METAMER AND MEDININ
Arriving at the palm grove in the hollow we had seen from the
distance, we found that it lay by a river bed. The trees were not
particularly well cared for, as could be seen at a glance; they were
far apart, and there were few ditches for irrigation.
On a slope to the east of the valley and above it, there is a
village of peculiar construction, with whitewashed buildings that
are dazzling in the sunlight. This is the “Ksar” Metamer. The
ground plan of the houses is oblong and rectangular, and their raised
roofs are vaulted. They lie lengthwise, as the houses do at home in
towns dating from the Middle Ages—the gable ends turning towards
the streets. In general they are erected round an open square. The
fronts of those facing the plain are without any aperture, except
some loop-holes here and there. In other words, every quarter,
and also the town as a whole, forms a little fortress. This is the
style of building adopted here in the plains; it is, in fact, the
same plan as that employed in cave construction, but in this case
carried out aboveground; since the natives have found it impossible
to reach the inaccessible mountain peaks, or to dig down into the
rocky ground. The houses are very often seven storeys high. On every
storey there is a well-barred door to the inner gable. This is reached
by steps or by stones projecting from the walls. The effect is most
peculiar and picturesque. Each inhabitant carries in his hand a key
that he takes with him everywhere. This locks his rooms, which are
mostly used as corn stores.
Not far from the “Ksar” are barracks for the little garrison, and
shops that supply the needs of the soldiers, not only of the place,
but also of those quartered in the neighbouring town of “Medinin.”
I did not wish to visit the camp just then, so dismounted outside
an Arab dwelling, and was invited to enter and partake of stewed kid.
After a hurried visit to the town, and having taken leave of Erzib,
who desired to ride a long way towards his home that evening, I
procured a new guide and rode eastwards over the plain, so as to
arrive before nightfall at the Ksar of Medinin. As we approached
its neighbourhood we turned into the highroad from Gabés.
Before us and to our left lay the “Ksar” of Medinin, illuminated
by the evening sun. The ends of the houses were turned outwards,
producing the effect of a circular wall scalloped at the top. Above
these vaulted gable ends I caught a glimpse of higher buildings, and
amongst them, in the centre of the town, a large square block. This
was the Kasba. Through a narrow opening in the row of houses I saw
the inner gable ends of dwellings, and doors disposed one above the
other, the whole calling to mind the pictures one sees of Mexican
“pueblos.”
[Illustration: A STREET IN BENI BARKA.]
Parts lay in deep shadow, parts blinding white in the sunshine. These
lights and shadows were mingled in such dazzling contrast that the
eye could scarcely discriminate what it beheld.
We rode along the exterior wall till we came to some palms; farther
on grew others. These plantations are to the south of the Ksar and
between it and the European quarter, which showed up gradually on
the right, and consisted of barracks for the cavalry and infantry,
quarters for the officers, and those occupied by the “Bureau de
Renseignement.” The soldiers work amongst the palms, and have
enclosed a plot of ground as a garden. In the beds I saw tender
young green plants sprouting, which proved to be cress. In the open
square in front of headquarters, and before the other houses, holes
were being dug for plants by soldiers in light linen clothing.
In the future the whole military quarter will be surrounded by a
beautiful palm grove, affording shade to the dwellings now completely
exposed to the glare of the sun.
I rode up to headquarters—a large building—where the flag was
hoisted half-mast high on account of the death of Marshal MacMahon.
Lieutenant Henry, who was at the Bureau, came out to welcome me. He
told me that I was expected, and added that I should meet the officers
of the 4th Light Brigade, whom I had known well at Gabés, they having
arrived to relieve the southern station. I was quickly conducted to
real bachelor’s quarters, consisting of a couple of rooms. All
over the walls hung weapons and curiosities collected in these
regions. The furniture, though camp-like, was very comfortable. At
last I was able to indulge in the luxury of a bath and change.
In the meantime Hamed arrived to say farewell. He wished to ride
back to Metamer on his donkey and accompany Erzib as far as Tujan,
whence he hoped to take the donkey back to Hadeij, and return later
to Gabés.
When I was dressed I called on the Commander-in-Chief of the district,
Commandant Billet, a young man, who invited me to be his guest.
When I told him that I was most anxious to meet some Tuareg if
possible, he replied, to my great joy, that by riding some thirty-two
miles farther south I should probably have my wish gratified, as a
telegram had just arrived from the signal station that two of these
men had come to Tatuin, the most southerly station, to purchase corn.
Whether they might not have again left he did not know, but at any
rate there was a chance for me. Relays of horses and an escort should
be at my disposal whenever I desired them; but he hoped I would stay
over the morrow, that I might meet the officers.
