THE TUAREG
I dismounted at the office of the Intelligence Department. In the
archway a number of burnous-clad men waited to be admitted into the
office, where the interpreter, M. Grosset-Grange, and Lieutenant
Donau were at work.
My eyes roved over the crowd of waiting men, who hailed from far and
near. They were fine types, all wrapped in white or grey cloaks. Then
I started, for on the stone bench sat—yes, by Jove!—two stalwart
figures, with black kerchiefs wound round about their faces,
so that only their fine eyes were visible, most of the nose and a
little of the forehead being covered. Their light brown complexions
surprised me.
Below their white garments appeared bare legs and sandalled feet,
and, if I am not mistaken, they wore light blue trousers. A tuft
of black hair protruded above the dark head-covering. They were
evidently Tuareg.
Lieutenant Donau came out to receive me. Pointing to the two men,
I ejaculated, “Tuareg?”
“Yes, certainly,” he said with a smile.
I seated myself on a bench opposite to them, while Donau fetched
the interpreter, so that between them they might interrogate the
Tuareg. At first I could not realise that I indeed sat peacefully
face to face with the dreaded sons of the desert, and that I should
have the luck to take home for our National Museum their costume
and equipment. It seemed too good to be true.
[Illustration: A TUAREG.]
“Do you think I shall be able to buy their clothes?” I asked
the interpreter.
“It will be very difficult to manage,” he replied. “The Tuareg
are suspicious, and will not understand that anyone would sooner
buy their old rags than fine clothes, such as you wear. Besides,
similar costumes are not to be had here, and they will not like to
return home in ordinary Arab dress.”
“Very well, tell them I am a stranger from a distant country,
who has come here to see whether my people may not be of the same
origin as theirs. Tell them I should be glad if I could take their
costume with me to show to my countrymen. I will pay for them more
than their value, or, if they will not take money for them, I will
undertake to send them corn by caravan from Gabés, for I know that
they have been unable to buy any here.”
The interpreter then began the lengthy and tough transaction.
It then transpired that one of the two, Akhemed-uld-Bai, spoke Arabic,
but not so his compatriot, Mohammed-ben-Mohammed. The conversation
therefore took time.
First I addressed the interpreter in French, he then translated
what I had said into Arabic for Akhemed, who again repeated it in
the Berber language to Mohammed.
After the matter had been thoroughly discussed by the pair, the
reply was returned in the same way.
They informed us that they belonged to the “Foghass” section of
the Azgu tribe of Tuareg. But though the name of Akhemed-uld-Bai
had the true Tuareg ring, as much could hardly be said for his
companion’s patronymic. Their proper home was on the farther side
of Rhadamés.
When they learnt that I was anxious to become the possessor of their
property, both of them stared at me long and fixedly, after which
they consulted together for a while. Then Akhemed began to divest
himself of his white “Tuat” burnous, for which we bargained. As
I gave him what he asked, his other garments soon followed, and
bit by bit he stripped himself, until he was actually clothed in
nothing but a scanty shirt, or under-tunic, and the black veil,
of which the lower part concealed his mouth.
A Tuareg never exposes his mouth before others so long as he can
avoid doing so; it would be a breach of propriety.
But in the presence of foreigners they had evidently less regard
for decorum than they would have had before their own people. Now
and then Akhemed, as he talked, dragged the kerchief away from the
lower part of his face, and I saw the handsome well-formed beardless
mouth and white teeth. Whether he were shaved I know not; but it is
said that the Tuareg do not care for beards, and therefore shave.
When he rose to take off his clothes, his fine muscular form towered
above all those present; a truly herculean specimen, he was some
six feet high, sparely but splendidly built.
His costume was as follows:—
A shirt-like under-tunic (akhebaïl), above it a grey patterned
tunic with short white sleeves that came from the Sudan (taiden).
Trousers, which were wide at the top and narrow below; they reached
half-way down the calf (kortebba).
Sandals (ghetimèn) of tooled leather, with crossed latchets that
passed between the toes and fastened round the ankle.
