Chapter XII: Metamer and Medinin

Arriving at the palm grove in the hollow we had seen from the distance, we found that it lay by a river bed. The trees were not particularly well cared for, as could be seen at a glance; they were far apart, and there were few ditches for irrigation.

On a slope to the east of the valley and above it, there is a village of peculiar construction, with whitewashed buildings that are dazzling in the sunlight. This is the “Ksar” Metamer. The ground plan of the houses is oblong and rectangular, and their raised roofs are vaulted. They lie lengthwise, as the houses do at home in towns dating from the Middle Ages—the gable ends turning towards the streets. In general they are erected round an open square. The fronts of those facing the plain are without any aperture, except some loop-holes here and there. In other words, every quarter, and also the town as a whole, forms a little fortress. This is the style of building adopted here in the plains; it is, in fact, the same plan as that employed in cave construction, but in this case carried out aboveground; since the natives have found it impossible to reach the inaccessible mountain peaks, or to dig down into the rocky ground. The houses are very often seven storeys high. On every storey there is a well-barred door to the inner gable. This is reached by steps or by stones projecting from the walls. The effect is most peculiar and picturesque. Each inhabitant carries in his hand a key that he takes with him everywhere. This locks his rooms, which are mostly used as corn stores.

Not far from the “Ksar” are barracks for the little garrison, and shops that supply the needs of the soldiers, not only of the place, but also of those quartered in the neighbouring town of “Medinin.” I did not wish to visit the camp just then, so dismounted outside an Arab dwelling, and was invited to enter and partake of stewed kid.

After a hurried visit to the town, and having taken leave of Erzib, who desired to ride a long way towards his home that evening, I procured a new guide and rode eastwards over the plain, so as to arrive before nightfall at the Ksar of Medinin. As we approached its neighbourhood we turned into the highroad from Gabés.

Before us and to our left lay the “Ksar” of Medinin, illuminated by the evening sun. The ends of the houses were turned outwards, producing the effect of a circular wall scalloped at the top. Above these vaulted gable ends I caught a glimpse of higher buildings, and amongst them, in the centre of the town, a large square block. This was the Kasba. Through a narrow opening in the row of houses I saw the inner gable ends of dwellings, and doors disposed one above the other, the whole calling to mind the pictures one sees of Mexican “pueblos.”

Parts lay in deep shadow, parts blinding white in the sunshine. These lights and shadows were mingled in such dazzling contrast that the eye could scarcely discriminate what it beheld.

We rode along the exterior wall till we came to some palms; farther on grew others. These plantations are to the south of the Ksar and between it and the European quarter, which showed up gradually on the right, and consisted of barracks for the cavalry and infantry, quarters for the officers, and those occupied by the “Bureau de Renseignement.” The soldiers work amongst the palms, and have enclosed a plot of ground as a garden. In the beds I saw tender young green plants sprouting, which proved to be cress. In the open square in front of headquarters, and before the other houses, holes were being dug for plants by soldiers in light linen clothing.

In the future the whole military quarter will be surrounded by a beautiful palm grove, affording shade to the dwellings now completely exposed to the glare of the sun.

I rode up to headquarters—a large building—where the flag was hoisted half-mast high on account of the death of Marshal MacMahon.

Lieutenant Henry, who was at the Bureau, came out to welcome me. He told me that I was expected, and added that I should meet the officers of the 4th Light Brigade, whom I had known well at Gabés, they having arrived to relieve the southern station. I was quickly conducted to real bachelor’s quarters, consisting of a couple of rooms. All over the walls hung weapons and curiosities collected in these regions. The furniture, though camp-like, was very comfortable. At last I was able to indulge in the luxury of a bath and change.

In the meantime Hamed arrived to say farewell. He wished to ride back to Metamer on his donkey and accompany Erzib as far as Tujan, whence he hoped to take the donkey back to Hadeij, and return later to Gabés.

When I was dressed I called on the Commander-in-Chief of the district, Commandant Billet, a young man, who invited me to be his guest.

When I told him that I was most anxious to meet some Tuareg if possible, he replied, to my great joy, that by riding some thirty-two miles farther south I should probably have my wish gratified, as a telegram had just arrived from the signal station that two of these men had come to Tatuin, the most southerly station, to purchase corn.

Whether they might not have again left he did not know, but at any rate there was a chance for me. Relays of horses and an escort should be at my disposal whenever I desired them; but he hoped I would stay over the morrow, that I might meet the officers.