The garrison at this military post consists of a company of infantry,
a squadron of cavalry, and a small detachment of artillery. The
soldiers are lodged in large airy barracks, and the officers have
comfortable quarters in new buildings.
There are no women within the camp, therefore all domestic service
is performed by soldiers, who act as cooks and chambermaids. The
officers form themselves into committees for the control of supplies,
and at their table one dines remarkably well, as I had occasion to
verify that same evening.
Lieutenant Henry introduced me to his mess. There I met most of
the messmates of Gabés, and we renewed acquaintance to the clink
of glasses.
After dinner we adjourned to the military club, where we met all
the officers of the garrison, both young and old.
Next morning Lieutenant Henry accompanied me to the Ksar. We first
ascended the minaret, from which we had a beautiful view over the
town and plain. Then we visited the various groups of houses, with
their vaulted gables and remarkable steps to the upper storeys. These
steps were merely stones projecting here and there from the wall
for the convenience of those who wished to climb up. Several of the
groups of houses clustered so closely together, and leant so much
the one upon the other in endless confusion, that it was extremely
difficult to find one’s way through the labyrinth.
[Illustration: MEDININ.]
By a narrow opening, so low that we had to pass through with bowed
heads, we arrived in a courtyard, emerging thence by a larger opening
like a gateway, built as a defence. Through loop-holes in the sides,
a severe fire might be kept up on an attacking enemy.
In a few of the outer walls overlooking the plain I noticed the same
loop-holes; but defence is supposed to be maintained from the roofs,
or rather from the central building.
It surprised me not to see more men about; but my cicerone explained
that nearly all the inhabitants had sallied out on the 20th of
this month, and had gone towards Moktar and the Tripolitan frontier
nearest the sea, to follow their agricultural pursuits.
There they live in tents—first to sow, later to watch their fields,
and finally to gather the harvest; not returning until the month of
June the following year. Then they bring home the harvest, and store
the products in the Ksar, which thus becomes what it is intended
for—a great fortified granary.
At the time of my visit, there remained in the Ksar only about a
couple of hundred men, who were merely left to guard the houses.
The place looks quite different in the month of July, when some one
thousand five hundred or two thousand men arrive and pitch their
tents above the Ksar; they depart again in October, after they have
stored the barley, wheat, maize, “sorghum,” beans, and millet.
The inhabitants belong to the Berber tribe of “Tuasin,” and
number some fifty thousand souls, dwellers in the Ksar and on the
plain. They possess at least the same number of camels, a couple
of thousand asses and twenty thousand sheep, from which it may be
gathered that the greater portion are nomads, rather than dwellers
in the oasis. In fact, they care little for their plantations.
In the groves near the Ksar grow palm, olive, and fig trees, also
a few pomegranates, peaches, and apricots; but they are ill tended,
and produce but poor crops.
The mode of life of the inhabitants and their perpetual feuds with the
tribes on their frontier have caused them to develop into a brave and
warlike people. Every man owns a firearm, which he does not hesitate
to use on the slightest pretext. If hardly pushed, he flies to his
fortress with all his possessions and cattle—there he is in safety.
It is natural that the Turks in Tripoli should regard with mistrust
the French occupation of Tunisia, which they have never consented
to recognise; and on that account have never been disposed to
have the frontier defined. To this day it remains undetermined,
perpetual frontier conflicts being the result; for the tribes on
either side still look on the country, as they have always done,
as their own to dispose of according to their will and pleasure;
and, as hitherto, prefer to settle disputes in their own way. But
the French occupation of Metamer, Medinin, and Tatuin has been of
no small service in bringing about peace and quiet in these regions.
The northern side of the frontier is especially desert and
barren, consisting only of interminable sandhills destitute of
vegetation. South of this are far-stretching steppes, seldom trodden
by human foot, and over which a deathlike silence reigns. No paths
are traced through these deserts to guide the lonely traveller who
may venture to penetrate them. Even the natives fear to enter a
territory where any man they may meet must be regarded as an enemy.
To the south the steppes form a junction with the Matmata mountains,
and are frequented only by the Tripolitan tribe of Nuail and the
Tunisian Urghamma. These alone, therefore, would be capable of
defining the boundary of this desert region, as their wanderings
have made them well acquainted with its limits.
The Urghamma tribe—from which this continent apparently
takes its name—the “Aurigha” of the ancients having become
Africa—numbers some thirty thousand souls. At one time they mustered
some four or five thousand soldiers, and were exempted by the Bey from
payment of taxes, as they had bound themselves to defend the frontier.
The fact was, that they would not pay taxes. They took advantage
of their peculiar position to make armed forays to rob and plunder
far and wide; and gloried in deeds of bloodshed, engraving a mark
on their guns for each man they slew. Guns covered from stock to
muzzle with such marks are still to be met with.