A long, narrow black veil, used to enwrap the head. This veil is
furnished in two places with a broad flap; one serves to cover the
forehead, the other the lower part of the face. The crown of the
head is left bare, and shows above the veil a black tuft of hair
(tadilmus). Outside the veil a long piece of white material is
rolled turban-wise, but so arranged that the veil shows both above
and beneath it (ash shash).
Over this dress is worn an ordinary light wrap, a “haik” from Tuat
(kheiki).
The costume was completed by three square amulet cases (tira) made
of tin, and apparently fashioned out of old sardine boxes. They hung
by leathern strings on the man’s breast and outside his clothes.
Supposing that these cases contained inscriptions in the Berber
language, I was very anxious to get possession of them. But all my
endeavours in this respect were unsuccessful. Akhemed would not part
with them. He declared that to him they were worth more than the
value of a camel. He had bought them from a Marabout, they protected
him from danger and misfortune, and since he had possessed them no
ill had befallen him.
“Then sell me the cord and the cases and keep your amulet.”
For a high price he agreed to this, but I could not get permission
to see the contents. Next morning he brought and handed over to me
an unsoldered case.
When there was no more to be bought from this man, I turned to
his companion.
His costume differed little from the other, so I did not trouble about
it, but on the wrist of his left hand was an embroidered leather ring,
and the same hand grasped the hilt of a dagger (tilek).
The Tuareg always carry one of these in the left sleeve, so disposed
that the point is turned up the sleeve, whilst the sheath lies
along under the forearm, and is secured by a sewn band which is
slipped over the wrist. The handle of the dagger is cross-shaped
and bound with brass wire. The dagger is therefore, very evidently
and literally, handy.
I bought it and a large leather bag (agherid), made apparently of
antelope or gazelle hide. Through holes on the edges of the bag were
drawn leather thongs, which again were made fast with a very peculiar
iron lock. This is the only lockfast receptacle owned by the Tuareg,
for they rarely possess even a chest (senduk), as do the Arabs.
Of other weapons they had none, though the Tuareg generally carry
spears, but rarely swords, bows and arrows, or shields.
Next I bought one of their light smart saddles for riding the
dromedary (mehari). The saddle has a broad cantle at the back,
and that in front, though narrower, is also high and terminates in
a cross.
The cross is often found in Tuareg ornaments, and, as I show by
an illustration in my book called _Algiers and the Sahara_, is
supposed to be a relic of the time when this people were Christians
and inhabited the more northern regions whence they were driven by
the Arabs.
All the wearing apparel that I purchased was, according to the
vendors’ account, manufactured by Tuareg or brought from the Sudan.
The price of each article was named in piastres, and the interpreter
having added up the total, I paid in francs, without the Tuareg
overlooking the account, their trust in the interpreter being so
entire. A sign of their confidence in the French.
M. Grosset-Grange told me that these two Tuareg examined all that
was novel to them just like children. That when they entered his
room they at first stood dumfoundered, then touched and examined
everything. The system by which the window was closed and bolted was
carefully investigated, and pleased them much. The handle of the bolt
chanced to be decorated with the representation of a man’s head,
and the Tuareg naïvely asked, “Is that your father?”
Commandant Billet told me many amusing anecdotes of these children
of nature, who are so sober and abstemious in their daily life,
and who can subsist for days in the desert almost without food.
Once a “Targui” (the singular of Tuareg) happened to come to him
at one of the stations. “Are you hungry?” asked the commandant.
Yes, it was long since he had tasted food; so an enormous quantity
was set before him, enough to have satisfied six or seven ordinary
folk. When he had consumed all this he went to see a captain, by whom
he was as generously treated. One might have supposed that he would
then be satisfied; but no, half an hour later the insatiable son of
the desert called on a third official, and again complained bitterly
of hunger, and was fed with a couple of dishes of “kus-kus.”
It is inconceivable how any one man could swallow so much food,
but probably it had never before fallen to his lot to fully satisfy
his appetite.
Apparently the Tuareg are at present anxious to keep on friendly
terms with the French. On several occasions small caravans have
travelled as far as the southern stations of Tunisia, most of them
certainly with a view to trade, _mais enfin_, it is always a move
in the right direction, which, prudently encouraged, may lead farther.
