A LITTLE GEOGRAPHY
Algeria is situated some fifteen hundred miles due south of London,
and is accessible via Paris and Marseilles in fifty hours, or by sea
from Southhampton in four days. The country is bounded on the north
by the Mediterranean, on the east by Tunisia, and on the west by
Morocco. Its southern boundary is difficult to define, as, though in
reality Algeria extends right across the desert to Senegal, Algeria
proper does not go farther than the northerly tracts of the Sahara.
Moreover, although considered as a French colony, the country
is divided into three departments or counties, having the same
status as if in France. From east to west they are Constantine,
Alger, Oranie, and there is a further area lying south of these
departments known as the Territoires du Sud.
The actual area of the country, again, is uncertain, owing to the
great tracts of desert, but, roughly speaking, it can be said that
the cultivated and inhabited areas comprising the three departments
cover an area of 222,000 square miles—a little smaller than
France. Including the Sahara, the country must be reckoned at
1,071,000 square miles.
By natural configuration the land is divided into four distinct
belts: the low hills which border the coast protecting the rich
cereal and vine lands from the sea winds; the Little Atlas or
Mountains of the Tell, which include the lofty peaks of the Kabyle
country; the Sersou, forming a kind of broad valley between the
hills and the Hauts Plateaux which, as the name implies, is a high
tableland, some two thousand feet above sea-level and rolling down
to the desert three hundred miles south of the coast; and the Sahara,
stretching away to Senegal.
The desert can, again, be divided into different areas. Its northern
belts, covered with a kind of scrub, thyme and mint, afford ample
nourishment to the flocks of sheep and goats all the winter, while
camels can always find plenty to eat there. Beyond this pasture-land,
is the rock and the sand desert, the former greatly exceeding the
latter in area. It is a desolate and cruel-looking country, except
where the oases spring up and form centers unexpectedly rich not
only in palms, but also in all kinds of fruit-trees.
Generally speaking, therefore, Algeria is a hilly country,
and the Sahara is far from flat; the whole land is very fertile
wherever there is water, but subject to great extremes of climate.
What surprises the traveler most, after a tour through any of
the three departments and down to the desert, is first of all the
astonishing variety of scenery through which he passes, and second,
the amount of natural products of the land.
The roads along the coast give a wonderful impression of marine
scenery—deep red cliffs and a sapphire sea.
To the east of Algiers, forests of cork-trees border the road,
olive-yards cover the slopes of the hills, while every now and then
one sees extensive tobacco plantations.
Turning inland, the traveler will pass through more forests, then,
climbing into the Kabyle Mountains, he will come to the fig-trees
clothing the steep hills, till up and up he climbs to a level of some
five thousand feet above the sea. Towering mountains are about him,
deep in snow for four months of the year and quite unexpectedly
cold in this sunny Africa.
Following the coast in a westerly direction, he will traverse miles
of all kinds of vegetables, grown by the local farmers for export
to France and England. The new potatoes, the salads and tomatoes,
associated with exorbitant prices in Paris in winter, will be seen
ripening under this southern sun.
If the journey is continued farther west into the confines of Oranie
a few cotton plantations will be seen, then the vast plains of
cereals—the ancient granary of the Roman Empire—which now that
the old system of irrigation has disappeared are sadly dependent
on the rainfall.
Turning inland from Algiers, the hills bordering the coast are left
behind and the vine-clad plain of the Mitidja is entered. For two
hours the car will pass swiftly through vineyard after vineyard,
while here and there rich orange-groves will relieve the monotony
of the interminable lines of vines. The wine produced in this area
is much richer and of higher alcoholic degree than that of France,
and in a normal year not only suffices for all the wants of the
country, but is exported in large quantities to the mother country,
where it is used to cut the Burgundies and Bordeaux, and in some
cases to be sold as French _vin ordinaire_.
Moving still in a southerly direction, the country becomes
mountainous as the Atlas range is entered. The slopes are covered
with mountain-oak, pine-trees, and now and then cork, but, though
this is supposed to be one of the forest-lands of Algeria, the
traveler needs to be notified of the fact. There is, however,
one very fine cedar forest above Teniet el Haad, but it is rarely
visited as it is off the beaten track. The hills are full of tailless
monkeys—the Barbary ape—which come down to the roadside, where
there are inhabitants and prospects of food.
Beyond the Atlas range, here known as the Tell, where cattle and
horses are raised, the country slopes down on to the wide pastures
of the Sersou; it is now very flat and desertic in appearance. Soon
the tufts of alfa grass are noticed growing in tall bunches right
away as far as the eye can reach, and farther, for hundreds of
miles to east and west extend these tracts of paper-making grass.
Many of the concessions are owned by British concerns, which, having
picked the raw material, despatch it to the Lancashire papermills
to be manufactured.
Leaving the alfa, the country again becomes mountainous and wooded
as the Hauts Plateaux are reached. The trees do not, however,
last long, as soon the downward grade is begun, with the rich
pasture-lands which run right away into the desert. This is the
land of sheep-breeding, and as one travels along one sees countless
flocks of sheep and goats.
The beginning of the Sahara is clearly defined by the sudden
disappearance of the low, barren hills which have marked the descent
from the Hauts Plateaux. The reappearance, too, of the palm-tree,
which has not been seen since Algiers, reminds one that one is
in the land of the oases, while away, away, stretches the desert,
till its grayness merges in the sky like some eternally calm sea.
The pasture continues for a few hundred miles and then gradually
disappears, giving place to stones and rocks, desolate and merciless,
until in turn these give way to rolling sands, and again to barren
wastes of pebbles, broken only by the welcome water-point or the
green oasis offering relief to weary wanderers.
In a few words, this is the scenery of Algeria, and after a week’s
journeying the traveler is really amazed at the thought that all
he has seen is in one country, so varied has been his impression.
[Illustration: _Reproduced by permission of Mr. George Churchill,
British Consul General, Algiers_
Algiers as It Was before the French Conquest in 1830]
[Illustration: The Old Port of Algiers as it is To-day]
Algiers, with its sub-tropical gardens and modern improvements,
the sea coast, the broad plains of cereals, the rich vineyards,
the orange-groves and olive-yards, the forests of cork and pine,
the wild mountains, the silent expanses of alfa, the nomads on the
pastures, and the limitless Sahara!
Further, if one remains a year in the country one will realize the
difficulties with which the settler is faced owing to the extremes
of climate. Generally speaking, it rains too much north of the
Sersou during the months of November, December, and January. It
never rains too much in the south. The summer and spring are too
dry, and, whereas in the winter there is frost as far south as the
edge of the Sahara, the summer heat is everywhere excessive. The
heat is especially unpleasant in Algiers and along the coast on
account of the damp; at midday in the plains it is intolerable,
and when the sirocco blows from the desert, life is wretched all
over the smitten area.
Irrigation is in its childhood; artificial pasturage is unknown,
with the result that a good or a bad year depends entirely on the
caprices of the weather. Generally speaking, one can say that in a
period of seven years there are two very good years, four average
years, and one bad year.
When the year is good it is beyond all imagination, and it is, in
fact, said that the two very good years should pay for any losses
in the remaining five!
A land of light and shade, of everlasting contrasts, a land which,
like a lovely woman, charms one by its unexpectedness, by its
tenderness and sudden harshness, by all its capricious moods. A land
of the future, but a land also of the past—and this, perforce,
brings us to the next chapter.