OVER THE MOUNTAINS AND ACROSS THE PLAIN FROM HADEIJ TO METAMER
During the night most of the guests wended their way homewards, but
a few still remained next morning; some of whom desired to accompany
me to Beni Sultan.
The bridegroom was expected to emerge from his cave at any moment,
so I lingered awhile, partly in hopes of bidding him farewell, and
also because I had been told he would be received with rejoicings,
and would distribute sweetmeats amongst the village children. But
the time fixed for my departure came, and I had to ride off without
witnessing this concluding scene of the festival.
Mansur’s mule was brought me. The Khalifa himself arranged my
saddle and lengthened the stirrups, thus showing me the final marks
of courtesy. He then gave the guide his instructions, and I took my
leave with warm expressions of thanks to him and to his sons, and
also to the assembled men. I rewarded little Ali for the services
he had rendered me, bowed respectfully to the Khalifa, and rode off
with my heart full of gratitude towards him and his people for their
great hospitality, and with the pleasant impression that my stay in
the Matmata mountains had given me the opportunity of seeing manners
and customs which, to my knowledge, no European had yet witnessed in
these regions. I thankfully recognised my good fortune in having had
the goodwill and assistance of the authorities; and was, above all,
grateful for the great hospitality of the people from whom I had
then just parted, and for their friendship which I flattered myself
I had gained.
A mule saddle is very broad, and resembles somewhat a pack. Its
peculiarity is that the stirrup-leathers are not secured to
it. A leather strap with a stirrup hung at each end is slung
over the saddle, so that, to mount, one must either vault into
the saddle without setting foot in the stirrup or be lifted into
it. To anyone accustomed to the ordinary English saddle it is an
extremely uncomfortable seat, as it is necessary to bear equally on
both stirrups, or one risks losing one’s balance and falling off;
but I must say my mule proved to be altogether a success on the
difficult mountain road.
For nearly an hour we rode along the mountain top, whence we had a
lovely view; then we descended into a long valley in which were many
half-dead olive trees and green palms. Just as we began the descent,
we met a couple of men on their way to Hadeij from Beni Sultan to
complain to the Khalifa that their sheep had been stolen.
In the valley was a deep, broad river bed, then dry, and the mountain
sides were furrowed with deep watercourses leading thereto. In these
furrows stood a number of palms surrounded by embankments.
We halted in a lovely grove of olives, amongst which sprung a few
palms. Here some of our guides awaited us. They had crossed the
mountain by a shorter but precipitous path, whilst we had circled
round by a less steep and fatiguing route.
From an eminence some way down the valley we observed a village
looking like an eagle’s nest. This was the ancient Beni Sultan,
now deserted and in ruins, the present village lying on the incline
on the farther side of the mountain. A few of the houses in this
deserted village were excavated in the ground.
We travelled directly across the valley, and by a very dangerous and
slippery path reached the lowest point of the mountain ridge. From
thence we looked down on the valley on the other side. Facing us
were the ruins of the old village, standing picturesquely against
the sky. We rode down in a zigzag line past the farms and houses
scattered on the mountain side; the dwellings were crowded with
domestic animals, with men and women, and especially with children.
Not till we reached the valley did we halt, close to the descent to a
cluster of cave dwellings belonging to the Sheikh, in absence of whom
I was most cordially received by one of his nearest relatives. The
passage to the cave was not covered, and was cut into steps where
it sloped down into the ground towards the gate. On one side of the
wall by the steps was dug out a vaulted and somewhat decorated cave;
this was the guest-room where I dined. Afterwards I visited the
nearer of the Sheikh’s houses, with permission to examine them
from top to bottom.
In the main these dwellings were on the same plan as those of Hadeij,
but I found several cisterns in both the farms and the ruins. Water
flowed from the mountains into these through canals and primitive
pipes.
The caves were not all dug down and around a courtyard, but were
often high up on a perpendicular wall, and were reached by steps.
The women offered me dates and showed me their looms. I saw where
they slept, generally on benches like low tables, called by them
“mokera.”
In one of the underground vaults, to which the access was through
a very heavy gate, was an oil-mill, and in another a granary.
