The camel’s reserve store — Variations of temperature — The
Sahara by moonlight — Halley’s Comet — Wells of Abeibera —
Tea in the desert — Difficult bargaining — Enduring donkeys —
Saharan game — A dry well — Missing camels — In Ouzel — An
indifferent boundary — Unpleasant recollections — A change in
the desert — Saharan shrubs — Welfare of the camel.
THE camels I had now were far superior animals to those I had
previously hired at Gao. I had particularly stipulated for animals
in the best of condition. Our lives might depend on the state of the
camels on this long trek across the Sahara to Insalah, a distance
of about 950 miles. Besides, this portion of the desert was a much
more serious affair than the part traversed between Gao and Kidal;
it entailed crossing a very large tract with exceptionally limited
resources, even for the camels, and a region, called the Tanezrouft,
in which there was no water for a distance of 200 miles. Should our
camels fail us in the middle of this great waterless tract we should
indeed be in a sorry plight. I therefore was most careful to see
that on starting our camels were as fit as could be expected for
the time of year. They were fat and had big humps, both of which
are unmistakable signs of good condition in a beast. The hump is
the reserve of fat in a camel. When he is in his pasturage he first
of all begins to put on flesh, and after this he puts on fat in his
hump, which until now has been small and flabby. The hump gradually
increases in size until it has swollen to the normal dimensions for
an animal in the pink of condition. When a camel is on the march,
even when he is getting plenty of good grazing daily, he draws to a
certain extent on his hump, which diminishes slowly in size as he
uses up this reserve. When a camel is without food on the march,
as sometimes happens for short periods at a time, the reserve
contained in his hump is drawn upon entirely to keep him going,
and this gets expended very rapidly. As his hump gets smaller the
camel loses condition rapidly, every day his powers of endurance are
diminished, until eventually he can no longer march at all and dies.
The first part of our march, lying as it did through the
comparatively productive regions of the Adrar, entailed no great
hardships on the camels of the caravan. There was good pasturage
available every day, and every third day we could be sure of coming
to a well, where the camels could drink; but in spite of all this,
in a few days it was noticeable that one or two were deteriorating in
condition. This was probably due to the heat. The time of year was
now at its very hottest. In the vicinity of the tropic of Cancer
from the middle of May to the middle of June the temperature is
at its highest, and the sun’s rays are more powerful than at any
other time of the year.
In consequence of the heat I did a good deal of marching at
night. The hours of march were usually from about 3 p.m. to 10
or 11 p.m., and then a halt and sleep till 4 a.m.; after this we
used to march till about 10 a.m. Marching hours, however, perforce
varied with the state of the country, and the necessity for having
the light of a moon or not.
During the midday halts I had given up pitching my tent, for it
usually took too long as so few men were available to do it; also
it was decidedly hot in a tent, and I found it often cooler under
a ledge of rock or mimosa bush when these were at hand. The nights
were always pleasant, and sleeping in the open was very agreeable;
indeed, it used to get quite cold at 2 or 3 a.m., and I found that
my two thick blankets were quite insufficient to keep me warm. The
variation in temperature was very great. Between midday and midnight
there was frequently a drop of 60 degrees.
When marching by moonlight the scene was indescribably beautiful. The
white sand of the “oueds” in which we were walking was lit up to
look like a white sheet by the brilliant moonbeams; on all sides of
us was this dazzling sheen spread over the surface of the ground,
while in the distance one might have fancied there were the waters
of a lake, so silvery crystal did the sand appear. The rocky hills
on the east and west caught the glint of the moon’s rays, standing
out sharply defined against the deep blue of the starlit sky. The
jagged peaks, which were perhaps succeeded by a rugged ridge,
running thus for miles into the far-off horizon, looked for all the
world like the towers and crenellated battlements of some ancient
fortress. The grandeur of the sight filled me with a sense of awe,
and how many times did I not deplore my inability to sketch. I used
to enjoy walking on these moonlight nights, gazing at this beautiful
scene as we wended our way in silence through the desert—the
stillness being unbroken even by the noise of a camel’s footfall
on that sandy surface. On such a night the Sahara loses half its
terrors. The arid nature of the landscape is concealed under the
cloak of night, and softened by the gentle rays of the moon.