It would be to the signal advantage of the French that the old
caravan road to the Sahara should be reopened, so that traffic from
Rhadamés could proceed direct to Gabés or other towns of Tunisia,
instead of, as now, _viâ_ Tripoli. The chief impediment at present
lies in the fact that the caravans, not being permitted to carry
slaves, are not profitable. The baskets, leather goods, weapons,
etc., which the last caravans brought with them—though in small
quantities—were disposed of with difficulty in Tatuin and Medinin,
which will not tend to induce them to make another trial.
No; that traffic through the Sahara may be remunerative, slavery
is essential. In fact, so long as slavery continues to flourish in
Tripoli, so long will the stream of trade flow that way.
[Illustration: A TUAREG.]
Neither does slavery appear so terrible at close quarters as it does
when read of in heartrending romances in the style of _Uncle Tom’s
Cabin_. The truth is, that slaves are well treated everywhere in
the East, so well that even if given their freedom, as they were by
decree in Tunisia, they, as a rule, remain in their master’s house.
The transport across the desert is, indeed, full of horrors, but
when once arrived at their destination the slaves do not suffer from
want—quite otherwise.
Amongst the caravans that came to Tatuin in 1893 was one in charge
of two nephews of Aissa, the Tuareg Sheikh who rules over the tribe
of “Imaughasat.”[4]
The elder of these, named Uan Titi, brought a letter to the officer
in command of the military station at Tatuin, in which he reclaimed
several camels and a negress robbed from the Tuareg by the tribe
of Uderma.
As it was politic to show a friendly disposition, the camels were
forthcoming at once, though they were probably bought; but it was
otherwise with regard to the negress, who was a cause of great
perplexity.
According to law, every slave is free who sets foot on territory
under French control, consequently nothing could be done.
That the Tuareg were afraid of again coming to blows with the tribe of
Uderma, is evident from the fact that the Tuareg Sheikh had written
to the Khalifa of Duirat to beg him to take care that the emissaries
went no farther north than Tatuin, and had also taken the precaution
of ascertaining whether absolute peace prevailed in Uderma.
Uan Titi spoke of the latest French explorers, Foureau and Méry,
who travelled last winter in the Sahara. He had conducted the first
named, who, however, had not reached Rhadamés. Méry had spent some
time with the Azgu tribe from whom the Imaughasat had then separated
themselves. They now camp together and are fairly united under their
Sheikh Aissa, but they still have some “duars” near “Rhat.”
According to Uan Titi’s account, the highroads in the Sahara pass
Fezzan, Rhadamés, and Tuat. That by Rhadamés may be considered
the most important.
The Tuareg, amongst whom perfect peace reigns at present, come to
Rhadamés from the southern regions to escort the caravans and to
supply camels for hire.
It is rare, however, for them to go farther than Tripoli or than
Southern Tunisia.
The Turks in Tripoli refuse, of course, to acknowledge French rule
in Tunisia; and as the people of Rhadamés are mainly Berbers under
Turkish administration, these do all in their power to destroy the
little trade there is with the French territories of Duirat, Tatuin,
Medinin, and beyond them to Gabés.
For the moment the Tuareg place no obstacles in the way of persons
who venture to travel from the Duirat mountains through the desert to
Rhadamés; so the route is open, but no one who is supposed to have
the slightest relations with the French is allowed to enter the oasis.
The traveller who desires to visit this town, which in the time of
the Romans had constant intercourse with the coast, must start from
Tripoli; if he has letters of recommendation from the authorities
there, he is sure to be admitted; the journey on camel back is
wearisome and even distressing through the heat and lack of water,
but of danger there is none—for the present—the Tuareg not being
camped by the roads in any appreciable numbers.
The French authorities have done all they could to establish
peaceful relations with Rhadamés and to explore the southern
frontier. Officers have reconnoitered the country from the southern
mountains to far into the desert. Commandant Billet in person has
ridden through the mountains as far as the Tunisian frontier. On one
of these expeditions he visited the ruins of a very ancient village
in the mountains, known as “Ksar Uni,” which lies eighty miles
south of Tatuin.