The garrison at this military post consists of a company of infantry, a squadron of cavalry, and a small detachment of artillery. The soldiers are lodged in large airy barracks, and the officers have comfortable quarters in new buildings.

There are no women within the camp, therefore all domestic service is performed by soldiers, who act as cooks and chambermaids. The officers form themselves into committees for the control of supplies, and at their table one dines remarkably well, as I had occasion to verify that same evening.

Lieutenant Henry introduced me to his mess. There I met most of the messmates of Gabés, and we renewed acquaintance to the clink of glasses.

After dinner we adjourned to the military club, where we met all the officers of the garrison, both young and old.

Next morning Lieutenant Henry accompanied me to the Ksar. We first ascended the minaret, from which we had a beautiful view over the town and plain. Then we visited the various groups of houses, with their vaulted gables and remarkable steps to the upper storeys. These steps were merely stones projecting here and there from the wall for the convenience of those who wished to climb up. Several of the groups of houses clustered so closely together, and leant so much the one upon the other in endless confusion, that it was extremely difficult to find one’s way through the labyrinth.

By a narrow opening, so low that we had to pass through with bowed heads, we arrived in a courtyard, emerging thence by a larger opening like a gateway, built as a defence. Through loop-holes in the sides, a severe fire might be kept up on an attacking enemy.

In a few of the outer walls overlooking the plain I noticed the same loop-holes; but defence is supposed to be maintained from the roofs, or rather from the central building.

It surprised me not to see more men about; but my cicerone explained that nearly all the inhabitants had sallied out on the 20th of this month, and had gone towards Moktar and the Tripolitan frontier nearest the sea, to follow their agricultural pursuits.

There they live in tents—first to sow, later to watch their fields, and finally to gather the harvest; not returning until the month of June the following year. Then they bring home the harvest, and store the products in the Ksar, which thus becomes what it is intended for—a great fortified granary.

At the time of my visit, there remained in the Ksar only about a couple of hundred men, who were merely left to guard the houses.

The place looks quite different in the month of July, when some one thousand five hundred or two thousand men arrive and pitch their tents above the Ksar; they depart again in October, after they have stored the barley, wheat, maize, “sorghum,” beans, and millet.

The inhabitants belong to the Berber tribe of “Tuasin,” and number some fifty thousand souls, dwellers in the Ksar and on the plain. They possess at least the same number of camels, a couple of thousand asses and twenty thousand sheep, from which it may be gathered that the greater portion are nomads, rather than dwellers in the oasis. In fact, they care little for their plantations.

In the groves near the Ksar grow palm, olive, and fig trees, also a few pomegranates, peaches, and apricots; but they are ill tended, and produce but poor crops.

The mode of life of the inhabitants and their perpetual feuds with the tribes on their frontier have caused them to develop into a brave and warlike people. Every man owns a firearm, which he does not hesitate to use on the slightest pretext. If hardly pushed, he flies to his fortress with all his possessions and cattle—there he is in safety.

It is natural that the Turks in Tripoli should regard with mistrust the French occupation of Tunisia, which they have never consented to recognise; and on that account have never been disposed to have the frontier defined. To this day it remains undetermined, perpetual frontier conflicts being the result; for the tribes on either side still look on the country, as they have always done, as their own to dispose of according to their will and pleasure; and, as hitherto, prefer to settle disputes in their own way. But the French occupation of Metamer, Medinin, and Tatuin has been of no small service in bringing about peace and quiet in these regions.

The northern side of the frontier is especially desert and barren, consisting only of interminable sandhills destitute of vegetation. South of this are far-stretching steppes, seldom trodden by human foot, and over which a deathlike silence reigns. No paths are traced through these deserts to guide the lonely traveller who may venture to penetrate them. Even the natives fear to enter a territory where any man they may meet must be regarded as an enemy.

To the south the steppes form a junction with the Matmata mountains, and are frequented only by the Tripolitan tribe of Nuail and the Tunisian Urghamma. These alone, therefore, would be capable of defining the boundary of this desert region, as their wanderings have made them well acquainted with its limits.

The Urghamma tribe—from which this continent apparently takes its name—the “Aurigha” of the ancients having become Africa—numbers some thirty thousand souls. At one time they mustered some four or five thousand soldiers, and were exempted by the Bey from payment of taxes, as they had bound themselves to defend the frontier.

The fact was, that they would not pay taxes. They took advantage of their peculiar position to make armed forays to rob and plunder far and wide; and gloried in deeds of bloodshed, engraving a mark on their guns for each man they slew. Guns covered from stock to muzzle with such marks are still to be met with.

