RETURN TO GABÉS
Hamed woke me at sunrise. I was soon dressed, my saddle-bags packed
and coffee heated.
[Illustration: HOLD UP!]
The horses had been led out from their underground stable. Outside
the dwelling I met the Khalifa, coming evidently fresh from his
devotions as he still grasped his rosary. Smiling, he held out his
hand to take leave bidding me “Farewell till to-morrow evening.”
As we rode over the hill, a rider galloped up and took the lead;
it was Belkassim, the Khalifa’s relative, who was to show me the
way. I followed him, and Hamed became the _arrière garde_.
There are no springs or wells in these regions; water, therefore,
is collected in deep tanks. By one of these was a woman filling
her pitcher.
The rays of the rising sun gleamed on Belkassim’s white burnous and
the silver-inlaid gun which lay across his saddle-bow, on the tips
of the palm trees, on the mountain peaks, and on the woman at the
cistern. Snatching a rapid glance I saw she was pretty, but she at
once turned her back; so I could only admire her slender feet and
silver anklets as she placed the pitcher on the side of the tank
and drew her blue-striped kerchief over her head.
“That is Mansur’s wife; his only wife,” said Belkassim.
Happy son of the Khalifa of Matmata!
When we had crossed to the other side of the vale I turned in
my saddle; she still stood there, and in the distance below I
saw her face indistinctly, like a pale spot amidst its dark blue
wrappings. She remained long standing thus and looking after us;
then disappeared, carrying the dull grey pitcher on her back, and
up the slope other blue figures came tripping along to the same spot.
The valley is very uneven, rising and falling, as it is furrowed
and cut up by watercourses. The palm and olive trees scattered along
these crevasses are protected by stone enclosures and ditches.
Just as we passed the last dip in the valley before climbing the hill,
there rushed out three dogs which had evidently been watching us.
I looked about me, for it dawned on my mind that there must be
a habitation in the vicinity. I was right; for, by standing in my
stirrups and stretching my neck, I got a glimpse of the square upper
rim of a cave yard.
The dogs rushed on Hamed’s horse which was last, and had possibly
approached too close to the entrance of the dwelling. The attack
was so violent that we were obliged to turn and assist him. The
furious brutes held fast on to the tail of his horse, fearing to
come within reach of Hamed’s whip; but one of them succeeded in
biting the horse’s near hind-leg, drawing blood and laming it—a
pleasant beginning to our mountain trip!
We dismounted and threw stones at these furious white sheep-dogs,
and at last they retired, showing their teeth and ready to resume
the attack the moment we remounted. Fortunately a man and a boy
appeared and called the dogs off. Believing the man to be their owner,
I ordered Hamed to rate him soundly and threaten that I would report
what had occurred to the Khalifa. The man took the rebuke quietly, but
told us humbly that he was a poor devil who possessed nothing—not
even a dog. The proprietor of the dwelling was absent.
“Then greet him from us and say that he should have his dogs under
better control, or he will have the Khalifa after him.”
The wrongly accused man kissed a fold of my burnous, and we again
mounted our horses and climbed the mountain in a zigzag course,
by difficult paths over loose stones.
Belkassim rode only a few paces in front of me, yet I saw his horse
above the level of my head, whilst Hamed, who was a couple of paces
behind dragging along his lame horse, appeared to be far beneath me.
From the summit I looked back along the valley and to a high
undulating stretch, where the trees showed like spots on a panther’s
skin.
[Illustration: EXCAVATED STABLE.]
Over the valley to the north rose the mountains, and beyond them
stretched an indistinct light blue plain, melting far away into a
darker blue—this was the sea.
Step by step, slowly but surely, our horses paced down the long
valley into which we descended. Now and again we put up a covey of
partridges that flew up the mountain, and the larks started in couples
from amongst the palms and stones. We presently hurried on at the
quick pace to which the Berber horses are accustomed; Hamed singing,
as we went along, a song that echoed above us and on every side.
Perched on some stones at the bottom of the dry bed of a torrent were
three pretty little girls, who leaned against the bank and peeped
shyly at us over it. Their goats jumped from stone to stone seeking
food amongst the scanty forage afforded by the dry burnt pasture.
