Chapter VII: Salt of the Earth

Throughout the commercial history of civilised countries the digging out of riches from the bowels of the earth has for ever played an important part; and from among the minerals so obtained the currency of our world has always been minted. It is my purpose to suggest that in this there is clearly a resemblance between the civilised State and the primitive. But that which is mined by the one is sometimes vastly different from the wealth that is sought by the other. The gold of the Yukon, or the diamonds of Kimberley, are the highest ideals of civilised States; but possessions much more humble often suffice the primitive, and in the Sahara that which is sought by the indigenous tribes, and prized, as a necessity and as a currency, is humble salt of the earth.

It is possible that salt has been a medium of currency in the Sahara for all time. It was the Arabs, in the past, who brought the cowrie from the north coast of Africa to introduce it into the Sahara, and the rich countries farther south, as “money” to assist them in their trade; but the silver of the white man has displaced the cowrie now, while salt, because of its tangible value, continues to be a ready medium of purchase. Therefore salt has outlived the cowrie, which, after all, had little more than an ornamental value.

In a few places, renowned to-day, and doubly renowned in the legendary history of the Sahara, there exist, in the remote interior, age-old salt-pits of inexhaustible supply. They are worked to-day as of old, and the methods of centuries are unchanged. But the trade is diminishing. The tide of the white man’s advance in Africa is having an influence on distant markets; and that influence is reflected at the remote source of supply. No longer do the great native populations of the Western Sudan depend chiefly on the Sahara for their salt, for to-day whole shiploads of the commercial commodity are imported by way of the west coast to vie with the supply of the renowned salt deposits of the Sahara, that were wont to supply half a continent.

But, despite the strength of the foreign invasion, there has always been a native prejudice against the imported salt and a liking for the natural salt of the Sahara—a prejudice that the importer has been fighting down ever since he entered the field—and it is no doubt that favourable prejudice, along with the existing value of salt as currency, has much to do with the continuance of a curious and primitive trade in the interior of the Sahara.

Like gold in other lands, the famed deposits of salt in the Sahara are not numerous. I know of only three that are of great reputation: Bilma, Tigguida n’Tisem, and Taudeni. There are possibly others, in the great desert, of renown that has not reached me. The two former I have visited, and will endeavour to describe, while Taudeni, about 400 miles in the desert north of the Niger bend, contains the famous mines of rock-salt that, in being transported south through Timbuktu, gives to that world-famous town its chief trade.

I will deal first with Bilma. The oasis of that name lies in a basin in the midst of a great region of loose sand-dunes which offer extraordinary natural protection. No stranger may find his way into Bilma through those dunes unguided, and its position is so secretive, a tiny place in a hollow in one boundless sea of dunes, that its presence is absolutely unsuspected until one comes suddenly, with astonishment, right on top of it.

A long, lake-like stretch of bare sun-cracked flats of soda and salt, glaring fiercely white in the stifling sun, lie before the small town, which is at the south end, while at the other end, a mile or so distant, are the piled-up, uneven hills of the workings of the famous salt-pits. The town, and the French fort that is there, are sheltered to some extent by small groves of date-palms.

The French occupation of Bilma is unique in the territory. It is a far-flung outpost, and the fort stands alone like a Dreadnought in an unknown sea, far from recognised frontiers. That such a fort has been established, and held, is eloquent acknowledgment of the value of the salt-pits and the strategic position that Bilma holds in checking the wanderings of the cut-throat raiders that seek to pass between Tibesti and Aïr, or from the Fezzan to the northern fringes of Hausaland.

Bilma was first occupied by the French in 1906, and the founding of a post so remote, and in the heart of enemies’ country, was filled with dangers and difficulties. To-day, over the door of the sturdy, earth-built post in Bilma, are the words FORT DROMARD, and by reason of the name the fort has been made a lasting monument to Lieutenant Amédée Dromard, a soldier-pioneer who, single-handed with native soldiers, fought for the French flag’s erection in Bilma, defended its brave upstanding, and won—to die in completing his noble task.

