THE ROAD TO ZIEGHEN WELL
FROM this point I shall set down the days as they are recorded in
my diary.
_Sunday, March 18._ Start at 9 A.M., halt at 8:30 P.M. Make 46
kilometers. Highest temperature 21°, lowest 3°. Cloudy all day,
clear in evening. Just a few drops of rain in the afternoon. Strong
northeast wind, which develops at 2:30 into a sand-storm. Wind drops
at sunset and gets up again at eight in the evening. The sun not
visible and the guide’s course not so straight as usual, as shown
by the compass bearings which I take often during the day. At 5:30
the sun appears and he corrects his course; at 7:30 he is traveling
by the North Star, which the Bedouins call El Jadi. The ground is
generally the same as yesterday’s though slightly undulating. At
intervals all day we come across patches of big dark-colored pebbles.
In the morning there was excitement when we sighted on the horizon
the series of hazy dots that meant the approaching vanguard of a
caravan. My binoculars were brought into play and passed around among
the men. Rifles were unslung from their places on the camels’ backs,
and the Tebus ran to get their spears. The men ranged themselves on the
side of the caravan nearest the on-comers and held themselves alert
until we should find out whether they were friendly or hostile. It
did not take long to recognize them for friends. Then men from each
party met and squatted down between the two caravans to exchange the
news, while the two lines of camels plodded past. Tongues flew as they
heard and told who had been married, who was dead, who had made money,
what new feuds had arisen, or what old ones had been ended. Then the
envoys sprang up, bade each other God-speed, and hastened after their
respective caravans. (This is the desert wireless at work.)
_Monday, March 19._ Start at 8:15 A.M., halt at 8:30 P.M. Make 49
kilometers. Highest temperature 22°, lowest 5°. Weather fine and
clear. Strong northeast wind which drops at midday. Few white clouds
in the afternoon. Sun is very warm, making our progress slow, but
evening is cool and the pace is quickened. Ground very flat, hard
sand covered with fine gravel. At six in the evening cross a slight
depression, with a patch of gray stone on the right and a white stone
on our left about 2 kilometers distant.
All of us, men and camels, were getting into our stride. The Bedouins
and Tebus indulged in foot-races and played practical jokes. The
Tebus are simple, primitive fellows, with delightfully naïve habits
of mind. Being poor, they take the best of care of what possessions
they have. They dress in a simple cotton shirt and pair of drawers,
and devote much attention to making these garments last as long
as possible. When a Tebu rides a camel, for example, he takes off
his drawers to save wear and tear, and hangs them on his camel’s
back. When he sleeps also he removes his garments to protect them
from friction against the sand and wraps himself in his fur cloak.
[Illustration: THE LAKE AT KUFRA
The water is salt and fed with salt springs. There are no fish and
only a few water hens and ducks. The lake is about two or three square
miles in area.]
While one of the Tebus was riding that day some of the Bedouins took
his drawers and hid them. When he alighted and looked for his garment,
he immediately feared that it had dropped off and lay somewhere in
the desert along our track. Without a moment’s hesitation he set
out on the back track, running briskly in search of his precious
possession. He had become a tiny figure in the vast expanse of sand
before we took pity on him and fired shots to call him to return. He
turned reluctantly and soon rejoined us with downcast face. But the
merriment of the jokers told him that something was up, and when his
drawers were produced he was too pleased to get them back to resent
the joke.
The previous night some of the camels paid a visit to my tent and
threatened to have it down on top of me. They are clever beasts. They
like to scratch their necks on the tent-ropes, and when all the camp is
asleep they hobble in quest of this innocent form of diversion. First
the camel sticks his head through the flap of my tent to see if I am
awake. If he does not hear me resent his intrusion, he then knows I
am asleep, and out he backs and sets to scratching vigorously. Soon
he is joined by others, and I awake under the impression that my tent
is being assailed by a violent storm.
Each day I was more impressed with Bu Helega as a traveling
companion. He was a man of few words, with a big heart and generous
spirit. His years and his white hair and beard gained him the respect
of all of us, for in the desert the man of experience, who is possessed
of the wisdom that comes with age, is the invaluable one. Zerwali and
I, therefore, referred continually to Bu Helega’s judgment. He was
tactful in offering his suggestions for my consideration, but I was
wise enough not to disregard them.
