OVER AGLAT MERTEBA TO THE MATMATA MOUNTAINS
Over a slightly undulating plain with mountains on either side,
we rode for some distance in the intense heat. On the way we met a
Spahi from the Bureau at Gabés, followed by a boy. Hamed was pleased
to see a comrade, and lingered to talk to him. It appeared that the
Spahi should by rights have been at his post near Aglat Merteba,
where we were to stay the night, but our friend the Khalifa of El
Hamma had sent him no provisions for three days, and, driven by
hunger, he had been compelled at last to desert his post to seek
food. He was then on his way to El Hamma to meet his officers, who,
he knew, were to be there.
On account of the cholera, which, though then decreasing, had
recently raged in the south, especially in the oasis near the shott,
in Nafta, and in the yet more northerly Gofsa, a cordon of Spahis
had been established to prevent communication between not only
the infected and the healthy regions of Tunisia itself, but also
with the frontier of Tripoli. Meanwhile cholera broke out amongst
the Spahis, who were then mostly recalled; but on the particularly
menacing roads to the oases on the coast, some posts had been left,
especially near the wells, to prevent wayfarers from the stricken
districts from penetrating farther.
The plain extended on every side. The mountain to our left rose
higher, that to the right retreated in a westerly direction. But far
away to the south we could perceive the blue outlines of the Matmata
mountains. We passed a dead camel, picked clean by the jackals,
and paced quickly along the track, over stony ground, or on the dry
golden-brown plain, where there was no vegetation worthy the name.
It was just sunset when we saw before us, in a hollow by a river bed,
two small dark peaks. These were empty tents belonging to the Khalifa,
and under which the Spahis and herdsmen had lately been encamped.
Now there was not a living soul to be seen. The tattered canvas of
the empty tents was supported by weak poles and pegs. Broken pottery,
esparto straw, and refuse were scattered untidily about. We drew
water out of the paved well in the only water-skin we had. From this
both ourselves and our horses drank, for there was no water-trough,
and we had brought neither bottles nor pitchers, expecting to find
the camp occupied.
A small caravan of some half-score camels came by, travelling
northwards. The drivers fetched a little water, whilst their beasts
continued on their way.
We secured our horses to pegs, each by the off foreleg, and gave
them a little alfa straw, as there was no barley, and it would be
late ere the guide, who was to bring some, could arrive. Then we
spread our rugs in the open air between the tents, and prepared
to enjoy our evening meal of dried meat and bread. After it was
over I lit a cigarette, and lay down, whilst Hamed slumbered. The
moon was rising, and I listened to the horses grazing and a cricket
chirping. Thus a long time passed. Once a bird flew over the hollow,
otherwise no sound broke the stillness of the night. It turned very
cold, so I put on, besides my burnous, the haik I brought as a gift
to the bridegroom, and, wrapping myself up, lay down in one of the
tents, which, though open at the side, protected me from the rays
of the moon, for, in the south, sleeping in the moonlight causes
illness—so say the Arabs at least.
I had dozed an hour, when I was roused by the neighing of our
horses. I looked out, but there was nothing to be seen. Hamed
also rose, but could not discover anything. So we lay down again,
using our saddles as pillows, but soon heard footsteps, and a voice
speaking. It was the guide, who had trudged all the way, carrying a
little barley for our horses. When we had fed them we gave the guide
some bread, as he had only dates with him, and then tried to sleep
again. We were disturbed once more by the Spahi returning from El
Hamma. From him I learnt that he had complained to the officers,
who had reprimanded the Khalifa—the mild, amiable Khalifa.
Before daybreak Hamed and I were in our saddles, and pacing along
in the wake of our guide, who, closely wrapped in his burnous,
led the way with long strides.
At dawn we passed a mound that was completely covered with stones,
and somewhat later we came upon other knolls, shaped like tumuli,
and also covered with stones.
“Those,” said Hamed, “are ruins from the time of the Romans.”
On the plains we saw herdsmen driving their cattle. In one spot, lines
in the form of a large square had been scratched with a stick on the
hard surface of the earth. These are drawn by the herdsmen about
their cattle, when they collect them for the night, that jackals
or other wild animals may not venture to attack them—at least,
this was Hamed’s explanation.
As the distance from the mountains to the south and south-east
decreased, we passed various tracks leading to several dry torrent
beds; these were the paths from Gabés to the mountains. Far away
to the south appeared a faint blue line at the base of which I knew
were the villages of Tujud, Zaraua, and Tamezred.
[Illustration: REARING.]
At seven o’clock it began to grow hot. Our guide threw his burnous
over his shoulder, and, placing his staff at the back of his neck,
grasped the two ends with outstretched arms. Thus he stepped briskly
forward over the uneven stony ground, or on the flat hard clay
surface, that was riddled with holes by the jerboas.
In the quivering sunshine we saw herds of sheep and goats grazing
in charge of a guardian.
After again crossing a couple of dry watercourses we reached once
more the vicinity of the mountains. Before us lay a valley, in the
distance were palms and olives, and far away at the highest part
of the valley a single upright palm. This the guide indicated,
saying it was our destination; as Hadeij, the end of our journey,
and where we were expected for the wedding feast, was not far thence.
I now dismissed the guide, who said he would return in a direct
line across country to El Hamma. His white figure was soon left far
behind us, as we rode down the valley with the mountains on either
side. To our right I was told there was a little cave village. I did
not distinguish it, but we passed the palm and olive trees belonging
to the inhabitants.
On the slope of the hill farther on, still to our right, lay the
village of Judlig—that of many women.
At last we came to a torrent racing into a broad valley, and knew
that we were nearing Hadeij. The bottom of the valley was uneven
and furrowed, and scattered with palms with fan-shaped crowns.