THE LOST OASES
[Illustration: HASSANEIN BEY
The Egyptian explorer, in Bedouin clothes starting on his trek of
twenty-two hundred miles across the desert]
* * * * *
THE LOST OASES
* * * * *
BY A. M. HASSANEIN BEY, F.R.G.S.
* * * * *
BEING A NARRATIVE ACCOUNT OF THE AUTHOR’S EXPLORATIONS INTO THE
MORE REMOTE PARTS OF THE LIBYAN DESERT AND HIS REDISCOVERY OF TWO
LOST OASES
* * * * *
WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY THE RIGHT HONORABLE SIR JAMES RENNELL RODD,
G.C.B., G.C.M.G., G.C.V.O. ILLUSTRATED WITH AN ORIGINAL MAP, AND
FROM MANY PHOTOGRAPHS MADE BY THE AUTHOR
* * * * *
[Decoration]
* * * * *
PUBLISHED BY THE CENTURY CO.
NEW YORK AND LONDON
* * * * *
Copyright, 1925, by
THE CENTURY CO.
PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.
IN HOMAGE AND GRATITUDE
TO
HIS MAJESTY KING FOUAD I
WHO
BY HIS HELP
AND ENCOURAGEMENT MADE
THIS JOURNEY POSSIBLE
INTRODUCTION
MY friend Ahmed Hassanein has asked me to write a few words of
introduction to his record of a remarkable voyage of exploration. It
was the more remarkable because the expedition, the results of which
have enabled him to fill up an important gap in our knowledge of
Africa and to determine with precision positions only approximately
ascertained by that great pioneer in African research, Gerhardt Rohlfs,
was conceived and led by him single-handed without other assistance
or companionship than that of his guides and personal attendants.
A traveler whose work has been recognized by the award of the
Founder’s Medal of the Royal Geographical Society should need no
introduction to the British public. But I welcome the opportunity
of drawing attention to his achievement in another field, in the
production of a book which will, I feel sure, be acknowledged by all
who read it to have exceptional interest, written in a language of
which he has made himself a master, although it is not his own.
But first, disregarding any protests from his characteristic modesty,
I have to present the author himself, who is only known to the majority
of my countrymen as an intrepid traveler. I have had the pleasure of
his acquaintance for a number of years, since he was the contemporary
and friend of my son at Balliol. After considerable experience I
have come to the conclusion that the experiment of sending students
from the East to reside at a Western university is one which should
only be tried in exceptional cases and with young men of exceptional
character. In the case of Ahmed Hassanein I think all who know him
will agree that it has been an unqualified success. He has retained
all that is best of his own national and spiritual inheritance, while
he has acquired a sympathetic understanding and appreciation of the
mentality and feelings of men with very different social antecedents
and training. It is possible that the blood of his Bedouin forefathers
made intimacy with them easier for him, since the Briton and the
Bedouin not infrequently find in one another a certain kinship of
instinct which compels their mutual regard. Incidentally it may be
mentioned that Ahmed Hassanein represented the University of Oxford as
a fencer. In any case it is possible for him to be a sincere Egyptian
patriot and none the less to entertain equally sincere friendship
with members of the nation to which justice is not always done by
the Younger Egypt.
He began his career at home in the Ministry of the Interior at
Cairo. During the war when martial law was in force in Egypt he
was attached to General Sir John Maxwell, a very old friend of his
country. Now he has entered the diplomatic service, for which a wide
experience of life, rare in so young a man, as well as his linguistic
gifts, eminently qualifies him. He has occasionally consulted me
as an elder friend and as the father of my son on certain matters
of personal interest to himself. I may therefore claim to know him
intimately, and I cannot refrain from recording my testimony that in
all such questions, and especially in a very delicate matter which he
submitted to me, I have always found him generous in his judgments and,
for I know no other way of expressing what I mean, a great gentleman.
The story of his exploration of desert tracts unknown to geography
and his discovery of two oases whose existence was only a vague
tradition is the record of a great adventure of endurance. It is
told so modestly and with such sober avoidance of overstatement that
readers who have no experience of the vicissitudes of desert travel may
perhaps hardly realize what courage and perseverance its successful
accomplishment demanded. There is also another virtue besides these
which is indispensable for penetration into regions where the isolated
inhabitants regard every intrusion with profound suspicion, and that
is one which Hassanein appears to possess instinctively, the virtue
of tact.