After spending a couple of hours in the shelter of the caves, we
again started riding through the valley in a southerly direction,
and passing through large palm and olive groves. Nowhere in the
mountains had I seen such rich vegetation.
Close to the village were some ten women clad in dark blue, drawing
water from one of the few wells on this mountain. Two large columns,
formed of hewn palm stems, were inserted on either side of the well,
so as to slope inwards. These supported another palm stem placed
horizontally on the top of them; this again sustained a wooden disk
by means of which the water was hauled up. This system of drawing
water is rather comical, for the women, instead of hauling up the
bucket by moving their hands on the rope, seize the latter and take
a quick run, the distance covered being equal to the depth of the
well. When they have thus drawn a pitcherful of water they return
to the well to take another run.
We constantly passed spots in the valley planted more or less largely
with olive trees, but some of these were in an unhealthy condition,
showing grey or yellow instead of a deep fresh green. If rain were
not soon to fall these would die, and it would be many years before
others could be grown and bear fruit.
It cut me to the heart to see all this wealth on the verge of
destruction, and the more so when I learnt that the Khalifa owned
many of the trees. Rain had fallen in many other districts, but none
in this.
Quitting the valley we turned to the right, and rode in a westerly
direction amongst colossal cliffs and into a wild ravine, where
we were surrounded to the north, west, and south by towering rock
pinnacles. Only the very centre of this chasm was reached by the sun,
which, hidden behind the mountain, streamed in glorious radiance
through a rift in the wall of the cliff. On either side of this
rift, with the light playing on their roughly piled grey masses,
were the two villages of Tujan, clinging to the precipitous sides
like swallows’ nests to a wall. On one side, high up the mountain,
I caught a glimpse of what appeared to be an eagle’s nest as the
sunlight glanced on it. On inquiring what it was I received the
reply that in old, very old, days the village people resided there,
before they moved lower down the slope.
When we arrived at a difficult pass, my guide, “Erzib ben Hamed,”
who had his home in the village, asked me to dismount. So, leading
our animals, we walked slowly up, our feet slipping, and the stones
rattling down behind us. Beneath some olive trees we again mounted
to make our entry.
We were now near enough to discern that the rift was a deep ravine;
on either side was an irregular mass of dreary, grey houses piled
one over the other, above which the nearly perpendicular cliffs rose
steeply to almost the very top of the mountain, broken only in one
place by a flat surface. On the side nearest to us stood the ruins
of the village of bygone days, perched like a mediæval castle on
the summit of the cliff.
I sat in silent contemplation of this imposing sight, till
interrupted by Hamed, the faithful Hamed, who came up dragging his
horse behind him. He told me to turn round and look at the view of
the Mediterranean.
Great heavens! how glorious was the sight when I raised myself and
looked back. It was so beautiful that even Hamed and the Arabs were
awed by its splendour.
Looking down directly over the slopes, the valley, and the mountains
on either side, we saw the blue sea far away beyond the plains. In
the evening light all the tints of blue, violet, brown, yellow,
and green were softly blended and intermingled as into a veil which
spread over the whole landscape, and imagination divined more than
was actually visible, thus adding to the fascination of the scene.
By the first house, the Sheikh’s, we halted. Some people came out,
one of whom, I suppose, acted as his representative, since he invited
me in; but Hamed was already off his horse and had gone in to look
at the quarters. He returned and announced that they were very bad,
upon which I inquired whether notice had been given of my coming,
and whether the Sheikh had not directed that I should be given
decent accommodation. The spokesman insisted that there was no other
room available. I suspected this to be false, and ordered Hamed and
Erzib to mount their horses at once, and we rode up a narrow lane
and alighted outside Erzib’s dwelling, where he had already told
me I should be welcome. I heard the man following us, and saw that
a number of people had gradually assembled.
Erzib’s dwelling lay high up on the side of the cliff, but there
were others that were higher still, and yet others below. In front
of these dwellings ran a narrow path, that, starting from the highest
farms, led in a zigzag course down to those below. The outside of the
path was on the edge of a steep declivity, down which all refuse was
thrown, and was therefore dirty; looking, as did all the other banks
when seen from a distance, as though scored with black stripes. On
the slope below us was a house with a courtyard between it and the
cliff wall. This yard, in which a woman was working, was completely
open to view. Thence the ground fell gradually away till it ended
in palm-grown gorges and valleys; beyond these were low hills,
then a plain, and, last of all, the sea.
