Chapter V: Return to Gabés

Hamed woke me at sunrise. I was soon dressed, my saddle-bags packed and coffee heated.

The horses had been led out from their underground stable. Outside the dwelling I met the Khalifa, coming evidently fresh from his devotions as he still grasped his rosary. Smiling, he held out his hand to take leave bidding me “Farewell till to-morrow evening.”

As we rode over the hill, a rider galloped up and took the lead; it was Belkassim, the Khalifa’s relative, who was to show me the way. I followed him, and Hamed became the _arrière garde_.

There are no springs or wells in these regions; water, therefore, is collected in deep tanks. By one of these was a woman filling her pitcher.

The rays of the rising sun gleamed on Belkassim’s white burnous and the silver-inlaid gun which lay across his saddle-bow, on the tips of the palm trees, on the mountain peaks, and on the woman at the cistern. Snatching a rapid glance I saw she was pretty, but she at once turned her back; so I could only admire her slender feet and silver anklets as she placed the pitcher on the side of the tank and drew her blue-striped kerchief over her head.

“That is Mansur’s wife; his only wife,” said Belkassim.

Happy son of the Khalifa of Matmata!

When we had crossed to the other side of the vale I turned in my saddle; she still stood there, and in the distance below I saw her face indistinctly, like a pale spot amidst its dark blue wrappings. She remained long standing thus and looking after us; then disappeared, carrying the dull grey pitcher on her back, and up the slope other blue figures came tripping along to the same spot.

The valley is very uneven, rising and falling, as it is furrowed and cut up by watercourses. The palm and olive trees scattered along these crevasses are protected by stone enclosures and ditches.

Just as we passed the last dip in the valley before climbing the hill, there rushed out three dogs which had evidently been watching us.

I looked about me, for it dawned on my mind that there must be a habitation in the vicinity. I was right; for, by standing in my stirrups and stretching my neck, I got a glimpse of the square upper rim of a cave yard.

The dogs rushed on Hamed’s horse which was last, and had possibly approached too close to the entrance of the dwelling. The attack was so violent that we were obliged to turn and assist him. The furious brutes held fast on to the tail of his horse, fearing to come within reach of Hamed’s whip; but one of them succeeded in biting the horse’s near hind-leg, drawing blood and laming it—a pleasant beginning to our mountain trip!

We dismounted and threw stones at these furious white sheep-dogs, and at last they retired, showing their teeth and ready to resume the attack the moment we remounted. Fortunately a man and a boy appeared and called the dogs off. Believing the man to be their owner, I ordered Hamed to rate him soundly and threaten that I would report what had occurred to the Khalifa. The man took the rebuke quietly, but told us humbly that he was a poor devil who possessed nothing—not even a dog. The proprietor of the dwelling was absent.

“Then greet him from us and say that he should have his dogs under better control, or he will have the Khalifa after him.”

The wrongly accused man kissed a fold of my burnous, and we again mounted our horses and climbed the mountain in a zigzag course, by difficult paths over loose stones.

Belkassim rode only a few paces in front of me, yet I saw his horse above the level of my head, whilst Hamed, who was a couple of paces behind dragging along his lame horse, appeared to be far beneath me.

From the summit I looked back along the valley and to a high undulating stretch, where the trees showed like spots on a panther’s skin.

Over the valley to the north rose the mountains, and beyond them stretched an indistinct light blue plain, melting far away into a darker blue—this was the sea.

Step by step, slowly but surely, our horses paced down the long valley into which we descended. Now and again we put up a covey of partridges that flew up the mountain, and the larks started in couples from amongst the palms and stones. We presently hurried on at the quick pace to which the Berber horses are accustomed; Hamed singing, as we went along, a song that echoed above us and on every side.

Perched on some stones at the bottom of the dry bed of a torrent were three pretty little girls, who leaned against the bank and peeped shyly at us over it. Their goats jumped from stone to stone seeking food amongst the scanty forage afforded by the dry burnt pasture.

