FROM GABÉS TO THE MATMATA MOUNTAINS
Crouched in a wretched hut, which seemed to me then the perfection
of comfort, I sat writing by the light of a flickering candle at the
village of Zaraua, on the top of a mountain of the Matmata range,
south of Gabés.
Outside I could hear my horse munching, as he stood, his well-earned
barley; farther away dogs were barking. The moon sent her rays through
my doorway; and now and then came to my ear the sound of human voices,
but this soon ceased as the sun had long since set: for in these
regions all retire to rest early so as to rise at daybreak.
The two previous days had sped as in a fairy tale. As I opened my
window at the Hotel de l’Oasis at 4.30 a.m. on the 17th October,
it was still half-dark, but I could distinguish a little way down the
street an Arab horse, saddled, and by its side a white bundle lying
on the footway. It was Hamed, the Arab horseman, whom the _bureau de
renseignement_ had placed at my disposal, and who was now waiting
for five o’clock, the hour fixed for our start. A little later
arrived my brown steed, supplied by the Spahi regiment.
[Illustration: MAP OF SOUTHERN TUNISIA.]
My small travelling kit, photographic apparatus, and breakfast were
packed on Hamed’s horse. The revolver I slung on my own saddle,
little realising that the same afternoon I should fire it on a
festive occasion; and we started, wending our way amongst the showy,
newly-built European houses.
Outside the town, the country is somewhat flat; we followed the
road. To our right, towards the north, was Gabés’ winding river,
but invisible to us, as it lies low. On the other side, the palm
groves showed us a dark forest. The villages by the river stood out
clearly against this dark background, and the rising sun shone on
the white kubba to our left of Sid Bu’l Baba.
On the road we met little groups of natives driving camels and tiny
donkeys, all laden with esparto straw. Their houses were many a mile
away over the blue mountains, which were dimly distinguishable on
the horizon, for they came from Hadeij, our destination, to sell
this, about the only product in which they can deal during the hot
summer season.
Now and again we also met small caravans of donkeys carrying light
loads of dry wood.
After a quick trot, that warmed us at this early chilly hour, we
turned to the left in a southerly direction, taking a path that
wound along slightly undulating ground. A brace of partridges rose,
and we heard the quail calling, and saw young larks running on the
barren ground. On a hill to the north-west we spied the camp of Ras
el Wad, erected by General Boulanger in his day. Once and again we
indulged in a quick gallop, but only in short stretches, when the
paths were not muddy or too winding.
Here and there stood a parched olive tree or date palm, on spots
where, in the wet season—if it ever come—a little water would
reach them. We were overtaken by a horseman closely enveloped in a
white burnous, the hood drawn over his head and sticking up in the
air in a peak. It was “Amar” from Hadeij on his slight but wiry
pony. He was acquainted with Hamed, so wished to join us. His hair,
beard and eyes were black, his expression good-natured, with an open
brow, and his teeth milk white.
After two hours’ ride, during which we only once met any people, we
reached the oasis of El Hamdu; near by roamed some miserable cattle,
grazing under the care of an old man; with these were also a couple
of goats.
On the border of the oasis we watered our horses at a fountain
surrounded by palms. Women peeped shyly at us over the walls of the
only stone building of the village that we could make out.
Riding on, we passed several tombs of Marabouts. On our left,
the palms of the oasis seemed drawn up in a long line, and smoke
could be perceived rising heavenwards from huts and tents beneath
the trees. From an encampment on the edge of the oasis the dogs
rushed out barking, the inhabitants standing stiffly, like statues,
and staring at us.
[Illustration: PLOUGHING-GABÉS.]
Along a shallow, stony, river bed—rough ground for the horses—we
pursued our way towards our destination in the hills, whilst the
sun burnt so fiercely that our senses were dulled.
After a couple more hours, we again met laden camels, and with them
some travellers on foot, one without a burnous or head-covering,
and clothed only in a shirt confined at the waist by a strap. He
wore his hair in a tuft on the nape of his neck, and carried in his
hand a banner on a pole. Amar told me he was a Marabout from one of
the villages near Gabés.
Of Marabouts there is no lack. This one was very poor, and was
returning from the mountains, where he had been begging for money
which he imagined was due to him. The banner he carried that everyone
might see that a holy man was coming.
I gave him a few coppers, and the young fellow kissed my hand, and
wished me good luck on my journey. It is not everyone who is wished
good luck on their travels by a Marabout. I bought my blessing cheap.
We now rode some distance amongst small hills, which are scattered
in the foreground of the mountains like islands on a coast-line. On
some eminences were heaps of stones.
