the world, but especially the sense that I was the guest of noble Bedouin women, who were hidden from me by the customs of our eastern lands, but were in a real sense present through their gracious hospitality and kindly thoughtfulness, made of that evening a unique memory. I told the slave to convey my respectful salaams to the ladies and to tell them how much I had been touched by their courtesy. Then I went out into the clear desert night with the soft breeze stirring little breaths of incense from the folds of myjerdto remind me vividly of the peace and mystic calm of the room from which I had come.The next day I returned the hospitality of those who had entertained me so generously. My room, with its dry mud floor, and travel-stained luggage ranged about the walls, could not bear comparison with the charming apartment in which I had dined thenight before. But Ali Kaja took it upon himself to see that we were made as presentable as circumstances would permit. With a pair of beautiful brass lanterns and a few rugs borrowed from Sayed Idris’s house and some other accessories, he created a very decent imitation of a banquet-hall. My guests included thekaimakam; the members of the council; the twoikhwan; the judge; Ali Kaja; Musa, the captain of the Senussi artillery; and Zerwali. Dressed in my best Bedouin robes I waited on them as a Bedouin host should, and when some of them, who had been out into the world, asked me to sit with them and eat, I assured them that I would—when they were my guests in Cairo. Ahmed, my cook, had laid himself out to provide several distinctively European dishes to give a note of novelty to our entertaining, and the delight of my guests was great at his achievements.My banquet ended the round of entertaining, and for a day or two I was permitted to lunch and dine in peaceful solitude. It was a relief, grateful though I had been to my generous hosts for their hospitality.An important part of my activities at Jalo was the making of scientific observations. I observed the sun and the stars to determine the latitude and longitude and took regular readings of the aneroid barometer and thermometer for the determination of thealtitude. My observations on the latter point, when finally worked out in relation to barometric records made on the same days at Siwa, disclosed the interesting fact that the level of Jalo is sixty meters higher to-day than it was when Rohlfs ascertained it in 1879. He found Jalo almost exactly at sea-level; I found it sixty meters higher. I saw the explanation of it going on before my eyes. The drifting sands were climbing slowly up the trunks of the palm-trees and against the walls of the houses, threatening to engulf them. Some of the inhabitants had already moved their houses and rebuilt them on higher levels. It is the steadily accumulating sand, driven by sand-storms and gathering wherever trees and houses stop its progress, that has raised Jalo nearly two hundred feet above sea-level in forty-four years. The house I was living in, and at which the barometric readings were recorded, was from fifteen to twenty meters higher than the rest of the houses at Jalo.In the taking of my observations I had to be cautious, for the Bedouins are suspicious of anything so elaborately scientific looking as a theodolite. They were sure to say that I was making a map with a view to coming back and conquering their land. The first time that a Bedouin chief and the man who was to guide us to Kufra caught me at my theodolite I had to explain hastily and persuasively that I was gettingdata for the making of a calendar for the month of Ramadan.KUFRAThe native dwellings and date-palms are in the foreground with lake in the backgroundAbdullahi, who was of course not a Bedouin, was invaluable to me in the camouflaging of my scientific activities. In fact he was rather a specialist in the manufacture of those little inaccuracies that smooth the path of life and preserve the social amenities. One day we were using the theodolite some distance from the town. A native demanded what we were doing, and Abdullahi said we were taking a picture of Jalo.“How can that be, at such a distance?” demanded the Bedouin.Abdullahi had his explanation ready.“The machine attracts the picture, so that it comes right out and flies into it,” he asserted glibly.“But how can a box attract a picture?” demanded the incredulous Bedouin.Abdullahi struck an attitude. “Ask the magnet how it attracts the iron,” he commanded rhetorically, and the debate was closed.CHAPTER XION THE TREKON Thursday, March 15, we were ready to trek.I got up at six to pack and get my baggage ready. As is usual on the first day of a journey, when the caravan is not yet shaken down and accustomed to the routine, it took us three hours to load. We were to follow the Bedouin custom oftag-heez, which means going to a near-by well before beginning a journey and spending several days, sometimes a week, in final preparations away from the distractions of town life. Buttafal Well, thirty kilometers from Jalo, was the point where we were to make ourtag-heez, or preparation.When the packing was well under way, thekaimakam, notables, andikhwancame to give us the ceremonialmowad-aor farewell. We squatted down together and discussed the prospects for the journey. I had made this same trip to Kufra two years before under somewhat more favorable conditions and nevertheless we had lost our way before getting toKufra. It had been cooler then, two months earlier in the year; the winds and sand-storms had not been so incessant; and the caravan had been smaller.The problem of providing camels, their fodder, men, and food and equipment for the men did not arise then, as the whole caravan was produced complete and provided for by the generosity of Sayed Idris, a fact which had a considerable effect in lulling the suspicions of the Bedouins and subduing their hostility to strangers. On this occasion, I had to arrange for the camels and personnel, and so big a caravan journeying with the quantity of unusual luggage necessary for a long journey naturally aroused curiosity.On these long waterless treks Nature is often the only enemy; and she can be one if she chooses. The men of my caravan worked well together. The four whom I had brought from Cairo, Sollum, and Siwa got on excellently with all the people we met. Zerwali, the Senussiikhwandelegated by Sayed Idris to accompany us, was kindness itself and did everything in his power to make the journey as comfortable as possible. I felt no real concern over the outcome, no matter what Nature might choose to do.When the camels were all loaded, we went through the dignified ceremony of the farewell. We took our stand in two half-circles facing each other,the men of my caravan and myself in one and the chiefs of Jalo and theikhwanin the other. Solemnly and reverently we raised our hands, palm upward, for prayers that the journey would be a blessed one, that God would guide us and return us safe to our homes. We read the “Fat-ha,” the first chapter of the Koran, the oldest of theikhwansaying the “amen.” Then we shook hands and parted. The shouts of the men urging on the camels were echoed by “lu lias” from women of the village, and we were on our way.As we passed El Lebba, the second village of Jalo, a pleasant incident occurred to send us cheerfully on our way. The solitary graceful figure of a girl appeared beside our path, her face hidden from us by the Bedouin veil. With one voice the men nearest her called out the traditional greeting:“Wajhik! Wajhik! Your face! Your face!”The girl turned and demurely drew aside her veil to disclose the finely chiseled features, the clear olive skin, and the shy yet dignified expression of a Bedouin maiden. The men shouted with delight at her beauty and her courtesy. To complete the tradition I ordered them to “empty gunpowder” at her feet. Hamad and Sad performed the graceful ceremony, first one and then the other. The man danced lightly toward her as if to the imaginary rhythm of a Bedouin drum, his rifle held in both hands over his head, themuzzle pointing forward, shouting a desert love-song as he went. Just in front of her he dropped lightly on one knee, brought his gun to the vertical position butt upward, and fired, a hair’s breadth from her feet.THE OASIS OF HAWARIThe explorer’s camp on the most northerly oasis of KufraSo close was the shot and so accurate his aim that the girl’s slippers were singed by the powder-flash. She did not flinch at the explosion but stood gracefully erect in her pride at the honor done her. Singed slippers are a mark of distinction in the desert that any Bedouin girl cherishes.When Sad had followed Hamad’s example, another shout rose from the men of the caravan, and we moved on.The girl smiled after us, as flattered by the homage that had been paid her as we were by the good omen of a pretty face crossing our path at the outset of our journey. Within an hour we were in the open desert again.Eight hours’ trekking brought us to Buttafal Well, where we were to stop a day. We took matters easily that first night, with singing and conversation about the camp-fire till after midnight.When the camp had settled down for the night, I took my pipe and went for a stroll. This was always one of the pleasures of my life in the desert—that last pipe of peace before turning in—and of peace it always was. If the day had been good, there was contentment;if bad, there was hope for the next day and faith that all would be well. During the whole journey, I never went to sleep with anything really worrying me; worrying, that is, my mind itself, no matter how I might have been tried by occurrences or by conditions.The next day was spent in final preparations. Bu Helega, the owner of the camels, arrived with his own little caravan of three camels. During the day another man had come from Jalo to catch up with us. We had been in need of rope and twine, but the price asked by the dealers had been too high. So Abdullahi chattered with them and left the actual closing of the bargain to the last minute. Then he had arranged with a man named Senussi Bu Jabir to bring the rope after us to Buttafal.When this man arrived, he came to my tent to tell me that his brother was in Wadai and to ask me to take him with us. He would work to pay for his passage. I looked him over and quickly decided that he would do. I discovered particularly that he had a sense of humor, almost if not quite the most valuable asset in desert travel. Ability may fail, but a keen sense of humor enables one to get the last ounce out of a man in possession of it. I was ready to take him, but it did not seem possible.