An interpreter who spoke Arabic like a native, and who was, further,
a Mohammedan, was sent to the desert not long since to endeavour to
penetrate as far as Rhadamés. His mission failed entirely. He was
robbed, imprisoned in Rhadamés, and sent to Tripoli, from whence,
after much difficult negotiation, his release was obtained.
West of the Matmata mountains and south of the belt of shotts is a
steppe where are found a number of small wells, but south again of
this and as far as Rhadamés is an almost waterless desert, barren
and waste and very dangerous to cross. A few earlier travellers may
possibly have passed through it, but in March and February of this
year the desert was traversed by two French officers, under such
marvellous conditions that I cannot refrain from giving an account
of their journey, exactly as I heard it related by Major Gausset
in Gabés.
Lieutenant Dumas of the Spahis (now captain of the 6th Chasseurs at
Oran), and Lieutenant Cazemajou of the Engineers, both courageous
and determined men, who feared neither exposure to the elements nor
the sufferings of hunger and thirst, determined on trying to make
their way secretly from Nafta, by the shott and through the desert,
to Rhadamés. Well aware that a request for permission to travel
during the difficulties in connection with the frontier would be
refused by their superiors, they only asked for leave to take a trip
to Algiers. This was granted without suspicion being aroused, and,
accompanied by a guide, they disappeared in the desert, both in Arab
dress and mounted on camels.
After a dangerous and fatiguing ride they drew near to Rhadamés, and
were already rejoicing over the happy termination of their journey;
but no sooner had they reached the gates than they were driven
off like dogs, their lives were menaced, and they were compelled
to retreat.
Their coming had been announced by some Marabout whose kubba they
had passed shortly before arriving at the town.
There was nothing to be done but to return as quickly as possible,
which they did; but as they thought it possible that they might
be pursued and attacked on their homeward way, they took another
route, where water was very scarce, and with which none of them
were acquainted.
After incredible exertions and having suffered much from hunger and
thirst—they were reduced at the last to a little chocolate with
which to allay the pangs of hunger—they succeeded in reaching home.
Their journey was, of course, to a great extent a failure, but they
had reconnoitered an unknown country and proved themselves to be a
couple of exceptionally energetic, brave men. They resumed their duty
in silence, but a rumour of their exploit leaked out and reached the
ear of the General. He demanded an explanation, with the result that
they received a slight official reprimand—soon shaken off.
Since Duveyrier undertook his memorable journey, of which the
brilliant results are related in his book, _Les Touaregs du Nord_,
no one probably has dedicated himself so entirely to a desert life
as Cornitz, a young Swiss, of whom the officers in the south spoke
in the highest terms.
This man, who appears to be a thinker and philosopher of no mean
order, came for the first time to Southern Tunisia some years ago,
in order to study the mode of life and opinions of the Bedouins. He
was so charmed with their nomad existence that he returned every year
for three years. He dressed as they did, and lived amongst them in the
desert, and, under equal conditions, shared in the joys and sorrows
of their tent life, their hunts and their boundless horizon. But the
time came when even this did not satisfy him, so he purchased palm
trees, a house and a herd, and settled down in the town of Duz to
the west of the Matmata and south of the shotts.
To enable him to take long journeys to the south, he bought two
“mehari” (chameaux coureurs) and practised the difficult art of
riding them. After eight days’ hard exertion he could ride as well
as any “Targui.”
He then travelled with his flocks, or alone, in the south as far
as Rhadamés, but neither was he able to gain admittance to that
town. While on this journey he completed the French map.
Each year, after a visit home, he returned. The last time, in May
1893, that he travelled home he passed through Gabés, where he was
struck down with fever and was very ill. The French officers begged
him to go into the military hospital, but he declined their offers
and started for the north. During my stay in the south I was told
that he had written to one of the Khalifas that he would soon return
to visit his herds, left in charge of an Arab, and to again resume
his life in the desert.
“Il est un peu original, mais très intelligent,” the officers
at Gabés said of him.
In truth, there are many who are attracted by the free life that
is led under tents, where no one need fear troubling his neighbour,
since space is unlimited.