The tallest of the little girls ran suddenly away from the others when
I rode towards them. She scrambled up the rocky bank like a squirrel,
and paused on the top of a large boulder; the flock of black goats
following her. She was evidently old enough to know that speech with
a strange man is forbidden.
Belkassim tried to coax her down again; he assured her that the kind
stranger would give her money if she would come to him. But no,
she would not respond, remaining where she was and calling to the
two other little ones. These pressed nervously against each other,
in their thin blue garments, and, when I offered them some coppers,
shut their eyes as they extended their hands to me to receive the
money, and then took flight.
We were near some native dwellings. Dogs barked, under an olive tree
stood a donkey munching straw, and we perceived some of the familiar
blue figures, which looked nearly black against their light brown
surroundings. In the distance their ornaments glittered in the light
of the setting sun. Belkassim shouted to them to come forward as it
was a friend and brother of the Khalifa who wished to see them. Most
of them remained standing where they were and stared at us. The men
were apparently all away, either amongst the mountains, busy with
the date harvest, or building tanks in the valleys, so from them
there was naught to fear.
We dismounted and had a chat with the women. I unpacked my camera
and tried to take their portraits, but these girls and women are so
restless that it is difficult to make them keep still. There was
one exception, however, a pretty fresh young girl who came out of
one of the dwellings—a cave like those near Hadeij—and stared
and stared at the camera.
An old woman next came tripping up to offer herself, evidently
of a mind that coppers are worth having. I should have preferred
her good-looking daughters, who were engaged in driving a restive
camel into the cave passage. But this I saw plainly was not to be,
for she ordered the girls in and placed herself before me, and I
had to be satisfied.
This was the village of Judlig. The population cannot be large,
but by me it will always be remembered as the village of many women.
Continuing along the base of the valley for about an hour, we then
entered another valley through the great deep bed of a broad river
now dry; the banks were quite perpendicular. This river is the Sid
Barrak. The horses had difficulty in keeping their footing on the
stony bottom.
[Illustration: BERBER WOMAN OF THE VILLAGE OF JUDLIG.]
On a slight rise our guide bade us halt, so we drew rein while he
pointed out Sid ben Aissa, but I could see nothing.
When we had ridden some way down the valley, we saw some half-score
white burnouses coming towards us. These proved to be the Sheikh
and his people, who came to bid me welcome; his brown-clad followers
walked beside their horses. In time, the old greybeards and dark-eyed
merry lads joined our party.
Dogs barked, sombre clad females with peaked white headgear peered
over the crest of the mound, and terrified little children fled to
their mothers and hid themselves in the folds of their garments.
Palm trunks raised their lofty crowns towards the blue heavens,
where, on the mountains and in the valley, they grew mingled with
olive and fig trees, and the hot air of midday quivered about us as
we made our entry.
[Illustration: A CAVE INTERIOR.
(_From a sketch by Knud Gamborg_).]
The village contains some fifty underground dwellings like those
of Hadeij, and about five hundred inhabitants. The approach to the
Sheikh’s dwelling was not covered in. From the highest point of
the hill a slope led through a gate to the great square court. In
addition to this entrance from the slope, one could enter from the
hillside through a deep excavated passage that ran parallel with
the slope, but naturally at a lower level.
Close to the point where the descent began was erected a thatched roof
of dry twigs and palm branches, supported on four palm tree trunks. On
this roof lay red and yellow bunches of freshly gathered dates,
and beneath its shade sat a few men. My horse was tied up close by.
Hamed had told the Sheikh that I wished to see the interior of a
dwelling, so they at once led me into the courtyard and thence into
the long underground chamber.
In the courtyard a camel stood chewing the cud. It was pushed aside,
fowls fluttered out of our way, and a kid and several sheep sprang on
to some heaps of garnered dates, or hid behind the great egg-shaped
reservoirs, woven of rushes, used for storing corn.