The tallest of the little girls ran suddenly away from the others when I rode towards them. She scrambled up the rocky bank like a squirrel, and paused on the top of a large boulder; the flock of black goats following her. She was evidently old enough to know that speech with a strange man is forbidden.

Belkassim tried to coax her down again; he assured her that the kind stranger would give her money if she would come to him. But no, she would not respond, remaining where she was and calling to the two other little ones. These pressed nervously against each other, in their thin blue garments, and, when I offered them some coppers, shut their eyes as they extended their hands to me to receive the money, and then took flight.

We were near some native dwellings. Dogs barked, under an olive tree stood a donkey munching straw, and we perceived some of the familiar blue figures, which looked nearly black against their light brown surroundings. In the distance their ornaments glittered in the light of the setting sun. Belkassim shouted to them to come forward as it was a friend and brother of the Khalifa who wished to see them. Most of them remained standing where they were and stared at us. The men were apparently all away, either amongst the mountains, busy with the date harvest, or building tanks in the valleys, so from them there was naught to fear.

We dismounted and had a chat with the women. I unpacked my camera and tried to take their portraits, but these girls and women are so restless that it is difficult to make them keep still. There was one exception, however, a pretty fresh young girl who came out of one of the dwellings—a cave like those near Hadeij—and stared and stared at the camera.

An old woman next came tripping up to offer herself, evidently of a mind that coppers are worth having. I should have preferred her good-looking daughters, who were engaged in driving a restive camel into the cave passage. But this I saw plainly was not to be, for she ordered the girls in and placed herself before me, and I had to be satisfied.

This was the village of Judlig. The population cannot be large, but by me it will always be remembered as the village of many women.

Continuing along the base of the valley for about an hour, we then entered another valley through the great deep bed of a broad river now dry; the banks were quite perpendicular. This river is the Sid Barrak. The horses had difficulty in keeping their footing on the stony bottom.

On a slight rise our guide bade us halt, so we drew rein while he pointed out Sid ben Aissa, but I could see nothing.

When we had ridden some way down the valley, we saw some half-score white burnouses coming towards us. These proved to be the Sheikh and his people, who came to bid me welcome; his brown-clad followers walked beside their horses. In time, the old greybeards and dark-eyed merry lads joined our party.

Dogs barked, sombre clad females with peaked white headgear peered over the crest of the mound, and terrified little children fled to their mothers and hid themselves in the folds of their garments.

Palm trunks raised their lofty crowns towards the blue heavens, where, on the mountains and in the valley, they grew mingled with olive and fig trees, and the hot air of midday quivered about us as we made our entry.

(_From a sketch by Knud Gamborg_).]

The village contains some fifty underground dwellings like those of Hadeij, and about five hundred inhabitants. The approach to the Sheikh’s dwelling was not covered in. From the highest point of the hill a slope led through a gate to the great square court. In addition to this entrance from the slope, one could enter from the hillside through a deep excavated passage that ran parallel with the slope, but naturally at a lower level.

Close to the point where the descent began was erected a thatched roof of dry twigs and palm branches, supported on four palm tree trunks. On this roof lay red and yellow bunches of freshly gathered dates, and beneath its shade sat a few men. My horse was tied up close by.

Hamed had told the Sheikh that I wished to see the interior of a dwelling, so they at once led me into the courtyard and thence into the long underground chamber.

In the courtyard a camel stood chewing the cud. It was pushed aside, fowls fluttered out of our way, and a kid and several sheep sprang on to some heaps of garnered dates, or hid behind the great egg-shaped reservoirs, woven of rushes, used for storing corn.

In the caves I found it dark, chiefly because my eyes had been dazzled by the daylight outside. Within were women, some grinding corn, others weaving. None were very young, but all were overladen with ornaments. They were quite friendly; one offered me dates, another water, only one of them, probably a young wife or daughter, hid in a corner and turned her back on me. The children flocked about me without fear, one of the boys even pulling roguishly at my burnous.