He was constantly on the lookout for the well-being of the camels, and
his splendid voice was heard at intervals through the day addressing
the camels or the men.
“The white camel is weary. To-morrow, Ibrahim, we will shift its
load to the old brown one,” he says to his slave.
“Talk to them, men, talk to them,” he commands, knowing how much
better the camels travel under encouragement, and again, “Sing to
them, Ibrahim.”
“Follow the guide, you beautiful beasts,” he exhorts the camels.
“Pray, Hamad, that saddle has shifted; it will irritate the
camel’s back.”
When the twilight comes he gives the order, “Light the lantern;
it pleases the camels.”
The qualities of the camel are seldom, if ever, appreciated on a slight
acquaintance. The camel is as clever as a horse, if not more clever,
and in some ways is more human. “Patient as a camel,” is an Arab
saying and a very true one. If you ill-treat a camel he will never
forget it, but he will not attack you on the spot. He will wait, and
if you repeat the offense again and again, he makes up his mind to
get his revenge. Not, however, when there are many people about. Here
he behaves in a most human way. He watches his chance until you and
he are alone, and then he goes for you, either by snatching at you
with his mouth and throwing you to the ground, or by kicking you and
then trampling upon you. There is a case known where a camel trampled
on a man and then sat on him, refusing to move even after punishment
from the men who ran up to the rescue, wanting to make sure that he
had finished his man, as, indeed, he had.
People imagine that in the desert a camel has to be roped in and
led. As a matter of fact, it is very hard in the desert to keep a
camel away from the rest of the caravan, for instinctively he knows
that to be left behind is death; so he keeps as near the bulk of
the caravan as he can. It is a sad sight to see a camel straggling
behind a caravan. It is like the soldier in retreat, unable to keep
up with his comrades, knowing that nobody can carry him and that to
fall behind means disaster.
The camel also displays his intelligence when he is taken from the
oasis and pushed into the waterless trek. Instinctively he tries
at night, even three or four days after the start, to go back to
the oasis. There have been a few desert tragedies when all the
camels have deserted the men at night, either on the outward or the
home-coming journey, when the caravan was still a few days from its
destination. Or, in the event of some accident befalling a caravan,
camels which have traveled a certain road for ten or fifteen years
will complete the journey alone.
As we were approaching Jalo and three days’ journey from the camp
of the Bedouins from whom I had hired three camels, one of the latter
fell desperately ill. They divided his load between the other two
and left him in the desert, I all the time urging the Bedouins to
kill him and save him the tortures of death. I even offered to pay
them the price of the camel if they would allow me to put an end to
him. But as the camel was a pedigreed beast, they refused. They said,
“He is only feeling tired; he will go at his leisure back to the
camp.” I learned afterward that the camel reached home safely and
was feeling much better!
[Illustration: EL TAJ
The Senussi headquarters at Kufra, which is built on the crest of
the hill overlooking the valley]
[Illustration: THE COUNCIL OF KUFRA
It consists of the old Senussi brethren]
Instinctively, again, the camel knows that he has a guide, and if
you halt in the middle of the desert to debate some point in regard
to the route, the camels crowd round the guide; the moment he moves,
they follow him, ignoring the presence of every other member of the
caravan, but never overtaking the guide. Or if occasionally a camel
ignores even the guide and goes right ahead of a caravan, then it is
safe for the caravan to follow that camel, for he certainly knows the
place that the caravan is coming to. The Bedouins say that a camel
who has once grazed in an oasis would find his own way back to that
oasis even if he were several days’ journey from it.
There is a famous Bedouin story of the sand-grouse and the camel who
had a competition. The sand-grouse said, “I could lay my eggs in
the desert, travel for days, and come back and hatch them.”
The camel retorted, “If my mother drinks from a well when I am
still in her womb, I could travel days and come back and drink from
the same well.”
