Chapter X: Bridal Festivities in Hadeij

Down the mountains and over the hills and valleys flocked the people in numbers. Amongst them were a few riders carrying guns and making their horses curvet along the path, marked by a dust cloud. Burnous-clad men straggled along in small or large parties, which showed at first as mere white patches on the mountain side, but grew larger and more distinct as they drew near. Women in bright clothing and mounted on donkeys came from their villages, accompanied by their husbands and children; other women were afoot, wrapped in red, yellow, or blue draperies; the midday sun lighting up the trinkets on their arms and ankles.

All these groups made for the cave in the valley—the Khalifa’s village. A couple of his men came riding to receive me; they closed up the troop with Hamed, and other guests overtaking us swelled our train, so that almost unconsciously I found myself at the head of quite a little cavalcade; the horses snorted as their hoofs beat the ground and raised the whirling dust, and the clink of spurs and the sound of voices reached my ear.

There was an air of festivity about the riders behind me, as, with the hoods of their fluttering burnouses flung back, they hurried along to the feast, passing the parties on foot, who drew aside as the horsemen trotted merrily past, their restive steeds curveting and snorting as they emerged from the shade of the palms into the sunshine.

When the dust-clouds had subsided, we halted under some olive trees, where the Khalifa sat surrounded by male friends and neighbours. Here I dismounted, and saluting first amiable old Sid Fatush, who received me most cordially, I then shook other outstretched hands and received their welcome.

On the open square which I knew so well, were raised camel’s-hair tents for the reception of the numerous guests. Outside these the horses and mules were tethered. No women were visible; they remained in the caves, but hundreds of men moved about, or sat in groups with upraised guns, whilst a swarm of romping boys clustered around them.

Guests were continually arriving; they kissed the Khalifa’s hand, and greeted one another. Many of these dark-eyed, fine-featured men were known to me, and I heard incessantly the salutation of “Salam,” to which the reply is “Salam alikum.” I felt secure and proud of my position as a friend of these mountaineers, and of knowing that, though the only Christian here amongst the “faithful,” I was safe, thanks to the Khalifa’s influence and protection.

Most of the men were clothed in the ordinary white burnous, or the brown toga-like haik, draped about them in picturesque folds; but others, especially the riders and those who intended performing the “powder-play” on foot, had discarded these garments and assumed silken costumes of golden, green, or blue embroidered gala burnouses with wide sleeves. A very few wore the ordinary burnous or the haik over their silk attire.

My good friend Belkassim was the only person present, as far as I could see, in old, worn, or ragged clothes; his upper garment resembled a frock coat. But he had to supervise the horses and mules of the guests, and I saw him hard at work, dragging them about, scolding and dealing blows right and left in his efforts to make room for the numerous animals.

His duties were evidently those of a marshal, and he did not spare the stick with which he made play at times amongst the idle lads who were heedless of his directions. Though very busy, he found time to give me a look and a warm greeting.

The bridegroom, Mohammed, was not visible, neither was he mentioned. According to custom, he kept himself concealed with his closest friends.

Mansur was not at home, having gone to fetch the bride; so Amor was the only one of the Khalifa’s sons who bade me welcome.

I was shown to my quarters in the guest-cave, and our horses were stabled in the cave passage, as on my first visit. A first-rate gala dinner refreshed me; the table being laden with dishes and bowls of well-cooked food, which I relished with the good appetite of a hungry man. The Khalifa himself came to look after me during my meal, followed by an inquisitive mob who crouched round the cave, darkening the entrance.

The onlookers remained silent while the meal lasted, and when it was over were hustled out, and I ordered Hamed to post himself at the door and forbid ingress to each and all, as I desired to change my dress and attire myself in my festal costume—a white linen suit.

When this was done, Hamed entered, leading by the hand a sprightly eleven-year-old lad, who addressed me in pure French, and was introduced by Hamed as his little brother Ali, who was invited to the festival, and had arrived with his mother and sister from Gabés, having ridden thence on a donkey.

Ali attended a French school at Gabés, and, being a bright intelligent lad, had soon learnt to talk fluent French. He told me that the Khalifa had said he might come and ask if I would employ him as interpreter.

I was much pleased with this acquisition, and during the hour which remained before the bride’s arrival, and the consequent commencement of festivities, occupied myself, with little Ali’s help, in gathering information on the subject of the wedding customs in the Matmata mountains, which enabled me to more fully understand what I witnessed later in the day, and thus add to the knowledge I had already acquired from both Mansur and Amor, and from several others of the better class of mountaineers.