In the caves I found it dark, chiefly because my eyes had been
dazzled by the daylight outside. Within were women, some grinding
corn, others weaving. None were very young, but all were overladen
with ornaments. They were quite friendly; one offered me dates,
another water, only one of them, probably a young wife or daughter,
hid in a corner and turned her back on me. The children flocked about
me without fear, one of the boys even pulling roguishly at my burnous.
During my visit, Hamed and the other men had remained outside. Hamed
was very proud of having obtained permission for me to see the
cave. Usually, he said, no strangers are admitted into a house where
there are women. But I fancy my good reception was due as much to
the Khalifa’s influence as to Hamed’s.
On our way to the cave we had passed the vaulted guest-room,
tastefully excavated out of the soft calcareous soil. Here I stretched
myself on costly carpets whilst I ate my meal; my escort afterwards
consuming the remainder.
As I wished to learn all particulars concerning the costume
of both men and women, they brought me clothes and ornaments in
quantities. To the great amusement of those present, Belkassim was
dressed up in woman’s attire, the property of the Sheikh’s first
wife. Afterwards, I photographed him in the same dress, together
with the Sheikh and his boys in a group outside the caves.
After a stay of a couple of hours we rode on, being set on our way
by the Sheikh and his people.
We now followed the bed of the river Barrak, amongst rocks and
ridges and over rolling stones and rough pebbles. We saw a party
of women leave the valley for a deserted village, of which the
ruins showed waste and grim on the mountain-top. They were taking
food up to the shepherds in charge of the sheep and goats there,
and would take advantage of the cooler air of the heights to have a
midday nap in the shade of the ruins. In olden days the Beni Aissa
dwelt on these heights, but it was very trying, especially for the
women who had every day to descend to the plain to fetch water; so,
when more peaceful times came, they moved down to the caves at the
base of the valley.
This valley wound round the foot of the mountain, so for a couple
of hours we had the picturesque ruins to our right. At last we lost
sight of them, and then began a stiff ascent through wild and desolate
gorges, and, finally, we clambered up a very steep mountain side
where the stones rolled from under our horses’ feet. Hamed thought
it too bad, so dismounted, letting his horse follow him; while we,
by endless zig-zags, wound our way to the summit. Here we waited a
few moments to recover breath and give time to the loiterer, whilst
enjoying the lovely view over the Matmata mountain peaks and vales.
Once more we descended into a valley, then toiled up another mountain
side, afterwards riding along the ridge at the summit to reach
“Tujud,” one of the eyries on the top of the Matmata heights.
On the horizon we could distinguish the low land to the south of
Gabés, and, beyond it, the sea. Farther east lay the mountain chain
of Jebel Teboga, a long blue line, and between it and us stretched
a level plain, partly concealed by the adjacent hilly ground, of
which the ridges surmounted each other in undulating lines. Below us,
to the north, was a deep valley.
Scanning the stony surface of the bridle-path, I discovered
accidentally some outlines scratched on the stones. They were mostly
of footprints, and later I was informed that these are said to be
carved by pious friends, in memory of the dead, on the spot where
they had last met the deceased.
Tujud lay before us. In the distance it resembles somewhat an old
German castle of the Middle Ages, with the usual mass of houses
attached thereto. The summit of the pile of dwellings was crowned by
a couple of camels, showing like black silhouettes against the sky. On
the flat grey plain, dark specks were moving: these were women.
The Sheikh came to meet and conduct me into the town, through steep
narrow alleys. The houses were all built of uncut stone, and not
whitewashed. The style of building was most irregular. As the rock
was very precipitous, the little dwellings were extraordinarily
varied in height and appearance. Their courtyards were crowded with
bleating sheep and goats, a few camels, various household chattels,
braziers, and all manner of dirt. In the doorways, and on the flat
roofs, women and children stood watching us.
Of men there were not many at home; at this season they are probably
mostly guarding their flocks on the far plains to the south-west.
On a height close by, were a couple of Marabout tombs with
whitewashed walls; and in the distance to the north we could see,
over the mountain ridge, a village on a height. This was Zaraua;
and towards the west we sighted another, Tamezred. They both looked
like fortified castles.