I myself have seen a camel head the caravan when we were four days from
a well, the waters of which he had tasted four years before. There is a
well-known case of one camel that saved a caravan which was going from
Dakhla Oasis to the Oasis of Ouenat. The guide, who had never been to
the place before, but was heading toward it going by the description
of another Bedouin, had lost his bearings, and the caravan wandered
for twelve days aimlessly. The water was exhausted, and they had lost
hope. Suddenly one of the camels headed the caravan, and they followed
him. That camel had been to Ouenat a few years before, and when he
was two days’ journey from Ouenat he “smelled the place,” as
the Bedouins say, and landed the caravan right at one of the wells.
In winter the well-trained camel can go for a fortnight without water,
in summer up to twelve days. The Bedouins try to feed their camels
always on grazing grass if they can, but when they take them to the
_daffa_ or long waterless trek, they are fed on dried dates and,
when the Bedouin can afford it, on barley. Most of the camels found
in Cyrenaica are _hamla_ or pack-camels. The best trotting-camels
are Tebus or Touaregs, beautiful white beasts with slim limbs and
graceful lines. The average good day’s work of the pack-camel is
a distance of twenty-five miles. The thoroughbred Touareg does up to
forty, and has been known to do seventy miles at one stretch.
The camel can become a very affectionate beast and very devoted to
his master. Well-trained trotting-camels or _hejins_ refuse to get
up with anybody on their back but their own master.
As a rule the water is carried on the older and wiser camels, who go
sedately with no attempt to frolic. They realize that they are carrying
the most valuable asset of the whole caravan, and therefore, the
moment the day’s trek is over and we are at the hour of unloading,
these older and wiser camels stand apart from the rest for fear the
sheepskins they are carrying be bumped. I have also seen camels walk
round the camp and approach the sheepskins lying on the ground,
arranged and covered for the night; the camels would take great
care to walk round them. There was one camel that was trained for a
long time to carry my tent and all my books and instruments. He was
only chosen for that task because of his being a strong and an old
camel. Every morning when the loading started he used to come of his
own accord and _barrak_ near my tent and, in his usual supercilious
way, wait for the load to be put on his back.
The camel is a jealous husband or a faithful wife as the case may
be. The female camels will never leave their lord and master and
always follow him, while woe betide any adventurous male camel who
dares to attempt to “butt in.”
Each morning and evening Bu Helega and I rode together and talked
about camels and the desert and Bedouin history. I was careful to ask
no direct questions, for the Bedouins are suspicious people ready to
mistrust your motives. But casual remarks easily bring out interesting
comments and information.
“There was a time,” said the venerable old man, “when Kufra
was unknown to our people. A Bedouin of the Chawazi tribe, from El
Obayad, a small oasis near Buttafal Well, noticed a crow which kept
flying away to the south and coming back again as regularly as the
sun rises. He watched it for some time and then set out to follow its
course southward. He finally reached Taiserbo and, after a day’s
stop on the outskirts of the oasis, managed to get enough water to
take him back. On his return he told his tribe of date-trees and
water in the heart of the desert. They formed an expedition which
set out for Taiserbo and conquered it, after which they went on to
Buzeima, Ribiana, and eventually to Kufra itself. So the Bedouins
came to Kufra.”
[Illustration: TUAREGS IN KUFRA
Men of the tribe rather than the women conceal their faces, and even
when they eat they do not remove their veils. This is accomplished
by the use of a specially constructed spoon.]
[Illustration: TWO TUAREGS IN WARRIOR ATTIRE]
I had been casting covetous eyes on Bu Helega’s horse since first
I saw it in Jalo. Abdullahi had inquired for me whether it could be
bought, but the price was too high. So I affected indifference and
bided my time. No one of Bu Helega’s family rode the horse but
himself. The old man’s dignity would not permit. But he kindly
allowed me to use the animal whenever I wanted to ride. In fact,
on this journey it seemed more mine than his.
Three of the camels were tired and _barrakked_ (knelt down) without
orders. They do not behave in this way unless there is good reason
for it, and so we shifted their loads to let them have a rest. We lost
time in the process but made it up when the cool of the evening came.