And here I will diverge a little to describe the ceremonies that had preceded this last great function; and, in the meantime, my readers may picture to themselves the crowd eagerly scanning the mountains to espy the expected little caravan led by Mansur, who was to bring home the bride; the guests steadily increasing in numbers, and the bridegroom in his hiding-place, listening to the sounds of rejoicing, and perhaps dreaming of his bride-elect; whilst muskets were being loaded, locks examined, horses saddled, women adorned, and the bridal chamber made ready.

On his son Mohammed’s behalf, the old Khalifa discussed the necessary arrangements with the bride’s father, who is one of the tribe of Uled Sliman. The marriage is then concluded, but by merely a civil contract. Before the bridegroom can be left in peace with his second wife, there must be much _feu de joie_, many songs sung, quantities of kus-kus eaten, and many preparations made in both the bride’s and the bridegroom’s homes. In the latter especially, where festivities must be kept up for eight days, men and women vie with each other in making ready for great rejoicings.

It was, as my readers may remember, eight days earlier, on the 17th October, that I had witnessed the festival of the opening day. At first the women had been mainly occupied in collecting wheat and barley to be ground in their small stone handmills, many people being expected; so there was much work that had to be done, but joy and festivity would reign in Hadeij, so the village women met in the evenings and tried to surpass each other in improvising songs.

Whilst the chorus and joyful “Yu, yu” re-echoed in the still evenings, the men, as we have seen, sat in groups listening to the songs of the women, the negro comic singers, and the noisy drums and clarionets. Now and again there would be the flash of powder and report following report, all tokens of universal rejoicing.

The two first fête days are called “Faraja.” The third, “El Henna,” is so named after the plant, the leaves of which stain red the nails on the hands and feet of the women. A young bride must never be without this beautifying preparation in her new home, and every day she must adorn herself to please and attract her husband.

On the fourth day, “Nugera,” the women again assemble and work and sing, busying themselves with preparations for the festival.

At last on the fifth day, “Mahal,” the rejoicings begin. The tribesmen and women arrive to devour enormous quantities of various kinds of food, in addition to their well-loved “kus-kus.” The negroes dance, sing, and earn much money, as they are never overlooked by either host or guests.

The next morning, that is, of the sixth day, called “Follag,” the men begin by again revelling in “kus-kus” and meat dishes; they require to be well fed and strengthened, for in the evening after sunset they must sally out to collect wood for fuel. They return in the early morning, and then the women’s turn comes, when they will make their last and greatest effort to render the bridal banquet worthy of the occasion, and to do credit to themselves and to the Khalifa. Many oxen and some score of sheep are slaughtered, for no festive occasion passes without every man gorging until he is almost unfit to move.

The seventh day, “El Kesuar,” is appointed for the presentation to the bride of her dresses and ornaments. In this case this honourable commission was entrusted to Amor, the Khalifa’s second son.

Soon after midday he swung himself into his saddle and led the way, followed by some ten horsemen and a number of men on foot. The latter led mules laden with the bridal gifts. On the way the riders galloped in wildest “fantasia,” riding gallantly as they proceeded towards the bride’s home on the other side of the mountains, whilst muskets were discharged, and the smoke of the gunpowder rose amongst the hills. The negro musicians, who accompanied them, played on their flutes and beat their drums to warn the Uled Sliman of the approach of the people from Hadeij.

These are expected, and a festal welcome prepared in the village; for there also, during many days, great preparations have been made, the tribe being proud that little Mena should go to Hadeij as bride to the Khalifa’s son.

What a crowd there was the other evening, when, after sunset, she stepped from the cave into the open court, shy and timid, to allow herself to be seen by the men of her homestead, who had gathered on the top of the bank, whence they could see down into the deep courtyard to where the light flickered from the candle she carried, and where her shadow wavered on the perpendicular walls. For the last time they looked on her maiden form and beautiful features, and could not but acknowledge that little Mena was a fitting bride for Mohammed, son of the Khalifa of Hadeij.

The previous day the village women of the Uled Sliman sang the live-long day—morning, noon, and night their joyful songs arose from the caves.

There was no more work to be done. Enough food was provided for their own tribesmen, and for the strangers who were to come and fetch the bride.