After a short halt we continued our way towards Zaraua, the Sheikh
giving us a guide, quite a young fellow. He tried to slip off when
we had ridden about half-way; as it was near sunset he most likely
wished to return to his home before dark. Belkassim gave him a sound
thrashing and forced him to go on, as we could not distinguish the
bridle-road from the footpath. When we reached the foot of the hill
and could see the village at the summit, I dismissed the lad, who
quickly vanished behind us.
No one came to meet us until, when quite near the town, a young man
at last appeared, who welcomed me, announcing that he was a near
relative of the Sheikh who, he said, was absent.
Both Hamed and Belkassim told me they detected an intention to slight
me, therefore they abused the unlucky fellow because I had not been
received at the proper distance from the town, and with the honours
due to me.
Twelve years ago these natives tried to assert their independence of
French rule, and many of the brave fellows fell fighting here among
the mountains. From that time, therefore, they do not entertain a
friendly recollection of the French; and they supposed me to be a
Frenchman. However, they did not openly venture to run counter to
the safe conduct the Khalifa had given me, so they went through the
forms of hospitality; but my guides were in the right—my hosts were,
to say the least, unwilling.
I walked up a path which led towards the cemetery. On the precipitous
slope lay mound on mound, composed of small stones. Here rested,
perhaps, the defenders of their fatherland, laid low by the bullets
of the French.
From the tanks beneath the slopes the women drew water. They carried
the huge pitchers on their backs, bound to their foreheads by a
towel. Each turned away her face, or concealed it in her towel,
as they approached us. The men stood, like rigid statues, without
looking at us; not one extended the hand of welcome.
We dismounted on the outskirts of the village, and the young man led
me into a stinking court and opened the door of a room that was snug
enough, but where dirt, dust, and spiders reigned. The atmosphere
was extremely musty and disgusting. I at once decided that I would
not inhabit it, and proclaimed my amazement at their daring to offer
me such a room.
The reply was that it was impossible to procure other quarters, and
that there were none better to be found. Knowing this to be false,
I said plainly that I would not submit to such treatment, and, in
accordance with Belkassim’s advice, ordered that a tent should
be pitched outside the house on a small terrace near the slope. The
young man bent his head in consent, and soon several men were busy
sweeping the terrace and driving tent pegs into the hard ground.
Our horses still stood saddled, without anyone offering to look
after them, and again I had to do battle for my rights, with the
result that they were stabled and supplied with provender.
In the meantime I walked down the mountain side, partly to look
about me, partly to allow my followers time to fight out matters
with the natives.
The sun had just set as I seated myself on a stone and looked up to
the village above me; in the gathering darkness it showed as a massive
black pile. On the terraces outside I could distinguish dark figures
engaged in their evening orisons. They bowed frequently and kissed
the ground, and then lay prostrate for some moments, deep in prayer.
The dogs around me barked, and I could hear the hammering in of the
tent pegs, as also voices in discussion above me. Near me was a new
grave—perhaps of that very day; it was covered with stones, and in
the middle was stuck a bit of stick with a green rag attached to it,
to scare jackals and deter them from digging up the body.
Presently our horses were led down the hill by Hamed, and watered at
one of the tanks. As he passed he confided to me that Belkassim had
managed his business so well that all was now in order. The latter
had declared that I was not a Frenchman, but a stranger from another
land, a friend of the Khalifa and of the tribe.
This, it appeared, had changed the attitude of the Zarauar, for,
when I soon after returned to the town, several men came forward and
offered me another dwelling which, after inspection, I accepted. I
also granted the permission they asked to strike the tent.
The dwelling in question evidently belonged to someone practised in
carpentry, for in the corners lay bits of wood, knives, axes, etc.
The ceiling was of palm stems, and on the stone walls hung a quantity
of platters, bowls, trays, and cooking-pots. Lighting a candle I
stood it on a plank, and threw myself on my rugs with my saddle
under my head, and fancied myself the owner.
It was long before any food arrived, but when it did it was
excellent. Whilst I ate, a knot of people stood at the open door and
watched me. I chatted with them, and in the end we became ostensibly
good friends, especially after I had distributed some cigarettes.