The record of his career hangs on the walls, worthy of the best traditions of his country; indeed, a record of which any country might well be proud. In the concluding paragraphs one reads:

“He fought conspicuously at Agadem (south of Bilma) on 7th January 1908.”

And finally:

“He was wounded in fighting at Achegur (north-west of Bilma) on 1st July 1909, and died at Bilma on 5th September of the same year, after being carried for two weeks on the shoulders of his faithful native followers.”

The whole depression of Kowar, stretching north and south from Jado to the Chad basin, in which the oasis of Bilma is situated, has a population of about 3,000 natives. About 700 of those are in Bilma; chiefly Beri-Beri, and a certain number of Tebu. But absolute purity of race is dying out owing to much intermingling of the two races. Like the den-dwellers of Fachi, these natives are hard-featured, cold-eyed, and barbarous.

Of other small oases along the line of the Kowar depression, Dirku has a few families of Beri-Beri and the remainder are occupied by Tebu. But here, as elsewhere in the Sahara, the natives are declining in numbers and most of the outlying places are almost deserted; among them the once important centre of Jado, which is completely abandoned.

The following quaint traditions and history of Kowar were collected at Bilma:

“The first people of Kowar were _Sos_ (giants) from the Fezzan. Legend declares they were a very big race, while it is still claimed by the natives that the skeletons of these giants, and the great houses where they lived, are even yet to be seen in the Fezzan near Tedjerri. These giants were _tall as twenty elbows_.

“In due course the Sultan of the Beri-Beri came to Bilma and asked the Sultan of the _Sos_ for permission to settle there with his people. Where upon the giant King, answering nothing, took a wand and, extending it, turned slowly round so that he formed a mighty circle, the edge of which extended to Yeggeba, in northern Kowar, and to Dibbela in the south (a diameter of 100 miles or more); and within that area the Beri-Beri were permitted to live.

“The _Sos_ were at that time settled in the oasis in the valley of Bilma, _the rainfall of which was coming from Jado, and going to Fachi and Termitt_.”[11]

After this legendary time it is said that:

“In 800 A.D. there was a great invasion of Beri-Beri, who were Moslems. They came from Yemen in Arabia by way of the Fezzan and Kowar, and continued to the country of Mao (Lake Chad territory) leaving in their passage some people who thought the country of Bilma attractive and suitable to settle in.

“In this way the foundation was laid of Jado, Seggudim, Dirku, and Bilma.

“Furthermore _all oases[12] between Bilma and Chad_ were colonised by Beri-Beri. Some of them were already occupied, but the inhabitants were ejected by the Beri-Beri. The original people were a tribe named Koiam and representatives of the race are still to be found in Bornu.

“When the Tebu came to the region they found the Beri-Beri had already been in occupation of Kowar for a long time. The first Tebu came from Termitt, and it is claimed that the tribe originated from lawless people who had committed murder in their own countries to the south, and were obliged to flee and become outlaws. Later in their history, when the Tebu were an established race in Tibesti, the first of the tribe to discover Kowar chanced across it by accident when in pursuit of strayed camels. This adventurer found the country promising to live in, and returned to Tibesti with the news. As a consequence of this discovery a number of Tebu crossed to Kowar with their families to settle.

“In this way Achinuma, Arrighi, Tiggumama, Gassar, and Chimmidur were founded.

“In time the Tebu grew in strength and gained supremacy over the Beri-Beri, who became subject to them.

“Later on the Tuaregs of Aïr came to Bilma and Fachi, and took them over as colonies, exacting tax, which for a long time was paid to the Sultan of Agades. But the Tuaregs never occupied the country.”

The three oldest towns in Kowar are: Bilma, Dirku, and Gadzebi. Of these Bilma is by far the most important because of its prolific salt-pits.