“Those were there before our time,” said Amar.
In places where the ground was more or less level it was slightly
scratched round about the dry bushes. This is the arable land,
that is to say, it would be cultivated if rain fell.
We halted beneath some bushes to eat our breakfast. The bread,
butter, and cheese we could all enjoy, but I alone the wine and
meat. A pomegranate supplied our dessert.
Whilst we sat there, five women in blue dresses came by, preceded by
an old man driving half a score of camels. The women wore bracelets
and anklets. They glanced furtively at us and trudged past. A negress
only, who lagged behind, tried to attract our attention. She was
evidently not accustomed to be taken notice of.
Travelling was now easy, the track leading upwards over smooth
calcareous ground. In little watercourses, now dry, were planted
clumps of palm and olive trees, the soil being banked about them
to form dams. On an adjoining slope were numbers of small caves,
inhabited only in harvest time, when watch is kept over the crops.
We ascended higher and higher amongst the mountains, until suddenly,
as I turned in my saddle, I saw the Mediterranean like a blue streak
in the distance. We were at that moment at the highest point we
were to reach that day. At a distance here and there dogs appeared,
barking at us, and occasionally in their vicinity white figures and
rising smoke. Hamed said that these people were cave dwellers, but
were only a small tribe. A little later we were to arrive at quite
a subterranean town.
I halted abruptly on seeing below me a valley with, comparatively
speaking, many trees. On the farther side rose a long range of high
mountains. The valley itself was exactly like a large, old sand
or clay ditch, with sloping sides, pierced by a great number of
neglected and long-disused shafts, but planted with trees—palms,
olives, and figs.
“Is that Hadeij?” I asked. Hamed nodded, and I pulled up to take
a photograph.
It was then exactly two o’clock, and we continued on our way,
walking for a time beside our horses. Just as we were about to
remount, a white sheep-dog bounded out of a hole we had not noticed;
it bayed at us in a most dismal fashion, and from the nearest points
of vantage its companions joined in chorus.
I rode up to look at the dogs, and caught sight of a deep pit with
perpendicular sides that had been dug in the ground from the top
of the ascent. Down at the bottom a camel stood resting. Round
a hearth were household chattels and large bins made of rushes,
containing barley, and amongst these a few fowls. Some women and
children looked up on hearing the tramp of my horse, stared at me
for a moment, and then fled into recesses in the walls.
Hamed now suggested that I should not remain standing there, and I
followed his good advice.
A path had been dug into the hillside, and terminated in a large
door or gate. This evidently led to a long underground passage,
and ended in the square yard, open to the air, which I had just
seen, and whence are entered the excavated rooms or caves, used as
dwelling-places, stores, and stables.
On the horizon the straight stems of palms stood out sharply against
the mountains. In the foreground were olive trees, and, mingled with
them, a few palms; beneath one of these was gathered a group of men,
amongst whom, Hamed said, was the great Khalifa. I therefore drew
rein. An old greybeard rose and strode forward, offering his hand and
bidding me welcome, the other men following his example. They were
fine specimens of humanity, with regular features, black eyes, and
straight noses—one saw at once that they were not of the ordinary
Arab type.
From an open space, or square, several passages led into the hills,
affording admission to the cave dwellers’ abodes, which are all
of similar construction to that already mentioned. I was allotted
quarters in one of the caves, and stepped from the outer air into the
hill through a wooden gate on heavy hinges, and proceeded through a
long passage, cut in the rocks, a little over a man’s height. On
either side were excavated large stalls for horses, the covered way
ending in an open square court with perpendicular walls some thirty
feet high and about the same in width. From this court one steps
into symmetrical caves with vaulted roofs.
In the underground guest-chamber I stretched myself comfortably on a
couch covered with handsome carpets from Kairwan. A table and some
chairs completed the furniture of this room, specially set apart
for European guests. The Khalifa is rich, very rich, so that he can
permit himself this luxury, though it is but seldom that he has a
European visitor. He told me with pride that General Boulanger had
in his time been his guest.
After my long ride I required rest; the doors in the yard were
therefore closed, so that it was quite dark in my room. The flies
did not worry me, and I had quite a refreshing sleep until I was
awakened by the neighing of the horses in the passages. A little
later the light streamed in through my door; a figure stepped in,
and for a moment it was again dark whilst the newcomer passed through
the doorway.
It was the Khalifa; behind him came Hamed and several other persons,
sons or people of the house.