After Amor and his men have done honour to the Uled Sliman by the “fantasia” on horseback, they are led into a cave, the residence of the bride’s father. Here they hand over the lovely clothes, and are regaled with roast and stewed meats.

Before leaving, they pass into another room, where the women have ranged themselves along the walls, each seated on her own “senduk” (chest). On the head of every woman they place pieces of money, intended for the negress who will adorn the bride, for she must have encouragement and be paid in ringing coin to embellish the bride, that she may prove attractive in the eyes of her future husband.

Not until after sunset does Amor return to Hadeij, where again the musket shots re-echo and the negroes dance and play, richly rewarded by the spectators.

In the village of Uled Sliman there is also feasting: the last great festival before the little girl leaves her home for ever, for next day she must bid farewell to all those who have been so good to her, to become the wife of a stranger, a man with whom she may be scarcely acquainted, except by name. But she probably dreams of her coming prosperity, and of him who will shortly be her husband and master. Lucky for her if she does not dwell on the thought that perhaps in seven, eight, or even fewer, years,—when she is faded, old, and ugly,—she may become a beast of burden, and make way for another and more youthful woman, whom she may gratefully welcome as a help in her work.

But we will not overshadow a happy hour with such forebodings. Sorrow may come early, but, possibly, never!

At dawn of the final day, called “Sjiffa” (a canopy), all were early afoot in Hadeij. During the previous evening, and late into the night, guests kept arriving from distant regions, and more would arrive that day. People had been invited from all the villages in the Matmata mountains—first and foremost, those of Uled Sliman, but also from Ras-el Ned, Beni Sultan, Tujan, Smerten, Beni Aissa. Many hundreds would assemble, and, with the men, women, and children of Hadeij, between one and two thousand would be present.

In the Khalifa’s house, in all the caves, and in the tents, the guests were fed in the early morning. Belkassim had his hands full, taking care that everyone had his appointed place.

The meal soon being finished, the people flocked to watch Mansur start with the canopy (Sjiffa) perched on the bridal camel. He rode a donkey, and was accompanied by both horsemen and men on foot, the latter firing off muskets and performing the most graceful and joyous “fantasia,” whilst the negroes played gaily on flutes and tambourines as they disappeared amongst the mountain paths.

But we must glance at the home of the bride, where Mansur is expected to arrive some hours later.

The father of the bride had given a banquet to the men, women, and children, and even to the negroes, followed by much _feu de joie_.

Towards midday, when the bride has been adorned, and only waits to be fetched, the men of her tribe enter, and each lays his mite on her head. All is for the negress who has dressed her and striven faithfully that the result may be superlatively impressive.

But hark! The report of guns is heard in the distance, the men from Hadeij are coming. Haste, oh, Uled Sliman, to receive them, for the powder speaks, the clarionets shrill, and the tom-toms boom incessantly.

The palanquin is decorated and enveloped in many coloured draperies. Within it is placed the bride, completely veiled, the hangings are drawn around it, so that she can neither see nor be seen, and the joyous procession starts homewards towards Hadeij, Mansur leading. The bride’s mother, sister, and father follow afoot, the negress with them—all walking immediately behind the palanquin. Before it go the negro musicians playing.

A message was brought me that the bridal procession was to be seen coming down the mountain. We hastened out and joined the stream of people hurrying to a great open space, where the “fantasia” was to be held. Thither rushed also a flock of females, enveloped in yellow and red draperies. These were the young and half-grown girls. They kept close together, and grouped themselves under the shade of a palm tree. The old Khalifa sat on his mule, a clubbed stick in his hand. He, Belkassim, Amor, and some of the men, directed the crowd to stand in long rows on either side of the open space.

My place, on a chair under a palm tree, was pointed out to me. Beside me were Ali and Hamed; and the Khalifa rode up now and again and halted near me, when we would smile at each other; while he inquired whether I was satisfied, if I was comfortably seated, and expressed his gratification at my presence on this festal day.

Behind me rose a rampart of earth, banked up about the palm trees; it was tightly packed with rows of men; and above this white crowd the palms towered into the air. Farther off the crowns of other palms and olives were visible, scattered here and there over the valley of which the horizon is bounded by blue mountains. Clinging to the tops of the neighbouring palm trees I saw boys, who had climbed there for a better view.

Behind the men stood groups of women; amongst the former were the negro musicians, and beside these were men in silken apparel and carrying muskets, in readiness to perform the gun dance (or powder-play).