English readers are perhaps rather disposed to think of the desert
in the terms with which romance has made them familiar, for which the
grim reality offers little justification. There is indeed a romance of
the desert, the romance of loyalties and sacrifices under the shadow
of the inevitable, which is an element in the true romance. And that
will not be found lacking in a book which bears upon it the impress
of truth, interpreting the beauty which the desert can assume,
the spiritual influence and inspiration of the great solitudes,
the perpetual consciousness prevailing there of the narrowness of
the border line between life and death.
Apart from its intrinsic interest as a record of discovery and the
light which it throws on the origin, teaching, and influence of the
Senussi fraternity, this volume will be welcome to many because its
pages carry the reader away into the atmosphere of a great peace. He
will be aware for a while of an ambience where the coarse and the
trivial and the competitive do not exist. He will find himself in touch
with men who, unconscious of the urge and tumult of a world for which
they would have no use, lead strenuous but dignified contemplative
lives. And as he perceives how for them privation and danger and even
routine are illuminated by the conviction of unalterable faith in
the guiding hand of Providence, he will probably formulate the silent
hope that these dwellers in the lonely places may be left untouched by
the invasion of the modern spirit. Their pleasures are as touchingly
simple as their thoughts. These thoughts and these simple pleasures
we may for a passing hour share as they are presented to us by a hand
which seems to me to have an unerring touch in conveying fidelity of
outline and color.
In conclusion it is a grateful duty to add that Hassanein Bey has
more than once confirmed to me in conversation what is suggested in
the dedication of his book, namely that he could not have undertaken
his adventurous journey without the assistance and support which he
received from his sovereign. The promotion of enterprise is no doubt an
inherited impulse in King Fouad, and it is gratifying to feel that his
encouragement may confidently be anticipated for that scientific and
historical research for which Egypt still offers such an ample field.
The achievement of Hassanein Bey and the spirit in which his book
is written cannot fail to appeal to the sympathies of my countrymen,
and he has added another to his services by thus promoting the spirit
of good feeling between the country of his education and the land of
his birth which all are anxious to see restored.
RENNELL RODD.
October 19, 1924.
ACKNOWLEDGMENT
I AM deeply indebted to Dr. John Ball, O.B.E., Director of Desert
Surveys of Egypt, who has been good enough to summarize the scientific
results of my expedition in the First Appendix to this volume. His
advice and the instruction which he gave me in the use of scientific
instruments were invaluable. I was indeed fortunate in being able to
draw upon his great knowledge.
The maps of my journey, one of which accompanies this volume, were
kindly prepared by Dr. Ball and Mr. Browne and other members of the
Survey Department of Egypt.
Dr. Hume and Mr. Moon of the Geological Survey of Egypt classified
the geological specimens which I brought back and prepared a report
which is contained in the Second Appendix to this book. By this
willing assistance they added much to the results of my expedition.
Lewa Spinks Pasha, D.S.O., and Meshalani Bey of the Ordnance
Department of the Egyptian War Office were responsible for the cases
and containers and other camp equipment which I used. These proved
to be satisfactory in every way, and I am grateful for the care and
thought which were expended in their preparation.
My old friends Sayed El Sherif El Idrissi and his son Sayed Marghanny
El Idrissi again gave me that good counsel and ready help which I
had received from them in the course of my trip to Kufra in 1921.
Throughout my expedition I received the most friendly and effective
assistance from Colonel Commandant Hunter Pasha, C.B., D.S.O.,
late Administrator of the Frontier Districts Administration; Colonel
M. Macdonnell, late Governor of the Western Desert; Major de Halpert
of the F.D.A.; Captain Hutton, O.C., Sollum; Captain Harrison,
O.C. Armored Cars at Sollum; Abdel Aziz Fahmy Effendi and A. Kmel
Effendi, Mamurs of Sollum and Siwa; Lieutenant Lawler, O.C., Siwa.
