Chapter V: The Tuaregs (1)

After I got back to France I often came in contact with people who, as the expression goes, were interested in geographical and colonial questions, and sometimes I was subjected to a most extraordinary cross-examination. The following is a true account of a conversation I once had:—

“So you have really been amongst the Tuaregs? They are savages, are they not? Are they cannibals?”

I protested that even during the worst famines they had never tasted a scrap of the flesh of a fellow creature.

“But at least they are cruel? They thieve and plunder, do they not? They have neither religion nor laws?”

I really do not feel sure of having convinced a single person that even if the Tuaregs have their faults, that they are not wanting in good qualities, and that their social condition, different though it may be from ours, is nevertheless an established one, that it would be alike humane and politic to turn to account the undoubtedly good qualities of the race, and to endeavour to develop those qualities. It would surely be better to extenuate their faults, and if possible correct them, than to propose—which, by the way, is of course impossible—the extermination _en masse_ of a great branch of the human race, occupying a district peculiarly suitable to it, and where, as a matter of fact, the Tuaregs alone can live.

So-called truisms and ready-made opinions are of course very convenient. By adopting them one is saved the trouble of thinking about, still more of going to see, a place for oneself. It is far less fatiguing, and within the power of everybody. It would certainly be perfectly safe to wager ten to one that the habit of taking things for granted is not likely to go out in France in a hurry, or indeed for that matter anywhere else.

Maybe I shall only in my turn be lifting up my voice in the desert. But I should like first to try and make those who are willing to eschew foregone conclusions better acquainted with the truth.

I will avoid exaggeration, and also too much generalization from isolated experiences. On the one hand, as I have already said, the Tuaregs have very serious faults—serious for us, because they are such as to make it difficult for them to accommodate themselves to European civilization, and as a result we in our turn find influencing them a very hard task.

Moreover, when I have proved that the Tuaregs have noble qualities, when I have shown them actuated by elevated motives, those who read what I say must beware of thinking that all members of the race are cut on the same pattern.

My idea is, that to begin with we have only to inquire whether in their natural condition the Tuaregs are or are not inferior in morality to the other native races, such as the Ammanites of Cochin-China and the Kabyles of Algeria, with whom by hook or by crook the French have managed to find a _modus vivendi_?

To a question of that kind I can reply at once, “No, no, the Tuaregs are certainly not more barbarous than other native races!” and as proof I can quote our own journey. My readers will have seen how the Tuaregs behaved to us. I have described how they were won over from hostility to friendship; and the chapter succeeding this I shall tell how they protected—even saved us. And what happened to us might, it seems to me, very well happen to others.

Am I alone in my opinion? Did not Barth owe his very existence to the active protection of the Tademeket at Timbuktu and the Awellimiden at Tosaye?

Then, again, Duveyrier travelled for more than a year in the Tuareg districts, guided and protected by Ikhenuakhen, chief of the Azgueurs. Not only had he nothing to fear from them, but he was actually saved from insult even from the Senussis and the tribes which had risen against the French under the leadership of Mohammed ben Abdallah.

Our case was therefore no isolated one, and our experience would no doubt be repeated if it were decided to enter into more intimate relations with the Tuaregs. We should avoid the unreasonable fear of finding ourselves amongst traitors and assassins, but at the same time take such precautions as are needed in the Sudan, where there is at yet no police force.

There are indeed few if any races who can pride themselves on a more ancient lineage than the Tuaregs.

Speaking in their own dialect they say, “We are Imochar, Imuhar, Imazighen,” all which words come from the same Tamschenk root—_ahar_ meaning free, independent, he who can take, who can pillage. (We shall see later what the Tuaregs mean by pillage.) In the Tamschenk dialect the word _ahar_ also signifies lion.

If we go back to the days of antiquity, and read our Herodotus, we shall find that he speaks of the Mazique tribe as dwelling in Libya. There are Numidians of Jugurtha and of Maussinissa, and the last word is translated almost literally into the dialect now employed, _mess n’esen_ meaning their master, or the master of the people, whilst the word Mazique is evidently the Greek form, from which is derived the present name of Imazighen.

If this etymological proof is not sufficient, there exists another, this one absolutely irrefragable, viz. the Tuareg writing.

Here, there, and everywhere in their country, now cut with a knife on the trunks of trees, now engraved on the rocks, we meet with inscriptions in peculiar characters known as the _tifinar_; and at this very day every Tuareg who has to wait, or who suffers from _ennui_ for any reason, always wiles away the time, whether on the banks of the Niger, on the tablelands of Air, or on the summits of the volcanic Atakor n’Ahaggar, by writing according to the best of his skill his name and that of his sweetheart on a rock or on the trunk of some tree, now and then adding a sentence or two, or in rarer cases a complete poem.

Now the letters employed in these _tifinar_, ancient or modern, are the same, or very nearly the same, and are therefore identical with those used in the celebrated Tugga inscription, dating from the time when Carthage was still a thriving city.

Imochar, of which the singular form is Amacher, is the name by which the Tuaregs of the Niger districts generally speak of themselves. They are, say the Arabs, Tuaregs (singular Targui); Surgu, say the Songhay; Burdane, say the Fulahs.