I expressed my pleasure at being the guest of so hospitable a man,
and the Khalifa responded with compliments. Coffee was served,
and the party grouped themselves about me on the floor, with the
exception of the Khalifa who seated himself by me on the divan,
and conversation flowed easily with the help of Hamed.
The contents of my saddle-bags, the photographic apparatus, and
especially an entomological syringe, underwent careful investigation.
[Illustration: JEWISH FAMILY IN A CAVE DWELLING IN HADEIJ.]
But I could not afford to sit and idle the time away, so went out
to look about me. Through Hamed I expressed my desire to examine the
interior of a dwelling, and was promised that I should see everything;
but several times we passed the square openings on the tops of the
hills, as also the entrances to houses, without anyone making a sign
to us to enter.
At last we arrived at a house into which I was invited. On the whole
it much resembled that from which we came, and was inhabited by a
Jew and a poor Berber family.
The yard was dirty; cooking utensils lay scattered about, intermingled
with a few rush corn-bins and some goats and poultry.
A woman, old, wrinkled, and tattooed, and both hideous and dirty,
was brought forward for me to see. It was, of course, the Jew’s
wife. His fellow-lodgers, the Berbers, I did not see; but as I
stepped into the dwelling, a vision of blue skirts and bare legs
vanished into the side caves.
Already I began to feel impatient and to fear that I was being made
a fool of and should never see, as I longed to do, where and how
the Berbers lived. Fortunately I had later a splendid opportunity
of studying the whole subject.
Accompanied by two sons of the Khalifa and some other persons I
walked round the valley and up the slopes, whence I could peer down
into the caves at the bottom of the valley, and could see women going
through the entrances to their dwellings, to the palm and olive trees,
followed by dogs and inquisitive children.
My camera I had with me, and used it frequently.
As the sunset hour approached, the heat relaxed, and one breathed
with ease.
In a great open square, beautified with palms, at least fifty young
men and boys were running from side to side. They had cast aside the
burnous, and wore only red caps and shirts, which fluttered as they
ran. With long sticks, bent at one end, they struck at a soft ball
which flew to and fro, sometimes in the air, sometimes on the ground.
It was beautiful to watch these bold muscular figures, so straight
and supple, with their light brown skins, regular features and
bright eyes, reminding me that thus must the Greek and Roman boys
have played on the plains beneath their blue mountains.
[Illustration: CAVES IN MATMATA.]
The game was kept up without a pause, until the sun sank suddenly
behind the mountains, and it was no longer possible to see, for
twilight is unknown in these regions.
I returned to my cave, lit my candle, smoked cigarettes and waited
until my dinner should be served.
Five figures appeared, each carrying a dish which was placed on
a table before me, and a pitcher of water was deposited beside
me. The meal consisted of soup with lumps of meat highly peppered,
a stew of chicken, and an enormous dish of kus-kus, made of barley
meal with goat’s flesh, and, finally, honey and bread; this last
was of barley meal, dry but well flavoured.
[Illustration: A CAVE DWELLING, MATMATA.]
A knife I had with me; but a spoon, that treasure to a European in
these regions, was provided. Hamed stood by my side, filled my glass
whenever it was empty, and served the dinner. On one side sat Mansur,
the Khalifa’s third son, as ordained by their customs and usages. I
requested him to join me at dinner. With a graceful motion of his
hand to his breast, he bowed his head and begged me to excuse him.
Hamed informed me that honoured guests always dine alone.
On the floor, somewhat aside, sat a row of white figures all staring
at me whilst I ate.
A great silence reigned.
This procedure rather disturbed me at first, but one soon gets
accustomed to this sort of thing.
Hamed constantly pressed me to eat. I thought it could be of no
consequence to him; but discovered later that he was prompted by
delicacy of feeling. For when I had concluded my meal, it was his
turn, with Mansur and others, to eat the remains. All the scraps
of meat, bones, etc. left were then put back into the dishes, and
these were carried into the adjoining room where the rest of the
men gathered round them; but before doing so, they poured water in
a basin and moistened their lips and fingers.
I peeped in on them, and was greeted by the sound of noisy
mastication.
Their shoes had been left beyond the edge of the rush mat on which
they were seated. Fingers were used in place of spoons or forks.
At last they were satisfied. The remnants were again collected in
a dish, and it was then probably the turn of the boys and negroes,
and, after them, of the dogs; but the end I did not see.
After enjoying coffee I went out into the court where the stars
twinkled overhead. In the distance I heard a strange humming noise,
and the sound as of far-off explosions. After a little while the
Khalifa arrived to invite me to be present at the first day’s fête
held to celebrate his son Mohammed’s wedding to a second wife,
and I then understood that the sounds I had heard had been the hum
of many voices and of gunshots.