“We are leaving at once,” I said. “There is notime for you to make the day’s journey to Jalo and back for your luggage.”“I have it,” he said.“Where is it?” I demanded, looking about in bewilderment.“Here,” he answered, pointing to the shirt he wore and the stick he carried.I burst into a hearty laugh at the idea of such an outfit for a hard desert trek, and he joined me cheerfully. I assured him that he might go and never regretted my decision. He proved to be one of the best men I had.The next morning we watered the camels, a process which must not be hurried. Nothing is more important in trekking than the condition of your camels. Not only must they be fat and well nourished at the start, but they must be allowed to drink their fill with deliberation and permitted to rest after the drinking.When the camels were ready they were loaded with the greatest care, for good packing and loading at the beginning mean time and trouble saved all through the journey. The rapidity with which the loading and unloading can be accomplished day after day sometimes means a gain of a day or two in time before the trip is over.At 2:30 we were ready to start. As the camelsmoved slowly off, the sonorous voice of Bu Helega rose in theazan, the calling to prayers, according to the Bedouin custom at the beginning of a long trek. It is the Bedouin tradition that those who begin the journey with theazanwill end it with theazan; they will, that is, meet with no disaster by the way.Our caravan had gradually become enlarged until it consisted of thirty-nine camels, twenty-one men, a horse, and a dog. Our personnel was as follows: myself and my four men, Abdullahi, Ahmed, Hamad, and Ismail; Zerwali; Bu Helega, the owner of the camels with his son, his nephew, and his slave. There was also Dawood, Zerwali’s uncle, who was going with a single camel to Taiserbo to bring back his wife and daughter; Senussi Bu Hassan, our guide; Senussi Bu Jabir, the boy with the shirt and staff; Hamad Zwayi, another boy who was a pleasant singer; Sad, the Aujili; Faraj, the slave; two Tebus, with their three camels. In addition there were three other Tebus with three camels loaded with merchandise which they were taking to deliver to merchants in Kufra.We set our faces southward and journeyed toward Kufra. It was hot and windy, and the desert lay about us like an interminable pancake. The ground wasserira, which is flat hard sand, with a little gravel scattered over it. Our first objectivewas the Zieghen Well, which we ought to make in eight or nine days. In the old days, before the times of the Senussis, it had been the custom to make the trek from Jalo to Zieghen in three days and five nights, marching continuously without a stop for food or rest. But the Senussis changed all that. They inaugurated the custom of taking enough water and food to permit the journey to be made in twice the time, with adequate rest for camels and men each day.SOUTH OF KUFRAThe caravan on the hitherto unexplored desert. The route from this point to Erdi, by way of Arkenu and Ouenat, had never before been traversed by any one from the outside world.At first our camels moved reluctantly, for they had just left good grazing and would much rather have gone back to it. Bu Helega tried his best to persuade the trading Tebus to lead the caravan with their camels, but they cleverly refused. The place of honor at the head of the line is an arduous one. Camels are quite ready to follow others ahead of them but dislike to go forward independently. So the first camel in the caravan has to be driven and often beaten with a stick to keep him going. The Tebus preferred to bring up the trail of the procession, where their camels needed no urging. Bu Helega got even with them later, however, because of their choice of position.It was hot and windy all the afternoon, but in the evening the wind dropped to a gentle breeze, and the desert put forth its full charm. I find recorded in mydiary some of the thoughts and feelings on getting back into this old familiar desert, where I was approaching the point at which we lost our way two years before.The same old flat desert and feelings of old memories.How one forgives the Desert her scorching sun and her torturing wind for the calm of the evening, the sunset, the moon rising, and then that gentle and serene breeze! How easily one forgets the presence of her dangers! It is the full appreciation of simple pleasures that endears the Desert to one, in spite of all her harshnesses and crudities:A glass of tea;A cigarette;A pipe when all the caravan is asleep and the fragrance of the tobacco is wafted by the gently stirring air;A glimpse of the playing of the firelight on the faces of the men of the caravan, some old and rugged, some smooth and youthful;To see men toil, succeed and fail, and suffer in another sphere of life;Above all, to be near to God and to feel His Presence.On the eighteenth we got up at six, and the camels were briskly loaded in thirty-five minutes. The careful first loading at Jalo and Buttafal made speed possible now. Nevertheless it was nine o’clock before we were ready for the start. The morning program in camp is not one that can be safely hurried. The Bedouin dislikes intensely to be rushed over hismeals, or to be deprived of those moments of leisure thereafter which are so essential to peaceful digestion and a contented spirit. The wise leader will see that these prejudices of his men are carefully observed.Perhaps this is a good place to set down the outline of a typical day’s trek under the conditions which prevailed until we reached Arkenu.Although it is March, it is still cold in the morning, and one gets up a little after dawn because it is too cold to stay in bed longer. Even the sleeping-bag and the Bedouin blanket will not keep out the chill. A peep through the flaps of the tent shows that the stars are paling in the sky. Some one has the fire already started, and the first impulse is to get to it without delay. Throwing myjerdabout me and wrapping thekufiaabout my ears, I dash out to the crackling blaze. There is nothing hot about the desert in these crisp morning hours. I stand by the fire and have a look around. There is little life in the camp yet, though all the men are up. They are huddled close to the warmth, muffled injerdsand every other garment that they can lay their hands on. When water is plenty, steaming hot glasses of tea are handed round, and after they are drunk the activities of the camp divide. The camelmen go to feed the camels with dried dates, which the beasts munch reflectively, stones and all. A consultation issometimes held over the camels, if some of them have suffered the previous day from too heavy loads. Perhaps a shifting of loads is decided on or better packing and loading recommended.Other men are pulling down the three tents, which form the apices of a triangle, with the camels parked at its center. The luggage which had been set up as a barricade against the icy wind is sorted out and arranged ready for the loading.Meanwhile I have been attending to the barometer and thermometer, registering their readings, filling in the spaces in my scientific diary, seeing that the cameras have fresh films. The voices of the men sound low through the camp, muffled bykufiasand extra clothing. At last breakfast is ready.It may beasida, the Bedouin national dish, a kind of pudding baked of flour, oil, and spices; or it may be rice. It is an utterly simple meal in either case, but with what a keen appetite one attacks it! In the desert any disinclination for the first meal of the day that one may feel in city surroundings vanishes away. Breakfast is finished off with the inevitable three glasses of tea, taken slowly and reflectively. Whatever one does, one must not deprive one’s men of their tea or hurry them over it. Give a Bedouin a filling meal and let him sip three glasses of tea after it, and you can get any work out of him that youwant. Stint him or rush him, and you will get worse than nothing.