Now not one of these various appellations comes from a root signifying anything evil, and a Tuareg would be sure to use one or the other according to the dialect he speaks in referring to his people. Some have pretended that Tuareg means abandoned by God, for Arabs are very fond of explaining everything by puns and plays upon words. Yet another Arab root from which the word might possibly be derived is one signifying nomads or wanderers.

Without attempting to throw fresh light, or perhaps to add further obscurity to the question, I may remark here, that a certain Berber tribe (we shall see that the Tuaregs are Berbers) calls itself Tarka, whilst a small section of the Awellimiden is known as Tarkai-Tamut, whilst the great Berber conqueror of Spain was named Tarik.

It seems most reasonable to suppose that the Arabs gave to the whole race the name of one of its tribes, probably that with which they were brought into close contact. Does not the very name of Berber, characterizing the whole great race, including not only the Tuaregs, but the Kabyles, the Chambas, and others, itself come from that of but one fraction—the Berbers or Barbers of Morocco?

During the Roman decadence the Berbers, including the Tuaregs, joined the flocks of Saint Augustine and his successors as converts, very half-hearted ones probably, and then after a time of considerable obscurity in their history came the Mohammedan conquest. Rebellious at first, the Berbers ended by accepting the religion of Islam, without feeling any more enthusiasm for the new faith than they had done for the old. As for the Tuaregs, it is said it was not necessary to convert them more than fourteen times!

Now it was these tribes who so loathed a foreign yoke, and fled further and further into the desert before the invaders of their country, who were the forefathers of the present Imochars.

With regard to the Awellimiden, their very name indicates their origin; they are the descendants (_uld lemta_) of the Lemta or Lemtuma, a Sahara tribe which conquered and finally absorbed all its neighbours of the same stock.

All this may perhaps be called actual history. Now for some of the legends of which the Awellimiden Tuaregs are so fond. Great lovers of the marvellous, they account for their origin thus. I will translate as literally as possible what one of them actually told me:

“I say the ancestors of the Imochars were no other than genii.

“The women of a village called Alkori went one night to dance in the bush, and there they fell asleep.

“Presently they were surprised by some genii, who, surrounding them before they were fully awake, embraced them.

“In the morning the women returned to the village.

“When a few moons had risen and died (that is to say, when a few months had passed), the men of the village saw that the women were about to become mothers.

“The chief of the village therefore cried, ‘Seize them and put them to death!’

“But the cadi replied, ‘No, let us wait until the children are born.’

“So they waited until nine moons had risen and died, when each woman gave birth to a boy.

“Some men said, ‘Now let us kill the mothers and the children.’

“The cadi replied, ‘No, let us wait till they are older, none but God can create a soul.’

“So they waited.

“The boys grew, and as time went on fought with the other children of the village; and they made for themselves weapons of iron, swords and daggers, such as had hitherto been unknown in the country.

“The chiefs then said, ‘If we do not put them to death these boys will become our masters. Let us kill them at once, before they come to their full strength.’

“To which every one replied, ‘Yes, yes! you are right!’

“They then sent a messenger to call the uncles of the young fellows, and said to them, ‘What we wish is that you should kill your nephews, and if you do not we will kill you.’

“To this the uncles answered, ‘We have no wish but to comply with your demand, but we do not know how to put to death our nearest relations. You take our weapons and do with them what you will.’

“‘Very well,’ said the chief. ‘You had better leave the village now and return here to-morrow evening.’

“So they left; but one of them managed to warn his sister of what was in the wind, so that the sons of the genii knew what to expect.

“They therefore ran away, walking all night until the dawn, when they climbed a mountain.

“In the morning the chief of the village beat the war-drum, and the horses were saddled.

“The people followed the boys till they came to the mountain they had climbed, when they lost all traces of them.

“Meanwhile one of the children had said, ‘Shall we have to fight here?’

“‘Of course we shall,’ replied another; and they were just about to defy the enemy with shouts, inviting them to the combat, when a second boy said, ‘It would be better to go first to the village and fight those that are left behind there.’

“They therefore descended the mountain by the other slope, and returned to the village. When those who had remained there saw them coming they were afraid, and cried, ‘Alas! here are the boys coming back again. They have evidently defeated the party we sent out against them.’

“One man went out to parley with the children. They took him prisoner, obtained from him all the information they wanted, and then they drew their swords and killed him.

“They next advanced upon the village, entered it, and even went up to the hut of the chief, who was a very old man. He got up and came to meet them. They shouted, ‘Thou didst mean to kill us and our mothers with us, but now it is thou who art to die; thy children and thy children’s children, and all thy nephews are dead. It is all over.’

“They flung their spears at him, and one of them pierced his heart, coming out at the other side. Then the boys shouted, ‘Death to thee, and to thy mother, thou son of a harlot!’ Next they burnt the village, and killed all the women and children. Only one man escaped. He ran out to the army and told the troops all that had happened, asking them, ‘Did you not meet the children?’ ‘No!’ ‘Did you not find any trace of them?’ ‘We did; but we lost their track!’

“‘Well,’ he went on; ‘go to the village, there is not a man left alive, not even a woman, not even a child. All, all are slain!’