When I reached the Sudan my way was made easy and pleasant by
the kindness of his Excellency Ferik Sir Lee Stack Pasha, G.B.E.,
C.M.G., Sirdar and Governor-General of the Sudan, and I cannot let
this opportunity pass of expressing my cordial thanks to all the
officials of the Sudan Government along my route, and especially
to Lewa Midwinter Pasha, C.B., C.M.G., C.B.E., D.S.O., Acting
Governor-General of the Sudan; Lewa Huddleston Pasha, C.M.G.,
D.S.O., M.C., Acting Sirdar; Kaimakam M. Hafiz Bey, O.C. Troops
at Khartum; H. A. MacMichael, D.S.O., Assistant Civil Secretary;
Captain J. E. Philips, M.C. Samuel Atiyah Bey, M.V.O., and Ahmed
El Sayed Pifai of the Sudan Civil Service; Charles Dupuis, Acting
Governor of Darfur; Sagh A. Hilym, S.O., El Fasher; J. D. Craig,
O.B.E., Governor of Kordofan; Bimbashi A. Khalil, S.O., El Obeid;
and the officers, officials, and notables of El Fasher and El Obeid.
To Bimbashi G. F. Foley, M.C., O.C. Artillery at El Fasher, I am
grateful for the verse which adorns the last chapter of the book.
I am particularly indebted to Harold Howland and to W. H. L. Watson,
an old Balliol friend, for their invaluable help and advice in the
preparation of this book.
A. M. HASSANEIN.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE DESERT 3
II. THE PLANNING OF THE JOURNEY 12
III. THE BLESSING OF THE BAGGAGE 16
IV. SUPPLIES AND EQUIPMENT 19
V. PLOTS AND OMENS 31
VI. THE SENUSSIS 42
VII. THE PEACE OF JAGHBUB 57
VIII. MEALS AND MEDICINE 67
IX. SAND-STORMS AND THE ROAD TO JALO 76
X. AT THE OASIS OF JALO 88
XI. ON THE TREK 110
XII. THE ROAD TO ZIEGHEN WELL 131
XIII. THE CHANGING DESERT AND A CORRECTED MAP 156
XIV. KUFRA: OLD FRIENDS AND A CHANGE OF PLAN 170
XV. KUFRA: ITS PLACE ON THE MAP 185
XVI. THE LOST OASES: ARKENU 203
XVII. THE LOST OASES: OUENAT 219
XVIII. NIGHT MARCHES TO ERDI 235
XIX. ENTERING THE SUDAN 257
XX. TO FURAWIA ON SHORT RATIONS 277
XXI. JOURNEY’S END 293
APPENDICES
I. NOTE ON THE CARTOGRAPHICAL RESULTS OF HASSANEIN BEY’S
JOURNEY 309
II. CONCLUSIONS DERIVED FROM THE GEOLOGICAL DATA COLLECTED
BY HASSANEIN BEY DURING HIS KUFRA-OUENAT EXPEDITION 348
III. NOTES ON THE GEOLOGY OF HASSANEIN BEY’S EXPEDITION,
SOLLUM-DARFUR, 1923 352
ILLUSTRATIONS
FACING PAGE
HASSANEIN BEY _Frontispiece_
THE OLDEST MAN AT JALO 17
SIDI HUSSEIN WEIKIL 17
DOOR TO THE GRAND SENUSSI’S TOMB 20
THE TOMB OF THE FOUNDER OF THE SENUSSI 20
CAMEL SERENADING THE CAMP AT OUENAT 24
A DYING CAMEL 24
WOMEN OF THE ZAGHAWA TRIBE 29
SAYED IDRIS EL SENUSSI 32
THE JUDGE OF JALO 36
ZERWALI 45
SIWA 48
PANORAMA OF JAGHBUB 52
THE COURTYARD OF THE MOSQUE AT JAGHBUB 61
A CLOISTER AT THE MOSQUE OF JAGHBUB 65
THE DOME OF THE MOSQUE AT JAGHBUB 65
THE EXPLORER’S CARAVAN IN A SAND-STORM 69
DESERT SANDS COVERING DATE-TREES 72