I made it a point to talk with each man in the caravan every day. It
kept things running smoothly, and incidentally I picked up some
interesting information. I learned on this day that the Bedouins not
only knew the tracks of their own camels but can often tell whether
camels which have passed belong to men of the same tribe or not. Tebu
camels they know at once because of the peculiar shape of their hoofs
and the long strides they take. The Tebu camels are hardier than
the Bedouin animals and can be used both in the northern desert of
Cyrenaica and to the south in the Sudan. The Bedouins change camels
at Kufra, when going north or south.
I walked with Senussi Bu Hassan, the guide, and he told me of a trick
used by the Bedouins when they are herding camels or sheep. They milk
the beasts in the morning and bury the milk in a _girba_ to keep
it cool. But desert marauders are clever and can easily find where
a _girba_ has been buried. So the wily Bedouin buries two _girbas_
one beneath the other. The bottom one is full of fresh milk and the
top one of stale. The thief discovers the upper _girba_ and looks no
further, while the owner of the _girbas_ finds his fresh milk safe
when he returns at night.
We met flocks of small birds winging their way north. Some of them
were tired and eagerly accepted the water we offered them. One perched
on my hand to drink.
Sometimes near a well, one of those that is better described as
a water-hole, one sees a few wings, feathers, bones of birds that
tell their sad tale. They were probably immigrants who came across
the well and stayed for a few days to recuperate. The well had just
been dug by a passing caravan, water was easily available, and the
birds grew accustomed to the spot. Little by little the sand drifted
up and filled the well, and one day there was no more water, just a
damp patch of sand. Or perhaps the birds arrived there too exhausted
to fly another hundred or two hundred miles in search of water,
so they remained and died.
In the morning at 10:30 we passed sand-dunes, called El Khweimat,
eight or ten kilometers to our left, like small white tents on the
desert as their name indicates. At 4:30 we sighted on our left at
thirty kilometers the landmark called El Ferayeg, four sand-hills in a
row. The name means “the little band” of men. At 6:15 we sighted
the top of another landmark known as Mazoul, “the solitary one,”
hazy in the distance to the southeast.
We were all cheered by the sight of these landmarks, which indicated
our progress. We were confident that we had a skilful guide, but,
as the Bedouins say, “the good guide is known only at the well.”
It is only when one has reached the end of the journey that there
is certainty that the right track has been taken. Senussi Bu Hassan
demonstrated his remarkably keen eyesight. Very early in the morning
before breaking camp he announced that he saw El Khweimat landmark
in spite of the morning mist. It was several hours before other eyes
in the caravan could make it out.
In the afternoon we passed camel skeletons lying white on the
sands. Strangely enough this is a cheering sign in the desert, for
two reasons: first, because in the trackless monotony any sign that
others have passed that way is encouraging, and, second, because
the camel-bones are more frequent near the wells. Camels are more
likely to die near the end of a trek, when, if water is scarce, they
have been pushed too hard by their masters. The Bedouins do not like
to use the word “skeleton” when they find such a reminder that
death has come this way. So they euphemistically call it _ghazal_,
which means gazelle.
_Thursday, March 22._ Up at 5:30 A.M. I watched the sun rise at 6:27
A.M. and recorded its time. We started at 8 A.M. and made forty-eight
kilometers over very flat country, hard sand and gravel. All the
morning the Mazoul sand-dunes were on our left twenty-five kilometers
distant, but by the afternoon we had passed them.
In the morning I heard Zerwali and Abdullahi discussing this land of
astounding flatness through which we were passing.
“Yes, our country is a blessed one,” said Zerwali.
“Yes, indeed, it has a wonderful future,” answered the man from
Egypt. “It is here, I believe, that the day of reckoning will be
held. It is the only place God could find that would be big enough
and so empty.”
The Tebus were running far and wide, ahead and each side of the
caravan, in search of camel-dung for fuel. They lived their life
a little apart from the others in the caravan, and so they liked
to have their own camp-fire at night a short distance from the main
camp. Camel-dung was the only available fuel. The Tebus, who are sturdy
runners, would go as much as five miles out of their way to find the
precious material. But the Bedouins objected to the Tebus’ habit
of running ahead and seizing all the dung. It is an inflexible rule
of the desert that anything found on the way belongs to him who first
touches it, and the Tebus appealed to that rule for justification. The
Bedouins, however, had a telling retort.