“They put spurs to their horses and galloped back; they reached the village. The children of the genii came out and began the battle. They fought from ten o’clock in the morning till sunset. The boys were victorious, slew all their enemies, and took possession of the war-drum.

“Of the sons of the genii sixty were dead, but sixty survived, and became the fathers of the Tuaregs.”

In the fifteenth century they founded a great city, about 281 miles to the north of Gao, which they called Es Suk, or Tadamekka (now Tademeket), where they probably led a half-nomad, half-sedentary life, as do certain tribes or fractions of tribes at the present day at Rhat, Tintellust, and Sinder, or Gober. At the same period the Askia Empire of the Songhay negroes was at the zenith of its prosperity, with Gao, or Garo, as its capital.

An Askia went to attack Es-Suk, and destroyed it. Rather than submit to the yoke of the conqueror, the Tuaregs abandoned their capital, and fled to the Ahaggar heights or the plateaux of Air. According to a legend only one Es Suk escaped, a man named Mohamed ben Eddain, who founded a new tribe, that of the present Kel es Suk, by giving his daughters in marriage to Arabs, sheriffs of the tribe of El Abaker, descendants of the Ansars, or first companions of the Prophet.

This was how it came about that the Kel es Suk supplied the so-called Tuareg marabouts, and explains the fact that these marabouts have abandoned many of the characteristic customs of the true Tuaregs in favour of the strict observance of the Mussulman law.

Then came the invasion from Morocco, when the Armas, or Romas, as the soldiers of the Sultan of Fez were called, thanks to their firearms, destroyed the armies and broke the power of the Songhay; but these Armas were not numerous enough to hold what they had taken, and in the course of a few generations they became merged in the negro race, and completely lost all their warlike qualities.

Protected against invasion by the arid and poverty-stricken nature of the districts they inhabit, the Tuaregs, on the other hand, inured to hardship, gradually became stronger, nobler, and more able to hold their own, developing all the virtues of the true warrior. They now in their turn conquered their old enemies the Songhay, who, though aided by the Armas, descended from the old invaders from Morocco, were powerless to resist them. The negroes were defeated and reduced to slavery. Since then the Tuaregs have been the dominant race on the banks of the Niger, from Timbuktu almost as far south as Say.

The history of the Tuaregs has been that of one long series of struggles between the various tribes, in which the Awellimiden finally gained the ascendency they still maintain. I have already related how they resisted the Fulah invasion, and later that of the Toucouleurs.

The taking of Timbuktu by the French resulted in the crushing of the semi-independent fraction of the Tuareg race known as the Tenguereguif, or the Kel Temulai, and what I have said about the Igwadaren, will be remembered. As for the Awellimiden, their power remained undisturbed, and I do not think I am far wrong in saying, that should they be threatened they could put 20,000 men, one-quarter of them mounted, in the field at once.

When we remember the courage of the Tuaregs, and take into account the immense difficulty French troops would have to contend with in crossing the districts belonging to the enemy, it is impossible to help realizing that these warriors are far from being a negligible quantity, and that the conquest of their land would cost the invader dear.

And would it be to the interest of France to possess the districts now inhabited by the Tuaregs? To this query I reply emphatically and without hesitation, No!

There are in the Sudan two totally different kinds of territory, which I shall characterize as those fitted for the occupation of sedentary settlers, and those suitable only to nomadic tribes.

The former are the banks of streams and rivers, such as the French Sudan between Kayes and Bamako, with the whole reach of the Niger district up to Timbuktu. In these lands gutta-percha and cotton can be readily grown. They are inhabited by negroes, and it is indispensable if we are to trade in security that we should have a preponderate if not exclusive territorial influence.

In what I call the nomad lands, on the other hand, on the right of the Senegal, on the Niger beyond Timbuktu (if we except the actual banks of the river), we shall find that the chief articles of export are gum and the products of flocks of sheep, which are indeed the only things the nomad tribes have to offer to our traders.

It is absolutely useless to attempt to impose on these people a yoke against which they would never cease to rebel, and which, moreover, they would have the power as well as the will to throw off. It is much better to give them what are called _enclaves_, or reserves, such as the Americans assign to the Redskins. Of course we should always have to guard against pillaging raids from these enclaves; but I am quite convinced, that when the Tuaregs once realize that their liberty and their customs will be respected, they will willingly accept the _modus vivendi_ suggested, especially if they find that they can sell their produce to our traders to advantage, thus gaining means for the amelioration of their present condition.

How much better would it be then, instead of condemning the Tuareg race as a whole, because of certain preconceived prejudices, if we were to set to work to study them, to gauge their real moral worth, and to make the best arrangement possible with them for the benefit of all concerned. Faults, many faults, of course they all have. They are proud, they are fierce, they rob, and they beg. One of their peculiarities makes it very difficult to deal with them—they are very ready to take offence. They are, moreover, in constant dread of being subjected to servitude, and fear invasion above all things. All this of course leads them to listen eagerly to the calumnies our enemies especially the marabouts, are always ready to circulate.