Below us, and a little to one side, was the principal edifice of
the village—a little mosque, or Marabout’s tomb, outside which a
crowd of men had gathered to perform their evening devotions. Kneeling
almost simultaneously, they kissed the earth and rose again. A few of
them presently disappeared through the open door of the Marabout’s
tomb, but the remainder stayed outside.
Looking upwards, the eyrie on the summit was visible above Erzib’s
house, that is, one could discern it by stretching one’s neck. On
the opposite side, at the end to the left, lay the other village.
In the evening the women sallied forth in numbers to fetch water
from the cisterns in the valley, and the village dogs barked,
answering each other from every side. Below us, at the foot of the
slope, a crowd of men gathered. I could hear their shouts and see
their gesticulations, as, with extended arms, they pointed to one
figure. Some of them turned and called up the bank to us, one of them
being the man who had met me on the Sheikh’s behalf. They shouted
that I should come down and live wherever I pleased with the other
men, and when I replied that I was well installed, they informed
Erzib that fowls, eggs, and bread would shortly be sent, that the
stranger guest might have a really good meal prepared for him.
Through a very broad gateway I descended into a court. Opposite was
a long house with its own entrance, to the right another resembling
it; and between the two was a passage leading to a third dwelling
that was situated at the back. To the left was a wall.
On the flat roof of the nearest of these houses stood some enormous
rush-bins for corn, and in the courtyard was another. There also were
two fireplaces, one on either side, screened off with branches. Behind
the screen to the left sat a woman laying small faggots on the
fire to warm her hands, for it was cold since the sun had set. Some
children came out of the door, but fled when they caught sight of me,
wrapped as I was in the folds of Erzib’s burnous. From the door
on the left peeped out an elderly and rather nice-looking woman.
These two were Erzib’s wives: each had her own house; the children
belonged to the woman I saw seated by the hearth.
Erzib told his wives to come forward. This they did quite naturally
and willingly, retiring again after I had shaken hands with them.
Soon after, I saw people arriving with screaming fowls and a basket
of eggs and bread. Erzib at once drew his knife and vanished with
the hens—his intentions were easy to divine.
In the meanwhile carpets had been spread on the floor of the
house, and a couch arranged for me. I lit a candle which had been
placed in a small square recess in the wall. The room was very
irregularly shaped. The floor was of beaten clay, and the walls not
whitewashed. In the background a door led into another room containing
a loom, and where gala dresses hung on a cord, and household goods
on the wall. Through yet another door in the wall to the right was
a room with a bed in it raised on four slight stumps: this was made
of twigs, and had no coverings.
This dwelling was inhabited by the younger wife and her children—two
boys and a little girl. The wife was pretty and not old.
In the house in the courtyard the elder wife resided. In this the
anteroom was larger, and contained household goods and implements;
behind it was the sleeping apartment.
A grown-up married son, then absent, occupied a house tucked away
at the back, and designed on the same plan as the others. His wife
was at home.
Whilst the pile of wood burnt and crackled in the yard and the
women were busy preparing food, I sat on a bank outside the house
in company of my host and several other men.
The moon had risen and shone clearly over mountain and vale. I could
see down into a courtyard at the foot of the slope, where a fire
burnt brightly on a hearth. Over it hung a cauldron watched by the
housewife. She was young and pretty, and as she moved to and fro a
couple of little children trotted after her. Now and then she stood
still, shading her eyes with her hand, and gazing up in our direction;
possibly in the stillness of the night our voices reached her, for
it was not likely that she could see us. By the hearth a white dog
lay and growled, and when the woman paused and looked up he moved
restlessly, for he also was watching the stranger.
Erzib’s first wife came out and stood leaning against the
doorway. She did not speak, but was evidently interested in our
conversation. Her husband glanced at her and said abruptly—
“She has a great sorrow, and has grieved and wept for many
years. Ali, her only son, who was in service at Gabés, was sent
to prison, accused of having stolen money from the tradesman he
served. But he was innocent—that we know; he was a good boy, and
his mother loved him. It is now four years and four months since we
heard from him, and eight months more must pass before we can have
him home again.”