Far to the left, on an open space between two roads, were gathered a number of horsemen, clothed in flowing garments and with their silver-inlaid guns held pointing upwards, prepared to spring forward at a given moment and pass us at flying speed.

To the right, the ground rose in a gentle incline to the caves in the bank.

It was hot at the midday hour, and the sun burnt scorchingly in the valley, but the attention of all was strained watching for the long-expected procession, so no one noticed the heat.

The flutes, clarionets, and drums began to play. The boys started running across the open space, followed and driven back by Belkassim and his assistants, and roundly abused even by the Khalifa himself; for the space had to be kept clear for the horses to gallop over.

Suddenly the sound of gun-shots was heard coming from the opposite groups. The smoke rose amongst the palm leaves, and then I saw men beautifully dressed and wearing red caps and full white trousers, performing the gun dance, either two or four at a time.

Two men sprang forward from the group. The first rested his cheek on his gun, aimed at his companion, and danced round in a circle with little tripping steps, still steadily sighting the other, who, opposite to him, danced in the same circle, the butt end of his gun held in a similar position. Thus they tripped from side to side, keeping with their guns a steady aim at each other. Then, suddenly, a report sounded from the two guns simultaneously. The dancers then sprang round to the staccato and nasal notes of the clarionets, now playing in quicker time. One of the men threw his musket up in the air to catch it again as it fell, the other whirled his whizzing round in his hand. So they danced for a while, and then dropped into slower measure, aiming at each other as at first, and ending by abruptly vanishing amongst the crowd to reload their guns, whilst others danced forward and the firing was repeated.

Two and two, aiming at each other, four men danced in a circle; as they tripped from one side to the other, reports re-echoed and guns whirled in the air. The sun gleamed on silver-inlaid weapons, on the dust, the dazzling white burnouses of the men, on the women, the palms and the olive trees, whilst the music’s monotonous nasal clamour resounded hideously.

Then the riders to the left stirred into activity. Two men started their horses at a gallop, forcing them along at furious speed. Like lightning they approached, the riders leaning towards each other so that their heads pressed cheek to cheek. Their caps seemed one red spot, their two faces were not distinguishable the one from the other. The rider on the right held his gun in his right hand, the other in his left, and as they galloped they swung them to and fro and up and down in the air. When they were quite in front of us, just outside the group of dancers, one of them fired his gun into the ground and the other into the air, then they parted, galloping quickly back to join their ranks.

Other horsemen followed in the same fashion.

In El Hamma I had noticed some riders whose horses had silken coverings flowing over their quarters, but here I saw none.

Some thirty horsemen came forward in turn to take part in the powder-play. The dancing group did not cease firing when the riders passed; the flutes and clarionets wildly intermingled their din—it was deafening. But the riders’ prowess was a beautiful sight. Some of them had no guns and only galloped past; one carried, hanging by his saddle, a splendid long silver-mounted sword, resembling our own old Viking swords. This I was to see used later, during the bridal ceremony.

After some time passed in this way, I heard the sound of other flutes and drums. The dancers and riders redoubled their exertions, for at last the bridal procession was on the point of arriving.

Mansur on his mule came riding into the square, and was nearly trampled on by the “fantasia” riders.

After him followed the camel with the canopy. It was led forward by men on foot, others supporting the palanquin on either side as it swayed backwards and forwards.

Behind the camel came some women, and the procession was closed by a mule laden with dresses and gifts.

Just as the camel was about to halt beneath the shade of the palm trees in front of me, two horsemen came tearing up. They fired their guns quite close to the canopy. Their horses reared, and I saw their forelegs right up in the air as the guns whirled over the men’s heads.

At short intervals other riders followed, some singly, others in couples, or even three riding side by side. In the last case, the two outside riders leant towards the central figure. All fired off their guns close to the palanquin, where the bride sat ensconced. She must have been unconscious of all save the fiendish noise made in her honour, and the unpleasant rocking motion produced by a camel’s action.

(_From a sketch by Knud Gamborg._)]

The horsemen returned to their starting-point after each gallop. The reel and gold canopied palanquin with its pointed top was now just in front of me. The music continued, and the clatter of the horses’ hoofs, and of shots fired into the ground; whilst the spectators in their white burnouses stood almost motionless, enjoying the beautiful sight. The sun shone brightly, and many drew their hoods over their heads to protect themselves from its rays, and the horses were white with foam from excitement and heat.