Side by side with all this, however, many noble virtues must also be placed to the credit of the Tuaregs. Their courage is proverbial, the defence of a guest is with them as with the Arabs a positive religion, whilst their steadfastness of character is well known, and their powers of endurance are absolutely indispensable to their very existence. Lastly,—and here I know what I say is quite contrary to the generally-received opinion,—the Tuareg is faithful to his promises and hates petty theft.

“Never promise more than half what you can perform,” says a Tuareg proverb, and even in the opinion of their enemies this is no idle boast. Our own adventures are a striking proof of this.

As for what I have said about thieving, I can testify that all the time we were amongst the Tuaregs not the very smallest larceny was committed by them, although all manner of very tempting articles, such as various stuffs, beads, looking-glasses, knives, etc., were lying about in our boats, on deck, and in our cabins. Nothing could have been easier than for our Tuareg visitors to run off with a few odds and ends, and if I had seen any one take anything I should probably have said nothing, for fear of a dispute leading to a rupture.

At the sight of these riches of ours, which surpassed anything they had ever seen before, the eyes of our guests would gleam with desire for their possession, and they would ask for things, keep on begging for them without ceasing, but they would not take anything without leave. I often had hard work to resist their importunity, but, for all that, not one of them ever appropriated a single object however small.

I said, it is true, a few pages back that the Tuaregs were pillagers, and the reader may very well ask how they could be pillagers yet not thieves. We must, however, judge people by their own consciences, not by the ideas current amongst ourselves. Now to pillage and to thieve are two essentially different things amongst the Tuaregs.

All nomads are pillagers, and as a matter of fact war with them is generally simply a pillaging expedition. Migrations are constantly taking place as a very necessity of their mode of life, and as a result _casus belli_ as constantly arise. We must, however, even in such cases as these, do the Tuaregs the justice to add that they generally first make an appeal to diplomacy. In meetings known amongst them as _myiad_, the question at issue is discussed, chiefly by the most influential marabouts, and they have recourse to arms only if conciliation does not answer.

Even then it is all fair and open warfare. The warriors even challenge each other as in a tournament to single combat. There are _razzi_ too, no doubt, when the Tuaregs make a descent on the enemy’s camp and pillage it, carrying off the flocks and herds if possible, and by thus depriving them of the means of subsistence, compelling them to sue for peace.

There is little foundation for the charge brought against the Tuaregs of pillaging caravans, they respect them when the right of passage has been paid for. This payment is a very just one, guaranteeing the protection of the tribe against the gentlemen of the road, for in the Sudan, as in Italy, there are brigands, but they are not Tuaregs.

On the other hand, if traders, thinking themselves strong enough to force a passage, refuse to pay the tribute demanded, the caravan becomes the lawful prize of any one who chooses to attack it.

Is this very different to what happens amongst Europeans? Suppose, for instance, that we refuse to pay custom and _octroi_ dues, the officials will seize the contraband goods without hesitation, and we shall have to pay the legal fine, or even, perhaps, go to prison, and who will think us unfairly treated? Although they have no officers in uniform in their service, the Tuaregs are quite within their rights in demanding payment for right of way. But pillage merchandise when that payment has been made they never do. Did they do so, all trade would be simply impossible in the Sudan, and when they are reproached on the subject they reply—“_Our irezz aodem akus wa der’itett_ (we do not break the bowl from which we eat).”

When he has to do with Christians, infidels, or, as he calls them, Kaffirs, the Tuareg is perhaps not quite so jealous of his promises and of keeping faith exactly; but this is really chiefly the fault of the marabouts, who tell them that they are not bound where infidels are concerned, and quote passages taken, or said to be taken, from the Koran to prove it.

Then, again, there is something spirited and noble about pillaging, for it often means to expose oneself to danger, and real courage is needed for that. It is not so very long since our ancestors went to do much the same thing in Sicily and in Palestine, and there was not much more excuse for them than for the Tuaregs.

Thieving and petty larceny are very different from pillaging, and of them the Tuareg has perhaps a greater horror than we Europeans.

A careful study of Tuareg society will reveal a very strong resemblance between it and that of Europe in the Middle Ages. Truth to tell, except that he has no strong isolated castles, a Tuareg surrounded by his tribe, or a fraction of that tribe, engaged in one long struggle to defend himself, or absorbed in attacking some chief, brutal and violent, but chivalrous, respecting the honour of women, and curbing his wild passions where they are concerned, his reverence for them inspiring his most courageous efforts, pillaging the traders who will not submit to the prescribed tribute, but protecting those who have paid their toll, has a soul not so very different, after all, from that of the Castellan de Coucy of the twelfth century, or of the heroes he celebrates in his poems.

As was the population in Europe in mediæval times, the Tuaregs are divided into two very distinct classes, the Ihaggaren and the _imrads_, corresponding to the old feudal chiefs and vassals.

What originally caused this broad line of demarcation between the two? Many different things, no doubt. Certain conquered tribes became the _imrads_ of those who had defeated them. Or again, some tribes may have submitted for the sake of being allowed to settle peacefully down on lands belonging to Ihaggaren. Whatever may have been the reason, however, as time went on the Ihaggaren[6] became the owners of flocks and herds, whilst the _imrads_ never possessed any property of their own, but looked after that of their masters.