Even when I was walking it used to get quite chilly towards midnight,
and I longed for the comforting warmth of my coat, which had been
stolen some time previously.
It was about 10 p.m. on the 8th of May, the day that I left Kidal,
that I first saw Halley’s Comet. For many nights subsequently
it was visible in the eastern sky, a beautiful, bright, luminous
body with a long tail, like a streak of fire, stretching for some
distance behind it. What millions of people in the world must have
been watching it about this time, although I doubt if many had the
opportunity of seeing it from the Sahara.
On the 12th of May we were at the wells of Abeibera, when two men,
with faces concealed in “lithams,” rode up on camels. They had
the appearance of having journeyed far, and it is an unusual thing
to encounter strangers at a desert well, so that I sent Mahomed to
inquire their business and whence they came. The guide came back in
a great state of excitement to say these people were traders from the
Oasis of Touat in the north, and were now on their way to Kidal. His
excitement was chiefly caused by the fact that he knew the leader
of the caravan. The latter, who was an Arab, came up to salute me
presently. He had lost several camels on the way on account of the
excessive heat, but his route had lain considerably to the west of
the direction we should take, so he could not give any information
on the state of the wells we should pass. He had halted his caravan
some distance from Abeibera, and was sending in his camels to
water the following day. He was a very weather-beaten desert man,
was this trader. I suppose he must have been about forty years of
age, although he looked more like fifty, so tanned by exposure and
lined was his face. His caravan was laden with dates, and he was
going to exchange these for sheep and ostrich feathers. They would
probably stay at Kidal till September before returning to the Touat.
The arrival of the Touat party was the signal for much
tea-drinking. The Arab in the desert is extremely fond of tea,
which he drinks with a great deal of sugar and, of course, without
milk. Mahomed generally made his tea in the English fashion, but
the usual manner amongst Arabs is to put the tea, which is very
strong and green, into a saucepan and stew it. The tea is thus
allowed to stew and simmer for about twenty minutes. The result
is a very bitter, and to my mind unpleasant, tasting concoction,
which has a very upsetting effect on the nerves.
One virtue possessed by these desert people is that they do not
drink alcohol, nor do they, as a rule, smoke. They have wonderful
powers of endurance, existing on a mere handful of dates as their
daily ration, and drinking nothing but water or tea. Moreover, they
drink very little water. Frequently an Arab will be quite satisfied
after a long hot march to wash his mouth out with a small quantity
and drink nothing at all.
While tea-drinking and merriment was going on by my little camp,
a party of Ifora Tuaregs arrived with their flocks of sheep to
water at the well. Accompanying these men there were also a number
of camels, so that the scene at the well was an unusually animated
one for the Sahara. I tried in vain to purchase a sheep, or even a
little milk, from the Tuaregs, but nothing would induce them to part
with either. I showed them one by one my articles of merchandise, but
they would not be tempted. First the salt was exposed to view, and
they were told they could have a large lump, which was really worth
three times the sheep, but they refused to look at it, with a fine
display of scorn. I next produced a tempting bait of “guinée,”
but this likewise was ineffective, although they did show a mild
interest in the stuff. When, however, my last remaining head of
tobacco was laid out to view, I thought that at last I had caught
my fish, and it only required a little careful playing before it
could be landed. Their eyes glistened at the sight of the tobacco,
and I heard many whispered exclamations of excitement. In the end
I am sorry to say it resulted in disappointment. They went away
muttering something to the effect that they would rather keep the
sheep than take what was offered in exchange.
Money has no value with the Tuaregs. Any trade is always done by
barter, and the chief articles of barter are salt and “guinée,”
but, in any case, they are difficult people with whom to drive a
bargain, and it is rarely that a European can induce them to part
with anything.
In this part of Adrar, where wells are not more than two days’
march apart, the Iforas possess donkeys. These donkeys are most
wonderfully enduring little beasts. They are trained to go two or
even three days without drinking, and exist on what herbs or grass
they find by the way as they march.