The public retired when the bowls and trays were carried out,
and I applied myself to writing. That being done I rolled myself
in my burnous and went to sleep. When I had slept but a short time
I was awakened by the sound of the yard gate rattling. Our horses,
which stood in the gateway, were evidently disturbed. Then I heard
a light footfall on the pavement outside, and a sound as of someone
breathing near my door, and a few minutes after a fumbling at the
door handle. This I could not stand. Springing up I quickly struck
a match and opened the door. There, with its head to my nose and
breathing in my face, stood a camel; and behind it another.
Thank goodness, it was nothing worse.
Before sunrise we started, riding in the cool morning over mountain
and vale to Tamezred. By a deep stony gorge we arrived at the foot
of the mountain, where the road was so impracticable that we all
three had to dismount and drag our horses along; it took us half an
hour to cover a quarter of a mile.
This was certainly the most unapproachable eyrie I have seen in the
south. From the mountain top the view extended for miles over hill
and dale down to the plains to the south-west in the country of Bir
Sultan, at least forty miles distant. There the herds were grazing,
for no rain had fallen on the mountains.
Sheikh El-Hadj Abdallah received us amicably, and invited me to
the guest-chamber—a stuffy room—where food was brought me. From
thence I overlooked a wonderfully beautiful landscape.
The inhabitants spoke the Berber tongue, but also understood Arabic. I
tried in vain to get some Berber manuscripts to examine, but none were
to be had, the language being nowadays written in Arabic characters.
The Sheikh’s property—a square court with a low range of
buildings outside it—I examined from end to end. Within were women
spinning and cooking. In one enclosure stood a fine bull, in another
I discovered a number of old flint-lock muskets hanging amongst keys,
yarn, powder-horns, and pomegranates, all being spun over with spider
webs. The guns had probably not been used since the French invasion.
[Illustration: FALCONERS.]
This was the only occasion on which I saw firearms in any numbers,
the Arabs generally concealing them—often under their beds so as
to have them handy.
In the guest-room a camel’s-hair tent hung, rolled up under the
roof. When the men wander forth after the rainfall to hunt or to sow,
the tent is packed on a camel and taken with them.
The Sheikh informed me that the inhabitants of Tamezred number
some five hundred souls. Of these about a hundred men can be armed;
they mostly fight on foot, as horses are rare in these mountains;
in Tamezred there are only seven, but there are many hundreds of
camels, about a hundred cows, as many small donkeys, and large herds
of sheep and goats. These graze on the plains, far away towards Bir
Sultan and Bir Zuamitz, watched by the men of the village.
When the rain falls, all the men and some of the women go off to
the plains to plough and sow; they live in tents, and their sheikhs
accompany them and hunt gazelle and other game. Only a few old men
remain in the villages to guard the women and children.
It is not the people of Tamezred alone who thus migrate, but also
those from other mountain villages, as Zaraua and Tujud. Hadeij,
in the Matmata mountains, feeds its herds in the plain south-west
of the range beside the course of the river Wad Halluf.
The village of Tamezred is crowned at the top by a minaret, and
lower down, amongst the houses, are several Marabout tombs with
vaulted cupolas. Only one of these, the grave of Sid Hadj Yussuf,
is limewashed and gleams white in the sunshine; the most part are
grey, and at a distance it is scarcely possible to distinguish the
buildings from the rocks.
On a height outside the village is raised a great surveyor’s
landmark, visible for miles, and corresponding to others on the
peaks of the Matmata mountains. These points of observation were
raised by a French officer for the purpose of making a survey,
which will surely be carried out ere long.
Having now attained the most westerly inhabited point of the Matmata
mountains, we took an easterly direction, again following steep
paths and deep gorges to reach the real Matmata villages, of which
Lasheish is the largest.
In a deep valley on the way we found some half-score men occupied
in clearing an old circular well built of unhewn stone. They told me
that this supposed well was discovered quite recently. It dates from
the time of the Romans, at least so report says, but it may be even
more ancient, for no one remembers either having seen or heard of it.
The sand, which they drew up in rough baskets, was only slightly
moist, but the fact of its being so gave them good hope, though they
had already reached a depth of over one hundred and fifty feet.
