THE OASIS OF EL HAMMA
On the southernmost border of this oasis lies a village built of
sunburnt stones, and of which the narrow lanes were almost deserted
when we passed through it.
The Khalifa lived on the outskirts towards the south, and when we
arrived he was squatting on a stone bench that ran the whole length
of the outer wall of his house. The shade was delicious beneath the
eaves of the broad roof supported by two rows of felled palm-tree
stems. I cannot help thinking that these were the origin of the
pillars of the ancients, and suggested to the Egyptians the design
for the columns of their temples, and, through them, those of the
Greeks and Romans in their magnificent temple halls.
Around the Khalifa were sitting, standing, or lying, groups of
loud-voiced men, all talking. He was holding a court of justice,
which was attended with the wrangling, jostling and thrusting,
usual on such occasions.
Crouched in front of him was a man, near whom were a woman and child,
and around them was gathered an interested, excited crowd.
The woman, with outstretched hands, addressed the Khalifa, speaking
in a subdued voice and with the striking gestures peculiar to
Orientals. She was immediately interrupted by the man, who shouted and
gesticulated. Other men joined in. I saw arms and clenched fists in
constant motion, and was deafened by the noise rising from every side.
The Khalifa, a man of about fifty, sat, mild and amiable, gazing at
the crowd with his deep black eyes. His fine figure was slight and
noble, and his features refined, with a slightly hooked nose and a
full beard, through which his fingers were occasionally passed. Now
and then a hidden fire flashed from his expressive eyes as he made
a remark. Then the shouts of the crowd would moderate, but only for
a moment, and again the storm broke loose.
At last it really grew too bad, and what I had expected for some time
came to pass—one of the Khalifa’s men punished the crowd with
a stick. Some retreated a little, others remained calmly seated,
and the inquisition recommenced, until again the demonstrations
became too violent.
Our arrival interrupted this scene for a time. I was kindly received
and shown to a dwelling on the first floor of a side wing.
When my baggage had been brought in, at his invitation I seated
myself beside the Khalifa on his carpeted bench, where we partook
of the “welcome” of coffee in tiny cups, whilst we discussed my
journey and my motives in undertaking it.
The man, woman, and child remained unmoved all the time, and stared at
us from the same spot where, probably, they had been for hours. She
was old, ugly, and wrinkled, and gazed vacantly before her. The
child, a pretty ten-year-old boy, looked inquisitively at me with
his fine black eyes, whilst the man drew his hood over his head and
hid his hands under his burnous, so that he appeared to be a mere
white bundle.
Thus they sat, resigned to their fate, the men around keeping
moderately quiet. If one or another became noisy, he was silenced
by one of the Khalifa’s attendants.
I begged the Khalifa to continue his judicial proceedings, and,
after some hesitation, he did so, leaving me seated on his carpet,
and going aside a little took his place beneath one of the pillars.
Whilst the flies swarmed in myriads about me, and the hubbub of
men’s voices buzzed in my ears, I leant against the wall and gazed
before me. From the subdued light beneath the shade of the eaves my
eyes scanned the sunlit plain which extended to the mountains. To the
right the palm tops on the southern edge of the great groves of the
oasis quivered in the glittering light. Below them I perceived the
brown tops of tents. Before me, close to a stone dyke which crossed
the foreground, the plain was covered with long low mounds. On
each of these stood, facing the east, a small flat stone, or a
little dazzling white cupola. This is the cemetery, suggestive of
a stone-strewn strand.
Among the graves sat in clusters some white peaked bundles. I imagined
them to be people performing their devotions, but soon they moved,
and I caught sight of an implement shining in the air above the
white points, and was told they were men digging a grave.
Only a few hours earlier, in the tents below the palms, a man, still
in the prime of life, died of the insidious fever of these regions,
and was shortly to be buried.
When the brawling of the crowd around me was hushed, I heard a wailing
sound as of hounds baying in the distance. No doubt the lamentations
of the women.
The grave was soon ready, and some of the white figures strolled
off to the village, the rest returning to the camp.
