DUIRAT
The route to the south from Tatuin leads through a valley. At first
we traversed the oasis, riding under the shade of the palm trees,
then followed the course of the dried-up river bed in the bottom of
the valley.
On the top of a hill to our left were a couple of villages. To the
right were other dwellings, some of which were caves; others were
white houses with vaulted roofs.
An hour later we saw on a height to the eastward the fortress of
Beni Barka. This is a village of narrow streets enclosed within a
wall. The houses are similar to those of other African villages.
Yet a little farther on we passed another village, which was built
in a square, and composed of the same oblong vaulted buildings we
had seen at Medinin and Metamer; it also appeared to be fortified.
We then emerged on an open golden-yellow plain that rose gradually
to the left, a solitary steep mountain lying to the south. To the
west also was a large group of magnificent, precipitous mountains;
behind these we were to find Duirat, but to reach it we had to go
round the mountain we saw to the south.
When, later, we approached this mountain, we found the ground
completely covered with every kind and shape of rocks and stones;
never have I seen elsewhere such a rocky waste.
We wheeled round outside this beautiful rocky region, picking our
way very carefully lest our horses’ legs should be injured. On the
steep slope, broken rocks of every size were tightly packed together,
and, at the very top, great beetling crags seemed prepared to plunge
down the precipice.
On the southern side of this stony waste, and standing away from
the rocky range, were a few tall cones of truncated form. To make
a short cut I rode between them and the mountain itself, but had to
proceed very cautiously, as the ground was terribly rough.
The sun was frightfully hot; not a breath of wind stirred as
we plodded along, my Spahis chanting now and then a monotonous
song. Beyond us, the plain appeared to quiver in the glare of the sun,
reflected from a bright, white, gleaming surface, which last appeared
to be a lake, but was only a “shott,” where the water that had
flowed from the heights during the rainy season rose in vapour.
I could not conceive whence came the sound that during some few
minutes had reached my ear. I looked for a cause, but my eyes
detected nothing.
At last I saw, far away in the shade under the overhanging cliffs
of an isolated peak, some dull, dark spots and dots, and amongst
them made out the indistinct outline of a female figure—evidently
a shepherdess with her goats. As we approached, her song rose and
fell clear and ringing in the pure air.
[Illustration: DUIRAT.]
We now entered the valley, and turned in a north-westerly
direction. Before us lay Duirat, a grey mountain, shaped like
a sugar-loaf.
At first it was impossible to distinguish any dwellings, but after we
had crossed the valley and the bed of a stream, and had reached rising
ground, we made out clearly an old castle on the summit. Below it, at
different heights along the path that wound upwards, we saw houses,
and in one place, amongst or behind these, we caught a glimpse of
dark cavities, which proved to be entrances to caves in the mountain
side. These caves consist of several vaulted chambers, access to
which is through a small doorway. The actual chambers resemble in
every respect those of the Matmata. As a rule, they do not suffice
for the requirements of a family; an ordinary house with a flat roof
is therefore built in front of them on the terraced cliff. Through
the house a passage leads straight into the cave, so that anyone
outside can see right through the house, over the little courtyard,
and into the doorway of the cave.
There are doors to most of the dwellings, but, as these cannot be
constructed of palmwood, the materials have to be brought from a
great distance; a costly undertaking, and the cause of many poor
wretches living doorless and exposed to the elements.
I went in to see the Khalifa, an exceptionally clever and amiable
man, to whom I brought greetings from Drummond Hay, who had visited
him during his tour.
As I had no interpreter with me, our conversation was limited. I
managed to make out his replies to my questions, but it took time.
The breakfast I had brought with me I ate in company with the Khalifa,
the Sheikh, and another man. The preserved meats and the delicate
bread especially delighted them. In return they offered me kus-kus,
eggs, and black bread.
The Khalifa and the Sheikh wrote their names in Arabic in my
sketch-book, that I might carry away a memento of them; in return I
presented them with my visiting-card, which was put away with great
care to be exhibited to future travellers.
I inquired about Hamed-ben-Amar’s relatives, but at the time none
were at home.
On the whole I saw very few people at Duirat. The inhabitants were
probably away, occupied in agriculture, as was the case in other
villages.