HAWARIA, A LANDMARK OF KUFRAIt can be seen for hours before arriving at Kufra, and once it is sighted the caravan is safe

HAWARIA, A LANDMARK OF KUFRA

It can be seen for hours before arriving at Kufra, and once it is sighted the caravan is safe

There are two villages at Jalo, over a mile apart, Erg and Lobba. Between and around them are scattered the date-palms in picturesque profusion to the number of nearly a hundred thousand.

Twelve miles to the west lies Aujila, which is the ancient oasis mentioned by Herodotus as famous for its dates. In Aujila is the tomb of Abdullahi El Sahabi, who is reputed to have been a clerk of the Prophet Mohammed. Whether such is actually the case is somewhat problematical; but at least the prophet did have a clerk named Abdullahi El Sahabi, that Abdullahi did come to North Africa, and the tomb of a man of that name is found at Aujila. Many a tradition has been based on flimsier evidence. The story is told that the Grand Senussi found the body of Sahabi buried in a remote spot, and forthwith saw in a vision the spirit which had once inhabited the body.

“Dig up my body,” said the ghostly visitor, “put it on a camel, and go forth. Where the camel halts, there you shall build my tomb.”

The Grand Senussi obeyed the injunction and journeyed till he came to Aujila. There the camel stopped dead and refused to go on, and on the spot the tomb was built.

The founder of the Senussi sect and all the members of the Senussi family and even their prominentikhwanare believed to possess occult powers and second sight. Sayed El Mahdi is credited with having particularly strong occult powers which the Bedouins call miracles. One of theikhwanat Jaghbub told me the following story about Sayed El Mahdi. An ignorant Bedouin came to him intending to study under him at Jaghbub. Suddenly the man realized that it was the sowing season and that he had nobody to look after the sowing of his land. So he thought it best to go away till after the crop season and then return to his studies. He went to say good-by to Sayed El Mahdi. He entered the room, sat down, and, as is the custom, waited until he was spoken to. Sayed El Mahdi appeared to ignore him for a few minutes. The man felt sleepy and just dozed off for a minute or two, awaking to Sayed El Mahdi’s gentle voice saying, “Now you feel at rest, and you know that matters have been arranged for you.” In that short time the man had seen in a dream his brother plowing his land and sowing the barley crop. “Now you shall be our guest,” continued the Sayed, “and study and pray that God may guide you to the right path. All will be provided for, as you have seen, and you will have no reason to worry. God is merciful, and He looks after us all.” The manremained at Jaghbub and afterward went home just in time for the harvest. On his return to Jaghbub he told one of theikhwanthat not only had his crop been sown as he saw in the dream, but the place seen and the time of the dream were exactly corroborated by the facts.

Another incident was told me by thekaimakamof Jalo. He was traveling with a party from Benghazi to Jaghbub to visit Sayed El Mahdi. They missed a well and were in dire straits. At night a man, the least enthusiastic of the pilgrims, turned to him and said, “Now that you have brought us to visit that wonderful man Sayed El Mahdi, will you ask him to send us some water, if he be as saintly as you say he is?” That same night at Jaghbub, Sayed El Mahdi, so the story goes, ordered two of his slaves to take five camels loaded with water and food, and going out into the open he indicated the direction they should take, adding that until they met a caravan they must not stop by the way. In due course they came across the caravan in distress and rescued it.

There are some of the oldikhwanstill living whom even members of the Senussi family themselves avoid displeasing because they fear their occult powers. One of these who lives at Kufra was theikhwanof azawiain Cyrenaica. A Bedouin once broughtsome sheep to water at the well, and some of them strayed into the patch of ground attached to thezawiaand ate the young barley. Theikhwanwarned the Bedouin to stop his sheep from doing this, and the man pretended to pay attention but was really determined that not only these sheep but the whole flock should go in and help themselves to the crop. And when theikhwancame out again it was to see all the flock feeding on his barley. “May God curse them,” he cried, “the sheep that eat the crop of thezawia.” The story goes that not a single sheep emerged alive from thezawiagarden.

Until this day the Bedouins fear the Senussi family not so much because of any temporal power but on account of the spiritual powers with which they credit them. A Bedouin cursed by one of the Senussi family lives the whole time in fear of something awful about to happen to him. His friends, even his own people, try to avoid his presence lest the curse upon him should account for a harm to them also.