Behind a couple of the horsemen, a stark-naked negro lad, bestriding a little jennet, came galloping up. He waved his arms and gesticulated wildly with a stick, using it as a gun. Alas! the mule stopped suddenly, sticking his forefeet into the ground. The negro lad, with an indescribable grimace, threw his arms about its neck. The mule reared with a bound; the lad clung fast and anxiously to its neck as he still hung on, but was fated to fall, for the mule finally plunged to one side, pitching the naked boy on to the sand. For the first time I saw the spectators smile, some even laughed aloud. The mule trotted off towards the hills, followed by the shouting lad, whose unclothed form was covered with dust.

Such clowns often appear on the scene during a festival; the part always being played by a negro.

The black boy must soon have caught his mule, for a few minutes after his first performance he again rushed by to repeat his uncouth “fantasia.”

After the palanquin had been present at the “powder-play” for about half an hour, it was conducted towards the caves. The “fantasia” being at an end, all the people followed the bride; some going before, some behind the camel, and others alongside of it. The whole ground seemed sown with a crop of burnouses.

The Khalifa rode up and gave directions to Hamed and Ali as to where I was to be placed during the remainder of the function.

We took a short cut back to the Khalifa’s house, where I was stationed on a chair, over the entrance gate through which the bride would pass.

From my commanding position I looked down on the spot where the women sat and sang to me on my first evening.

Gradually more and more men and boys arrived, till the slopes were crowded. In front of the gate was Belkassim, the ubiquitous Belkassim, keeping back the boys with his marshal’s stick. Amor was there also, and a little later the Khalifa arrived on his mule. These kept a small space clear near the gate. Pressed together close beside it was a group of girls, mostly half-grown; in their light-coloured clothes they were very effective. They chaffed one another as they watched for the advent of the bride. By chance one of them looked up and caught sight of me; in an instant she had imparted her interesting discovery to the others, and many a pretty, roguish, or inquisitive glance was cast on me. When I nodded to them, they tittered, and the biggest girl withdrew the kerchief from before her face.

(_From a sketch by Knud Gamborg._)]

The Khalifa on his mule had enough to do keeping order. His angry voice thundered not only at the boys, but also at the men who pushed forward to have a look.

At length the musicians and the red-topped palanquin came in sight. Gun-shots exploded all around. Four negroes appeared, tripping along with a swaying motion from their hips, and playing, two on drums, and two on clarionets; the music shrieking hideously over the hill. Behind them came the palanquin, followed by the mule with the gifts.

A short distance from the gateway they halted, and the camel was ordered to kneel. The obstinate beast refused; supported by the men, the palanquin swayed from left to right. Poor little Mena: you were to be worried yet a little longer before you were to be allowed to leave your cage.

At last the men succeeded in making the camel kneel and in binding its foreleg, its complaining roar mingling with the rest of the infernal din.

The negress stood beside the palanquin, and I saw that she conversed with the captive—perhaps seeking to reassure her. She stretched her black arm beneath the canopy to pass in a finger-ring which Amor handed her. It was evidently a wedding present, but whether from Amor himself or from his brother, the bridegroom, I was unable to ascertain.

In the meanwhile, on the small clear space in front of the gate, a carpet had been spread, and on it a mattress, on which was placed a large flat pan filled with sand.

The men busied themselves stripping the palanquin of its canopy of hangings and kerchiefs, and when this was done they lifted down the closely veiled bride and set her on the ground. The negress took her by the hand and led her within a couple of paces of the edge of the carpet, where they remained standing. Round it some men had stationed themselves, holding unfolded burnouses spread above their heads, so that carpet and mattress were hidden from view.

I could not understand what these preparations could portend, and asked Hamed. He explained, in a whisper, that some small boys were to be circumcised, and pointed out three men each holding a child in his arms. These children were from two to four years old: one of them was little Hamed, the bridegroom’s son by his first wife; another, Amor’s son Mahmud; and the third little boy was also a relative.

The children wore red caps with tassels richly adorned with gold and silver ornaments, and, so far as I could make out, chains hung about their ears and necks. They were dressed in coloured coats, below which appeared white shirts and bare legs encircled by anklets. The two elder children cried incessantly, as if they knew what awaited them, but the youngest smiled and looked about him.

The music in the meantime drowned the screams of the small boys. Belkassim disappeared beneath the coverings, and one of the small boys was carried in. After a time he was brought out, fainting, and was taken to the cave; the other boys followed in the same manner.