With the advent of the French, circumstances altered, and now, thanks
to the supervision of the military authorities, the Urghamma behave
more like peaceful nomads.
Everywhere in the plains of Southern Tunisia I found remains of
ancient towers—now lying in ruins, since the need for them no
longer exists, but where formerly the nomads sought refuge when they
were pursued. The decay of these towers proves that the French have
known how to establish quiet and order in the country.
According to inquiries which I made in the south, the Urghamma are
divided into the following groups:—
The Khezur and the Mehaben in and around Medinin.
The Accara on the coast.
The Tuasin on the plains.
The Uderma on the mountain slopes and on the plains.
The Jelidat people the eastern mountains.
The Duiri are found in the mountains and on the high tablelands.
We visited the Jews in their own quarter, and conversed with a
couple of women, who, with their children, lived in a little hut
stuck away in a corner of a yard. One of the women was a soothsayer,
and showed us a book with closely written leaves, evidently the
source of her cunning.
In a large open square on the outskirts of the Ksar stood a hut,
occupied by a family of whom only the women and children were
at home. We entered. It was dirty and comfortless, containing no
furniture, not even the indispensable “senduk.”[3] The hut was
built of slender branches wattled together, and in many places was
covered with old rags to keep out rain. The form was circular with
a high-pointed roof, evidently carrying out the idea of a tent. The
fireplace was outside.
In the evening, after a jovial dinner with Commandant Billet, at
which most of the officers were present, Lieutenants Adam, Coturier,
and Druot started southwards with a company of Zephyrs, to return in
two night marches to Tatuin, a distance of thirty-two miles. They
invited me to breakfast with them next day at Bir el Ahmer. The
bugles rang, and the sections tramped off as we said _au revoir_.
The water in Medinin is very unwholesome, and requires to be distilled
before it is fit to drink; a huge distilling apparatus has therefore
been erected; this has a number of taps, whence the distilled water
flows drop by drop. A sentinel watches it, that the precious liquor
may not be wasted.
Not far from this is the post office, which is also the telegraph
office for private telegrams, the heliograph being used for military
purposes.
Night and day, watch is kept on the tops of the mountains and far out
on the plains to the north-west, that the flash connection between
Gabés, Medinin, and Tatuin may be constantly maintained. It is
expedient that a strict watch be kept, for frequently in the middle
of the night a summons is flashed, and there must be no delay in
replying; Commandant Billet not being a man to be trifled with on
matters connected with the service.
He rides long distances on horseback to inspect the various southern
posts and to see that all is well; and many a night has the startled
guard seen him arrive, having ridden over the mountains in pitch
darkness to make a visit of inspection. He is ubiquitous, and of
an astounding energy, only allowing himself four hours for rest,
then mounts his horse once more, or goes to work at his writing-table.
As an example of the Commandant’s iron will, one of the doctors told
me that some months ago he was attacked by fever, just at the time
that the General arrived to make an inspection. Notwithstanding the
fact that his temperature was at 104° Fahrenheit, Commandant Billet
left his bed and accompanied his superior officer on horseback round
all the outposts. When he returned his temperature was still 104°.
On his spirited horse he has covered prodigious tracts of country
in the south, often under very trying conditions. Lately he rode
over eighty miles on a mountain track in five-and-twenty hours;
not being met by the persons he expected, he took a couple of hours
rest beside his horse, lying lightly clad in the cold night air,
and then resumed his journey.
He told me himself of a rather amusing adventure. On a pitch-dark
night he was riding home to Medinin from Bir el Ahmer. When he
had ridden so long that he believed he must be near home, his horse
became restive and left the path. After some time had elapsed, to his
great delight he rode against a telegraph post, for he knew that by
keeping along the telegraph line he should find his way home. But,
alas! when morning broke he was back again at Bir el Ahmer, whence he
had started; to the great astonishment of the soldiers, who evidently
thought he had returned to take them by surprise: he then rode home.
As in Algeria, the army in Tunisia has literally paved the way to
civilisation by making roads across the mountains and over the plains.
But their work is far from confined to this alone; they plant trees
and dig wells, and are soon followed by telegraphic and postal
officials, but above all by the schoolmaster. Where the soldier has
cut a way, the schoolmaster can begin his work. If we call to mind
my little Ali we can best understand and value his labours.
I called on the postmaster and the schoolmaster of Medinin at the
officers’ club. They were energetic young men whose work goes hand
in hand with that of the soldiers. There also I met the interpreter,
a perfect gentleman who spoke faultless French. A tattooed mark
on his forehead alone betrayed his origin; he was a Mohammedan and
a married man. Besides himself, only one other of the officers in
Medinin, a captain of cavalry, was married: he lived with his wife
within the Ksar.