THE ZIEGHEN WELL 76
A HALT IN THE DESERT 76
THE ARMED MEN OF THE CARAVAN 81
HAPPY TEBUS AT KUFRA 84
A BIDIYAT FAMILY 84
HAWARIA, A LANDMARK OF KUFRA 88
CAMELS CROSSING THE SAND-DUNES 93
SAYED MOHAMMED EL ABID 96
THE HOUSE OF SAYED EL ABID 96
TEBU GIRL WEARING BEDOUIN CLOTHES 100
A TEBU WITH HIS CAMEL 100
SLAVE AT KUFRA 104
TEBU GIRL CARRYING BURDEN ON HER HEAD 104
KUFRA 109
THE OASIS OF HAWARI 112
SOUTH OF KUFRA 116
RUINS OF KUFRA 120
A SENUSSI PRINCE AT KUFRA 125
GOVERNOR OF KUFRA 125
ZWAYA CHIEFS AT KUFRA 129
THE LAKE AT KUFRA 132
EL TAJ 136
THE COUNCIL OF KUFRA 136
TUAREGS IN KUFRA 141
TWO TUAREGS IN WARRIOR ATTIRE 141
THE CARAVAN ON THE MOVE IN THE DESERT TO AGAH 144
SONS OF SHEIKH HERRI 148
APPROACHING THE HILLS OF ARKENU 152
IN THE OPEN DESERT 157
THE HILLS OF ARKENU 161
THE EXPLORER’S CAMP AT OUENAT 164
THE CARAVAN APPROACHING THE GRANITE HILLS OF OUENAT 164
VALLEY OF ERDI 168
DESERT BREAKING INTO ROCK COUNTRY SOUTH OF OUENAT 168
THE DESERT FROM THE HILLS OF OUENAT 173
THE KING OF OUENAT 176
THE EXPLORER’S KITCHEN IN A CAVE 181
THE ROCK VALLEY WELLS FOUND AT OUENAT 181
AT ARKENU 188
THE MOST IMPORTANT DISCOVERY MADE AT OUENAT 188
WHITE SAND VALLEY AND EXPLORER’S CAMP 193
THE CARAVAN ARRIVING AT OUENAT 197
THE VALLEY OF ERDI 200
THE FIRST TREE SEEN APPROACHING ERDI 204
THE EXPLORER’S CAMP IN THE VALLEY OF ERDI 208
SOUTH OF ERDI 208
THE CHIEFTAIN OF THE BIDIYAT TRIBE 213
TWO BIDIYAT MEN 213
BIDIYAT BELLES 216
BIDIYAT PRIEST 216
A BIDIYAT GIRL, WITH HER SISTER 220
A BIDIYAT GIRL, WITH HER CHILD 220
A BIDIYAT PARTY 225
GIRLS AT EL FASHER GOING TO MARKET 225
BIDIYAT WOMEN 228
ZAGHAWA GIRL AND HER INFANT 228
MARKET AT UM BURU 232
EXPLORER’S CAMP AT UM BURU 237
ZAGHAWA CHIEFS COMING OUT TO WELCOME THE PARTY AT UM
BURU 241
A ZAGHAWA SHEIKH 244
A ZAGHAWA WOMAN 244
A BELLE OF THE ZAGHAWA TRIBE 253
ZAGHAWA GIRL 253
WELL ON THE FRONTIER OF DARFUR 256
A WATER-CARRIER IN THE DESERT 260
A WOMAN OF THE FALLATA TRIBE 260
A WELL NEAR KUTTUM IN DARFUR. WOMEN WORKING 269
SUDANESE TROOPS AND GIRLS 272
WELL ON THE FRONTIER OF DARFUR 280
A CHIEF OF THE ZAGHAWA TRIBE OF DARFUR 289
THE RECEPTION OF THE EXPLORER AT EL FASHER 296
EL FASHER 304
MAP
THE LIBYAN DESERT SHOWING THE AUTHOR’S ROUTE 8
THE LOST OASES
The Lost Oases
CHAPTER I
THE DESERT
ON my first trip through the Libyan Desert I took a vow.
We had lost our way, and we had lost all hope. There was no sign of
the oasis we sought, no sign of any well near-by. The desert seemed
cruel and merciless, and I vowed that if ever we came through alive
I would not return again.
Two years later I was back in the same desert, at the same spot where
we had lost our way, and landed at the same well that had saved our
lives on the previous occasion.