Later in the day we passed a kubba, said to be the burial-place of a
female Marabout. This lay, completely ruined, on a ridge between two
crests of the mountain. I wanted to peep in, but my guides requested
me not to do so.
From this point is a view of a wide valley, to the north of which
are the mountains, and behind them lies Hadeij. Beyond the range we
had a glimpse, through a haze, of the plains of Gabés and, far out,
of the Mediterranean Sea.
In the valley below stood a whitewashed, square, cupola-topped
Marabout tomb, that of “Sid Barrak.” I let my attendants go
on a little in advance and sneaked in, first tying up my horse
outside. The room was square, with a vaulted roof. In the centre of
the floor stood a high square frame of carved wood, beneath which the
saint was evidently buried. In each corner of the frame was stuck
a flag. On the ground, along the whitewashed walls, were earthern
pots, such as are used by the negroes; they were apparently sooty
from use. Above were sketched, in black, lines, circles, and figures
that reminded me of the Berber alphabet.
Just as I was copying these ornaments in my sketch-book, Hamed and
Belkassim stepped in.
Hamed desired me to put on my burnous and draw the hood over my head
before I left, so that no one should discover that I had entered;
and Belkassim suggested that I should put some coins into a bag
that hung on the wooden frame, and which was provided for the
offerings of pilgrims, given to defray the expenses of illuminating
the Marabout’s tomb at the festivals; often celebrated, he said,
by the women in or near the tomb. I did as he desired.
Outside, in the vicinity of the tomb, were dug low underground
chambers, into which I crept. Scattered within was pottery, some
broken, a few pieces entire. They had been used, and there were also
traces of a fireplace and smoke stains on the roof, all suggestive
of the above-mentioned festivals. Both Belkassim and Hamed murmured a
few prayers at the grave, and when they had finished their devotions
we remounted. Belkassim looked carefully round as we emerged. There
was not a single soul in sight, so he winked mischievously at me,
and we went our way.
We were now again on undulating ground of hard chalk and clay,
cultivated in very good ridge and furrow, and planted with palms
and olives. In the distance we perceived several white spots in the
valley. These were the Marabouts of Lasheish, the large troglodyte
village. Meanwhile we were compelled to make a long détour, as we
were in most impassable country, cut up as it was by the numberless
large brooks, always found on either side of great rivers.
On a slope was a little white limekiln, whence smoke was rising. By
it were piled large faggots of wood, seeing which I began to realise
how much brushwood must, in course of time, have been consumed in
these limekilns, and then understood why the natives of the Matmata
do not, as a rule, whitewash their houses.
Lasheish is not under the authority of the Khalifa of Hadeij,
but under that of his colleague of Gabés. In other respects it is
exactly similar to Hadeij.
Knowing that the women here weave materials for burnouses, clothing,
towels, and, in fact, all that appertains to the garb of the country,
I decided on making some purchases. The cave to which I was conducted
became, therefore, during the period of my stay, a regular shop,
people coming in from all parts with goods for sale.
Fortunately, Mansur arrived on a visit, partly for the purpose of
inviting guests to the wedding feast; partly, so as to accompany me
on my way back to Hadeij. He materially assisted me in making my many
purchases, and in securing them at fairly reasonable prices. But the
bargaining was neither an easy nor a pleasant task for him, as our
host always sided with the vendors. They quarrelled violently the
whole time, and frequently, before completing a reasonable bargain,
I had to throw the article repeatedly back on the seller’s hands. A
gala burnous, I remember, was walked in and out of the door seven
times; on each occasion with a decided command that it should not
reappear before my eyes unless the price were reduced to about
an eighth of what was first asked. Each time the owner returned,
he abated a little and the haggling was renewed. With the air of a
connoisseur I would re-examine the burnous, only to arrive at the
same conclusion—it was far too dear. So again it was returned to
the owner, who was at once pushed aside by other vendors.
Belkassim and Hamed vied with each other in shouts of abuse. There
was a regular storm, and what a blessed calm when the bargaining
was ended.
The simplest sale cannot take place without these folk abusing one
another as if their lives depended on it.