As a place of outstanding fame in the Sahara it is naturally rich in local history. At various periods the town has occupied three different situations. The site of the oldest town, known to the natives as Balabili, is about a quarter of a mile south of the Bilma of the present. It is a grave ground, with a gruesome history, for it was almost completely annihilated, at a single blow, about 200 years ago, by Arabs who came from Wadai. The story of the tragedy, as told to me by the Chief of Bilma, is that all the inhabitants had gathered to the mosque on a festal occasion of Mohammedan worship, when they were swooped upon and trapped by their remorseless enemies; and a frightful massacre ensued, from which few escaped. The tragic remains of that awful day are still there for all to see, and I have looked with pity and awe on ground that is thickly strewn with the sun-bleached bones of those who perished. Not a dwelling stands on the desolate site; only a corner of the fateful mosque remains, and that is slowly crumbling and vanishing—vanishing to join the dust of those who once worshipped within its walls.

In time another town, locally called Kalala, was established, farther north, beside the salt-pits. Like Fachi, this was built of salt, and the roofless ruins of the old hutments are still standing. The old Chief of Bilma informed me that it was completely abandoned forty-seven years ago, owing to its being constantly attacked by hostile caravans, who looted everything, and even carried off the women and children.

But gradually, notwithstanding the loss from such disturbances, the present town had grown into being, fortified for defence, and possessing a fort; to which the people of Kalala were in the habit of fleeing to take refuge in time of raids. Comprehending, in this way, the greater safety that the new town offered, harassed Kalala was eventually abandoned, and everyone moved to settle in the quarter that is the Bilma of to-day.

That is something of the history of the famous salt oasis. And the past and the present would seem to have resemblance, for the existing town is decaying. It is already half in ruins, and, moreover, has the woebegone appearance of a place that has lost its spirit—the spirit of the wild in wilderness, that fights to live against any odds; the spirit to endure in the most desolate and unknown places of the earth; the spirit that is found in Fachi.

Nevertheless, the far-famed prolific salt-pits of Bilma remain remarkable. Their crowded hills of cast-up salt debris resemble the outworks of a great minehead, and no one knows how long they have been in existence down through the centuries of time. Their antiquity is acknowledged by all.

The area of ground covered by the mounds of the workings is very extensive, but by far the larger number of pits are idle or old, and just an odd one, here and there, is in use.

The salt is secured from wide open bottoms that are of no great depth. It is in large pure crystals ranging from the size of sugar-grains to cubes as large as ¼-inch. When a pit is being worked the bottom of it is flooded with water of a rich dark claret colour, stained by the natron, or native carbonate of sodium[13] that is put in as a chemical that settles and separates the sandy sediment and other foreign matter from the desired crystals. Bare-limbed men, in dirty ragged garb, work in this discoloured water up to their knees, and delve underneath with short-handled hoes to loosen the crystals, which they tread down with their naked feet to cleanse of sediment, before thrusting a shallow scoop below the surface, to bring it up piled with glistening salt. So rich is the deposit that quantity is rapidly secured. The wet salt is at once carried from the pit and mixed, with about an equal portion of dry salt, into a concrete-like consistency which is emptied into pyramid moulds, constructed for the purpose out of palm staves and bound with camel-hide. The whole process entails very little labour, and an abundance of cones of salt is produced with astonishing rapidity and ease.

The caravans that go to Bilma for salt secure it chiefly by barter, trading food and clothing to the value of their purchases. To gauge its actual value in coin, one block or cone of salt, weighing about 35 lbs., is worth two pennies in Bilma; but, when carried away south to Hausaland,[14] it is resold, or rebartered, at an entirely different value. At Tessawa it realises as much as eight shillings, or the equivalent, and at Kano ten shillings.

In considering values, however, the long period spent on the journey to and from Bilma, and the loss of camels through hunger and fatigue, should be reckoned in favour of the man who brings the salt to the markets of the south, for on that account, when all is said and done, his profits at best are but little; which is all that the best type of native expects or asks.