“Do you not even know if he lives?”
“Yes, we have learnt through strangers that he is alive, and
supposed to be imprisoned at Bona in Algeria.”
The old woman drew herself along the wall till she was close to me
when she heard of what we were talking.
“Are you from Bona?” she asked, whimpering.
“No,” I replied, “I come from a much more distant place,
and have never been in Bona.”
“Ah! then you do not know Ali,” she said, with a sob.
“No, poor woman,” I replied; “that I do not; but now you will
soon see your son alive. You have waited so long for him that the
remaining time will soon pass ere he return to you and be happy with
you again, for you love him. He will have thought so often of you,
and he will be so good to you that both of you will rejoice.”
“Ah! it was a great misfortune, for he was innocent—I am sure
of that; another must have been the culprit, for he was so young.”
“How old was he?”
“That I do not remember.”
“Don’t you know what year he was born?”
“No, I cannot recollect; we never know anything of that.”
“Don’t you know either, Erzib?”
“No, Sidi; but it was before the strangers came to this
country.”[2]
The poor woman sobbed audibly, and Erzib pushed her inside the
door that her weeping might not trouble me, saying, “She is very
unhappy, Sidi.”
“Oh yes, Erzib. Would I were able to help you to get back your
son sooner, or at least to procure you tidings of him. But this I
can promise—I will speak to the Khalifa of Gabés on the subject,
and, if possible, send you greeting from your son.”
To my regret, however, I must confess that I was unable later to do
anything for these poor folk. Whether the boy is still in prison I
know not, and whether innocent or no, I know less. My sincere hope
is that he may be worthy of his parents’ touching affection.
The repast was now brought and set out in the house, on the clay
floor, where I enjoyed it; the father, surrounded by his children
whom he caressed, sat aside with Hamed and the younger wife.
When I had finished, and Hamed and Erzib had also eaten, we
remained seated. I talked with the wife about her children. The
eldest may have been about ten years old; he was a lively boy,
who nodded continually to me, and was indefatigable in showing me
all the treasures of his home, from an old musket to his father’s
agricultural implements. When I showed surprise at a very primitive
and curious harrow used to break up the soil, his father gave it
to me.
Next in age to the boy was a very pretty little girl about six years
old. Unfortunately she had lost one eye; her father told me that it
was in consequence of a severe attack of inflammation when she was
quite little, and that the eye had fallen out of itself. Here in the
south one meets with an alarming number of people who are blind or
suffering from eye complaints. A doctor told me that many are born
thus; with others it is the result of dust, heat, and uncleanliness.
The youngest child was a bright little fellow of two, who clung to
his father, whose neck he clasped tightly in his arms.
Feeling disposed to take a stroll before retiring to rest, I bade
Erzib follow me. As we crossed the court, he inquired whether I
would not like to see all the dwellings. Accordingly we went first
to visit the elder lady. When we entered with a light we found her
crouching in a corner, her face buried in her hands; beside her lay
a large dog which growled at me.
Thence we went into the son’s house. Asleep on the bed, quite
dressed,—for the natives never undress at night,—was a woman
wrapped in blue clothing; she was evidently the son’s wife.
We walked on and up amongst other houses till we were nearly at the
top of the village. Beneath, we saw the lights and fires in the
courts, and heard the incessant barking of dogs. Shortly after,
we climbed a difficult ascent just over the village, to a ledge
or terrace of some width cut in the side of the cliff, which from
thence rose, quite straight and steep, to the old deserted village
that lay in darkness on the very summit. According to Erzib, we
could not reach it from the side we were on.
I contented myself with examining some real cliff caves, which I lit
up by means of matches. They were excavated from the terrace, and,
according to tradition, had once been inhabited; they were irregular
in form, and not very large.
After an hour’s enjoyment of the beautiful evening, we descended
from this high point.