During my visit, Hamed and the other men had remained outside. Hamed was very proud of having obtained permission for me to see the cave. Usually, he said, no strangers are admitted into a house where there are women. But I fancy my good reception was due as much to the Khalifa’s influence as to Hamed’s.

On our way to the cave we had passed the vaulted guest-room, tastefully excavated out of the soft calcareous soil. Here I stretched myself on costly carpets whilst I ate my meal; my escort afterwards consuming the remainder.

As I wished to learn all particulars concerning the costume of both men and women, they brought me clothes and ornaments in quantities. To the great amusement of those present, Belkassim was dressed up in woman’s attire, the property of the Sheikh’s first wife. Afterwards, I photographed him in the same dress, together with the Sheikh and his boys in a group outside the caves.

After a stay of a couple of hours we rode on, being set on our way by the Sheikh and his people.

We now followed the bed of the river Barrak, amongst rocks and ridges and over rolling stones and rough pebbles. We saw a party of women leave the valley for a deserted village, of which the ruins showed waste and grim on the mountain-top. They were taking food up to the shepherds in charge of the sheep and goats there, and would take advantage of the cooler air of the heights to have a midday nap in the shade of the ruins. In olden days the Beni Aissa dwelt on these heights, but it was very trying, especially for the women who had every day to descend to the plain to fetch water; so, when more peaceful times came, they moved down to the caves at the base of the valley.

This valley wound round the foot of the mountain, so for a couple of hours we had the picturesque ruins to our right. At last we lost sight of them, and then began a stiff ascent through wild and desolate gorges, and, finally, we clambered up a very steep mountain side where the stones rolled from under our horses’ feet. Hamed thought it too bad, so dismounted, letting his horse follow him; while we, by endless zig-zags, wound our way to the summit. Here we waited a few moments to recover breath and give time to the loiterer, whilst enjoying the lovely view over the Matmata mountain peaks and vales.

Once more we descended into a valley, then toiled up another mountain side, afterwards riding along the ridge at the summit to reach “Tujud,” one of the eyries on the top of the Matmata heights.

On the horizon we could distinguish the low land to the south of Gabés, and, beyond it, the sea. Farther east lay the mountain chain of Jebel Teboga, a long blue line, and between it and us stretched a level plain, partly concealed by the adjacent hilly ground, of which the ridges surmounted each other in undulating lines. Below us, to the north, was a deep valley.

Scanning the stony surface of the bridle-path, I discovered accidentally some outlines scratched on the stones. They were mostly of footprints, and later I was informed that these are said to be carved by pious friends, in memory of the dead, on the spot where they had last met the deceased.

Tujud lay before us. In the distance it resembles somewhat an old German castle of the Middle Ages, with the usual mass of houses attached thereto. The summit of the pile of dwellings was crowned by a couple of camels, showing like black silhouettes against the sky. On the flat grey plain, dark specks were moving: these were women.

The Sheikh came to meet and conduct me into the town, through steep narrow alleys. The houses were all built of uncut stone, and not whitewashed. The style of building was most irregular. As the rock was very precipitous, the little dwellings were extraordinarily varied in height and appearance. Their courtyards were crowded with bleating sheep and goats, a few camels, various household chattels, braziers, and all manner of dirt. In the doorways, and on the flat roofs, women and children stood watching us.

Of men there were not many at home; at this season they are probably mostly guarding their flocks on the far plains to the south-west.

On a height close by, were a couple of Marabout tombs with whitewashed walls; and in the distance to the north we could see, over the mountain ridge, a village on a height. This was Zaraua; and towards the west we sighted another, Tamezred. They both looked like fortified castles.

After a short halt we continued our way towards Zaraua, the Sheikh giving us a guide, quite a young fellow. He tried to slip off when we had ridden about half-way; as it was near sunset he most likely wished to return to his home before dark. Belkassim gave him a sound thrashing and forced him to go on, as we could not distinguish the bridle-road from the footpath. When we reached the foot of the hill and could see the village at the summit, I dismissed the lad, who quickly vanished behind us.