My caravan from Gao had a donkey attached to it, which never ceased
to fill me with admiration. Its Tuareg master had laden it with a
water-skin, which must have weighed about 60 lbs., and in addition
to this it used to carry him for the greater part of the march. It
only got a drink when we arrived at a well, while it used to snatch
at mouthfuls of food if anything came in its way on the march. This
little creature was not more than three feet high, so it was an
amusing sight to watch the long-legged Tuareg seated on its back,
with his legs nearly touching the ground as it walked. It used
to take tiny, quick steps, always keeping pace with the big, slow
strides of the camels.
Having found a fellow-countryman, Mahomed was most anxious to stop
the night at Abeibera, but I was firm, and insisted on continuing our
journey at the usual hour that afternoon. It was the following day
that I saw the last herd of oryx. Between the wells of Abeibera and
Bourassa there was a fair amount of Saharan game. Loder’s gazelle
was the most plentiful, but here, also, I got two addax besides an
oryx. The country was now getting much wilder in aspect. The rocky
ridges on our flanks were higher, “oueds” were less sandy and
more strewn with boulders, while, at Bourassa itself, the hills
on the east must have been at least 500 feet above the plain. My
calculations made the height of Bourassa 2330 feet, so that the
hills here were about 2800 feet high.
At Bourassa we took two days’ water in the water-skins, as the next
well, called Taoundert, was only some forty miles away. The country
was growing wilder every day, and pasturage for the camels was
less and less plentiful. On the 16th, having arrived at Taoundert,
we found the well quite dry. There was not even a cupful of water
to be got out of it, and we had another two days’ march to the
succeeding well, In Ouzel. There was very little water now left in
the water-skins, so I determined to push on as rapidly as possible
and reach In Ouzel with the greatest despatch the camels were capable
of. But disasters seldom come singly, and the lack of water was not
going to be the only trial the next two days. Halting only an hour
for rest at Taoundert, I pushed on that night. It was imperative
to reach In Ouzel as soon as possible, there was very little water
left in one of the water-skins and nothing at all in the others;
besides, this water-skin was losing the precious liquid drop by
drop as we marched, owing to the usual leakage from these articles.
The camels, on the march, were always tied in single file, one
animal’s tail being attached by a string to the next one’s
lower jaw. The order of route was, in front the guide and myself,
in the centre my servant Musa, and in rear the camel-driver. It
was necessary to have someone in rear, for sometimes a camel would
break his string and wander away from the rest of the caravan. We
had been marching about six hours when I happened to drop back
for a short time. I noticed, to my dismay, that two camels, those
carrying my food supplies and luncheon-basket, were missing. The
camel-driver, a very sleepy Arab boy of the name of El Bashir,
had mounted one of the animals in the middle of the caravan and
was calmly sleeping on his beast. There was no sign of the camels,
and it was impossible to say when they had strayed.
I could not afford to lose those camels, for they carried all my
provisions; at the same time it would have been madness to delay
the whole caravan when water was so scarce and time so precious.
The remaining water was divided into two portions, and half was given
to El Bashir. I threatened him with all sorts of penalties should
he dare to return without the lost camels, and sent him off to look
for them, while we proceeded on our way to In Ouzel. Next day our
water was finished, and at midday I made a frugal repast off the
reserve ration I kept always in my haversack. The meal consisted
of a handful of dates and a little “couscous.” I shall not
easily forget the experiences of the next twenty-four hours. We
were all without water, and my “boy” and I were without food.
Mahomed offered me some of his dates, but I was prouder than my
servant Musa, and declared I was not hungry. The heat seemed more
overpowering, and the desert seemed more deathly still than ever,
during that time.