The former had to fight and to protect their _imrads_, ownership of property giving them the right to demand tribute; the latter could originally only hold their fiefs at the will of their suzerains, but after many generations had passed away their tenure became so established a thing that rent was all which could be demanded. At the present day it sometimes happens that the _imrads_ are richer, better dressed, and even more influential than the Ihaggarens.

When a whole tribe is seriously threatened, and the nobles are not sufficiently strong to defend themselves, the tenants are armed just as they used to be in olden times in Europe, and these tenants fight marvellously well. At the same time, except in such emergencies, it is the business of the Ihaggarens to defend the _imrads_.

In the service of the _imrads_ are a class of negro slaves known as the Belle or Bellates, who have as a rule been attached to the same family for many generations. The attachment these slaves have for their Tuareg masters is really wonderful, and a positive proof that they are well treated by them. In the struggle which took place round about Timbuktu between the French and the various tribes who resisted the foreign occupation, Bellates were often taken prisoners, but however kind our treatment of them, in spite of promises of complete liberty on the one condition that they would remain with us, we were not able to keep a single one. They all ran away to rejoin their old masters. In warlike expeditions they form a very useful supplement to the Tuareg infantry, and they are quite as brave as are the free soldiers.

One peculiar fact which speaks well for the Tuareg character is, that though these warriors own hereditary slaves they never sell or buy them. Before the French arrived at Timbuktu that town was the centre of the slave trade, whence captives were sent to Tripoli on the one hand and to Morocco on the other. The convoys with the melancholy processions of slaves were generally under the leadership of traders from Mosi, who brought the unhappy captives to the town and sold them to merchants from Morocco or Tuat.

We have already seen, and we shall have again occasion to remark, that the whole negro population of the Niger districts is in a similar state of servitude with regard to the Tuaregs, a fact which will explain how it is that no Songhay or Arma would dream of disputing the orders of the chiefs, or offering the very slightest resistance to their demands.

There would therefore be absolutely nothing to prevent a Tuareg who should chance to be in want of money or of clothes to go and seize one or more of the Gabibi, as the negroes of the villages are called, and sell him or them for slaves at Timbuktu. In fact, it would be quite as simple a matter as to choose an ox out of his own herds and send it to market. Yet never has a Tuareg been known to do such a thing. I have made sure of this by cross-questioning many negroes, and their answers have always been the same.

At the very bottom rung of the social ladder we find the negroes of the riverside districts, the Songhay and the Armas. They cultivate millet, rice, and tobacco. When their masters are at daggers drawn with each other, as was the case when we were amongst the Igwadaren, they have a good deal to complain of, for they are, as it were, between two fires, and their position is anything but enviable. Amongst the Awellimiden, however, their condition seems to be much happier, and when they have once paid their dues they are left in peace, great chiefs such as Madidu protecting them against the exactions of the less powerful Tuaregs.

I confess I do not feel any very special pity for them. They are quite as numerous as the Tuaregs, quite as well armed, and all they need to recover their independence is a little courage. If, moreover, they cared to study the history of the past, they would not fail to remark that their Songhay ancestors brought their doom upon them when they destroyed Es Suk, and forced the Tuaregs to lead their present wandering life.

As for the project of pressing the negroes into the service for the suppression of the Tuaregs, it is but a Utopian idea, and that a very dangerous one, for the Songhay race is too debased by its three centuries of servitude to have any real stamina left.

I need scarcely point out the great mistake implied in the suggestion: We ought to favour the black at the expense of the Tuaregs, because the former are producers as tillers of the soil, and the latter are useless idlers, for the Tuareg is as hard a worker as the negro; he works in a different direction, that is all—breeding flocks and herds instead of growing cereals. When the means of transport are sufficient for it to be easy to get to and from Timbuktu, it will be the Tuareg, whose camels will carry the gum harvest into the town, it will be he who will sell skins and wool; in fact, he will turn out to be the greater producer of the two races after all.

The Tuaregs have been accused of being cruel, but this is another grave error. They alone perhaps of all African races do not kill their prisoners after a battle. One must have been present at the taking of a village by negroes to realize the awful butchery with which the victory ends. Everybody not fit to be sold as a slave is put to the sword. The throats of the old men are cut, and little children too young to walk have their heads smashed against stones. Tuaregs, on the other hand, are quite incapable of such atrocities. When we passed Sinder, Boker Wandieïdu, chief of the Logamaten, had more than two hundred Toucouleur prisoners in his camp, who had been taken in war two years before, and he was feeding and looking after them all. After the fatal battle with the Tacubaos, in which Colonel Bonnier was killed, the two officers who alone escaped from the scene of the combat, Captains Regard and Nigotte, fled in different directions. Nigotte reached Timbuktu, and was saved, but Regard went westwards, and was taken prisoner by the negroes of the Dongoi villages, who took him to the Tenguereguif Tuaregs. In spite, however, of the fact that the excitement of the battle had scarcely subsided, these Tuaregs would not themselves slay the unfortunate Frenchman. “Do with him what you will,” they said; and the negroes killed him.