[Illustration: THE CARAVAN ON THE MOVE IN THE DESERT TO AGAH]
“You have no guide ahead, nor do you let your camels go first,
where they will not go without the stick,” they said. “You want
us to lead the way for your camels, while you run ahead and seize
the dung. That dung belongs to us who would come upon it first if
you were back with your camels where you belong.”
The controversy grew spirited and was finally brought to me for
judgment. I decreed that the Bedouins were right, and the Tebus
should have no fire of their own. They should, however, be given a hot
meal from the general commissariat every night. The Tebus are quite
different in many of their habits and customs from the Bedouins. They
often do not use fire in the preparation of their food, though, as I
have shown, they do not reject it for comfort and cheer. They dry the
inside of the bark from the top of the date-tree over a fire and powder
it, to use as material for a kind of pudding. They mix it with dates
and locusts, also powdered. They invite no one to share their meals as
the Bedouins invariably do, nor are they resentful if others do not
ask them to share their food. The Bedouins criticize vigorously this
failure in hospitality, as they consider it. The Tebus leave nothing
behind them on the track, having a superstitious fear that whoever
picks up what they have dropped will get hold of them too. They are
fine physical specimens and good workers, but extremely simple in
their habits of life and mind. They are mixing more and more with
the Bedouins, however, and learning the Bedouin ways.
On this day one of the camels became ill. Bu Helega got down and
walked behind it and then bled it from the tail. We hoped it would
be better after a night’s rest.
As we were sure of our water-supply, we decided to have a glass
of tea. Bu Helega, Zerwali, Abdullahi, and I went on ahead of the
caravan, taking the guide with us to set our course right. When we
were far enough ahead, we quickly made a fire and brewed tea. As the
caravan came up, we handed a glass of tea to each man as he passed. The
caravan did not stop. When the last camel was past us, we packed up
our paraphernalia and hastened to catch up with the plodding caravan,
Bu Helega on his camel, Zerwali and Abdullahi riding double on a
trotting camel, and I on the horse. I must own Baraka was useful
to me for several purposes. With him the camels could be easily
brought back from the grazing-ground, which they are reluctant to
leave to enter the _zerira_ again. I could ride him to visit places
of interest when we halted at oases, allowing the camels to rest or
graze. I could go ahead of the caravan with him or remain behind to
make observations or secure specimens unwatched by the men. On his
back I could make a properly dignified appearance at the head of my
caravan when entering or leaving an oasis.
_Friday, March 23._ We made 36 kilometers. There was a strong northeast
wind the previous night, starting an hour after midnight. This
wind continued all day, increasing from 1 to 3, and dropped in the
evening. It was fair and clear, but cloudy in the late afternoon. At
five in the afternoon we sighted the sand-dunes called El Mazeel,
25 kilometers toward the southeast.
The men had become interested in making a full day’s trek, and
exerted every effort to be under way at eight, intending to walk for
twelve hours. But the sick camel interfered with our plans. When the
time came to start, it had to be lifted to its feet. Bu Helega shook
his head and said, “This camel will be flesh to eat before the day
is over.” Two hours later the camel knelt and refused to rise. In a
few minutes it had to be slaughtered. Three men and two camels were
left to bring the flesh after us. Before we had gone far Bu Helega
came trotting up on his horse and said: “It is a fat camel. Let us
stop for a while.”
Knowing the Bedouin’s love of meat, I halted the caravan while a fire
was made and a feast prepared. Every one ate the meat but myself and
my two Egyptian servants. Bu Helega asked why I did not join the feast,
and I told him that I did not care to eat the flesh of a sick camel.
“It is better than the little fish,” he said, referring to some
tins of sardines which we had with us. “We have seen the camel
slaughtered, but who knows what has happened to the little fish since
they were in the sea?”
The camel’s flesh which was not eaten at once the Bedouins dried,
and cut into thin shreds for flavoring their rice and _asida_ later
on. When we started again in the afternoon Senussi Bu Hassan said
to me, “We will walk until we knock off the young moon, and then
we will be able to lunch at the well to-morrow.” But when evening
came clouds hid El Jadi before the young moon had set, and we had to
stop and make camp at 10:30 for fear of losing our way.