No one came to meet us until, when quite near the town, a young man at last appeared, who welcomed me, announcing that he was a near relative of the Sheikh who, he said, was absent.

Both Hamed and Belkassim told me they detected an intention to slight me, therefore they abused the unlucky fellow because I had not been received at the proper distance from the town, and with the honours due to me.

Twelve years ago these natives tried to assert their independence of French rule, and many of the brave fellows fell fighting here among the mountains. From that time, therefore, they do not entertain a friendly recollection of the French; and they supposed me to be a Frenchman. However, they did not openly venture to run counter to the safe conduct the Khalifa had given me, so they went through the forms of hospitality; but my guides were in the right—my hosts were, to say the least, unwilling.

I walked up a path which led towards the cemetery. On the precipitous slope lay mound on mound, composed of small stones. Here rested, perhaps, the defenders of their fatherland, laid low by the bullets of the French.

From the tanks beneath the slopes the women drew water. They carried the huge pitchers on their backs, bound to their foreheads by a towel. Each turned away her face, or concealed it in her towel, as they approached us. The men stood, like rigid statues, without looking at us; not one extended the hand of welcome.

We dismounted on the outskirts of the village, and the young man led me into a stinking court and opened the door of a room that was snug enough, but where dirt, dust, and spiders reigned. The atmosphere was extremely musty and disgusting. I at once decided that I would not inhabit it, and proclaimed my amazement at their daring to offer me such a room.

The reply was that it was impossible to procure other quarters, and that there were none better to be found. Knowing this to be false, I said plainly that I would not submit to such treatment, and, in accordance with Belkassim’s advice, ordered that a tent should be pitched outside the house on a small terrace near the slope. The young man bent his head in consent, and soon several men were busy sweeping the terrace and driving tent pegs into the hard ground.

Our horses still stood saddled, without anyone offering to look after them, and again I had to do battle for my rights, with the result that they were stabled and supplied with provender.

In the meantime I walked down the mountain side, partly to look about me, partly to allow my followers time to fight out matters with the natives.

The sun had just set as I seated myself on a stone and looked up to the village above me; in the gathering darkness it showed as a massive black pile. On the terraces outside I could distinguish dark figures engaged in their evening orisons. They bowed frequently and kissed the ground, and then lay prostrate for some moments, deep in prayer.

The dogs around me barked, and I could hear the hammering in of the tent pegs, as also voices in discussion above me. Near me was a new grave—perhaps of that very day; it was covered with stones, and in the middle was stuck a bit of stick with a green rag attached to it, to scare jackals and deter them from digging up the body.

Presently our horses were led down the hill by Hamed, and watered at one of the tanks. As he passed he confided to me that Belkassim had managed his business so well that all was now in order. The latter had declared that I was not a Frenchman, but a stranger from another land, a friend of the Khalifa and of the tribe.

This, it appeared, had changed the attitude of the Zarauar, for, when I soon after returned to the town, several men came forward and offered me another dwelling which, after inspection, I accepted. I also granted the permission they asked to strike the tent.

The dwelling in question evidently belonged to someone practised in carpentry, for in the corners lay bits of wood, knives, axes, etc.

The ceiling was of palm stems, and on the stone walls hung a quantity of platters, bowls, trays, and cooking-pots. Lighting a candle I stood it on a plank, and threw myself on my rugs with my saddle under my head, and fancied myself the owner.

It was long before any food arrived, but when it did it was excellent. Whilst I ate, a knot of people stood at the open door and watched me. I chatted with them, and in the end we became ostensibly good friends, especially after I had distributed some cigarettes.