There is the famous case of the chief clerk of Sayed El Mahdi who lies in Kufra now half paralyzed. I went to see him. He was quite happy and very content in spite of the fact that he could not move his body. On my second visit he was getting confidential and—half believing, half disbelieving—asked if I had any medicine for his malady. I hesitated, for I did not want the man to lose hope entirely. He saw this and, without even giving me the chance of answering him, said: “No, it is decreed that it should be thus. It was my fault. Sayed El Mahdi wanted me to journey north. I could not disobey him, but I tried to avoid the journey. I went as far as Hawari and there wrote to him pretending to be ill. The answer came by a messenger that if I were ill I should certainly be relieved of the journey. The next day I was struck with paralysis and brought back to Kufra and have been here ever since. That was twenty-five years ago.”

CAMELS CROSSING THE SAND-DUNES

Thekaimakamat Jalo told me a story when we were discussing miracles. He said that on one occasion there was a very severe sand-storm which nearly covered the whole of the tomb at Aujila. So they brought the slaves to dig it out again. As it was being dug out thekaimakamcame into the chamber which contained the shrine and noticed a very strong smell of incense. He called one of the slaves and asked whether he had burned any incense. The man denied it, yet till now, upon occasion, a visitor to the tomb will smell this incense, though it is known that none has been burned.

Jalo is the headquarters of the Majabra tribe of Bedouins, the merchant princes of the Libyan Desert.A few Zwayas are also found there, but the Majabras make up the great majority of the two thousand inhabitants of the two villages. The Majabras have wonderful business instinct. The Majbari boasts of his father having died in thebasur—the camel-saddle—as the son of a soldier might boast that his father died on the field of battle. When I was in Jalo, the Italian authorities, who were then on unfriendly terms with Sayed Idris, had prohibited the sending of goods from Benghazi and the other ports of Cyrenaica into the interior. Consequently prices of commodities at such inland places as Jedabia went up with a leap. Majabra merchants, arriving at Jalo with caravans of goods from Egypt, heard of this abnormal situation in the north. Without a moment’s hesitation they changed their plans, trekked north instead of south, and sold their goods to splendid advantage in Jedabia. Then back they dashed—if the camel’s pace of less than three miles an hour can be so described—to Egypt or the south for another caravan-load. Arrived again at Jalo with their merchandise, they inquired carefully as to comparative conditions in the markets of Jedabia and Kufra and directed their further journey accordingly. Considering the remoteness of the desert places—Jalo five days from Jedabia, Kufra from twelve to eighteen days from Jalo—and the snail-likespeed of a caravan, news travels across the desert with surprising swiftness. At least it seems so. I suppose the true explanation is that all things are relative, and while news moves at the camel’s pace, so does everything else.

While the Majabras are the great traders of the Libyan Desert, the Zwayas have also their claims to prominence. The rivalry between the two tribes is always present under the surface, and occasionally it flashes forth into the light.

There is some envy of the Zwayas by all the other tribes of Cyrenaica because the man second in importance to Sayed Idris among the Senussis is Ali Pasha El Abdia, who is a Zwayi. Abdia is a splendid soldier, a powerful support to Sayed Idris and a man much trusted by the Senussi leader.

One evening after dinner at Jalo some expression of this rivalry was given by Sidi Saleh, who belonged to no tribe in Cyrenaica and was in fact asherifor descendant of the Prophet, in an argument with Moghaib and Zerwali, who were both Zwayas. Moghaib launched into a little history of the achievements of the Zwayas. Sidi Saleh listened to the Zwayi’s eulogy of his tribe, shook his head, and remarked, “Their history may be as glorious as Sidi Moghaib tells you, but they do not fear God.”

At this Moghaib burst forth: “By God, SidiSaleh, they may not fear God, but neither do they fear man. Woe to him who dares molest their caravan or attack their camp.”

Then he came quickly over to me and continued, “We have the blessing of El Mahdi upon us, for it was to our headquarters in Kufra that Sidi El Mahdi came and from which he disappeared.”

The Senussis will never say that El Mahdi died, but always that he “disappeared” or some equivalent expression. In fact there is a legend among them that he is not dead but wandering over the earth until such time as he shall come again to his desert people. To the Zwayas El Mahdi is the most beloved of the Senussi leaders because it was he who moved the center of activity of the brotherhood to Kufra, their headquarters. Thekubbaof the mosque that he built is the glory of Kufra.

In my own experience the Zwayas at times showed hostility and made it clear that, although I was a Moslem, the son of a religious man, and a confidant of Sayed Idris, they did not want me in Kufra. Some of them even expressed the hope that they would have seen the last of me when I left Kufra. In spite of this scarcely veiled antagonism to me, however, I never expect to find better men for a desert journey than the Zwayas who formed part of my caravan. Zerwali in particular, a typical ZwayiBedouin, was the best of companions and the most reliable of associates.

SAYED MOHAMMED EL ABIDRuler of Kufra and cousin of the head of the Senussi sectTHE HOUSE OF SAYED EL ABIDSheepskins of water are seen hanging from their tripods to cool in the shade, and beneath them are shallow copper pans. In the foreground is a tea-pot.

SAYED MOHAMMED EL ABIDRuler of Kufra and cousin of the head of the Senussi sect

SAYED MOHAMMED EL ABID

Ruler of Kufra and cousin of the head of the Senussi sect

THE HOUSE OF SAYED EL ABIDSheepskins of water are seen hanging from their tripods to cool in the shade, and beneath them are shallow copper pans. In the foreground is a tea-pot.

THE HOUSE OF SAYED EL ABID

Sheepskins of water are seen hanging from their tripods to cool in the shade, and beneath them are shallow copper pans. In the foreground is a tea-pot.

The Bedouin of Cyrenaica has in him the blood of the Arabs who passed through the north of Africa on their way to Spain. Although he has mixed with other native tribes of North Africa, he still preserves the old Arab tradition. In the case of murder, among the Senussis, the Bedouins have their own law. As a rule the Senussiikhwanintervenes as a peaceful intermediary. He takes the murderer and an old member of his tribe and goes to the murdered man’s camp, pitching camp near-by. Theikhwanthen approaches the family of the murdered man, saying, “He who murdered your man is here”; and, taking him by the hand, he adds: “This is he who murdered your son. I hand him over to you that you may do as you will with him.” Usually the answer is, “May God forgive him, and may God’s justice and mercy fall upon him.” Thereupon theikhwanstarts arranging for the blood-money, which is generally three thousand dollars and a slave, the market value of the latter being known. The injured party may choose between accepting the money or having its equivalent in camels, sheep, or other commodities. The money may be paid in instalments extending over from one to three years, and the arrangement is generally carried through. In very rare cases or a deep-rootedfeud the family of the deceased refuse to accept blood-money, which means that they intend to kill the murderer himself, or else one of his relations or a leading member of his tribe.