Not having allowed myself to be cheated, I had rather risen than
fallen in the natives’ estimation. The men, who a moment before
had seemed to feel bitter enmity towards me and my guides, and who
had often been harshly turned out of the room, now sat comfortably
in peace and quiet beside me, watching me eat.
After dinner I took a turn through the village, but soon perceived
that I was being led about much as foreign officers are at great
military manœuvres in Europe, when they are shown everything except
what they are most desirous of seeing. I was, therefore, soon ready to
depart; all the more so, as I observed that the caves were all on the
same lines of construction as those I had already examined at Hadeij.
Just as we were about to mount our horses, a man approached
us. Cringing humbly and miserably, he dragged himself to my horse
and kissed my hand. I was told he was the owner of the dog which
had bitten Hamed’s horse yesterday. He came to entreat me not to
inform the Khalifa of the occurrence, as he feared he might be cast
into prison. Having told him that I was sure the Khalifa would be
lenient, I spurred my horse and rode off; but my reply did not at
all satisfy the penitent, who rushed to my side and clung to my
clothing. I was near being angry, when my host came forward and
explained that should the Khalifa hear that I had been molested
on the way, the man would not escape punishment. Therefore he and
the people of Lasheish implored that I would entirely refrain from
reporting to the Khalifa the mishap that had befallen us.
I glanced down at the culprit, and nearly burst out laughing;
he looked so ridiculous. Never do I remember having seen a more
hypocritical and debased countenance.
I preserved my gravity, however, promised to keep silence, and put
out my hand to take leave. The culprit literally snatched it to his
mouth, and I heard him calling down the blessings of Allah upon me.
In an open square, planted with palms, the date harvest was in
progress. The golden bunches which hung on the green crowns fell
to the blows of a curved knife. Lightly clad men, boys, and even a
young girl, worked in the tree-tops; climbing quickly and adroitly
up and down the rough surface of the straight stems. Below, men and
women collected the bunches in great clusters, which they placed in
rush panniers, and removed on the backs of small donkeys.
It was difficult to tear myself away from this idyll, but we had to
press forward, so I hurried up my little escort, and we marched on
over the mountains.
Mansur had much difficulty in keeping up with me, being very heavy,
and accustomed to ride a mule rather than a horse. There was always
something wrong with his saddle, and he was perpetually dismounting
to alter first one thing, then another, thus being left farther and
farther behind. We were obliged at last to halt, to allow him to
rejoin us, though time was passing, and sunset was near.
A little distance from Hadeij we found, at the bottom of the valley,
a little donkey standing quite alone, feeding on some straw. Belkassim
said that if left there at night the jackals would soon make away
with it.
It was almost dark when we crossed the river and rode up to the
village.
Again I saw the boys romping in the square amongst the palms. Their
glad voices reached my ear, and when they caught sight of me they
ran up to us followed by their barking dogs.
The men, grouped beneath the trees, rose and came forward to press
my hand. The Khalifa also rose to receive me. I thanked him for the
delightful trip he had arranged for me.
“I am glad that you are satisfied; glad to see you here again;
and that you will stay with me, your brother, even for forty years.”
Of course these speeches must not be taken literally, they only
express the kindly feeling of the speaker towards oneself.
After I had dined in my cave I sallied out to the Khalifa’s dwelling
to be present, in accordance with his invitation, at the festivities
held in honour of the third day.
As I did not like the old man to be inconvenienced by having to sit
on a chair because I did so, I suggested that we should sit together
amongst the other men. To this he agreed.
Gradually there arrived numbers of men from all the surrounding
country; these sat tightly packed on the banks, as on the previous
occasion.
Again the negroes danced, the drums boomed, and the clarionets
screamed; whilst the Khalifa, his sons, and myself sat together in
a friendly group looking on.
Now and then the women sang, but, as far as I could understand,
neither bride nor bridegroom were mentioned in their songs, certainly
not the latter.
It was hard to keep awake. Belkassim’s little son nestled up
to me, and, as it grew chilly, I wrapped my burnous about him,
and he was soon asleep. The monotonous music induced drowsiness;
I fought valiantly against it, which was more than Hamed did, for I
suddenly found him snoring beside me, wrapped in his burnous. I let
him repose, but from that moment conversation betwixt myself and my
foreign surroundings was limited to the simplest compliments.