The public retired when the bowls and trays were carried out, and I applied myself to writing. That being done I rolled myself in my burnous and went to sleep. When I had slept but a short time I was awakened by the sound of the yard gate rattling. Our horses, which stood in the gateway, were evidently disturbed. Then I heard a light footfall on the pavement outside, and a sound as of someone breathing near my door, and a few minutes after a fumbling at the door handle. This I could not stand. Springing up I quickly struck a match and opened the door. There, with its head to my nose and breathing in my face, stood a camel; and behind it another.

Thank goodness, it was nothing worse.

Before sunrise we started, riding in the cool morning over mountain and vale to Tamezred. By a deep stony gorge we arrived at the foot of the mountain, where the road was so impracticable that we all three had to dismount and drag our horses along; it took us half an hour to cover a quarter of a mile.

This was certainly the most unapproachable eyrie I have seen in the south. From the mountain top the view extended for miles over hill and dale down to the plains to the south-west in the country of Bir Sultan, at least forty miles distant. There the herds were grazing, for no rain had fallen on the mountains.

Sheikh El-Hadj Abdallah received us amicably, and invited me to the guest-chamber—a stuffy room—where food was brought me. From thence I overlooked a wonderfully beautiful landscape.

The inhabitants spoke the Berber tongue, but also understood Arabic. I tried in vain to get some Berber manuscripts to examine, but none were to be had, the language being nowadays written in Arabic characters.

The Sheikh’s property—a square court with a low range of buildings outside it—I examined from end to end. Within were women spinning and cooking. In one enclosure stood a fine bull, in another I discovered a number of old flint-lock muskets hanging amongst keys, yarn, powder-horns, and pomegranates, all being spun over with spider webs. The guns had probably not been used since the French invasion.

This was the only occasion on which I saw firearms in any numbers, the Arabs generally concealing them—often under their beds so as to have them handy.

In the guest-room a camel’s-hair tent hung, rolled up under the roof. When the men wander forth after the rainfall to hunt or to sow, the tent is packed on a camel and taken with them.

The Sheikh informed me that the inhabitants of Tamezred number some five hundred souls. Of these about a hundred men can be armed; they mostly fight on foot, as horses are rare in these mountains; in Tamezred there are only seven, but there are many hundreds of camels, about a hundred cows, as many small donkeys, and large herds of sheep and goats. These graze on the plains, far away towards Bir Sultan and Bir Zuamitz, watched by the men of the village.

When the rain falls, all the men and some of the women go off to the plains to plough and sow; they live in tents, and their sheikhs accompany them and hunt gazelle and other game. Only a few old men remain in the villages to guard the women and children.

It is not the people of Tamezred alone who thus migrate, but also those from other mountain villages, as Zaraua and Tujud. Hadeij, in the Matmata mountains, feeds its herds in the plain south-west of the range beside the course of the river Wad Halluf.

The village of Tamezred is crowned at the top by a minaret, and lower down, amongst the houses, are several Marabout tombs with vaulted cupolas. Only one of these, the grave of Sid Hadj Yussuf, is limewashed and gleams white in the sunshine; the most part are grey, and at a distance it is scarcely possible to distinguish the buildings from the rocks.

On a height outside the village is raised a great surveyor’s landmark, visible for miles, and corresponding to others on the peaks of the Matmata mountains. These points of observation were raised by a French officer for the purpose of making a survey, which will surely be carried out ere long.

Having now attained the most westerly inhabited point of the Matmata mountains, we took an easterly direction, again following steep paths and deep gorges to reach the real Matmata villages, of which Lasheish is the largest.

In a deep valley on the way we found some half-score men occupied in clearing an old circular well built of unhewn stone. They told me that this supposed well was discovered quite recently. It dates from the time of the Romans, at least so report says, but it may be even more ancient, for no one remembers either having seen or heard of it.

The sand, which they drew up in rough baskets, was only slightly moist, but the fact of its being so gave them good hope, though they had already reached a depth of over one hundred and fifty feet.