Bedouin boys and girls mix freely; it is only in the higher families that the women are kept in seclusion. As a rule a boy knows his sweetheart, and he goes to her camp and sings to her, generally in verse of his own making. If she likes him, she comes out and answers his song, not rarely in words of her own composition also. The boy then goes and asks for the girl from her people, paying a dowry if an agreement is reached. Then with ceremonial he goes with his friends and takes the girl home to his camp amid displays of horsemanship and much firing of guns. Cases have been known of elopements, which usually end in feuds between tribes, for the Bedouins look upon the man as having stolen the girl from them. There is a marriage contract, in many cases drawn up by theikhwan, and the marriage takes place according to the Moslem religion. Marriages take place at a very early age, according to the development of the girl, who may be thirteen or fourteen, while the boy is between seventeen and twenty. Bedouins who can afford it marry more than one wife, but in that case the first wife remains the mistress of the house and takes precedence even overthe favorite wife in anything that has to do with household management.

I have heard of many cases of lads going off their heads through falling in love with a girl they could not marry. A Bedouin boy once came to me to ask for medicine. He looked very frail. He was slim, with a rather refined face, and spoke very little. “I have come to ask you for medicine to give me health,” he said. He shook his head when I asked what was his ailment and answered, “God knows best.” There was something queer about the boy, something that puzzled me, but as usual in these cases a few malted milk tablets were wrapped up carefully in paper and given to him with strict orders not to take more than three each day. When the boy had gone, an elderly man came to my tent. He squatted on the floor. “May God give you health and make your hand give recovery. My son came to you just now, and you gave him medicine. I have come to explain his ailment. He is always weak and afflicted by headaches. When night falls he shuns everybody and seeks solitude; often he goes out to spend the night in the open.”

I told the old man that the medicine I had given the boy was the only one I had that might give some relief. “Recovery comes from God,” replied the man in a sad voice. “We know his remedy, but it is decreedthat he should not have it. The boy is in love with a girl whose parents refused to give her to him in marriage.”

“Why don’t you make an effort, if you know this is the reason of your son’s illness, and try to get the girl in marriage for your son?”

“It is too late, now,” replied the father. “She is already married. But God knows best . . . She may be many days’ journey away from here, but she is suffering from the same ailment.” With that he rose and left my tent, a resigned, pathetic figure.

At Jalo, as at Jaghbub, there were no camels waiting for me when I arrived. But the reason was not the same, nor the uncertainty so disturbing. The hire of the necessary camels had been arranged for, and Omar Bu Helega, their owner, was ready to start just as soon as the beasts returned from grazing. No good Bedouin starts out on a long trek until his camels have been fattened and especially have had their fill of green fodder. A long stretch like that to Kufra, with no grazing on the way, means feeding the camels on dried dates exclusively. Dates, say the camelmen, are hot on the liver. Therefore, they prepare their animals for the ordeal by a course of green feeding before they start.

Bu Helega’s camels had been taken to near-by grazing grounds for this course of preparation, andon the appointed day for their return they did not appear. The next day I wondered about them, the second day I was concerned, and the day after worried, lest, when taken from grazing, the beasts might have run away. However, they had not done so. They put in their appearance on the fourth day, and when they came they were in excellent condition.

TEBU GIRL WEARING BEDOUIN CLOTHESA TEBU WITH HIS CAMEL

TEBU GIRL WEARING BEDOUIN CLOTHES

A TEBU WITH HIS CAMEL

I hired thirty-five camels, paying a high price for them. I could have bought the beasts outright for from twelve to eighteen pounds, while Bu Helega demanded thirteen and a half pounds for their hire for the two or three months’ journey to Abeshe in Wadai. But it was better so. If I had owned the camels myself the responsibility for their welfare would have been all mine. It would have been my men who had them in charge, with no motive beyond the general one of loyalty to the leader and the job for carrying the camels through in good condition. But when Bu Helega’s men went along with his own animals they were sure to have the best of care. During the trek to Kufra he kept his eye expertly on each one of them. If a camel weakened or seemed ill, he shifted loads to meet the emergency. He did everything to keep them fit to the journey’s end, and his care of them was worth to me all that it cost.

In addition to camels I needed more men. The four who had been hired in Cairo, Sollum, and Siwawere still with me: Abdullahi, Ahmed, Hamad, and Ismail. I now added five more: Zerwali; Senussi Bu Hassan, the guide; Sad, who came from Aujila; Hamid; and Faraj, a slave. Bu Helega had with him his son and two camelmen. The list was supplemented at the last by five Tebus, nomadic blacks from Tibesti, a region northwest of Wadai. Abdullahi and Zerwali were the two headmen of the caravan. The former was in command of the luggage and the commissariat, while Zerwali was in charge of the camels and the men. They were the best companions that any man could have on a desert trek.

We needed clothing, certain articles of food, and shoes, especially the last. The heelless Bedouin slipper is the only possible wear for the desert, but it will wear out, and it often has to be repaired on the way. It was necessary to be sure that each of us had not only shoes but the leather that we should need for patching them until we reached Kufra.

At Jalo I found a famous shoemaker, Hemaida, whom I had met at Kufra two years before. I had with me the very shoes that he had made for me then, with soles badly in need of patching. Great was his delight when I took them to him for his ministrations. He was a venerable-looking personage, whom it would have been easy to take for a judge or a member of the council at least. He came to myhouse day after day to work on the five pairs of shoes he made for me, on the making of shoes for my men, and on the repairing of our saddles and other leather accoutrement. It was a pleasure to give him a meal and then to invite him to a friendly glass of tea. One day he was coughing as the tea was brought, and I expressed sympathy for his ailment. He looked at me across his glass of tea and answered in his quiet voice: “But your tea always stops my cough, Sidi El Bey. Not other tea, but yours always does.” I did not ignore the hint so gracefully given. Hemaida received his little packet of the miraculous tea as a present before we left Jalo.

Besides my shoes and the leather, I bought cloth for clothing for my men, butter, oil, barley, fire-wood, and eightgirbas. Ali Kaja, who was the favorite slave of Sayed Idris and had been made by him his trusted personalwakilin Jalo, told me that his master had directed him to put all his store of supplies of every kind at my disposal. I thanked him but did not avail myself of the offer. I had just come from Egypt, well equipped, and I knew how much these stores meant to those who lived in this isolated spot.