In the course of the afternoon the Khalifa invited me to come back
again and be present at the special bridal festival to be held five
days later. I promised to return.
Next morning—the 20th October—I left Hadeij to ride back to
Gabés. I took leave of the Khalifa, with many expressions of
goodwill, adding, “May you soon have rain, that your olive trees
may neither wither nor die.”
Just as we reached the first height, Mansur, who had volunteered
to follow me to Gabés, pointed out how coal-black the heavens were
in the direction of the sea, and how the lightning flashed and the
thunder rolled, saying, “Allah has heard your good wish. It will
rain in the Matmata mountains.”
When we descended into the plain, the rain pelted in our faces. We
put on our burnouses, pulled the hoods over our heads, and hurried
on. A moment after, we were wet through.
Mansur continually lagged behind; it was difficult for him to keep
up, and he begged us to ride on without waiting for him.
Once we passed a shepherd with his flock; the sheep were all huddled
together, the goats apart, whilst he had taken shelter under a bush.
We crossed a couple of river beds which, when I passed a few days
ago, had been dry and parched; now the water rushed over them in a
rapid stream. However our horses crossed easily, and I started at a
gallop, pushing quickly through rain and slough, with the mud flying
up to my ears, till, the ground presently growing too slippery,
I was again reduced to going at foot’s pace.
The palm grove of El Hamdu gleamed through the rain, but before we
could reach the oasis the river had to be crossed. The ford amongst
the tamarisk and oleander bushes we found easily, but the torrent
ran high. I urged my horse forward, and he went slowly through the
water till he suddenly slipped and fell, wetting me to the middle. I
tried to turn him back, but the current swept us to the side, and at
last I gave up the struggle, being afraid that my books and sketches
might get wet. Then I caught sight of Hamed, and saw his horse,
which was laden both before and behind the saddle with my purchases,
plunging about in the swirling stream, and splashing the water in
every direction. I shouted to him to turn back.
We then followed the course of the river a long way up, and tried
to cross several times, but without success.
A herd of little, thin, brown cattle walked along the banks; they had
got separated, and some were on either side of the river. They had
apparently no guardian, and were evidently endeavouring to rejoin
each other. Occasionally one of them would plunge into the water,
only to be driven back to the bank by the current, and we heard the
distressed bellowing of the divided herd.
At last, at a spot where the river was very broad, we succeeded in
crossing without mishap, but the water reached above the horses’
girths.
We then returned along the banks to the ford, where we waited for
half an hour before Mansur’s white horse appeared on the opposite
shore. The rain poured down incessantly, and our horses pawed the
ground impatiently, eager to get on, but we were compelled to wait
to direct Mansur where to cross.
“To the left! to the left!” we shouted; but Mansur had drawn his
burnous so closely over his head that he could neither see nor hear,
and not till he was close to the river were we able to attract his
attention; then he also crossed safely, and we continued our way.
In the neighbourhood of the oasis we could hear the El Hamdu folk
crying and lamenting the rainfall. The date harvest of the oasis
was not ended, and, until it was over, water was injurious to the
dates. What is good for the olives and the barley fields is injurious
to the palms, the chief source of subsistence of the people of the
oases. All over the world the agriculturist is the same.
Involuntarily I recollected a certain old fellow, a countryman of
mine, in a town in Jutland, who, sitting at his dinner-table one
day, complained loudly that the Almighty had not taken pity on the
poor country folk and sent them a little rain for their rye-fields;
when, at the very same instant, there was a loud clap of thunder,
and rain suddenly pelted down without any warning. He at once jumped
up, rushed to the window and exclaimed, “Oh, the devil! now all
my peat is gone to ———!”
Step by step our horses splashed on through the puddles; it was
almost impossible to quicken our pace; so it was late in the day
when we reached Gabés, to find everything standing in pools.
The river had not been so swollen for many years, and had done
much damage.
Luckily, neither my sketches nor my purchases had suffered.