[Illustration: SONS OF SHEIKH HERRI
The _sheikh_ was one of the kindliest and most hospitable natives
encountered by Hassanein Bey south of Kufra]
In this part of the desert there was little to discover externally,
but a great deal to discover in oneself that could only be brought
to light in the silence and calm. It makes all the difference in
the world whether one goes through the journey with the intention of
getting back as quickly as possible to civilization again, or whether
one lives and enjoys every moment of it.
Just as the sun was going down, I saw Zerwali sitting by himself,
drawing lines on the sand with a meditative finger. He was doing the
_yazerga_, or the “science of the sands,” with which the Bedouin
tells his own fortune. At intervals his eyes lifted from the pattern
before him and brooded dreamily on the vivid colors of the sunset. The
Bedouin has an appreciation of beauty and a reverence for nature. How
could he help it?
Day after day it is exactly the same. The photographs I took in those
seven days might be pictures of the same camp from different angles,
so persistently the same was the immense desolate expanse of sand
unmarked except for a camel’s skeleton or a few pebbles the size
of a walnut. There was nothing to distract one’s mind or interrupt
one’s contemplation.
What a peculiar charm this desolate desert has! What a cleansing effect
on one’s mind and body! How this constant touch with infinity,
day by day and night by night, affects the mind and the spirit,
and alters one’s conception of life!
How small and petty one’s efforts in the round of ordinary
civilization seem! How insignificant one’s efforts in this desert
actually are!
_Saturday, March 24._ We were up at 5:30 A.M. tired, for we went to
bed at 2. It was fine and clear all day; a northeast breeze in the
morning dropped at midday, leaving it very warm. A strong northeast
wind got up again at 10 P.M.
At 9:30 A.M. the country began to change slightly; the sand was softer
and the ground a little undulating. At 10 we came across patches of
black broken stone, which continued all day. At noon we sighted on our
right the first _hatab_—dried brushwood—of Zieghen Valley. At 1:45
we halted for a hot meal and a rest near the first _hatab_ we reached.
Our fuel-supply was exhausted the previous day, and we had had nothing
hot to eat or drink since the morning of the _day before_. At 5:13 we
sighted sand-dunes to the southeast, about 40 kilometers distant. The
dunes ran southward in a line toward Zieghen Valley. At 8:30 the
hillocks of _hatab_ increased in number and extent.
When we started in the morning we hoped to get to Zieghen that
day. Later there was disagreement as to why we had not reached it. Bu
Helega remarked that the guide must have gone too far to the west
or we should have arrived at the well before this. Zerwali, who had
selected Bu Hassan for our guide, came to his defense; it was because
we lost time slaughtering the camel and feasting the day before that
we did not arrive, he said. Hamad had another explanation. “The
camels are not being driven at all,” he said. “One sleeps long
and gets up at his leisure, and the camels are still in sight.” (It
was the custom of the men to drop out of line for a nap of a half an
hour or so, the slow pace of the camels and their track in the sand
making it possible for them to catch the caravan easily on wakening.)
When we halted to make a fire and have the first hot meal in thirty
hours, I remembered that this was just where we had lost our way on the
previous trip to Kufra in 1921. After our meal, Dawood, Zerwali’s
uncle, left us with his single camel to go to Taiserbo, which lay
a day’s journey west of Zieghen. He proposed to get his wife and
daughter and take them to Cyrenaica, where there were better prospects
for business. Zerwali had agreed to help him in his affairs in the new
region. It must have taken a lot of pluck for the old man to undertake
the long journey to the north with the two women and but a single
camel. I asked him how he would manage it. He told me that the first
day they would all walk. The next day, as the weight of water on the
camel grew less, his daughter would ride, and the third day his wife.
“But suppose something happens to your camel?” I asked.
“Protection comes from God,” was his quiet answer. I gave him rice,
macaroni, tea, and sugar, and when we had said the “Fat-ha” he
departed very happy.