The desert calls, but it is not easy to analyze its attraction and its
charm. Perhaps the most wonderful part of desert life is the desert
night. You have walked the whole day on blistered feet, because even
walking was less painful than riding on a camel; you have kept up with
the caravan with eyes half shut; you follow mechanically the rhythm
of the camels’ steps. Your throat is parched, and there is no well
in sight. The men are no more in the humor to sing. Their faces are
drawn with exhaustion, and with eyes bloodshot they keep a vague,
hopeless look on the ever faint line between the blue of the sky and
the dull yellow of the sand. The sheepskin water-vessels dangle limply
on either side of the camels.
We do not talk very much in the desert. The desert breeds silence. And
when we are in trouble we avoid one another’s eyes. There is no
need for speech. Everybody knows what is happening, and everybody
bears it with fortitude and dignity, for to grumble is to throw blame
on the Almighty, a thing that no Bedouin will do. To the Bedouin,
this is the life that was intended for him; it is the route that God
decreed him to take; maybe it leads to the death that the Almighty
has chosen for him. Therefore he must accept it. No man can run away
from that which God has decreed, says the Bedouin. “Wherever you
may be, Death will reach you . . . even though you take your refuge
in fortified towers.”
But it is at such times as these that you vow, if your life is spared,
that you will never come back to the desert again.
Then the day’s work is at an end. Camp is pitched. No tents
are erected, for the men are too exhausted, too careless to mind
what happens to their bodies. And night falls. It may be a starlit
night, or there may be a moon. Gradually a serenity gets hold of
you. Gradually, after a day of silence, conversation starts. Feeble
jokes are cracked. One of the men, probably the youngest of the
caravan, ventures a joke with more cheerfulness than the rest, and his
voice is pitched in a higher key. Unconsciously the Bedouins attune
their voices to that higher, louder pitch, and the volume of sound
increases. The desert is working her charm.
The gentle night breeze revives the spirits of the caravan. In a few
minutes the empty _fantasses_ are used as drums, and there is song
and dance. At the first sound of music men may have been tending the
camels, repairing the luggage or the camels’ saddles, but that first
note brings all the caravan round the embers of the dying fire. Every
one looks at his comrades to make sure that all are alive and happy;
and every one tries to be a little more cheerful than his neighbor,
to give him more confidence. There is a game of make-believe, a
little ghastly in its beginnings. We force ourselves to be cheerful,
to make light of our troubles. “The camels are all right; I saw to
that wound, and it is not so bad as I thought,” says one. “Bu
Hassan says he has sighted the landmark of the well not far to our
right,” says another. We work ourselves up by degrees to a belief
that everything is really all right. It is bluff, maybe, from beginning
to end, but the charm of the desert has prevailed.
It is as though a man were deeply in love with a very fascinating but
cruel woman. She treats him badly, and the world crumples in his hand;
at night she smiles on him, and the whole world is a paradise. The
desert smiles, and there is no place on earth worth living in but
the desert.
Song and dance take out from the men of the caravan the little vitality
that is left after the ravages of the day. Their spirit is exhausted,
and they fall asleep. They sleep beneath the beautiful dome of the
sky and the stars. Few people in civilization know the pleasure of
just sitting down and looking at the stars. No wonder the Arabs were
masters of the science of astronomy! When the day’s work is done
the solitary Bedouin has nothing left but to sit down and watch the
movements of the stars and absorb the uplifting sense of comfort that
they give to the spirit. These stars become like friends that one
meets every day. And when they go, it is not abruptly as when men say
farewell at a parting, but it is like watching a friend fade gradually
from view, with the hope of seeing him again the following night.
“To prayers, O ye believers; prayers are better than sleep!” The
cry comes from the first man of the caravan to awake. A few stars
are still scattered in the sky. The men get up, and there is nothing
better illustrates the phrase “collect their bodies.” Every limb
is aching, and again their throats are parched. Yet what changed men
they are! There is hope in them, confidence, perhaps an inward belief
that all will come well.