Besides the making of preparations, my ten days in Jalo were spent in receiving and giving entertainment and in scientific work. The entertainment wasup to the best Bedouin standards. The first day I dined with Senussi Gader Bouh, thekaimakamor governor of Jalo. The second day I lunched at the house of El Bishari, the most important of the Majabra merchant chiefs, waited on by my host and his sons. The third day luncheon was sent to me by the members of the council, and I was joined in the repast by Zerwali, thekadior judge, Ali Kaja, and Moghaib. After the meal I had a talk with thekadion Senussi history and was shown letters from the Grand Senussi and from El Mahdi, his son. Dinner that day came from Haj Farahat, another Majbari merchant, with thekaimakam, Zerwali, Ali Kaja, Moghaib, and Abdullahi as sharers of the feast. We discussed the custom of Bu Zafar, which all agreed must not be a meal but the slaughtering and eating of a sheep.

On the fourth day I lunched at the house of Haj Ali Bilal, a Majbari. My diary records the fact that there was the “usual crowd” and a “very good lunch.” Dinner was sent to me by Haj Seid, also one of the Majabra merchants, and thekaimakam, Zerwali, and thekadijoined me in it. On the next day I lunched at the house of Haj Ghraibil, and that evening my most interesting experience in the way of hospitality took place. There were living at Jalo several ladies of the Senussi family, including the wife of Sayed Idris and his sister. Shortly after my arrival at Jalothey sent me an invitation to dinner. This was an unusual occurrence, for Bedouin women of high class do not offer entertainment to men as women of the western world may do with perfect propriety. I realized, of course, that I would not actually dine with my hostesses in person, but I was appreciative of the unprecedented honor nevertheless.

SLAVE AT KUFRATEBU GIRL CARRYING BURDEN ON HER HEAD

SLAVE AT KUFRA

TEBU GIRL CARRYING BURDEN ON HER HEAD

At the appointed hour Zerwali and thekaimakamcame to escort me to dinner. The house which the ladies occupied was the former government house of the days of Turkish rule. We were ushered into a spacious room where the soft light from a magnificent brass lantern and innumerable candles served to deepen the mellow tones and the rich combinations of color of priceless rugs and silken cushions. Sidi Saleh, who was the husband of one of the Senussi ladies, acted as host on their behalf. Under his hospitable direction, a splendid banquet was served to us by half a dozen slaves. When we had eaten all that was demanded by courtesy, and, I am afraid, much more than was required by nature, the banquet was completed with the washing of our hands in basins brought by the slaves, the ceremonial three glasses of tea, the sprinkling over us of rose-water, and the burning of incense before us. Then the chief slave came and deferentially whispered in my ear. Would the bey care to hear some music? There was a gramophone,with records made by the famous singers of Egypt. The bey had only to command.

Perhaps to the disappointment of my companions—I do not know—but quite to my own satisfaction, I courteously declined the offered entertainment. There was something rare and precious in the perfumed atmosphere of that softly lighted room which the coming of voices from beyond the desert would have profaned. Partly the beauty of the place, the remoteness from the world, but especially the sense that I was the guest of noble Bedouin women, who were hidden from me by the customs of our eastern lands, but were in a real sense present through their gracious hospitality and kindly thoughtfulness, made of that evening a unique memory. I told the slave to convey my respectful salaams to the ladies and to tell them how much I had been touched by their courtesy. Then I went out into the clear desert night with the soft breeze stirring little breaths of incense from the folds of myjerdto remind me vividly of the peace and mystic calm of the room from which I had come.

The next day I returned the hospitality of those who had entertained me so generously. My room, with its dry mud floor, and travel-stained luggage ranged about the walls, could not bear comparison with the charming apartment in which I had dined thenight before. But Ali Kaja took it upon himself to see that we were made as presentable as circumstances would permit. With a pair of beautiful brass lanterns and a few rugs borrowed from Sayed Idris’s house and some other accessories, he created a very decent imitation of a banquet-hall. My guests included thekaimakam; the members of the council; the twoikhwan; the judge; Ali Kaja; Musa, the captain of the Senussi artillery; and Zerwali. Dressed in my best Bedouin robes I waited on them as a Bedouin host should, and when some of them, who had been out into the world, asked me to sit with them and eat, I assured them that I would—when they were my guests in Cairo. Ahmed, my cook, had laid himself out to provide several distinctively European dishes to give a note of novelty to our entertaining, and the delight of my guests was great at his achievements.

My banquet ended the round of entertaining, and for a day or two I was permitted to lunch and dine in peaceful solitude. It was a relief, grateful though I had been to my generous hosts for their hospitality.

An important part of my activities at Jalo was the making of scientific observations. I observed the sun and the stars to determine the latitude and longitude and took regular readings of the aneroid barometer and thermometer for the determination of thealtitude. My observations on the latter point, when finally worked out in relation to barometric records made on the same days at Siwa, disclosed the interesting fact that the level of Jalo is sixty meters higher to-day than it was when Rohlfs ascertained it in 1879. He found Jalo almost exactly at sea-level; I found it sixty meters higher. I saw the explanation of it going on before my eyes. The drifting sands were climbing slowly up the trunks of the palm-trees and against the walls of the houses, threatening to engulf them. Some of the inhabitants had already moved their houses and rebuilt them on higher levels. It is the steadily accumulating sand, driven by sand-storms and gathering wherever trees and houses stop its progress, that has raised Jalo nearly two hundred feet above sea-level in forty-four years. The house I was living in, and at which the barometric readings were recorded, was from fifteen to twenty meters higher than the rest of the houses at Jalo.

In the taking of my observations I had to be cautious, for the Bedouins are suspicious of anything so elaborately scientific looking as a theodolite. They were sure to say that I was making a map with a view to coming back and conquering their land. The first time that a Bedouin chief and the man who was to guide us to Kufra caught me at my theodolite I had to explain hastily and persuasively that I was gettingdata for the making of a calendar for the month of Ramadan.

KUFRAThe native dwellings and date-palms are in the foreground with lake in the background

KUFRA

The native dwellings and date-palms are in the foreground with lake in the background

Abdullahi, who was of course not a Bedouin, was invaluable to me in the camouflaging of my scientific activities. In fact he was rather a specialist in the manufacture of those little inaccuracies that smooth the path of life and preserve the social amenities. One day we were using the theodolite some distance from the town. A native demanded what we were doing, and Abdullahi said we were taking a picture of Jalo.