The Bedouins were delighted with a great feast of rice and camel-flesh
and went to bed in vast contentment. It was a beautiful night, and I
left my tent and spent a few tranquil moments under the golden moon
and the stars paled by her brighter light. Their serene cheerfulness
and encouraging company sent me back to my bed, as always, with new
hope and confidence.
This is the entry in my diary for the following day:
_Sunday, March 25._ Start at 7:45 A.M., halt at 1:45 P.M. Make 24
kilometers. Highest temperature 32°, lowest 14°. Strong northeast
wind all last night and until 4:30 to-day. Cloudy all the morning,
no sun; a few drops of rain at midday. It clears in the afternoon. We
walk all the way among little hillocks of dry _hatab_ gradually
increasing from a few inches to eight feet in height as we near the
well. The hillocks are interspersed with patches of sand strewn with
bits of black broken stone. The sand gets gradually softer until it
is moist a few inches under the surface.
At 9:15 we sighted to the southwest about 3 kilometers away the
sand-dunes of El Washka, a small well of the Zieghen group. At 9:30 we
passed on our left Matan Bu Houh, the old well of Zieghen. We camped
near the few date-trees that stand by the best well of the group,
El Harrash.
[Illustration: APPROACHING THE HILLS OF ARKENU
The explorer’s caravan nearing the first oasis that he discovered
seven days’ journey south of Kufra. The photograph was taken in the
morning, and in the foreground is seen a ray of sunshine coming from
beyond the hills.]
In the desert a well does not mean a nicely excavated and stoned-up
arrangement such as one finds in other parts of the world, with a
bucket and windlass or a pump. In this part of the desert a well
is a spot where the water is close to the surface and can be easily
obtained by digging. It is just a damp patch of sand which the Bedouins
scrape open with their hands, getting water at three or four feet
down. Between the visits of caravans the sands drift over the place
and choke the water-hole, so that each newcomer must clean it out for
himself. But the joy of an ample supply of fresh water after days of
having just enough for making tea, with no chance of a bath or even
a shave, is sufficient reward for all the labor of digging out the
well. If it has been a long journey the first thing to think of is
the camels. After they have been watered and a good meal digested,
washing is the most important item in the program. If the water is
scarce, clothes have to wait until the next well, because the question
of water for the trek has to be considered.
As soon as the men have rested, sheepskins are filled and left for
the night. Early next morning two or three men go to see which of
the sheepskins has leaked and, if possible, detect the cause of the
leakage. They also make a point of separating the bad sheepskins from
the good ones, so that on the journey water should be taken on the
first day or two from those which leak or are unreliable.
The first night at a well, however tired the caravan may be,
is always made the opportunity for great rejoicing, singing, and
dancing. Before arriving at the well one’s idea of a rest has been
at least four or five days’ stay and plenty of water to make up for
past privation. Thoughts dwell on the pleasing idea of really having
water to splash about with. Curiously enough, after a single day’s
rest, a fever of restlessness gets hold of one again, and the luxury
of abundance is left most eagerly for the privations of the road. No
matter if it be a big well surrounded by a fertile oasis, full of
the comforts of life, yet one returns with a sigh of contentment to
the twelve hours’ trek and the lunch of dried dates.
The well, when scraped out, is probably about the size of a tea-table
for two. The moist sand holds the walls together. Usually one leaves it
alone a little for the sand to settle, but the water is always sandy,
and it is too much bother to strain it. Not on one single occasion
did I drink a glass of water that was not cloudy, and never did I
see the bottom of my zinc cup while drinking. The filter which kind
friends said I must take with me I never used at all until we got to
the Sudan, and there the water was really bad; in an inhabited area
you do not know what may have happened to it. And then when we tried
to get this famous filter working, we found there were no washers
for it, so that was the end of the story of the filter.
Dirt in the desert, it may be necessary to remark, is quite different
from dirt anywhere else. It is not unwholesome, for the sand is a clean
thing, and the clothes of the Bedouins let in the air. Vermin is there,
but it is inevitable, and the Bedouin pays no heed to it. I might
have just had my bath, and then I would go and sit down for a glass
of tea with my men and—well, you are bound to collect these things!