During this ceremony, which lasted at least twenty minutes, the bride stood, closely veiled, by the carpet. Extending her right hand, decked with gold and silver rings, she took some leaves from a basin held by a negress and strewed them over the covering, and, whilst the music played and the drums boomed, I saw the slender little arm continually moving to and fro sprinkling the “henna” leaves above the boys and men.

At last the boys were taken away, and the carpet, etc. removed. The maiden bride had fulfilled the first of her duties—she had blessed the ceremony. The children being now purified, in token thereof water-coolers were broken on the ground, I observed also that chopped eggs and a great quantity of food were distributed to the assembled children.

The scene I had just witnessed was so full of charm, and, above all, so impressive, that for a moment I was almost awed by its solemnity.

At the end of the enclosure the crowd kept moving restlessly backwards and forwards, endeavouring to see what was going on, for the bride was about to enter her house.

Mohammed’s first wife, closely veiled, came forward, and, taking her rival by the hand, led her into their dwelling. On the other side of the bride walked the negress, who for the last time, after many years of loving care, directed her little Mena’s footsteps. On her head was held a little mirror, whilst she herself grasped with her right hand the hilt of a long, straight, double-edged sword, the point of which, carried foremost, was borne by a man. “Beware! Ill befall those who would injure this pure young woman; the sword would avenge her!”

Thus, to the screaming of the music, the young bride entered the gate.

As soon as the door had swung-to on its creaking hinges, guns were discharged in every direction with a deafening noise, and I was compelled to abandon in haste my exalted seat, for the smoke nearly choked me as the men and boys fired wildly in front of the gate.

It was then past noon, and there ensued a pause in the festivities, the musicians requiring rest, being expected to play with renewed vigour in the evening.

The numerous guests were fed in the dwellings and tents. Before the meal the people collected in groups under the trees, and friends and acquaintances conversed together. The Khalifa, who sat surrounded by the sheikhs of the villages, requested me to seat myself near him.

Several of these men were known to me, and I thanked them for their hospitality; others invited me to their villages. I replied that time was short, and I must hasten over the mountains and on to Medinin on the plains; so on this occasion they must excuse me, for I could not accept their invitation.

“But you have visited Judlig, Ben Aissa, Tujud, Zaraua, and many other villages in our land. You accepted the invitations of their sheikhs—wherefore, then, will you not also visit Beni Sultan?” said the sheikh of that village. “Come to our ‘Ksar,’ and if you will remain a long time you will be welcome.”

I explained that I had to go all the way to Medinin, where I was expected, but the sheikh would take no refusal, and the Khalifa put in his word, saying—

“You can ride to-morrow to Beni Sultan, and eat ‘kus-kus’ there; thence you can go on to Tujan, sleep there, and next day ride straight to Medinin.”

“But I was informed at Gabés that I could not ride a horse over the mountain on account of the road being rough and impracticable.”

“You shall have a mule which will carry you anywhere.”

“But my horse and my Spahi’s horse, what shall I do with them?”

“I will take them to Gabés with greetings from you,” said the Sheikh of Tujan. “I am just about to travel there to confer with the Khalifa, and so must also the Sheikh of Beni Sultan.”

“That is all very well, but I shall not see anything of yourselves.”

“No, unfortunately we are compelled to be away, as the Khalifa has summoned us; but the men in our villages will receive you well, and be pleased at your visit.”

I could but consent, and thank them for their invitation.

The Sheikh of Beni Sultan was a proud, generous man, who was said to be very wealthy.

Tujan is under the Khalifa of Gabés. This official had sent his friend, the Khalifa of Hadeij, a fine bull and five goats as an offering towards the feast.

For an hour I sat in conversation with the men, to whom I offered cigarettes, the old Khalifa having a positive weakness for these, to him rare, articles of commerce.

After sauntering for some time amongst the various groups to greet the people, I returned to my cave. It was quite dark; I lit a couple of candles, and occupied myself making notes of all I had seen and heard, Mansur, Amor, and several others sitting round me, and giving me any explanations I desired. Little Ali and his brother were my faithful interpreters, but my work was often interrupted, so many came to salute me, perhaps in hopes of being offered cigarettes; and the room filled by degrees.

At last meal-time approached, and they left me. So for once I ate all the good things in peace. Soup, ragout of fowl, roast kid, kus-kus, bread and honey, and dates. Only Mansur remained with me, and overwhelmed me with assurances of his friendship, which I heartily returned.