If one place is unpleasing, you move to another—laying your tents
on camels and vaulting into the saddle, you drive your flocks and
herds onwards, ever onwards, for the horizon has no limit.
Whilst dwelling on the men who rove in the alluring, mysterious
desert, which has engulfed so many in its deadly embrace, my thoughts
turn to an evening at Gabés, when, after my return from the south I
sat in the guest-room of the “Hotel de l’Oasis” and refreshed
myself after my exhausting ride.
The landlord, M. Saissy, a man of about fifty, was setting in order
the tables, after the guests, who were mostly officers, had left. I
was the only one who remained and trifled with a cigar and a glass
of beer to pass away the time before retiring to bed.
I was absorbed in thought and long remained so—so long, indeed,
that M. Saissy probably concluded it was time to turn in, for he
approached me and began a conversation by way of rousing me from my
reverie, with, “Have you had a pleasant journey, sir?”
I replied in the affirmative, and gave him a sketch of my travels and
described the Matmata mountains—not a little vain, I confess, of
my expedition. “Have you ever been there?” I asked in conclusion.
“No, I have not,” he replied. “I came here some years ago
with the regiment which I followed as sutler, and, as the officers
could not find a place where they could dine, they proposed that I
should cater for them. This my wife and I agreed to do. By degrees
we organised this hotel, but to make it pay we have to be careful,
and we cannot leave it; since our arrival at Gabés I have positively
only been twice absent.”
Good heavens! thought I, how dull never to have a change and look
about one a bit; but I said, “You ought some day to go south;
it would interest you, for instance, to meet the Tuareg of the west
at Tatuin. I had the luck to be there just when two arrived, whose
equipments I bought.”
“Ah, those may be the same that I once saw.”
“Indeed, and when?”
“Ah, yes—it was a long time ago; I was quite young then, and
the love of travel drew me away from home. I do not remember how it
came about, but eventually I started with two companions to shoot
ostriches in the Sahara—in those days it was not so difficult to
penetrate there. We hunted with the Tuareg.”
“Did you venture far?”
“Yes, I do not exactly know how far, but certainly to the other
side of Tuat. The natives were a peaceful people, and we were never
at enmity with them. Our hunting was successful, and we made money
for our employer.
“Once I was on the point of going there again with Dr. Nachtigall,
but something intervened, and to my bitter regret I could not
leave—for I have always had a longing for that sort of life. It
was very different from slaving as we do now, my wife and I; for it
is not easy to please everyone—no, indeed! But to return to those
days. You see, I have been acquainted with many of the well-known
travellers. Most of them behave badly—for they do not respect the
natives. Some rely on force—which is a mistake—it is always best
to be unarmed. If ever I should venture there again, I would take
a stick in my hand and naught else.
“Miss Tinné I knew well. She would not listen to good advice and
was murdered. Good heavens! she needed only to ask the chief of the
Tuareg for a safe conduct and all would have been well, but she
would not wait till the matter could be arranged, believing that
she could safely penetrate farther with the protection she had.
“No—believe me; it is easy enough to push one’s way forward,
but one must avoid offending the natives.
“There was another traveller who deserved to have been slain
also—but escaped. He simply stole cattle when he required them.”
We conversed long, and I gathered much information with many
interesting details, as old recollections were recounted by him as
they came back to his mind.
Saissy’s wife joined us, and we sat together and discussed a glass
of wine. Saissy promised me then to note down his recollections,
which are to be forwarded to me, and I hope to be able to publish
them later; for the present I confine myself to what I have already
mentioned.
On my referring to the great desire I had to visit Rhadamés some
future year—“Take me with you,” burst from M. Saissy. “I
am in earnest; pay me only sufficient to enable my wife to live in
comfort in my absence, and I will accompany you. You may be assured
that I should be of use to you.”
“From Tripoli?” I asked.
“Of course from Tripoli.”
“Nous verrons, M. Saissy.” And so we went to bed.
When I left, a couple of days later, Saissy came to me and gave me
his portrait, saying—
“You will let me know when you have come to a decision.”