Our throats got parched and our tongues began to swell from the heat
and thirst. How we longed for the sun to set, and the cool of the
evening to relieve us a little from some of our torture! But that
night there was no time to rest, we must march on in spite of our
fatigue. This was a time when rest for ourselves or camels was not
to be thought of, so we trudged wearily on. When the following day
we arrived at In Ouzel we were all thoroughly exhausted, and the
craving for water was something pitiable. Even that hardy desert
wanderer, Mahomed, rushed to the well as soon as it came in sight,
hastily lowering a small leather vessel at the end of a rope and
drawing it up full of water. I must own that I was relieved beyond
expression to see the water, for I had had a horrible fear that,
perhaps, this well too would be dry. I had not let my thoughts
dwell too much on this possible eventuality, for the consequences
would have been too serious to contemplate. Another fear that had
crossed my mind was that Mahomed might lose the way. Fortunately,
all came right in the end, and even the lost camels turned up that
evening. Somehow I did not seem to feel my hunger so much after we
got to the well of In Ouzel and I had satisfied my thirst, but when
the camels did arrive I soon realized how hungry I really was. After
this experience I determined not to trust El Bashir to do rearguard
on the march, and in future I always put Musa there when I was not
in rear myself.
[Illustration: SHEEP AT THE WELLS OF BOURASSA
When we halted at these wells the Tuaregs were bringing their
flocks down to water. It was pitiful to see the unfortunate animals
endeavouring to get shade behind the trunks of some leafless trees
in the vicinity. The weaker beasts fared even worse, having to
be content with such shade as they could find under the shadow of
their stronger brethren who had usurped the best places.]
[Illustration: TUAREG HOVELS AT IN OUZEL
These miserable shelters consist of a few sticks supporting
some goatskins and ragged cloths. The inhabitants have to crawl
in on hands and knees; nor is there standing-room inside. They
are frequently blown down by the terrible sandstorms which rage
constantly here, but possibly their very lowness safeguards them
to some extent from destruction by these hurricanes of sand.]
After the trying times of the last two days both the camels and we
were greatly in need of a rest, and so it was decided to halt for
three or four days at In Ouzel. This was all the more necessary as
the next stage of our journey would take us through the Tanezrouft,
and to attempt to cross this inhospitable region with inferior
camels would be madness.
We had now passed the rather indefinite boundary between the portion
of Sahara under the jurisdiction of French West Africa and that part
of the great desert which came under the sphere of the Governor
of Algeria. The boundary lay between Bourassa and Taoundert,
running approximately along the 21st parallel. The country in
which we now were was no longer the land of the Ifora Tuaregs. It
was uninhabited except for short periods in the year, when suitable
grazing might be found for a small number of camels. At such periods
a heterogeneous collection of desert nomads used to make it their
temporary head-quarters. These might consist of a small caravan of
Arabs and a few Tuaregs of the Hoggar tribe. The latter belong to
a mountainous desert country lying to the north-east of In Ouzel.
When I arrived at In Ouzel there were some half-dozen of these
people still there, although the time of year was not any longer
favourable, and they were already preparing to leave. As nearly
all the pasturage had been eaten up, there was not much left for
our sorely tried camels, and in any case a couple of them appeared
too exhausted for further marching until they had had a long rest.
Mahomed said he thought the short halt we proposed to make would be
sufficient to get the remainder of the caravan in marching trim,
and we arranged with the nomads just departing for the hire of
two suitable baggage camels to replace our jaded beasts. The new
camels were indeed a great acquisition, for they had been in their
pasturage for the past three months, were now in good condition,
and boasting of fine big humps.
My recollections of In Ouzel are the reverse of pleasant. I pitched
my tent on an open space not far from the well, and close to a dead
mimosa, from which I vainly hoped to get a little shade during the
day. Musa rigged himself up a kitchen with the help of some articles
of baggage with one of my tarpaulins thrown over them, while all
the remainder of my kit was stacked in view of the tent, as robbers
have always to be feared in the desert. Things appeared fairly
ship-shape, and I was looking forward to the rest at In Ouzel, but
the day after my arrival I had an attack of fever which laid me on a
bed of sickness. It was at this moment that my troubles began. From
that day until our departure we had a series of terrible sandstorms.
My tent was blown down right at the commencement, and the force
of the wind was so terrific that attempts to pitch it again were
hopelessly futile. Clouds of sand enveloped my bedclothes and
myself. The suffocating heat of the desert air was intense, while
the sand choked anyone who dared to open his mouth for an instant.