When I had eaten, I looked out into the courtyard. The great vaulted chamber opposite was lighted, and was choke full of men eating amongst the pillars. Deep silence reigned, for it is not considered correct to be noisy when eating.

In the room next my cave were Ali, Hamed, and many others, busy eating up the remains of my meal, and in the long cavern passage stood our horses devouring their plentiful fodder. Under the palms, the olive trees, and beneath the tents, all were in full enjoyment of the wedding feast.

I stepped out and went up the hill, where the stars twinkled above me, and all was still.

Out of the caves in the heart of the earth, streaming up from the courtyards on every side, I saw rays of light coming from the women’s dwellings, where they and the children also enjoyed the banquet.

It was nearly seven o’clock, and it would not be long ere the rejoicings recommenced in the enclosure before the gate with song music, and dancing. But the hour was also near when the bridegroom would present himself to his bride, accompanied only by a few friends.

As I stood, lost in thought, Ali came hastily and pulled at my burnous, whispering that the bridegroom had sent me a message by one of his friends, who was seeking me.

As I returned to learn particulars, I met the messenger.

“Mohammed asks if you will accompany him, Sidi. Will you? And shall I lead you?”

I consented without hesitation, whereupon we, the messenger, Ali, and I, started at once on our way in the dark, going through narrow lanes in the direction of the mountains.

All around was quiet, and became even more so as we put a distance between ourselves and the festivities. Suddenly a dog barked in the darkness; we were probably in the neighbourhood of a dwelling-place. Soon after, it ceased barking; we were beyond its domain.

The messenger, who was one of the bridegroom’s intimate friends, took my hand and led me, as he perceived that I had some difficulty in finding secure footing, and my little Ali walked on the other side of me, clinging to a fold of my burnous.

When we had proceeded thus some ten minutes, I made out some dark figures before me. These were the bridegroom and his friends. They were squatted on the ground, but rose when I approached.

By the faint light of the stars I distinguished an average-sized man clothed in a red burnous, beneath which showed a white haik—could it be, perchance, my gift? On his head he wore a red fez with a tassel. This was evidently the bridegroom.

Addressing me he said, “If you will be my friend, as you have become that of my father and my brothers, I shall be grateful to you, and will beg of you to accompany me shortly to my house.”

I thanked him for his invitation, which I was delighted to accept.

The bridegroom’s toilet was evidently only just completed, for a young Jew was still present, whose father I had visited during my first visit to Hadeij. He was very busy arranging the folds of the bridegroom’s costume, having doubtless acted as his valet.

We all sat down together. A pleasant scent of attar of rose was wafted from the bridegroom’s clothing towards me, and he produced a little phial of this, and passed it to me to use from. When he stretched out his hand, I noticed that rings glittered on his fingers, and that he held a pocket-handkerchief, a luxury I was not accustomed to see hereabouts.

“Are you married?” he asked me.

I answered, “Yes, surely.”

“How many wives have you?”

“I have only one.”

“Only one!”

I explained that in our country we were in the habit of having only one wife. It was forbidden to us to have several. Why, he could not comprehend, and at that moment I did not think fit to explain.

“See, Mohammed,” I said, “I will confess to you that it is not good to have only one wife, for a man is her slave. Two wives must doubtless be worse, for then there can be no peace; but I tell you that, in my opinion, a man ought to have three wives, neither more nor less. With that number he can pit two against each other, and take refuge with the third; but in such case he must be careful to vary.”

Mohammed understood my joke, and invited me at once to visit Hadeij next time he should marry.

Lighting one of my cigarettes, I passed them round. When I was about to offer them to the Jew, little Ali hastily pulled my sleeve and whispered, “You must not offer him any; he is a Jew.” I did so notwithstanding, and probably by this act fell low in Ali’s estimation, so innate is the contempt for the Jewish race—“Those dogs!”

Afterwards I found it had been a great piece of stupidity on my part to have shown civility to the Jew. He misunderstood it, and became intrusive and impertinent, so that later in the evening I had to set him down sharply, causing little Ali to laugh a laugh of superiority.

Although much tempted, I did not try to converse with the bridegroom about his home life, knowing that it would be considered indelicate. For an Arab never asks even his best friend after his wife’s health. The most he may say is, “How is it with your house?”