The world then is a gray void, and only the morning fire breaks the
cold north breeze. Our eyes instinctively turn to the east where the
sun is rising. If there are no clouds, there comes a yellowish tinge
in the sky that throws a curious elusive, elongated shadow behind
camels and men, so faint that you can scarcely call it a shadow at
all. Then comes a reddish tinge that gives warmth. It is just between
dawn-break and sunrise that there is color in the desert. Once the sun
is risen there is nothing but the endless stretch of blue and yellow,
and the blue fades and fades until by midday the sky is almost wrung
dry of color.
Morning brings new vitality; night brings peace and serenity. These
are the hours wherein one learns the desert’s charm.
In the silence of these vast open spaces human sensitiveness becomes
so sharpened that eventually the desert traveler feels the nearness
of some inhabited oasis. Likewise his instinct tells him of the few
hundred miles that separate him from any breathing thing. In the silent
infinity of the desert, body, mind, and soul are cleansed. Man feels
nearer to God, feels the presence of a mighty Power from which nothing
any longer diverts his attention. Little by little an inevitable
fatalism and an unshakable belief in the wisdom of God’s decree
bring resignation even to the extent of offering his life to the
desert without grudge. There are times when he feels that it really
does not matter. . . .
The desert brings out the best that is in every man. Civilization
confronts the crowd with danger, and each one fights for himself
and his own safety. In the desert self becomes less and less
important. Each tries to do the best he can for his comrades. Let
disaster threaten a caravan, there may be one man who can see a
chance to save himself, but I do not believe there is a Bedouin who
would desert his comrades and so save his own life. One of the most
appalling things that can happen in the desert is a shortage of water,
and you would think that in such a case you would try to keep what
water you have for yourself. Instead of that, you find yourself with
your favorite water-bottle, taking it in your arms, going round the
men asking would any of them like a drink, as nonchalantly as though
there were plenty of it and to spare. The question of personal safety
is eliminated. Whatever happens, let it happen to the whole caravan;
you do not want to escape alone. That is the feeling that gets hold
of you.
[Illustration: MAP OF THE LIBYAN DESERT]
I never cease to marvel at the Bedouin serenity and courage, which
nothing disturbs. In desert travel there are three elements: camels,
water-supply, the guide. Camels, the best of them, and for no apparent
reason, give in, as it happened when I left Kufra and one of my best
camels died on the second night, while, on the other hand, the weakest
camel of the caravan, which left Kufra tottering under its load, went
through the whole trip, about 950 miles, and arrived tottering at El
Fasher. “God will protect it,” said its Bedouin owner when rebuked
for bringing such a sorry animal, and in truth God did protect it. The
death of a camel is a serious matter, for it means throwing away most,
perhaps the whole, of its load. Water is carried chiefly in sheepskins,
and the best of sheepskins, tested for days and weeks beforehand,
have suddenly started to leak or the water to evaporate from them;
or in night trekking two camels may bump together and cause one or two
sheepskins to burst. And then the guide, for various reasons, may say
that his head has gone round and round, which means he has lost his
head; if there are clouds that hide the sun for a few hours, or one
mistake in a landmark, it may cause the guide to lose his way. But
there is one thing still more necessary than these three items:
camels, water, guide. It is Faith, profound and illimitable Faith.
The desert can be beautiful and kindly, and the caravan fresh and
cheerful, but it can also be cruel and overwhelming, and the wretched
caravan, beaten down by misfortune, staggers desperately along. It is
when your camels droop their heads from thirst and exhaustion; when
your water-supply has run short and there is no sign of the next well;
when your men are listless and without hope; when the map you carry
is a blank, because the desert is uncharted; when your guide, asked
about the route, answers with a shrug of the shoulders that God knows
best; when you scan the horizon, and all around, wherever you look,
it is always the same hazy line between the pale blue of the sky and
the yellow of the sand; when there is no landmark, no sign to give
the slightest excuse for hope; when that immense expanse looks like,
feels like a circle drawing tighter and tighter round your parched
throat—it is then that the Bedouin feels the need of a Power bigger
even than that ruthless desert. It is then that the Bedouin, when
he has offered his prayers to this Almighty Power for deliverance,
when he has offered up his prayers and they have not been granted,
it is then that he draws his _jerd_ around him, and, sinking down upon
the sands, awaits with astounding equanimity the decreed death. This
is the faith in which the journey across the desert must be made.
The desert is terrible, and it is merciless, but to the desert all
those who once have known it must return.