Tigguida n’Tisem is very different from Bilma, though both are renowned salt centres, and both of a character that would have assuredly made them central figures in the history of the Sahara, had the races who have come and gone through the dark ages of Africa’s existence kept comprehensive records of their country.

This salt centre is not so remote as Bilma, and is easier of access from Hausaland. It lies west of Agades, and north of In-Gall, in _black desert_ beyond the mountains of Aïr. Its actual position happens to be in a region wherein tend the main lines of drainage of the rare storm-rains of western Aïr; drainage that, at the present time, seeps eventually into the desert, but that, doubtless, once ran much further on its course, which heads, even to-day, in the direction of the Niger Basin. At Tigguida n’Tisem this watercourse, remarkable because of its size, takes the form of immense flats of clayey soil, resembling the sediment of an estuary, and the salt, which is the mainstay of the town, is located in a low hill in the very centre of this strange arid bottom. Indeed, on account of its position in the watercourse, when rains do happen to occur, which is, perhaps, once a year, or once in three years, according to chance, Tigguida n’Tisem is entirely surrounded by water, and at such times the population are in the habit of trekking south to take refuge in In-Gall.

But for the most part the hot sun-smitten land lies ever barren and petrified, while the wind-swept, dust-covered, diminutive town crouches, like the dens of fearful creatures, in a lost land of featureless flatness and terrible desolation. Why anyone should live there at all is beyond comprehension, until one halts at the significant word, _Salt!_ which constitutes the main occupation at present, though early geographers believed the settlement was concerned with copper.

Tigguida n’Tisem is very remarkable for two reasons: the rare race of people who occupy it, and its extremely picturesque salt-pans.

The whole locality is essentially Tuareg, and it is an astonishing fact that the natives of the town are not of that race, nor yet sedentary vassals of Beri-Beri, or Hausa slave caste from the south, who are invariably the workers of the Tuareg camps. They are known as _Azawaren_, and so completely separate are they in race that their language is unintelligible to the true natives of the region.

They are without written history, but the tribe was referred to by early geographers as a relic of the Sonrhay race, and, if that should come to be indisputably proved,[15] then at Tigguida n’Tisem, in the Sahara, the language of that once great Empire of the Niger still survives.

There are about four hundred of the tribe within the walls of Tigguida, and they are entirely town people. None frequent the country-side, and they herd neither goats nor sheep.

They believe that the settlement was founded by an old priest of the tribe a very long time ago. They are very pious, and carry no arms whatever, and hence know nothing of warfare, despite their living in a disturbed and dangerous region. Their prayers, and their industrious work at the salt-pans, appear to be their only interests. Seeking for records of their origin, I tried to secure an old weapon or piece of metal-work or embroidery, but failed to find anything that hinted of art in the past or in the present. Undoubtedly their two outstanding characteristics are that they are hard and careful workers, and religious far beyond the ordinary.

On account of the latter trait, and the fact that they never resort to arms, the town is constantly raided, and only a few days before I arrived it was attacked by a band of some thirty robbers who had come from the Ghat-Murzuk region. No fight was made. The inhabitants simply hid in their huts until the raid, and its curse, had passed. Seven or eight people were killed and wounded, and thirty camels raided belonging to a caravan visiting the town for salt.

When I arrived the inhabitants climbed to the hut roofs to scrutinise my caravan’s approach across the low flats, excited and watchful, until assured that the strange camels carried friends; for the shock of the recent raid was still fresh in their minds. But no other action revealed anything of the late disturbance, and for the most part the people were back at their salt-pans working calmly.

The town of Tigguida n’Tisem is small. The tiny mud huts of the people are closely crowded together for protection from sweeping winds and sand. It is not a walled town, nor, in any way, built for defence. The surroundings are almost entirely uninhabited; vast in extent, and bleak beyond description.