“How can that be, at such a distance?” demanded the Bedouin.

Abdullahi had his explanation ready.

“The machine attracts the picture, so that it comes right out and flies into it,” he asserted glibly.

“But how can a box attract a picture?” demanded the incredulous Bedouin.

Abdullahi struck an attitude. “Ask the magnet how it attracts the iron,” he commanded rhetorically, and the debate was closed.

ON THE TREK

ON Thursday, March 15, we were ready to trek.

I got up at six to pack and get my baggage ready. As is usual on the first day of a journey, when the caravan is not yet shaken down and accustomed to the routine, it took us three hours to load. We were to follow the Bedouin custom oftag-heez, which means going to a near-by well before beginning a journey and spending several days, sometimes a week, in final preparations away from the distractions of town life. Buttafal Well, thirty kilometers from Jalo, was the point where we were to make ourtag-heez, or preparation.

When the packing was well under way, thekaimakam, notables, andikhwancame to give us the ceremonialmowad-aor farewell. We squatted down together and discussed the prospects for the journey. I had made this same trip to Kufra two years before under somewhat more favorable conditions and nevertheless we had lost our way before getting toKufra. It had been cooler then, two months earlier in the year; the winds and sand-storms had not been so incessant; and the caravan had been smaller.

The problem of providing camels, their fodder, men, and food and equipment for the men did not arise then, as the whole caravan was produced complete and provided for by the generosity of Sayed Idris, a fact which had a considerable effect in lulling the suspicions of the Bedouins and subduing their hostility to strangers. On this occasion, I had to arrange for the camels and personnel, and so big a caravan journeying with the quantity of unusual luggage necessary for a long journey naturally aroused curiosity.

On these long waterless treks Nature is often the only enemy; and she can be one if she chooses. The men of my caravan worked well together. The four whom I had brought from Cairo, Sollum, and Siwa got on excellently with all the people we met. Zerwali, the Senussiikhwandelegated by Sayed Idris to accompany us, was kindness itself and did everything in his power to make the journey as comfortable as possible. I felt no real concern over the outcome, no matter what Nature might choose to do.

When the camels were all loaded, we went through the dignified ceremony of the farewell. We took our stand in two half-circles facing each other,the men of my caravan and myself in one and the chiefs of Jalo and theikhwanin the other. Solemnly and reverently we raised our hands, palm upward, for prayers that the journey would be a blessed one, that God would guide us and return us safe to our homes. We read the “Fat-ha,” the first chapter of the Koran, the oldest of theikhwansaying the “amen.” Then we shook hands and parted. The shouts of the men urging on the camels were echoed by “lu lias” from women of the village, and we were on our way.

As we passed El Lebba, the second village of Jalo, a pleasant incident occurred to send us cheerfully on our way. The solitary graceful figure of a girl appeared beside our path, her face hidden from us by the Bedouin veil. With one voice the men nearest her called out the traditional greeting:

“Wajhik! Wajhik! Your face! Your face!”

The girl turned and demurely drew aside her veil to disclose the finely chiseled features, the clear olive skin, and the shy yet dignified expression of a Bedouin maiden. The men shouted with delight at her beauty and her courtesy. To complete the tradition I ordered them to “empty gunpowder” at her feet. Hamad and Sad performed the graceful ceremony, first one and then the other. The man danced lightly toward her as if to the imaginary rhythm of a Bedouin drum, his rifle held in both hands over his head, themuzzle pointing forward, shouting a desert love-song as he went. Just in front of her he dropped lightly on one knee, brought his gun to the vertical position butt upward, and fired, a hair’s breadth from her feet.

THE OASIS OF HAWARIThe explorer’s camp on the most northerly oasis of Kufra

THE OASIS OF HAWARI

The explorer’s camp on the most northerly oasis of Kufra

So close was the shot and so accurate his aim that the girl’s slippers were singed by the powder-flash. She did not flinch at the explosion but stood gracefully erect in her pride at the honor done her. Singed slippers are a mark of distinction in the desert that any Bedouin girl cherishes.

When Sad had followed Hamad’s example, another shout rose from the men of the caravan, and we moved on.

The girl smiled after us, as flattered by the homage that had been paid her as we were by the good omen of a pretty face crossing our path at the outset of our journey. Within an hour we were in the open desert again.

Eight hours’ trekking brought us to Buttafal Well, where we were to stop a day. We took matters easily that first night, with singing and conversation about the camp-fire till after midnight.

When the camp had settled down for the night, I took my pipe and went for a stroll. This was always one of the pleasures of my life in the desert—that last pipe of peace before turning in—and of peace it always was. If the day had been good, there was contentment;if bad, there was hope for the next day and faith that all would be well. During the whole journey, I never went to sleep with anything really worrying me; worrying, that is, my mind itself, no matter how I might have been tried by occurrences or by conditions.

The next day was spent in final preparations. Bu Helega, the owner of the camels, arrived with his own little caravan of three camels. During the day another man had come from Jalo to catch up with us. We had been in need of rope and twine, but the price asked by the dealers had been too high. So Abdullahi chattered with them and left the actual closing of the bargain to the last minute. Then he had arranged with a man named Senussi Bu Jabir to bring the rope after us to Buttafal.

When this man arrived, he came to my tent to tell me that his brother was in Wadai and to ask me to take him with us. He would work to pay for his passage. I looked him over and quickly decided that he would do. I discovered particularly that he had a sense of humor, almost if not quite the most valuable asset in desert travel. Ability may fail, but a keen sense of humor enables one to get the last ounce out of a man in possession of it. I was ready to take him, but it did not seem possible.

“We are leaving at once,” I said. “There is notime for you to make the day’s journey to Jalo and back for your luggage.”

“I have it,” he said.

“Where is it?” I demanded, looking about in bewilderment.

“Here,” he answered, pointing to the shirt he wore and the stick he carried.

I burst into a hearty laugh at the idea of such an outfit for a hard desert trek, and he joined me cheerfully. I assured him that he might go and never regretted my decision. He proved to be one of the best men I had.

The next morning we watered the camels, a process which must not be hurried. Nothing is more important in trekking than the condition of your camels. Not only must they be fat and well nourished at the start, but they must be allowed to drink their fill with deliberation and permitted to rest after the drinking.

When the camels were ready they were loaded with the greatest care, for good packing and loading at the beginning mean time and trouble saved all through the journey. The rapidity with which the loading and unloading can be accomplished day after day sometimes means a gain of a day or two in time before the trip is over.