For about half an hour I sat gasping with the heat and endeavouring
to keep off the flies with a palm-leaf fan.
The man, woman, and child were still before the Khalifa, but I hardly
noticed any longer the loud tones of the bystanders. Not that they
had ceased wrangling, but that my ears had grown accustomed to the
sound. Now and again one of the sons came and conversed with me,
but I begged to be left in peace.
At last came the funeral. Four men bore on their shoulders a bier,
over which was thrown a burnous. The bearers hurried along, followed
by some fifty men clad in white burnouses, and behind them as many
women in dark dresses. From these arose sobbing cries in measured
time.
The noise near me subsided a little; some of the crowd wandered down
to the plain to join the funeral, and gradually dispersed altogether.
The wailing of the women came distinctly to my ears, and in the
centre of their group I saw a pair of white arms stretched to heaven.
Now the lamentations were stilled, and a deathlike silence reigned
during the midday hour; only the buzzing of the flies was to be heard.
Taken aback by the sudden hush, I looked about me; there still sat
the man, woman, and child gazing over the plain.
The bier was now deposited on the ground. Around it crouched the
glaring white figures, their hoods drawn forward and their hands
covering their faces, while the prayer for the dead was recited. The
men appeared grief-stricken. Who could tell when Allah might call away
another, or knew but what it might be his own turn to be summoned next
morning! For the fever raged distressingly in the oasis. So sounds
of lamentation rose from the dark group which showed so sadly and
so strikingly against the pale golden-brown of the plain and beside
the gleaming white crowd of men.
“He was so good, so proud, so strong, but yesterday.
Now he is dead, his wife is all alone,
Oh woe, oh woe, oh woe.
Now she grieves, his children and his friends weep.
Oh woe, oh woe,” etc.
While this wail rose from the sombre crowd, I saw white arms flung
repeatedly heavenward.
The plaintive song increased in strength, till it sounded like a
fearful howl, and I saw the women tearing their hair and scratching
their faces. This lasted some little time.
Meanwhile the body was laid in the ground; the men sitting around in
silence and weeping, whereas the wail of the women resounded louder
and yet louder.
When the prayers were ended, the men rose and returned home, each
going to his work; only a few remaining to fill up the grave.
A little later the women alone were left, but they had parted into
two groups. In the one they stood erect, and from these came wailings;
in the other group the figures squatted on the ground, resting while
their companions mourned.
The Khalifa returned, and again the original noisy mob gathered
around him.
The women out there had meanwhile exchanged places several times
to take their turn of wailing. At last, after a lapse of half an
hour, they started homewards, going to the encampment where the dead
man’s tent was then being struck. Like a rag it lay on the earth,
in token of the home being broken up, and not till later, when the
first great grief had subsided, would it be raised again.
During this interval a meal had been prepared for me, so I retired
to my room where it was delightfully cool.
Up a steep external stair I climbed from the yard to a room,
and through that to another adjoining it, this last being very
spacious. The roof was built of palm beams, laid one against the
other, and supported in the centre by a pillar. The walls were
whitewashed and lined below with rush matting, and the whole floor
was covered with beautiful thick, soft carpets of great value. In
one corner were cushions and pillows for a couch; in another our
saddles, bags, and rugs were neatly arranged. A little window with an
artistic iron grating overlooked the roof of the pillared verandah;
this window was fitted with a shutter which could be closed at will
to keep out the light and the flies.
One of the Khalifa’s sons kept me company whilst I ate.
After Hamed and the other attendants had consumed the remainder of
the meal in the next room, I had the door and the shutter closed,
and lay down in the half darkness for a midday nap. It was almost
impossible to sleep on account of the noise in the verandah, but at
last I dozed off.
Hamed woke me presently to tell me that there was a wedding in
the oasis, and that if I wished to see the bride brought home
I must hasten. So I started, together with some of the sons and
dependants of the house. As we passed the cemetery I saw that the
women had again gathered there, and could hear their lamentations,
so I hurried on into the street, trying to shake off the mournful
impression, before joining in rejoicings.