The Khalifa spoke much of Drummond Hay, who had evidently made
an ineffaceable impression on him. From him I learnt that the
latter had scaled the mountain, visited a spring in the valley,
and had afterwards galloped to Shenini, a village on the summit of
a neighbouring mountain.
I am convinced that the secret of the success of the English
Representative amongst the southern tribes—for it was not the first
time I had heard his name mentioned in these parts—originates as
much from his having inherited his father’s remarkable insight into
the manner of thought of the Moslem, as from the fact that he speaks
Arabic like a native. Again, he has inherited his father’s strong,
fearless nature, and lastly—he is an Englishman.
It was near noon, but I had not time to wait till later, so in the
intense heat, and guided by a young Arab, I clambered up to the old
and now forsaken town on the top of the mountain.
[Illustration: SHENINI.]
The walls, built of large slabs mingled with smaller stones,
completely enclose the town on every side, and stand from seven to
nine feet high, rendering it absolutely inaccessible to an enemy.
The interior can only be penetrated by climbing a covered way which,
ascending higher and higher, leads to a passage so low and narrow
that one must creep in on all fours. Then on till, with many turnings
through bewildering chambers and passages, the uppermost houses are
reached, and thence the streets, which are no wider than a man’s
breadth.
Now all lies in ruins, and one can climb over the crumbling walls
and up on to the few flat roofs which still hold together, but are
dangerous footing.
From the roofs I could see over mountain and vale to the plain,
and the blue peaks on the southern horizon.
Looking far down the precipice at my feet, I saw, through the
spreading smoke that floated upwards from the fires on their hearths,
the women moving in the courts of their dwellings. Now and then the
muffled sound of their voices reached me. A man’s voice shouting,
however, sounded almost as if close to my ear. It must have been an
echo which was the cause of my hearing it so distinctly.
How wearisome life must have been in this little town, so near the
sky. To the women especially, who had to fetch water daily from the
valley, it must have been very hard. One can but admire the folk
who endured existence in such a spot. The very difficulties of their
mode of life made their bodies supple, their minds keen and vigorous.
Sliding down through the dark passages we emerged once more on
the cliff.
By throwing back the upper part of my body, and seeking foothold
with my legs, whilst I supported myself by my arms, I succeeded in
reaching without mishap the uppermost tier of buildings. Here stands
the mosque, a picturesque little building, in the courtyard of which
is a minaret.
I began to make a sketch of this. My guide was down on me in a
moment. A two-franc piece did its work, and we went within.
The surrounding wall formed a low arcade. I scanned the view over
this down to the slope below; investigated everything, and found a
cistern in the middle of the courtyard. Pulling at a cord attached
to the cistern, I discovered that to the end of it was fastened a
drinking-cup, made of the horn of a mouflon. Whilst examining this
I heard a loud yell behind me, and saw an old man come up out of
a cave, shouting and shaking his fist at me. My guide went to meet
him, evidently intending to try and pacify him, but the old fellow
persisted in screaming and threatening. Again I put my hand in my
pocket, with as good a result as before.
The Khalifa and the Sheikh awaited me in their dwelling, and after a
little conversation with them, and a stroll in their company through
the lanes, and to visit some of the dwellings, I ordered the horses
to be saddled.
As I set foot in the stirrup, the Khalifa came forward with a mouflon
horn, which he begged me to accept. It was the same that I had seen
in the mosque. My guide had evidently told tales out of school.
[Illustration: A HALT IN THE DESERT—TENT OF A TRIBAL CHIEF.]
When we had descended into the valley I turned and looked up. Near
the Khalifa’s house stood some white burnous-clad figures. I waved
a farewell, and saw a couple of arms flourished in reply.
So, by the same path, we rode back to Tatuin. The goats on the
mountains were now grazing amongst the rocks.
My horse was fidgety, and the flies worrying him made him constantly
toss his head. I was careless, and he struck me a blow on the right
hand, causing it to swell, and compelling me to carry it in a sling;
and thus I had to ride for several days.
After riding hard for full five hours, we reached Tatuin a little
before sunset. Lieutenant Adam had arrived there with his company,
and a great surprise also awaited me.