Later in the day we passed a kubba, said to be the burial-place of a female Marabout. This lay, completely ruined, on a ridge between two crests of the mountain. I wanted to peep in, but my guides requested me not to do so.

From this point is a view of a wide valley, to the north of which are the mountains, and behind them lies Hadeij. Beyond the range we had a glimpse, through a haze, of the plains of Gabés and, far out, of the Mediterranean Sea.

In the valley below stood a whitewashed, square, cupola-topped Marabout tomb, that of “Sid Barrak.” I let my attendants go on a little in advance and sneaked in, first tying up my horse outside. The room was square, with a vaulted roof. In the centre of the floor stood a high square frame of carved wood, beneath which the saint was evidently buried. In each corner of the frame was stuck a flag. On the ground, along the whitewashed walls, were earthern pots, such as are used by the negroes; they were apparently sooty from use. Above were sketched, in black, lines, circles, and figures that reminded me of the Berber alphabet.

Just as I was copying these ornaments in my sketch-book, Hamed and Belkassim stepped in.

Hamed desired me to put on my burnous and draw the hood over my head before I left, so that no one should discover that I had entered; and Belkassim suggested that I should put some coins into a bag that hung on the wooden frame, and which was provided for the offerings of pilgrims, given to defray the expenses of illuminating the Marabout’s tomb at the festivals; often celebrated, he said, by the women in or near the tomb. I did as he desired.

Outside, in the vicinity of the tomb, were dug low underground chambers, into which I crept. Scattered within was pottery, some broken, a few pieces entire. They had been used, and there were also traces of a fireplace and smoke stains on the roof, all suggestive of the above-mentioned festivals. Both Belkassim and Hamed murmured a few prayers at the grave, and when they had finished their devotions we remounted. Belkassim looked carefully round as we emerged. There was not a single soul in sight, so he winked mischievously at me, and we went our way.

We were now again on undulating ground of hard chalk and clay, cultivated in very good ridge and furrow, and planted with palms and olives. In the distance we perceived several white spots in the valley. These were the Marabouts of Lasheish, the large troglodyte village. Meanwhile we were compelled to make a long détour, as we were in most impassable country, cut up as it was by the numberless large brooks, always found on either side of great rivers.

On a slope was a little white limekiln, whence smoke was rising. By it were piled large faggots of wood, seeing which I began to realise how much brushwood must, in course of time, have been consumed in these limekilns, and then understood why the natives of the Matmata do not, as a rule, whitewash their houses.

Lasheish is not under the authority of the Khalifa of Hadeij, but under that of his colleague of Gabés. In other respects it is exactly similar to Hadeij.

Knowing that the women here weave materials for burnouses, clothing, towels, and, in fact, all that appertains to the garb of the country, I decided on making some purchases. The cave to which I was conducted became, therefore, during the period of my stay, a regular shop, people coming in from all parts with goods for sale.

Fortunately, Mansur arrived on a visit, partly for the purpose of inviting guests to the wedding feast; partly, so as to accompany me on my way back to Hadeij. He materially assisted me in making my many purchases, and in securing them at fairly reasonable prices. But the bargaining was neither an easy nor a pleasant task for him, as our host always sided with the vendors. They quarrelled violently the whole time, and frequently, before completing a reasonable bargain, I had to throw the article repeatedly back on the seller’s hands. A gala burnous, I remember, was walked in and out of the door seven times; on each occasion with a decided command that it should not reappear before my eyes unless the price were reduced to about an eighth of what was first asked. Each time the owner returned, he abated a little and the haggling was renewed. With the air of a connoisseur I would re-examine the burnous, only to arrive at the same conclusion—it was far too dear. So again it was returned to the owner, who was at once pushed aside by other vendors.

Belkassim and Hamed vied with each other in shouts of abuse. There was a regular storm, and what a blessed calm when the bargaining was ended.

The simplest sale cannot take place without these folk abusing one another as if their lives depended on it.