My temperature went up rapidly and refused to come down. When Musa
tried to give me a glass of cold tea or water it immediately became
filled with sand. I used to hide my head under the bedclothes in
desperate efforts to keep the sand-laden air from buffeting my
face. In all my existence I do not think I have ever experienced
such a miserable time as I did at In Ouzel. Eating, drinking,
and sleeping were impossible, and all the time the fever racked my
limbs and made my head throb till I thought I should go mad. I had
long since discarded my mosquito curtain, so I had not even that to
ward off some of the penetrating clouds of sand, although in the
gales that were blowing I hardly suppose it would have been much
use, even supposing it had not been torn to pieces immediately.
Mahomed was most solicitous, but there was nothing he could do for
me. It was not till the evening before our departure that the fever
left me, and I was glad to get out of my bed of sand, feeling very
weak and shaky.
The nomads encamped here seemed to me to lead a remarkably wretched
existence. Both Arabs and Tuaregs lived in tiny hovels made of mimosa
branches with grass roofs. The doorway was so low that the occupant
had positively to crawl in on hands and knees. The structures were
so frailly put together that they were continually being blown down
by the sandstorms, but possibly the low height of the hut made it
a little less susceptible to the wind than it would otherwise have
been. Some of them boasted of an additional covering of a few ragged
goatskins. Inside, the state of dirt and squalor was repulsive. I
suppose that these desert people naturally wash little on account
of the scarcity of water in the Sahara; certainly cleanliness is
not one of their chief attributes.
At In Ouzel they owned a few wretched-looking sheep and goats,
but the marvel was that even these could eke out an existence on
the poor nourishment available. For them there was nothing but an
occasional small tuft of coarse, dried-up grass. It was rather a
pathetic sight to watch them grazing on it.
In the early morning they were led out by the shepherd across the
undulating sandy surface of the desert, in search of food, and when
one animal, more fortunate than the rest, espied one of these tufts
he would start gobbling it up as quickly as he could. It was seldom,
though, that he was allowed to have his meal to himself, for a number
of his fellows would scamper off to dispute possession with him.
Another sight, which would be humorous if it were not so pathetic,
is to see these animals in the middle of the day trying to get a
little shade from the blazing heat of the sun. The strongest of the
flock will take up a position behind the trunk of a mimosa shrub,
whereupon the remainder of the party attempt to benefit by crowding
close up to him, one behind the other, until there is a long tail
of these animals, huddled close behind each other, trying to get
some satisfaction out of the shelter obtainable from the shadow of
the sheep in front.
At In Ouzel the character of the desert had changed
considerably. Here was more the popular conception of the Sahara,
and rather what I had myself imagined it always to be.
A soft white sand covered the landscape on every side. At each
step one sank into it for a depth of about a foot. The ground was
undulating, and occasionally sand-dunes, rising to a height of as
much as a hundred feet, were to be seen. Beyond the sparse grass
no vegetation of any sort existed within sight of In Ouzel, but,
in some of the more sheltered “oueds,” lying to the east of
the well, was a tall shrub, with leaves somewhat resembling the
Scotch fir. This was the plant on which the camels fed. It is
called “ethel” in Arabic, and is fairly common in the Northern
Sahara. I had not previously seen this desert shrub, but this,
I fancy, was due to the desert soil I had hitherto encountered
not being suited to its growth. The “ethel” appears to require
a soft, sandy soil; at any rate, I never found it growing except
in this particular kind of ground. “Ethel” shares with other
Saharan flora the peculiarity of possessing thorns, or rather,
in this case, spikes. It is a curious fact that every herb, plant,
or tree in the desert seems to have some kind of a thorn growing
upon it. The spikes on the “ethel” are perhaps less strong and
hard than in the case of most other Saharan vegetation. It is rather
strange how the camel eats these thorny morsels without apparently
suffering any inconvenience therefrom. By a peculiar motion he
seems to compress the thorns between the roof of his mouth and his
tongue and tear them off. The “cram-cram” grass, of which the
camel is excessively fond, and which is far more nourishing than
the “Ethel,” was no longer to be seen. On quitting the Adrar
we had left it behind. It does not appear to exist north of that
country at all.