The moon rose in the vault of heaven, and disclosed in front of me,
and on either side of the slopes, forms wrapped each in his burnous,
squatting side by side. From above, the moonlight shone on the white
crowd, giving them the appearance of spectres. The group opposite
looked as though moulded half in black, and half in dazzling white.
Up above and to the left were depicted against the light a crowd
of black, pointed figures. These were men of the Matmata mountains;
they sat silent, watching apparently the dark corner in front of me,
where no light penetrated, as the moon rose high on her course.
[Illustration: THE BRIDAL FESTIVITIES.
(_From a sketch by Knud Gamborg._)]
The Khalifa ordered chairs to be brought. On these we seated
ourselves, Hamed standing behind us, and bending forward to each of
us in turn, like a mechanical contrivance through which we carried
on our conversation.
Groups of men sat behind and beside us; they continued arriving
until the square was full to where the Matmata men sat on the banks.
Right in front, on the level ground, I distinguished a dark compact
mass. These were the women, closely enveloped in their sombre
garments; they were seated by the entrance to the caves.
A lantern was now lit and placed on the ground near my feet. At
first its light confused me, but without it I could not have seen
what took place.
One of the Khalifa’s horsemen named Belkassim, a relative and an
elderly man, was deputed to maintain order, and at once cleared
a little space between us and the women. He then led forward
two negroes, who performed a dance to the sound of a drum and
a clarionet. They marched towards us side by side, then retired
backwards, then again forward and back. This was repeated some
half-dozen times, with a swinging movement from the hips. Every
time they approached us, they waved the drum and the clarionet over
our heads, then turned towards the women before stepping backwards
again. The Khalifa raised his hand. The negroes bent their heads
backwards that he might place a coin on the forehead of each. I
followed his example; with the result that they continued their
parade and deafening noise of slow, harsh, wheezy, jerky music.
Suddenly it increased in pace, and both negroes whirled violently
round. The time then became slower, the parade recommenced, and my
sense of hearing was again endangered each time the loud drum was
swung over my head.
The din ceased abruptly, and from the rows of women came a strange
clucking sound as of the hurried calling of fowls, “Lu, lu, lu,
lu, lu, lu, lu.” This was a sign of approval. At the same moment
a gun was fired. The flash lit up the rows of women. The shots were
repeated again and again. It was the bridegroom’s nearest friends
firing a salute in his honour. The women responded with the “Yu,
yu” cry, the negro musicians joined, and more shots followed.
Then it struck me that I also would join in the festive demonstration,
so I told Hamed to bring me my revolver, and I fired the six chambers
into the air, one after the other.
The women at once broke into the cry of joy. Drums and clarionets
joined in.
“I am much gratified,” I said to the Khalifa, “that you have
introduced me to the circle of your people. Here is my hand in token
of my gratitude. May Allah protect you and yours.”
“Thanks for your good wishes,” he replied. “You come from
a strange and distant land. You are my friend and my brother,
one for whom I am responsible so long as you remain in the Matmata
mountains. You are free to travel anywhere you please; no one will
injure you.”
I said, “When I came I knew you would treat me as you would a
brother; I was told so by the Khalifa of Gabés; but I was not aware
that you had authority over all the tribes of the Matmata. But now
I know it. I arrived with this weapon by my side, as you may have
seen it hung by my saddle when you received me. Now I realise that
it is superfluous, and that I shall have no need of it so long as I
am amongst your people. As a sign, therefore, of my sincerity, and
as a token of my respect for and gratitude to yourself, my brother,
I present you with my weapon. But before I place it in your hands,
permit me to salute with it, after the manner of your countrymen,
as an expression of the pleasure I derive at being in your company
during the celebration of these festivities.”
Retiring outside the circle of spectators, I again fired the six
chambers of my revolver.
Then arose from the women a high-pitched and long-drawn “Yu, yu,
yu,” followed by some musket shots.
Bowing to the Khalifa I presented him with the revolver. He gave me
his hand, bringing it afterwards to his lips. This was the seal of
our friendship.
“Would you like the women to sing for you, or would you prefer
men-singers?” asked the Khalifa.
“As you will, brother; I do not wish to interrupt your fête;
let it go on as arranged before my arrival.”
However, the old man insisted on my deciding which I preferred,
so I could not deny that I was inclined to hear the women sing.