On the way I met an Arab who, with a good French accent, said,
“Bon jour, Monsieur.” It was one of the Khalifa’s retainers,
who now owned a little palm grove and home in the oasis, but who,
some years ago, had served in the Algerian _tirailleurs_, and
therefore spoke good French.
I was delighted with this new acquaintance, as through him I should
be better able to make myself understood than through my good Hamed,
so I asked him to accompany me.
On the way he told me that he had served in Mexico and, later,
in the war with Germany. He had been wounded on three occasions,
and showed me his scars with pride. The last time he was wounded
was in the battle of Gravelotte. He was afterwards kept a prisoner
in a little town in Germany, and since had completed his long term
of service in Algiers.
From the street we espied a man on the top of a palm tree behind
a high wall; he was busy gathering the date crop. I lingered to
watch him, and when he discovered my presence he smiled amicably,
and said something to my attendants about wishing to offer me some
of the fruit. He really did climb down, and came to me with a bunch
of remarkably good dates, which I accepted and sent to my quarters.
When we had passed the village we entered the palm grove. From every
side people were streaming in; men, veiled women, young girls, and
children, all to see the bride taken to the bridegroom’s dwelling.
The whole scene closely resembled what I witnessed a couple of
days later, under better circumstances, in Hadeij. I will therefore
restrict myself to mentioning that we saw her arrive in a closely
shut litter, borne on a camel, accompanied by some female relatives
and a man who led the camel. Negro musicians headed the procession,
which halted in an open space.
Then began a “fantasia” of horsemen, who galloped past us firing
their muskets. They were richly dressed, and the horses’ quarters
were decked with brilliant silken coverings. But there were not
many riders, neither did the “fantasia” last long. This, I was
told, was because there was mourning in the oasis on account of the
many deaths.
After the “fantasia” the bride was conducted into the town,
through narrow lanes where the palanquin scraped between the walls of
the houses, and down into a yard. Here the camel was made to kneel,
and the girl, still closely veiled, was led into the dwelling of the
man, who perhaps saw her that evening for the first time in his life.
Passing by the entrance of a small mosque I peeped in. It was cool and
shady in the little room, the roof of which was supported on pillared
arches. On the floor were rush mats, and in a corner were raised a
few steps, whence the “Imam” speaks to the faithful. This stair
was simply made of unpainted wood, not even ornamented with carving,
as is generally the case.
Towards evening we visited another village, rather more to the
north. It was surrounded by palms, amidst which stood a little
minaret attached to a mosque close to the market-place.
Between this and the village first mentioned there is an open piece
of land, formerly occupied by a town, but now only encumbered with
building materials.
In the vicinity, near some hot springs, are also the ruins of an old
Turkish fort, now so insecure that no one ventures to live beneath
its crumbling walls. It is said that the inhabitants had, as a matter
of course, plundered the building of all its timbers and woodwork,
and that consequently the walls hardly held together. Rusting
amongst the fallen masonry lay a couple of cannon of antediluvian
construction. The fort was evidently built to protect the springs,
the water of which is warm, the highest temperature being about
113° Fahrenheit. The natives fetch the warm water in pitchers from
the basin of the springs, and set it to cool for drinking purposes.
From the days of the Romans these springs have been known and esteemed
as having great healing powers, and as such have been resorted to
from most ancient times.
When we arrived in the neighbourhood of the village, we were greeted
by the same cries of lamentation that we had heard the previous
day in the cemetery, and were told that the women were mourning
over a bride, married only four weeks ago, who had just died of
the fever. It seemed as though sorrow had overwhelmed the oasis,
for wails rose on every side amidst the palm groves.
It was evening, and nearly dark, as we strolled back to the
Khalifa’s abode, where we found the meal ready. When I began to
eat I could not find my knife, which I remembered having used at
breakfast. I searched everywhere, but in vain; Hamed examined the
saddle-bags, and then discovered that some pomegranates he had
gathered in his garden and given to me were missing, and besides
these, from a parcel of cigarettes two packets were gone. Thieves
had evidently been at work.