With the advent of the French, circumstances altered, and now, thanks to the supervision of the military authorities, the Urghamma behave more like peaceful nomads.

Everywhere in the plains of Southern Tunisia I found remains of ancient towers—now lying in ruins, since the need for them no longer exists, but where formerly the nomads sought refuge when they were pursued. The decay of these towers proves that the French have known how to establish quiet and order in the country.

According to inquiries which I made in the south, the Urghamma are divided into the following groups:—

The Khezur and the Mehaben in and around Medinin.

The Accara on the coast.

The Tuasin on the plains.

The Uderma on the mountain slopes and on the plains.

The Jelidat people the eastern mountains.

The Duiri are found in the mountains and on the high tablelands.

We visited the Jews in their own quarter, and conversed with a couple of women, who, with their children, lived in a little hut stuck away in a corner of a yard. One of the women was a soothsayer, and showed us a book with closely written leaves, evidently the source of her cunning.

In a large open square on the outskirts of the Ksar stood a hut, occupied by a family of whom only the women and children were at home. We entered. It was dirty and comfortless, containing no furniture, not even the indispensable “senduk.”[3] The hut was built of slender branches wattled together, and in many places was covered with old rags to keep out rain. The form was circular with a high-pointed roof, evidently carrying out the idea of a tent. The fireplace was outside.

In the evening, after a jovial dinner with Commandant Billet, at which most of the officers were present, Lieutenants Adam, Coturier, and Druot started southwards with a company of Zephyrs, to return in two night marches to Tatuin, a distance of thirty-two miles. They invited me to breakfast with them next day at Bir el Ahmer. The bugles rang, and the sections tramped off as we said _au revoir_.

The water in Medinin is very unwholesome, and requires to be distilled before it is fit to drink; a huge distilling apparatus has therefore been erected; this has a number of taps, whence the distilled water flows drop by drop. A sentinel watches it, that the precious liquor may not be wasted.

Not far from this is the post office, which is also the telegraph office for private telegrams, the heliograph being used for military purposes.

Night and day, watch is kept on the tops of the mountains and far out on the plains to the north-west, that the flash connection between Gabés, Medinin, and Tatuin may be constantly maintained. It is expedient that a strict watch be kept, for frequently in the middle of the night a summons is flashed, and there must be no delay in replying; Commandant Billet not being a man to be trifled with on matters connected with the service.

He rides long distances on horseback to inspect the various southern posts and to see that all is well; and many a night has the startled guard seen him arrive, having ridden over the mountains in pitch darkness to make a visit of inspection. He is ubiquitous, and of an astounding energy, only allowing himself four hours for rest, then mounts his horse once more, or goes to work at his writing-table.

As an example of the Commandant’s iron will, one of the doctors told me that some months ago he was attacked by fever, just at the time that the General arrived to make an inspection. Notwithstanding the fact that his temperature was at 104° Fahrenheit, Commandant Billet left his bed and accompanied his superior officer on horseback round all the outposts. When he returned his temperature was still 104°.

On his spirited horse he has covered prodigious tracts of country in the south, often under very trying conditions. Lately he rode over eighty miles on a mountain track in five-and-twenty hours; not being met by the persons he expected, he took a couple of hours rest beside his horse, lying lightly clad in the cold night air, and then resumed his journey.

He told me himself of a rather amusing adventure. On a pitch-dark night he was riding home to Medinin from Bir el Ahmer. When he had ridden so long that he believed he must be near home, his horse became restive and left the path. After some time had elapsed, to his great delight he rode against a telegraph post, for he knew that by keeping along the telegraph line he should find his way home. But, alas! when morning broke he was back again at Bir el Ahmer, whence he had started; to the great astonishment of the soldiers, who evidently thought he had returned to take them by surprise: he then rode home.

As in Algeria, the army in Tunisia has literally paved the way to civilisation by making roads across the mountains and over the plains.

But their work is far from confined to this alone; they plant trees and dig wells, and are soon followed by telegraphic and postal officials, but above all by the schoolmaster. Where the soldier has cut a way, the schoolmaster can begin his work. If we call to mind my little Ali we can best understand and value his labours.

I called on the postmaster and the schoolmaster of Medinin at the officers’ club. They were energetic young men whose work goes hand in hand with that of the soldiers. There also I met the interpreter, a perfect gentleman who spoke faultless French. A tattooed mark on his forehead alone betrayed his origin; he was a Mohammedan and a married man. Besides himself, only one other of the officers in Medinin, a captain of cavalry, was married: he lived with his wife within the Ksar.