Wrapping myself in my burnous I lay down on my couch on the ground;
in the same room lay both Hamed and Erzib. In the side chamber,
of which the door remained open, slept the children and their
mother. Just as I was falling asleep a woman came and spread a
covering over me; it warmed me well, and I slept till daybreak,
and was only once disturbed by a little kid coming in through the
open door leading from the courtyard and tripping over me. I heard
then the children, who with their mother were sleeping in the next
room, Hamed and Erzib moving on their beds, and, out of doors, the
distant and continuous barking of dogs. I slept again, and when I
awoke saw that what had been spread over me was a brand new festal
garment that evidently was considered none too good for the guest.
From the doorway overlooking the courtyard I saw through the gate
and down into the valley, where grew a solitary palm, and at the same
time had a view of the flat roofs of several houses, and of the path
where the horses and mules stood ready saddled. From a side chamber
the head of a cow came peering in at the gate, and above the gateway
a white dog lay on the wall watching me.
I gave some money to the children, ate a couple of dates with a
sup of water, and, having thanked the women for their hospitality,
mounted, with Erzib in front and Hamed behind me. As we left, the
women came out to throw refuse down the slope, and vanished again
behind the wall.
From the hearths rose a light blue smoke that was wafted over the
valley beneath us.
We had a view over the mountains of the valley, the plains, and
the Mediterranean Sea, as we followed the route along the western
declivity of the Matmata range, which commands the low-lying land
that extends right away to Tripoli.
For a while we were accompanied by two women who were on their way
to the mountains. They tripped along beside our horses, and stared
at me in astonishment through carelessly drawn veils.
The mountain tops, where lie the villages of Shenini and Sguimi,
are a continuation of the southern range. As I was aware that
the inhabitants of these villages were absent sowing their crops,
and having been told that the dwellings were similar to those I had
already seen, I decided not to visit them. We therefore left them on
one side and rode down the mountain and across a small plain encircled
by hills, behind which lie the great steppes. Towards the east this
plain is bounded by low hills, where water springs are found, and
where we could descry herds grazing. It was here that, when passing
through a little thicket, we spied a covey of partridges running
amongst the bushes. Erzib tried to fire at them from his horse,
but it would not stand long enough, and when he got off it was too
late—the birds had flown.
Before traversing the last of these hills, we halted and partook of
dates, bread, and water, as many hours would elapse before we could
arrive at any place of habitation.
The ride on the mule had tired me, so I preceded the others on
foot, and reached the farther side of the acclivity. There lies
an interminable flat plain stretching as far as the eye can reach
from the east to the north-west; whilst towards the south the
mountains fade away in long undulations. In the midst of the plain I
distinguished a hill, and on its summit what appeared to be a tower
or fortress. This was the signal station near Metamer. It corresponds
to the one we saw near Gabés, and also to another farther south.
I wandered down the gentle slope, through bushes and among stones,
and crossed the bed of the river, that, coming from the mountains,
winds out into the plain. There were many paths, all leading in an
easterly direction. I followed one of these, crossed yet another
stony torrent bed, and continued steadily towards the east, making
the signal station my point of direction; until, looking round, I
discovered the two riders in their white burnouses far away towards
the south. They beckoned to me, as we were compelled to make a
détour to avoid a rough and uneven river bed.
Joining once more my party, we rode farther and farther over the
plain, which becomes dismally desolate and monotonous; with the
exception of the hill and its signal station, nothing breaks the
long line of the horizon.
At last we viewed in the distance a couple of palm trees, and
concluded that the Ksar of Metamer was probably near them, but we
could not see it at all, as it lay in a hollow.
For long, naught but these trees showed on the level horizon. Then at
last the tops of other palm trees appeared, and a little later some
huts; the number of these increased, and proved to be the outskirts of
the town. The huts—of straw and branches—were round, as a rule,
with a pointed thatch. But it was easy to infer that the inhabitants
were absent, as the network which usually encloses the verandah
that runs round each hut had been removed, and only the centre of
the huts remained, their thatched eaves sticking out all round,
so that they resembled thick mushrooms on short stalks.
As the day advanced, the heat became stifling, so that I took off
my gaiters and bared my legs. But after a couple of hours they were
so scorched by the sun that, on arrival at Medinin, I had to ask
a doctor to dress them for me, to ease the pain of the sun-scorch,
and it was eight days before they recovered.