Not having allowed myself to be cheated, I had rather risen than fallen in the natives’ estimation. The men, who a moment before had seemed to feel bitter enmity towards me and my guides, and who had often been harshly turned out of the room, now sat comfortably in peace and quiet beside me, watching me eat.

After dinner I took a turn through the village, but soon perceived that I was being led about much as foreign officers are at great military manœuvres in Europe, when they are shown everything except what they are most desirous of seeing. I was, therefore, soon ready to depart; all the more so, as I observed that the caves were all on the same lines of construction as those I had already examined at Hadeij.

Just as we were about to mount our horses, a man approached us. Cringing humbly and miserably, he dragged himself to my horse and kissed my hand. I was told he was the owner of the dog which had bitten Hamed’s horse yesterday. He came to entreat me not to inform the Khalifa of the occurrence, as he feared he might be cast into prison. Having told him that I was sure the Khalifa would be lenient, I spurred my horse and rode off; but my reply did not at all satisfy the penitent, who rushed to my side and clung to my clothing. I was near being angry, when my host came forward and explained that should the Khalifa hear that I had been molested on the way, the man would not escape punishment. Therefore he and the people of Lasheish implored that I would entirely refrain from reporting to the Khalifa the mishap that had befallen us.

I glanced down at the culprit, and nearly burst out laughing; he looked so ridiculous. Never do I remember having seen a more hypocritical and debased countenance.

I preserved my gravity, however, promised to keep silence, and put out my hand to take leave. The culprit literally snatched it to his mouth, and I heard him calling down the blessings of Allah upon me.

In an open square, planted with palms, the date harvest was in progress. The golden bunches which hung on the green crowns fell to the blows of a curved knife. Lightly clad men, boys, and even a young girl, worked in the tree-tops; climbing quickly and adroitly up and down the rough surface of the straight stems. Below, men and women collected the bunches in great clusters, which they placed in rush panniers, and removed on the backs of small donkeys.

It was difficult to tear myself away from this idyll, but we had to press forward, so I hurried up my little escort, and we marched on over the mountains.

Mansur had much difficulty in keeping up with me, being very heavy, and accustomed to ride a mule rather than a horse. There was always something wrong with his saddle, and he was perpetually dismounting to alter first one thing, then another, thus being left farther and farther behind. We were obliged at last to halt, to allow him to rejoin us, though time was passing, and sunset was near.

A little distance from Hadeij we found, at the bottom of the valley, a little donkey standing quite alone, feeding on some straw. Belkassim said that if left there at night the jackals would soon make away with it.

It was almost dark when we crossed the river and rode up to the village.

Again I saw the boys romping in the square amongst the palms. Their glad voices reached my ear, and when they caught sight of me they ran up to us followed by their barking dogs.

The men, grouped beneath the trees, rose and came forward to press my hand. The Khalifa also rose to receive me. I thanked him for the delightful trip he had arranged for me.

“I am glad that you are satisfied; glad to see you here again; and that you will stay with me, your brother, even for forty years.”

Of course these speeches must not be taken literally, they only express the kindly feeling of the speaker towards oneself.

After I had dined in my cave I sallied out to the Khalifa’s dwelling to be present, in accordance with his invitation, at the festivities held in honour of the third day.

As I did not like the old man to be inconvenienced by having to sit on a chair because I did so, I suggested that we should sit together amongst the other men. To this he agreed.

Gradually there arrived numbers of men from all the surrounding country; these sat tightly packed on the banks, as on the previous occasion.

Again the negroes danced, the drums boomed, and the clarionets screamed; whilst the Khalifa, his sons, and myself sat together in a friendly group looking on.

Now and then the women sang, but, as far as I could understand, neither bride nor bridegroom were mentioned in their songs, certainly not the latter.

It was hard to keep awake. Belkassim’s little son nestled up to me, and, as it grew chilly, I wrapped my burnous about him, and he was soon asleep. The monotonous music induced drowsiness; I fought valiantly against it, which was more than Hamed did, for I suddenly found him snoring beside me, wrapped in his burnous. I let him repose, but from that moment conversation betwixt myself and my foreign surroundings was limited to the simplest compliments.