When we had waited there for about an hour, a man came running in to say that it was time. We rose, and I was told that amongst good friends it was always customary to carry the bridegroom part of the way to the bride’s apartment. So, lifting the heavy Mohammed, I carried him a few paces. He was evidently pleased at my doing him this friendly service, and, the form having been gone through, sprang quickly down, and, taking me and one of his other friends each by a hand, began to run. Before us sped a young man; the rest followed. We were breathless when we reached the caves.

All was in order. A crowd of spectators began to gather immediately, and we slipped in through the gates and down the passage, rapidly crossed into the first court, thence through the underground passage and out into the other court. This was half-dark, but from one of the caves shone a light. Here we entered. The vaulted oblong room with its whitewashed walls was brilliantly lit up. At the far end a carpet hung right across the room, concealing something on the ground; in front was spread another carpet. Here Mohammed seated himself, facing the door. There was no other furniture visible.

On the bridegroom’s left his friend took a seat, pointing to me to take my place on the right. There was not the slightest sign on the features of the former expressive of any emotion, either of gladness or gravity. To the looker-on he appeared merely phlegmatic, and sat, wrapped in his cloak, staring into vacancy. His friend, who was also clothed in red, sat, like himself, in silence.

In the open doorway I saw the faces of Belkassim and Mansur, also some children, Jews, and the men who had followed us. No women were present.

When we had been seated thus for a while, there appeared, from the part of the room divided from us by the hangings, a large dish of kus-kus and, soon after, a pitcher of water. These were placed before Mohammed, who took a mouthful of the food—the first meal prepared for him by his bride.

We sat silent a moment longer, then Belkassim dismissed the spectators from the door, and I rose, shook hands with my friend the bridegroom, and left. In the doorway I looked back. There sat the bridegroom, dumb and stiff, but behind him I saw the carpet being drawn a little aside, and in the dim light beyond it fancied I caught sight of a woman’s face. Whether it were pretty, young, or smiling, I know not. I only know that it must have been the bride’s.

In the open air the festival was in full swing. Closely packed in front of the gate, and all along the approach, sat veiled women. The banks and hollows were white with spectators. The negroes danced, played, and drummed. There a mulatto sang a droll ballad; here two men danced a stick dance, and so on.

I had been requested to take my place amongst the bridegroom’s friends, who held themselves in a group apart, prepared to show him this last day’s homage.

About an hour elapsed, then from the bridal cave a muffled gun-shot was heard; it was scarcely noticeable, as the shrieking and booming of the music overpowered all sounds. Ali hastily handed me a gun, which I discharged, and several shots were fired from our group. Every one of those present knew what this meant, and rejoiced, but none more so than the family of the bride. They, who had waited anxiously, were reassured, for she would not now, under cover of the silent dark night, and wrapped in a grey blanket, be hunted at a given word out of the village, and driven home to sorrowing and disgraced parents and relatives.

The festival was not interrupted, but continued as before.

With the Khalifa by my side, and surrounded by his sons, the sheikhs, and the principal guests, I remained seated all the evening and far into the night, watching the entertainment, that in course of time became very monotonous.

Now and again some men stepped forward, either singly or two together. Over their shoulders hung red cloaks, and they posed in graceful attitudes, with their heads held high, one foot forward, and the left arm hidden beneath the burnous and the red cloak, whilst the right hand was extended. On each side of them crouched a negro, with the flaps of his burnous spread out before him to catch the coins shortly to be thrown to him. Round these figures danced other negroes, whilst the drums played.

Now one of the red figures raised an arm and threw a coin into the negro’s lap, then again, slipping his hands into the folds over his breast, pulled out another coin. This went on incessantly, that all might witness how much money was distributed.

First it was the turn of the representatives from Beni Sultan, then from Zaraua, Tamezred, or other villages, who in this way paid the tribute expected of them on such festive occasions for the benefit of the negro musicians.

When at last the men ceased, and the chink of coin was no longer heard, one of the negroes advanced towards the group of women, and, half-singing, half-declaiming, told them that the men of such and such villages had given so much, at the same time praising not only their generosity, but also their other virtues. Now and then his song was interrupted by the “Yu, yu” of the women, which this evening, owing to the number of voices, sounded quite imposing. When he concluded, the applause was deafening.

Now and then a solo was sung, two or three voices joining in the chorus that followed, the singers sticking their noses as close together as they could during the performance. These songs are always sung in a nasal tone, without any modulation, and the time never varies.