We held a consultation as to what was to be done, and I decided
to mention the theft to Ali, one of the sons. At the same time I
wished to avoid telling the Khalifa of it, as I thought it might
distress him to learn that his guest had been robbed. But I could
not be entirely silent on the subject; amongst the Arabs a man must
uphold his rights if he wishes to be respected.
As soon as Ali heard of the theft, he went straight to the guard at
the gate, and asked him who had been up to the guest-room.
One person, it appeared, had carried a bunch of dates there at my
request. This had been one of the Khalifa’s own men, so the guard
had not thought it necessary to prevent his going up.
Ali had, however, caught this same fellow some time ago stealing
gunpowder, so he readily suspected him and hurried off to the man’s
dwelling, which was near at hand. Here he advised him to confess
and at once restore the stolen property, and thus escape punishment.
This the fellow would not do, so Ali, assisted by others, searched the
house, finding the knife and a packet of cigarettes. In the few hours
that had elapsed since his theft, the ruffian had treated himself
to five-and-twenty first-rate cigarettes and the pomegranates. The
culprit was very soon thrown into prison, and there he remained when
I left El Hamma on the following day. Whether or not he was set free
after my departure, and whether the Khalifa ever learnt the story
of the theft, I am ignorant.
It was late in the evening, near ten o’clock, and I was about to
retire to rest, when Ali noticed that I had caught a slight cold. He
insisted that I should at once go down to the wonderful healing
waters of the warm spring, declaring that in a quarter of an hour
I should be perfectly well.
It was pitch dark when Hamed, Ali, and I, carrying lanterns, strolled
through the village to the spring near the ruined old “Borj.”
We descended a stone stair which ended in a dark, paved lower room,
from the opening into which steam issued into the cold outer air. By
the light of the lantern I saw that the water rose within the room,
through which it flowed, and was discharged through a small opening
into a basin outside.
In the centre of the room stood a clumsy pillar supporting the roof,
and surrounding the fountains were tanks built of stone. Within
one of these lay the black figure of a negro. We requested him to
move. This he was quite willing to do, but it took him a long time;
and we had to assist him, for he could scarcely walk, his legs being
crippled with rheumatism. When we had taken him up to a chamber near
the stone steps, and after letting the water run out for a little
while, we undressed.
The room was full of choking hot steam, as in a Roman or Moorish bath;
I began to perspire before I got into the water. Counting one, two,
three, I scrambled in. Over my whole body I felt an icy sensation,
just as though I had plunged into cold water, but immediately
after followed a feeling as of being scalded, and I sprang back
on to the stone verge. Twice I repeated my endeavours to bear the
burning heat of the water, but each time had to jump out quickly;
so I remained seated on the stones, throwing the water over my body,
and even that I could hardly bear. The whole time I felt as though
everything inside me were being boiled, and I perspired frightfully.
With Hamed it was the same, but he was able to remain longer in the
water. But Ali astonished us by quietly enjoying himself sitting in
the water, the temperature of which was at least 113° Fahrenheit.
After half an hour of this we dressed hastily, and went to the upper
room that was thick with rising steam, but not nearly so hot as the
lower one. Here, on the stone flooring, we sat closely wrapped in our
burnouses, the hoods well drawn over our faces, to refresh ourselves
by perspiration. Twice when I drew my hood aside, a clammy, cold,
raw air seemed to strike my face. The lantern had been placed on
the stone floor, and by its light, before I hurriedly covered my
face again, I caught sight of four other figures lying huddled in
their white burnouses.
Thus we sat for another half-hour chatting amongst ourselves,
and to the negro. The other three men appeared to be sleeping. The
negro told us that on a little donkey, his sole possession, he had
ridden a great distance from beyond the island of Jerba, to be cured
by this far-famed spring. When he arrived about a fortnight ago he
could not stand at all, but Allah had already assisted him, and now
he was so much better that he could hobble about a little. Every day
was wholly spent by him in the bath, or in this upper room. His food
was dates and bread given him by charitable folk, as he, poor fellow,
possessed nothing.