In the course of the afternoon the Khalifa invited me to come back again and be present at the special bridal festival to be held five days later. I promised to return.

Next morning—the 20th October—I left Hadeij to ride back to Gabés. I took leave of the Khalifa, with many expressions of goodwill, adding, “May you soon have rain, that your olive trees may neither wither nor die.”

Just as we reached the first height, Mansur, who had volunteered to follow me to Gabés, pointed out how coal-black the heavens were in the direction of the sea, and how the lightning flashed and the thunder rolled, saying, “Allah has heard your good wish. It will rain in the Matmata mountains.”

When we descended into the plain, the rain pelted in our faces. We put on our burnouses, pulled the hoods over our heads, and hurried on. A moment after, we were wet through.

Mansur continually lagged behind; it was difficult for him to keep up, and he begged us to ride on without waiting for him.

Once we passed a shepherd with his flock; the sheep were all huddled together, the goats apart, whilst he had taken shelter under a bush.

We crossed a couple of river beds which, when I passed a few days ago, had been dry and parched; now the water rushed over them in a rapid stream. However our horses crossed easily, and I started at a gallop, pushing quickly through rain and slough, with the mud flying up to my ears, till, the ground presently growing too slippery, I was again reduced to going at foot’s pace.

The palm grove of El Hamdu gleamed through the rain, but before we could reach the oasis the river had to be crossed. The ford amongst the tamarisk and oleander bushes we found easily, but the torrent ran high. I urged my horse forward, and he went slowly through the water till he suddenly slipped and fell, wetting me to the middle. I tried to turn him back, but the current swept us to the side, and at last I gave up the struggle, being afraid that my books and sketches might get wet. Then I caught sight of Hamed, and saw his horse, which was laden both before and behind the saddle with my purchases, plunging about in the swirling stream, and splashing the water in every direction. I shouted to him to turn back.

We then followed the course of the river a long way up, and tried to cross several times, but without success.

A herd of little, thin, brown cattle walked along the banks; they had got separated, and some were on either side of the river. They had apparently no guardian, and were evidently endeavouring to rejoin each other. Occasionally one of them would plunge into the water, only to be driven back to the bank by the current, and we heard the distressed bellowing of the divided herd.

At last, at a spot where the river was very broad, we succeeded in crossing without mishap, but the water reached above the horses’ girths.

We then returned along the banks to the ford, where we waited for half an hour before Mansur’s white horse appeared on the opposite shore. The rain poured down incessantly, and our horses pawed the ground impatiently, eager to get on, but we were compelled to wait to direct Mansur where to cross.

“To the left! to the left!” we shouted; but Mansur had drawn his burnous so closely over his head that he could neither see nor hear, and not till he was close to the river were we able to attract his attention; then he also crossed safely, and we continued our way.

In the neighbourhood of the oasis we could hear the El Hamdu folk crying and lamenting the rainfall. The date harvest of the oasis was not ended, and, until it was over, water was injurious to the dates. What is good for the olives and the barley fields is injurious to the palms, the chief source of subsistence of the people of the oases. All over the world the agriculturist is the same.

Involuntarily I recollected a certain old fellow, a countryman of mine, in a town in Jutland, who, sitting at his dinner-table one day, complained loudly that the Almighty had not taken pity on the poor country folk and sent them a little rain for their rye-fields; when, at the very same instant, there was a loud clap of thunder, and rain suddenly pelted down without any warning. He at once jumped up, rushed to the window and exclaimed, “Oh, the devil! now all my peat is gone to ———!”

Step by step our horses splashed on through the puddles; it was almost impossible to quicken our pace; so it was late in the day when we reached Gabés, to find everything standing in pools.

The river had not been so swollen for many years, and had done much damage.

Luckily, neither my sketches nor my purchases had suffered.