They sat before me; I could not distinguish their features. Amongst
them, I was told, sat the first wife of the bridegroom
Mohammed—sharing in the universal rejoicings.
According to report, she is comparatively young and still pretty,
and who knows but that her heart aches at the thought that soon she
must share her husband with a younger rival—or perhaps it may seem
to her quite natural, and she congratulates herself on the prospect
of having someone to help in her work, which is not of the lightest.
The Khalifa laid his hand on my shoulder to warn me that the
performance was about to begin.
In somewhat drawling measure, a sweet female voice improvised a solo,
the chorus being taken up by the surrounding women, interrupted now
and again by the shrill “Yu, yu.”
Hamed told me it was of myself they sang.
“This morning he came with weapons and followers—perhaps straight
from Paris. The pistol hung on his saddle; his horse was red. The
proudest charger you could see. He sat straight as a palm on his
horse, right over the steep hillside. Yu, yu, yu.
“Now he sits with us as a brother. Yes, like the Bey himself, by
the side of Sid Fatushe, our old Khalifa. He has given him his pistol,
a costly gift, of greater value than even the best camel. Yu, yu, yu.
“If he will be our friend and remain with us, we will find him a
wife. Fatima awaits him—of the beautiful eyes, her nails stained
with henna; on her hands are golden bracelets, and anklets on
her feet.
“Yu, yu, yu.”
There was a great deal more sung about me which I am too modest
to repeat.
The women sang for about an hour, improvising my praises, giving
honour to the Khalifa in flattering phrases, and not omitting my
friend and guide, Hamed and his horse.
At last the song ceased, and I thanked the Khalifa and begged him
to believe in my sincere appreciation.
Next stepped forward a mulatto. Amongst the Arabs these play the
part of the jesters of the Middle Ages. Accompanied by the drum and
the shrill notes of the clarionet, he delivered a lampoon in verse,
directed against the women, since they had not sung in praise of
him whom they knew, but, forsooth, had extolled the stranger whom
they saw for the first time.
He abused them in language far from decorous, and reaped applause
in half-stifled laughter from the men, who spent the whole evening
on the self-same spot where they had originally settled; only now
and then did one of them rise to wrap his burnous better about him;
his figure standing out sharply against the vault of heaven above
the edge of the bank.
There were many children and half-grown lads present. At the
commencement they were rather noisy, but were scolded by Belkassim,
or the Khalifa, and were kicked aside. Later, several fell asleep
enveloped in their burnouses and leaning against the elder men.
When the negro singer had finished his song it was again the women’s
turn, and they paid him off for having ventured to imagine that they
might have sung in praise of him, a wretched creature, who did not
even possess a decent burnous.
The drum and clarionet again did their duty; after which the
negro took up his defence. They were not to suppose that he was
poverty-stricken; and he was the boldest rider amongst the Matmata
(the Khalifa told me the man had never mounted a horse). When he
appeared in flowing burnous, the hood thrown back as he sang the
war song, he rivalled the Khalifa himself when marching to battle.
He and the women continued squabbling in this fashion for some
time. No doubt the women carried the day, for the negro was finally
shoved back upon the spectators, and hustled by them from one group
to another, until at last he vanished in the darkness.
Two men then performed a stick dance to the tripping time of drum
and clarionet, and towards the end the women joined in a song with
a chorus. They prayed Allah for rain and a good harvest. Then sang
of Mena, the married woman who took to herself a lover and paid for
her indiscretion with her life; of the hunter who bewitched a lion
with his flute, thus saving the life of a little girl; of love; of
charming cavaliers; of the Khalifa; and, finally, of myself; but,
strangely enough, not of the bridegroom, so far as I could gather,
and very slightly of the bride.
The wedding feast was to last eight days. On the last the bride would
be brought home. During these eight days Mohammed, the bridegroom,
was not to show himself in either his own or his father’s house. He
must remain concealed amongst his friends, and not attend openly at
the rejoicings, though he was probably present incognito.
At last the Khalifa rose and bade me good-night. The men dispersed
and went their ways homewards, the women following.
I expressed a wish to leave next morning, and, in accordance with
my plans, to take a two days’ journey into the mountains to visit
a number of Berber villages, returning afterwards to be again the
Khalifa’s guest before finding my way back to Gabés.
The same evening the Khalifa sent an express courier to the sheikhs
of the villages with instructions that I should be well received.
This arranged, I retired to rest. As I passed up the dark underground
passage, I patted my horse and wished my friends good-night.
The door closed behind me, and soon I was sleeping as quietly and
peacefully in the caves of the Matmata mountains as I should in my
own bed at home.