Moreover, it has been said that the Tuaregs are fanatics, but I have never seen them prostrate themselves or fast. It is, however, unfortunately quite true that the marabouts exercise a great influence over them; but it is the kind of ascendency that clever people always obtain over big children, such as the Tuaregs are, and such as sorcerers get over the superstitious. “You are Christians, and we ought not to have anything to do with infidels,” Yunes said to us at Tosaye. A good excuse, and one that he could not help laughing at himself. Yunes, I am glad to say, never really followed the precepts of Islam any more than did any of his fellow-countrymen.

How does it come about that, left to themselves, with scarcely any contact with more advanced civilizations, constantly exposed to the malevolent influence of Mahommedanism, and by their very nature peculiarly susceptible to the temptations which appeal to the violently disposed, the Tuaregs have yet managed to keep their high moral character. Once more we find a parallel for their position in the Middle Ages. It is the reverence they feel for women, to whose gentler influence they yield, which has been their salvation. Just as the lady of the feudal chief, brutal and hot-tempered, coarse and savage though he often was, knew how to soothe his worst passions, and to inspire him with an ambition to excel in those noble tasks of which she herself was to be the reward, so does the Tuareg woman in her tent, chanting praises of the mighty deeds of the lord of her heart, rouse in that lord all chivalrous instincts, and inspire him with a love for all that is best and highest in life on earth.

The Tuareg—and here he differs essentially from all Mahommedans— takes only one wife, but she is literally his better half. Moreover, a woman is free to choose her own husband. During our stay at Say, we were told that Reichala, daughter of Madidu, was about to marry the son of El-Yacin, one of the chiefs of the most powerful tribe of the Confederation. I sent some presents on this joyful occasion. A month later an envoy from the chief of the Awellimiden told us that the young lady, in spite of all her parents could do, had refused her _fiance_. Her will was respected, and even the Amenokal himself would not have forced her to comply.

Her future husband once chosen, a Tuareg girl has perfect liberty to see him when she likes, and will sometimes travel on her camel more than fifty miles to pay him a visit. The Tuaregs themselves say that no bad results ensue; but there are three words for bastard in the Tamschek language, and if it be true that the abundance of expressions for a thing in any tongue proves the prevalence of that thing, we shall know what to think. However, when a Tuareg woman is married, however free and easy she may have been beforehand, she is a model of discreet behaviour. The Tuaregs do not brook any tampering with their honour, and a deceived husband will never hesitate to wash out his shame in blood.

Still the Tuareg woman is allowed to have friends of the opposite sex, and, as in the days of the Troubadours, her praises are sung in many a charming rondeau. These male friends, who correspond to the Italian _cicisbeos_, draw their swords in honour of the fair lady of their choice, and shout her name as a war-cry as they fling themselves upon the foe in the clash of combat. The woman, in her turn, celebrates the exploits of her _cicisbeo_ in verse, and she adorns his leather shield and the scabbard of his sword with the work of her hands. All, however, ends there, and we are irresistibly reminded of Petrarch’s songs in honour of his Laura when she was a stout, middle-aged woman, the mother of seven children.

Alas! we must tell the whole truth, and this reference to Petrarch brings me back to my subject: Tuareg women in general. What a pity that after all I have said about their lofty spirit, their manners, and the good influence they exercise, I am obliged to own that I cannot admire their figure, which resembles that of a Durham cow ready for a prize show, or of a moulting goose more than anything else.

Their faces are pleasing, sometimes even very pretty. Delicate features, big eyes full of expression, and very long black hair parted in the middle and plaited together at the back of the head, give them a charming appearance, but they have absolutely no figures, they are just one mass of fat; their arms are like the jellies exposed for sale in pork-butchers’ shops, and the less said about the rest of their bodies the better.

In striking contrast to their wives, Tuareg warriors are generally very lean, and their figures are well knit. Their limbs are very finely moulded, and they walk with a slow dignity all their own, raising their feet rather high from the ground much as an ostrich does, a mode of progression which is probably the reason for their habit of leaning on their spears as they advance.

The most striking peculiarity of the Tuareg costume is the veil, called the _litham_ in Arabic, and the tagelmust in Tamschek, which covers the face, leaving only the eyes visible. It consists of a band of stuff, generally black, which goes round the head like a turban to begin with, and then passes over the mouth and nose, coming round a third time across the forehead, and looking rather like a visor.

The tribe to which a Tuareg belongs is shown by his tagelmust. A well-bred Amacher never takes it off, not even to eat or sleep, and the negroes of the riverside have adopted the custom in imitation of their masters. Their veils are, however, generally white, as are also those of Tuaregs who are not rich enough to buy the lustrous black stuffs from Haussa, used by the well-to-do.

The veil seems to have been originally adopted as part of the Tuareg costume on hygienic grounds, for in the long wanderings of the tribes amongst the sand of the deserts it protects the respiratory organs. By degrees, however, this tagelmust grew to be considered a sign of the modesty of the wearer, and to show the face became a breach of etiquette.

Strange to say, the women do not hide their faces, a very noteworthy difference this between Mahommedans, whose females are always veiled, and Tuaregs, amongst whom it is the men who thus disguise their features. To make up for this, however, if a Tuareg woman wishes to show great respect to any one she is talking to, she covers her mouth with a piece of her robe.