I gave him a couple of francs, with the wish that Allah would continue
to help him so that he might entirely recover. Throwing himself on
his side he sought my hand, and, not finding it, kissed my burnous,
murmuring his thanks and praying that Allah would protect me on my
journey; and, as long as I was within hearing, continued to repeat
his good wishes.
We stepped out into the dark, and returned home nearly at a run,
so as to avoid catching cold. Through the lanes we sped rapidly,
the light dancing in Hamed’s hand, and beside and after us the
deep black shadows of our ghostly figures leapt along the walls,
startling a little boy who met us, and who darted like a flash of
lightning into a narrow side alley.
When I reached my room and stretched myself on my couch, I was
conscious of an indescribable feeling of well-being. I felt quite
refreshed, and all symptoms of indisposition had completely passed
away; so I fell asleep, having had ample proof of the healing
properties of the holy underground spring.
My friend, the old soldier, had said during the day that in the
neighbouring mountain wild boar were always to be found in numbers,
and that at the moment they were also lying near the river of El
Hamma, about a mile away and close to the shott, for it had been a
very dry season, and the boar had moved to the oasis in search of
water, and taken shelter in the thickets and brushwood.
I had therefore agreed with the Khalifa’s sons that the next
morning at sunrise we would ride out and try for a shot at the boar,
which at that hour came down to drink at the water pools.
I was pleased at the prospect of this hunt, and intended to try on the
occasion an old flint lock given me by one of the Khalifa’s sons.
Early next morning, before it was light, Hamed woke me, saying,
“There will not be many men to hunt with you to-day. All the
people have to go to the distant plains, some have already started,
and others are preparing to depart; for in the night an express
courier arrived to report that rain had fallen in the west.”
I at once told Hamed to say to the Khalifa that I gave up all
intention of hunting, as I would not hinder his men from going to
their work.
I said this knowing that it was a year and a day since rain had
fallen, and that the prospects of the barley crop began to look
serious; for it is only when the soil is wet that the corn will
sprout; and Allah having had compassion on the people and sent
rain, the men should start at once to plough the bare earth and sow
the grain.
The rule is that the first arrivals at their destination have the
choice of the best land, for, although each tribe possesses large
tracts of the plains which, according to ancient custom, belong to
them, the ground is common property, and the first-comer can take
what he will and as much as he can manage to cultivate.
There was joy that morning in the oasis. Over two thousand men and
women departed hastily in small caravans—some going far away to
the country south of the western shott, others to the nearer lying
plains. Only those who possessed neither camels nor horses remained,
with the old men and some women and children.
Whilst dressing I heard the Arabs quarrelling below my window, just
as they had done the previous day, and as, probably, they do every
day since the Khalifa first held his court of justice in this place.
From the doorway at the top of the stone steps I inhaled the fresh
morning air in full draughts. Across the yard, where the horses were
eating their fodder, I looked over the flat grey roofs to the palm
groves. From some of the dwellings smoke was rising, and the murmur
of many voices reached me.
The sun had just risen, and shone on the distant mountain tops,
as I passed through the yard and the long dark gateway into the
verandah. There, on his stone bench, was seated the Khalifa, calm,
mild, and amiable. My eyes wandered amongst the rows of pillars and
over the mob that surrounded him in the courtyard; a quarrelling,
gesticulating, noisy crowd. He rose and, laying his hand on his
breast, saluted me by bending his head. I did the same, and then
we passed on together through the square between his house and the
cemetery. His sons, assisted by the farm men and women, were there
directing the departure of the last caravan.
From an open doorway in the long white wall came old women dragging
heavy corn sacks, and men with wooden ploughs and rope harness. Other
women brought water in great bullock skins, and all was bound securely
on grumbling camels, amidst much loud shouting and talking; while,
leaning against the wall and holding each other’s hands, stood a
row of half-naked children.
The Berber women are of fair complexion, and wear the usual blue garb
wrapped round the body, and fastened on the shoulders with silver
pins, leaving their sides and throat visible. On their bare arms and
legs they wear rings of silver, lead, or bone, and their nails are
stained with henna. Many of them have good features and black eyes,
and their movements are pretty and graceful.