[Illustration: MY RIDING-CAMEL IN THE SAHARA
This picture shows my camel ready to be mounted after a midday halt,
during which I had endeavoured to get some shade from a leafless
stunted tree. My saddle was a Tuareg “rahla”; these are made
with a curious cross in front. All the paraphernalia of the march
is hung ready on the saddle, e.g. rifle, water-bottle, haversack,
and camera. My ammunition I used to carry in a bandolier slung
round the shoulder.]
In the Sahara there are two kinds of plants, generally
speaking—plants which do not die if they get no rain during the
year, and plants which only spring up annually if there has been
rain. The former species is rather interesting on account of the
following peculiarities. After rain it sprouts forth new branches
or sprigs, and usually remains fairly green for three years,
after which it will dry up, but not die, and will still afford
nourishment for camels for several years, gradually fading away,
and finally dying if it does not get any rain for a period of seven
years. These periods—three and seven years—are necessarily not
exact in every case, but this is said to be the average. This fact,
of course, accounts for pasturage being found in parts of the Sahara
where it has been known not to rain for a considerable time.
The latter species, viz. the plants which only spring up annually if
it rains, are known to the Arabs by the general name of “acheb.”
It is said that to give life to one of these plants a heavy shower
of rain at least is necessary, and that the soil must have been
saturated for a depth of about four inches. The characteristic of the
“acheb” is that the seed never seems to die. It merely rests
in the ground, waiting for the requisite fall of rain to spring
up. The locality may not have any rain for ten years, yet the seed
will germinate when the rain does eventually come. “Acheb” of
all kinds is eagerly devoured by camels, and most kinds of it are
very nourishing.
There is a totally different sort of flora in the Sahara above
and below the 20th or 21st parallel, and the difference is rather
striking to the traveller, for the change of landscape and climate
to which this must be due is so gradual and so slight as to be
hardly noticeable.
Much of the Saharan vegetation, although so dry and unrefreshing in
appearance, contains a certain amount of liquid. It is this which
enables the fauna of the desert to exist without drinking.
The question of the different herbs of the desert leads one to
consider the subject of how and when camels should be allowed to
graze. I found I had a lot to learn about this, and it is a most
important item in the education of the desert traveller. Since
one’s mobility, and frequently one’s life, must depend on the
state of the camels in the caravan, the subject is obviously worth
studying. Of course, in some cases forced marches are absolutely
necessary, as when crossing a waterless tract of desert with little
water on the camels. But in most cases the welfare of the camel
must be studied as carefully as possible. Now, it has been noticed
that the camel will eat better at certain times of the day than he
will at others. Between the hours of 11 a.m. and 3 p.m. camels do
not graze. They generally lie down and rest at this time. Further,
they do not graze between about 2 a.m. and sunrise. They will,
practically, graze all the rest of the twenty-four hours. Experience
has also shown that they graze better on moonlight nights than when
it is dark. With these data as a guide, one can regulate the time of
marching so as to allow the camels to graze at suitable hours. The
authorities say that the animals should be allowed four hours’
pasturage at the very least during the twenty-four.
Another point to be remembered is that camels ruminate, or chew
their food, for some time after grazing. Time should be allowed for
this. When not grazing, and particularly at night, camels can often
be observed chewing. They will go on scrunching their massive jaws
for hours together, while squatting on their hunkers round the camp
after dark.
Camels are strange beasts, passing the comprehension of man in
many ways. I often used to watch them in their pasturage, and
think what antediluvian creatures they appeared to be. The camel
seems to belong to a prehistoric age, and should be classed with
the giraffe, elephant, and hippopotamus, to my mind. He is a sad
sort of animal, seeming never to take any enjoyment in life. Even
when in perfect liberty, grazing, he does not look happy. He only
then seems to be a little less discontented than usual. But with
all his peculiarities and vices a camel is a necessity in desert
travel, and I suppose we should be grateful to him for enabling us
to cross these inhospitable tracts. Without the camel the Sahara
would be even less known than at present.