The Tuaregs themselves tell the following legend—they have one for every occasion—to explain this peculiarity of their costume.

“In olden times women used to keep their faces veiled as do the Mahommedans, whilst men left their faces uncovered; but one day the enemy surprised a camp of our ancestors. The attack was so sudden and so utterly unexpected that the Tuaregs were seized with panic and fled, leaving behind them their families and their property. They flung down their arms, making no effort to defend themselves, but trusting for escape entirely to the fleetness of their legs.

“The women, however, picked up the swords, the spears, and the daggers, with which they faced the enemy and drove them off.

“From that day, to show their admiration for the conduct of their wives, and their shame for their own cowardice, the men wore the veil and the women left their features exposed to view.”

In addition to the veil the Tuaregs wear a tunic of lustrous black cotton, which falls nearly to the ankles, and in the front of which is a huge pocket.

The Tuareg who wishes to be very “chic,” to use the last slang expression in vogue in France and England, has this pocket made of red material; but whatever the colour it is always of huge size. It is difficult to imagine what quantities of things that pocket will hold. In it a Tuareg can stow away yards upon yards of stuff, any amount of beads, whole coverlets, etc., etc.; and to see him dispose of everything in such a limited space, reminds one of the conjurors who put a cannon ball, a cage full of birds, and a bowl with gold fish all into a single nut.

Long wide trousers envelope the lower part of the body, and are drawn in at the waist with running strings, whilst sandals made of ox or antelope hide protect the feet from the burning heat of the sun-parched sand.

The costume is completed by quantities of little leather sachets, containing amulets, hung round the neck on thin cords. These amulets protect their wearer from all evil influences, and secure to him all the good things his heart desires.

The weapons of a Tuareg are all what the French call _armes blanches_, that is to say, swords, spears, daggers, etc., and it is rare indeed for any of them to own firearms. Even if they have them they will not use them unless they are positively driven to do so. They have a kind of superstitious dread, and at the same time a contempt for guns. “They are not weapons worthy of a man,” say these Tuaregs, who admit that their women excel them in courage.

The national weapon _par excellence_ is the so-called _tellak_ or short dagger, the sheath of which is fastened to the left wrist with a leather armlet. The hilt of this _tellak_ is of the shape of a cross, and the wearer is not at all inconvenienced by wearing it. He generally rests his hand on the hilt when he is not using the weapon. If he is threatened with any danger, the dagger is drawn from the sheath with the right hand in an instant.

The spear or lance is generally made entirely of iron, except for certain copper ornaments; a few, however, have wooden handles, though the actual weapon is of metal. The Ihaggaren alone have the right of wearing the iron spear, and the so-called _takuba_ or sword worn at the side, suspended on a cotton or silk cord.

According to circumstances, the spear is used as a missile or as a lance. Mounted Tuaregs use it much as European lancers do, but when they are fighting on foot, they fling it with marvellous skill, and will rarely miss an enemy at a distance as great as fifty feet. The red and green leather shields of the Tuaregs are often decorated with considerable taste, and we must not forget to mention the _ahabeg_, which is alike a weapon and an ornament, consisting of a circlet of stone worn on the left arm a little above the wrist.

The horses of the Tuaregs are very ugly and small but strong. The saddles in use are of wood covered over with leather, and a thick coverlet of felt protects the hinder quarters of the steed. The bits are of very well forged iron, the bridle is of plaited leather; the stirrups of copper are very small, no bigger than a child’s bracelet, and the horseman only rests his big toe in them.

But the animal which takes first rank, whether for riding or for carrying bales of merchandise, the equipment of camps, meat, milk, etc., is the camel.

The Tamschek language has many names for this useful animal, a different one being used for it according to its age and capacity. The camel used as a beast of burden is a strongly-built and heavy-looking animal, known as an _amnis_, whilst the _areggan_ or saddle camel, used for riding, is much lighter, has slenderer limbs, and is far more spirited. For guiding the _amnis_ or the _areggan_ a bridle is used, passing through a ring which was fixed in the nose of the animal at a very early age.

The camel is the chief wealth of a Tuareg. “How many camels has your father?” I was asked, and it was very difficult to convince my questioner that this useful animal would be of no good to us in France.

The costume of Tuareg women is simpler than that of their husbands, and consists of a long piece of stuff, which is rolled round and round the body, a pair of cotton drawers, and a _fariuel_, or shawl, which they wear over their heads, and drape about their figures as gracefully as their extreme stoutness will admit.

Copper ornaments are much valued and are very rare. As a general rule the women and men both like any sort of trinket which can be hung round the neck; an old sardine tin is a very suitable present for an admirer to give to a Tuareg lady. A Tuareg’s house is his tent. The very poor, however, live in straw huts called _ehan_.

The tent or _ehakit_ is made of skins upheld by a central stake; the edges of the skins are very irregular, and are fastened with the aid of tags to pegs stuck in the ground.

During the night the tent is closed, and the owner is shut up within it, but in the daytime it is left open on the side opposite the sun; blinds made of very thin laths of wood, kept together with strips of leather, plaited in and out, shield those in the tent from the heat and glare of the rays reflected from the burning sands.

