Crawford turned to him. "That is why I and my viziers have spent long
hours in _ekhwan_, in great council, devoted to the problems of the
Tuareg and how they can best fit into the new Africa that everywhere
awakes."
They stirred in interest now. The Tuareg, once the Scourge of the
Sahara, the Sons of Shaitan and the Forgotten of Allah, to the Arab,
Teda, Moroccan and other fellow inhabitants of North Africa, were of
recent decades developing a tribal complex. Robbed of their
nomadic-bandit way of life by first the French Camel Corps and later
by the efforts of the Reunited Nations, they were rapidly descending
into a condition of poverty and defensive bewilderment. Not only were
large numbers of former bedouin drifting to the area's sedentary
centers, an act beyond contempt within the memory of the elders, but
the best elements of the clans were often deserting Tuareg country
completely and defecting to the new industrial centers, the dam
projects, the afforestation projects, the new oases irrigated with the
solar-powered pumps.
"Speak, El Hassan," the Amenokal ordered. And unconsciously, he, too,
leaned forward, as did his subchiefs. The Ahaggar Tuareg were reaching
for straws, unconsciously seeking shoulders upon which to lay their
unsolvable problems.
"Let me, O chiefs of the Tuareg, tell of a once strong tribe of
warriors and nomads who lived in the far country in which I was born,"
Crawford said. The desert man loves a story, a parable, a tale of the
strong men of yesteryear.
Melchizedek clapped his hands in summons and when a slave appeared,
called for _narghileh_ water pipes. When all had been supplied, they
relaxed, bits in mouths and looked again at Homer Crawford.
"They were called," he intoned, "the Cheyenne. The Northern Cheyenne,
for they had a sister tribe to the South. And on all the plains of
this great land, a land, verily, as large as all that over which the
Tuareg confederations now roam, they were the greatest huntsmen, the
greatest warriors. All feared them. They were the lords of all."
"Ai," breathed one of the older men. "As were the Tuareg before the
coming of the cursed Franzawi and the other Nazrani."
"But in time," Crawford pursued, "came the new ways to the plains, and
these men who lived largely by the chase began to see the lands fenced
in for farmers, began to see large cities erected on what were once
tribal areas, and to see the iron railroads of the new ways begin to
spread out over the whole of the territory which once was roamed only
by the Cheyennes and such nomadic tribes."
"Ai," a muffled mouth ejected.
Homer Crawford looked at the younger Targui, Guemama, the Amenokal's
nephew. "And so," he said, "they fought."
"Wallahi!" Guemama breathed.
Homer Crawford looked about the circle. "Never has tribe fought as did
the Cheyenne. Never has the world seen such warriors, with the
exception, of course, of the Ahaggar Tuareg. Never were such raids,
never such bravery, never such heroic deeds as were performed by the
warriors of the Cheyennes and their women, and their old people and
their children. Over and over they defeated the cavalry and the
infantry of the newcomers who would change the old ways and bring the
new to the lands of the Cheyennes."
The bedouin were staring in fascination, their water pipes forgotten.
"And then...?" the Amenokal demanded.
"The new ways taught the enemy how to make guns, and artillery, and
finally Gatling guns, which today we call machine guns. And once a
brave warrior might prevail against a common man armed with the
weapons of the new ways, and even twice he might. But the numbers of
the followers of the new ways are as the sands of the Great Erg and in
time bravery means nothing."
"It is even so," someone growled. "They are as the sands of the erg,
and they have the weapons of the djinn, as each man knows."
"And what happened in the end, O El Hassan?"
His eyes swept them all. "They perished," Homer said. "Today in all
the land where once the Cheyenne pursued the game there is but a
handful of the tribe alive. And they have become nothing people, no
longer warriors, no longer nomads, and they are scorned by all for
they are poor, poor, poor. Poor in mind and spirits, and in property
and they have not been able to adjust to the ways of the new world."
Air went out of the lungs of the assembled Tuareg.