There are other women, however, as smartly dressed, but whose dark
colouring, coarse features, and ugly mouths bear witness to their
foreign extraction. In these there is negro blood.
Later I expressed my astonishment at finding so many of the latter
here. “They are more prolific than the other women,” said Hamed,
“therefore many men take them as handmaidens to have the more
children, for children signify riches.”
They are descendants of slaves brought by caravan from the Sahara
_viâ_ Rhadamés. Officially there are now no more slaves; but,
in fact, over the whole of Southern Tunisia, one finds numbers of
negroes who are more or less closely bound to the households of the
great proprietors. They are well treated, and therefore remain in
their masters’ houses, even though the French have declared that
slavery has ceased to exist.
The costume worn by the negresses is the same as that of the Berber
women, but their black wool is plaited in thick locks, that fall over
their foreheads, whereas the Berber women’s hair is either hidden
by a handkerchief or hangs loose like the front hair of our own women.
Gradually, as the camels were laden, they formed into groups, and
then began the exodus. The men and most of the women were on foot,
the former with muskets on their shoulders or knotted sticks in
their hands. A few riders led the way on horseback.
Their path wound across the cemetery, amongst the graves, and out into
the grey or ochre-yellow plains, where group after group disappeared.
Other caravans, small and large, came from the town or the palm
groves, some of them traversing the road and travelling in another
direction. We saw the crowd gradually fall into lines, and, winding
over the plain towards various points, vanish out of sight.
The Khalifa returned to his seat in the shade, with the shouting
mob about him, whilst the flies buzzed in the hot air.
On the plain the sand seemed to burn; the mountains quivered on
the horizon, and the shott lay like a heated furnace far away to
the north.
With my guide I went for a stroll through the oasis: first to the
Jewish quarter, where I bought an article of dress, and then to the
goldsmiths, who, in my presence, made anklets, earrings, and bracelets
of silver. Then we visited the blacks, who fashion large and small
cooking utensils of clay without the aid of a potter’s wheel. Next,
a Jewish shop, where we secretly purchased a couple of bottles of palm
wine. A visit to the coffee-house—the only one I saw—followed,
where, amongst myriads of flies, we drank scalding hot coffee. On,
again, to a man in the market-place, who made the loveliest fans
of plaited palm leaves; and lastly to the basket-maker’s shop,
and to a weaver in his room.
Everywhere we were followed by an inquisitive crowd, who watched
the interesting bargains.
When we returned we found the lieutenant and interpreter from the
“Bureau de Renseignements” in Gabés had arrived, riding with
their Spahis, to hold a court of inquiry. They had taken up their
quarters in the guest-room, where they sat awaiting my return,
and invited me to join them at their meal.
This Bureau corresponds to the “Bureau Arabe” of Algeria; but
whereas the latter has the right of judging the natives, the former
has no such right. They have but one means of control, but through
this they, in point of fact, distribute justice almost equally well.
The officers, at the conclusion of the midday meal, would have to
hold a court during all the rest of the day, as they were obliged to
return home the following morning. After a cheerful repast, I started
on horseback at about two o’clock, intending to spend the night on
the plain, near a well. The Khalifa, who naturally had few people at
home, excused himself from sending a guide with me, but the officers
declared that alone we should be unable to find our way to Hadeij
on the following day. They represented this to the Khalifa, saying
he must find a guide, and I heard a loud discussion on the subject,
and caught an expression in the usually mild eyes of the Khalifa,
which I had never seen before.
In Gabés I learnt later that the Khalifa had in his youth been the
finest horseman, the boldest soldier, but also the most notorious
horse-stealer imaginable. With his weapons in his hand he went off,
far away to strange and unfriendly tribes, to rob and plunder. In
fact, his forays sometimes extended as far as the regions about
Tunis. That these encounters did not always take place without a
fight, may be realised when one learns that the Khalifa boasts of
having had sixteen horses shot under him.
The officers having promised to send a guide after us to the well,
we said adieu and rode off. The mild Khalifa’s sly glance rested
on me as I shook him by the hand on taking leave.