An encampment of tents is called an _amezzar_, a group of camps, generally occupied by one tribe, is a _tausi_, and over such an agglomeration the chief or _amrar_ has full authority.

The imrad camps are surrounded by palisades or _afaradj_, between which and the tents occupying the centre of the enclosure the flocks and herds are sheltered at night and protected from the lions, which still prowl in the vicinity.

The Ihaggaren seldom have their flocks and herds with them, but when they have, certain of the imrads under them live in the camp and look after the animals.

Within the tent the woman is mistress. It is her business to look after and order about the slaves. She milks the cows and she does the cooking. But amongst the more important tribes the house, or rather tent-keeping cares do not occupy the whole of the day, and the nights are so warm that all sensible Tuaregs sit up till midnight at least.

Well, how does the woman employ her spare time? She does her leather work very much as European ladies do their embroidery, or she sings to the accompaniment of an _amzad_, or violin with but one string. She even composes verses.

Yes, she makes verses! Will not this arouse the interest of all the blue-stockings of Europe? Surely when their occupations are so much alike their sympathies will go out to their sisters in the distant desert.

I can even add that Tuareg verses will always scan, and that they all rhyme. Surely this is a good deal more than can be said of the effusions of most female scribblers!

The men too write poetry sometimes. I have not time or space to give specimens of the productions of these writers of the Niger districts; but I cannot refrain from quoting two examples given by Commandant Hanotaux in his Tamschek grammar, which were written by Tuaregs of the north.

The first is a madrigal, composed and transcribed in the album of a young lady of Algiers by Bedda of Ida. It must be observed that Bedda was the first Tuareg to visit Algeria.

I speak; and, Angelina, thine the name!

Love in my heart for thee can never die.

What son of Adam may endure the flame

That burns within that dark, alluring eye?

For love of thee, enslavèd by thy glance,

I e’en would journey forth afar to France!

Who holds thee, Angelina, in his arms,

May dream secure, the fairest vision thou!

We thought no human limbs the lissom charm

Of fleet gazelles could e’er surpass, but now,

Since we have seen thy perfect form and face,

We know that we were wrong; thou hast _all_ grace!

If thou shouldst come to us, come to our land,

Each man among us would go forth to thee

And sue thy favour; and should one demand

What price I’d pay could I but purchase thee,

I ween, for such possession I would give, indeed,

Six thousand golden pieces, or my steed![7]

Are not the sentiments expressed in this madrigal wonderfully gallant for a so-called savage?

The second piece of poetry is really a satire, the daughter of Abukias apostrophized in it having been compelled to repulse the too ardent advances of an admirer, who could not forgive her scorn.

Daughter of Aboukias! thou hast come,

And the sun was hot when thou didst say “good-day”;

Time was, when but to hear thy words repeated

Filled me with mad desire to be with thee,

For thou wast in mine eyes a _houri_.

But now we know thy nature through and through.

Rash are thy words—reserve unknown to thee;

And in thy treachery thou wilt die.

Wert thou of noble race, how would thy good blood show?

By silence golden—not by reckless blame of other women,

For thou wouldst know thyself!

Yet one more word before I close,

A word which many others will confirm;

Aye, others married ere thy birth,

Whose steps have led them far away to lands unknown to thee,

And towns, whose very names thou hast not heard.

Young men there are, thou fain wouldst know,

Owners of herds and camels which will ne’er be thine,

To saddle in war or to milk when at peace.

But as for thy lover, the man thou didst scorn,

What matter to us though thou left him forlorn?

No translation could really give any idea of the vigorous ring of these verses in the original Tamschek. They are alike forcible and rhythmic without any of that undue use of gutturals for which the Tuaregs blame the Arabs, calling their language in derision the _Takhamkhamen_.

When Tuareg women receive, or, as we should say, are “at home to their friends,” they recite such verses as those quoted above, or tell long stories which last for several meetings. The men gather about them wearing their best clothes, and vieing with each other in their efforts to appear to advantage. The worthy deeds of those who acquitted themselves well in recent conflicts are recounted, whilst the cowards (who take care not to put in an appearance) are held up to public scorn. It will readily be understood that the Tuareg customs, which differ in so marked a degree from those of the Mahommedans, give a great influence to the female sex, and place a woman far above her admirers, who often sue in vain for notice from her.

As long as there is plenty of pasturage for the flocks and herds the days pass peacefully by, as we have described, in the Tuareg camp, but directly grass becomes scarce the tents must be struck, and the tribe moves on to better feeding-grounds.

When the word to break up the temporary home has been given all is bustle and animation, the _amezzar_ resembling some great beehive. The camels which are to carry the loads are assembled, the tents go down as if by magic, some of the imrads rapidly roll them up, and pack them on the backs of the patient beasts, whilst others stow away the modest furniture and household utensils.

Meanwhile the young Ihaggaren have gone forward to choose the spot for the new camp. Presently they return, and place themselves at the head of the party, acting alike as guides and protectors to it.

Behind them come the women, chattering together in the quaint, cradle-like saddles they occupy on the fleeter camels, whilst the older men gather round the _amrar_, and march solemnly on with him.