Neither in the buildings of the town nor in the faces of the people is there hint of anything remarkable. The attraction it possesses lies partly in the eerie environment, and in the mystery of unrecorded history, but chiefly in the salt-pits and _the work of the people_.

The town is barely fifty yards from the salt workings, which are not only unique but also extremely picturesque. They are made up of a series of very flat, pond-like spaces, connected to one another in an irregular chain by gate-wide necks. By reason of the excavations that have made the areas, they lie between high banks and cuttings of earth. The whole of the pond-like spaces, which constitute the floors of the workings, are on one level, and the amazing fact is that the whole place is one sea of closely crowded toilet-like basins, shaped with clay rims on the top of a level base. They are the brine-pans of Tigguida n’Tisem, where salt is obtained by a natural process of evaporation. And, looked at from the high banks of the workings, they make a very remarkable picture in their network array of countless water-filled or salt-glistening circles, and method of neatness and plan; while graceful figures, busy at work among them, add to the extreme novelty and attractiveness of the scene.

These workings are even more unusual and more picturesque than Bilma, and they differ, also, in the fact that a great deal of labour is demanded in obtaining very modest quantities of salt.

The method of obtaining the salt is as follows:

The product is secreted in the soil and sand of the low hill. Well-like pools down in the workings among the salt basins, are the “mixing pots,” where the salt-bearing earth from the hill and water, already brackish, are mixed to make a fluid of strong brine. On close inspection it is found that the bottom of the workings is of solid _rock_, and the basins are formed thereon, to hold water securely, simply by moulding carefully plastered rims of clay to the circle desired. As each shallow basin dries out, and after the frigid salt sediment, or crust, has been collected, it is scrupulously cleaned with a hand-whisk and refilled with a skin-bucket or two of brine. The basin is then left undisturbed, beneath blue sky and blazing sun, for the day or two required for the water to completely evaporate.

And thus the people of Tigguida labour constantly in these workings, which provide their sole means of livelihood. Whether puddling clay, carrying water, sweeping out basins, or collecting the salt crust, they are ever busy at one ploy or another; exhibiting a commendable diligence that is foreign to other people of the land.

From the workings the salt is carried to the dwellings in the town, where it is spread out to harden into flat oblong cakes of a size suitable to bale into compact camel loads. The cakes are of pale _pink_ colour, and on account of this it is easily recognisable when seen south of the Sahara in the bazaars of the markets of West Africa, where it is prized on account of its high quality.

Thus is _salt_ obtained from two remarkable places in the Sahara.

Its romance as currency begins at the very commencement of its existence as a product. Almost everything that the two towns secure from the outside, most of the food, and all of the clothes they require, is purchased by barter for salt.

Sometimes the exchanges are curious—a score of blocks of salt, at Bilma, for an article of adornment, or a lover’s gift; half a dozen blocks for a sheaf of raw tobacco, and a single block for a few sticks of scarce firewood.

At Tigguida n’Tisem all the water in the town is very salt. Hence _fresh water_ is transported from a distance by donkeys and sold in the streets every day, a handful of raw salt being the purchase price of a half-filled calabash bowl of fresh water.

From the time of leaving the salt-pits the career of each block, or slab, is one continual round of exchange, until they end in eventual consumption.

Although tribal customs are changing in the Western Sudan, there are still instances of local taxes being paid in salt; and builders and contractors; while raw materials, such as hides, ground-nuts, and other produce desired for export to Europe are often bartered for the same commodity. Nevertheless, it is as a native medium of exchange for little purchases that salt has its chief use as a currency at the present time.

Lastly, the nearest approach to dramatic entertainment that the West African native enjoys is furnished by curious Punch and Judy shows. And in the manner that one pays sixpence or a shilling to gain admittance, say, to a cinema, so the actors, or puppet manipulators, of “Punch and Judy” are often rewarded by small admirers with merely a “pinch of _salt_.”

CHAPTER VIII

THE PEOPLE OF THE VEIL