At 2:30 we were ready to start. As the camelsmoved slowly off, the sonorous voice of Bu Helega rose in theazan, the calling to prayers, according to the Bedouin custom at the beginning of a long trek. It is the Bedouin tradition that those who begin the journey with theazanwill end it with theazan; they will, that is, meet with no disaster by the way.

Our caravan had gradually become enlarged until it consisted of thirty-nine camels, twenty-one men, a horse, and a dog. Our personnel was as follows: myself and my four men, Abdullahi, Ahmed, Hamad, and Ismail; Zerwali; Bu Helega, the owner of the camels with his son, his nephew, and his slave. There was also Dawood, Zerwali’s uncle, who was going with a single camel to Taiserbo to bring back his wife and daughter; Senussi Bu Hassan, our guide; Senussi Bu Jabir, the boy with the shirt and staff; Hamad Zwayi, another boy who was a pleasant singer; Sad, the Aujili; Faraj, the slave; two Tebus, with their three camels. In addition there were three other Tebus with three camels loaded with merchandise which they were taking to deliver to merchants in Kufra.

We set our faces southward and journeyed toward Kufra. It was hot and windy, and the desert lay about us like an interminable pancake. The ground wasserira, which is flat hard sand, with a little gravel scattered over it. Our first objectivewas the Zieghen Well, which we ought to make in eight or nine days. In the old days, before the times of the Senussis, it had been the custom to make the trek from Jalo to Zieghen in three days and five nights, marching continuously without a stop for food or rest. But the Senussis changed all that. They inaugurated the custom of taking enough water and food to permit the journey to be made in twice the time, with adequate rest for camels and men each day.

SOUTH OF KUFRAThe caravan on the hitherto unexplored desert. The route from this point to Erdi, by way of Arkenu and Ouenat, had never before been traversed by any one from the outside world.

SOUTH OF KUFRA

The caravan on the hitherto unexplored desert. The route from this point to Erdi, by way of Arkenu and Ouenat, had never before been traversed by any one from the outside world.

At first our camels moved reluctantly, for they had just left good grazing and would much rather have gone back to it. Bu Helega tried his best to persuade the trading Tebus to lead the caravan with their camels, but they cleverly refused. The place of honor at the head of the line is an arduous one. Camels are quite ready to follow others ahead of them but dislike to go forward independently. So the first camel in the caravan has to be driven and often beaten with a stick to keep him going. The Tebus preferred to bring up the trail of the procession, where their camels needed no urging. Bu Helega got even with them later, however, because of their choice of position.

It was hot and windy all the afternoon, but in the evening the wind dropped to a gentle breeze, and the desert put forth its full charm. I find recorded in mydiary some of the thoughts and feelings on getting back into this old familiar desert, where I was approaching the point at which we lost our way two years before.

The same old flat desert and feelings of old memories.How one forgives the Desert her scorching sun and her torturing wind for the calm of the evening, the sunset, the moon rising, and then that gentle and serene breeze! How easily one forgets the presence of her dangers! It is the full appreciation of simple pleasures that endears the Desert to one, in spite of all her harshnesses and crudities:A glass of tea;A cigarette;A pipe when all the caravan is asleep and the fragrance of the tobacco is wafted by the gently stirring air;A glimpse of the playing of the firelight on the faces of the men of the caravan, some old and rugged, some smooth and youthful;To see men toil, succeed and fail, and suffer in another sphere of life;Above all, to be near to God and to feel His Presence.

The same old flat desert and feelings of old memories.

How one forgives the Desert her scorching sun and her torturing wind for the calm of the evening, the sunset, the moon rising, and then that gentle and serene breeze! How easily one forgets the presence of her dangers! It is the full appreciation of simple pleasures that endears the Desert to one, in spite of all her harshnesses and crudities:

A glass of tea;

A cigarette;

A pipe when all the caravan is asleep and the fragrance of the tobacco is wafted by the gently stirring air;

A glimpse of the playing of the firelight on the faces of the men of the caravan, some old and rugged, some smooth and youthful;

To see men toil, succeed and fail, and suffer in another sphere of life;

Above all, to be near to God and to feel His Presence.

On the eighteenth we got up at six, and the camels were briskly loaded in thirty-five minutes. The careful first loading at Jalo and Buttafal made speed possible now. Nevertheless it was nine o’clock before we were ready for the start. The morning program in camp is not one that can be safely hurried. The Bedouin dislikes intensely to be rushed over hismeals, or to be deprived of those moments of leisure thereafter which are so essential to peaceful digestion and a contented spirit. The wise leader will see that these prejudices of his men are carefully observed.

Perhaps this is a good place to set down the outline of a typical day’s trek under the conditions which prevailed until we reached Arkenu.

Although it is March, it is still cold in the morning, and one gets up a little after dawn because it is too cold to stay in bed longer. Even the sleeping-bag and the Bedouin blanket will not keep out the chill. A peep through the flaps of the tent shows that the stars are paling in the sky. Some one has the fire already started, and the first impulse is to get to it without delay. Throwing myjerdabout me and wrapping thekufiaabout my ears, I dash out to the crackling blaze. There is nothing hot about the desert in these crisp morning hours. I stand by the fire and have a look around. There is little life in the camp yet, though all the men are up. They are huddled close to the warmth, muffled injerdsand every other garment that they can lay their hands on. When water is plenty, steaming hot glasses of tea are handed round, and after they are drunk the activities of the camp divide. The camelmen go to feed the camels with dried dates, which the beasts munch reflectively, stones and all. A consultation issometimes held over the camels, if some of them have suffered the previous day from too heavy loads. Perhaps a shifting of loads is decided on or better packing and loading recommended.

Other men are pulling down the three tents, which form the apices of a triangle, with the camels parked at its center. The luggage which had been set up as a barricade against the icy wind is sorted out and arranged ready for the loading.

Meanwhile I have been attending to the barometer and thermometer, registering their readings, filling in the spaces in my scientific diary, seeing that the cameras have fresh films. The voices of the men sound low through the camp, muffled bykufiasand extra clothing. At last breakfast is ready.

It may beasida, the Bedouin national dish, a kind of pudding baked of flour, oil, and spices; or it may be rice. It is an utterly simple meal in either case, but with what a keen appetite one attacks it! In the desert any disinclination for the first meal of the day that one may feel in city surroundings vanishes away. Breakfast is finished off with the inevitable three glasses of tea, taken slowly and reflectively. Whatever one does, one must not deprive one’s men of their tea or hurry them over it. Give a Bedouin a filling meal and let him sip three glasses of tea after it, and you can get any work out of him that youwant. Stint him or rush him, and you will get worse than nothing.

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