Chapter XV: Kufra: Its Place on the Map

_Friday, April 6._ The day began with the arrival of an immense bowl of roses, gloriously fragrant, sent by Sayed El Abid. This is the way the desert belies its name every now and then. I defy the Riviera to produce anything finer than these, or more fragrant.

It was Friday, the Moslem Sabbath, and I attended prayers at the mosque. The young Senussi princes were expected, and some of the Bedouins came in their best clothes, but side by side with the richest of silk _kuftans_ were the shabbiest _jerds_. Every one took off his slippers as they came in. I watched them for a while. There came a prosperous Zwaya or Majbari merchant with the crease still fresh in rich robes just removed from the chest, and _kohl_ in his eyes, put in with a _madwid_ (_kohl_ stick) of ivory or brass. The prosperous man, maybe, has everything upon him new, and he smells strongly of scent, perhaps pure rose-water distilled in Kufra, or else musk or other strong perfume from the Sudan. He enters in a dignified way and takes his place. There comes another, and his _jerd_ is tattered and his face bronzed and withered, not flabby, but he is no less dignified. Clothes play but a small part in this assembly because of the natural dignity and courage of these people, and those qualities are brought out in relief even more by the tattered _jerd_ than by the fine silks and scents, which sometimes take away something of the personality of the individual.

A slave comes. He is the favorite slave and confidant of one of the Senussi chiefs. His silks are as rich and even more vivid, and there is little to suggest servility. He feels his importance and walks with equally dignified grace through the ranks of the worshipers to take his place, maybe next to a dignitary, maybe next to a beggar. At the mosque the poor not only stand on level ground with the rich and the prosperous, but in a subtle way they have their revenge, for in the house of God the master is God and the beggar may feel as great or greater than the rich man since he is not submerged in the luxury of the world and forgetting God. The old and shabby _jerd_ is, to the Bedouin going into the mosque, as fit a garment for worship as silken brocades are proper raiment for a man going to see the Senussi chiefs.

The worshipers are now ready. The _muezzin_ has finished the call to prayer. There is a hush. The young Senussi princes are entering the mosque. They take the places that have been reserved for them. All eyes turn toward them, and, on account of their youth, they look a little shy and embarrassed. No one rises as they enter, for this is the House of God, wherein God alone is the master. Then the _imam_ mounts the pulpit and delivers his sermon. On the few occasions that I have been able to attend Friday prayers in an oasis mosque, the theme of the sermon has often been the same, advising the congregation to shun the world and its luxury and to prepare for a life of happiness in the next world by doing good. “Beware of the ornaments and the luxuries of this world, for they are very enticing. Once you fall a victim to them you lose your soul and stray farther from God. Draw nearer to God by doing good deeds and obeying his commands. This life will pass away. Only the next world is everlasting. Prepare yourselves for it, that you may be happy in eternity.”

The interior of this mosque is beautiful in the simple dignity of its lines. The walls are bare, whitewashed, scrupulously clean. The floor is covered with rugs or with fiber matting. The worshipers squat cross-legged upon the floor in a very reverent attitude. There are perhaps two hundred of them, ranged in rows, all facing toward Mecca. There are some who count their prayers upon rosaries of amber beads; others, too poor to have rosaries, record the number of their prayers by opening and closing their fingers. There are some whose every movement betrays opulence and prosperity; others, Bedouins of the desert, have a far-away look. The most striking impression is the serenity and contentment written on their faces. Even upon the pinched and haggard face there is an expression of equanimity which shows that the man has accepted his fate. It is written there that he is living on the verge of starvation, yet he does not rebel.

After lunch at El Abid’s, Soliman Bu Matari came again to talk about the trip south. He reported that Bu Helega and Mohammed, who was to be our guide, had met and talked things over, but Bu Helega was still unwilling to go.

Abdullahi had spent the day at Jof, gathering what information he could about the Ouenat route and trying to find out if the Tebus would let me hire camels from them for the journey thither.

After dinner at El Abid’s, I spent some time in Sayed Idris’s library, which he had instructed Jeddawi to throw open to me.

Imagine a room of medium size filled with chests containing books. The ceiling is decorated in vivid colors, the work of an artist, a lover of the Senussis, who came from Tunis simply to do them a service, just as in medieval Europe painters and sculptors devoted their lives to adorning churches. Every bit of wood in the room has come from Egypt or Benghazi. There is a window open to the air with only wooden shutters as a protection against the sun.

Hidden in the heart of the desert are these strange picturegraphs]

Rock drawings found in the valley chiseled on the granite rock. The drawings are similar to those found in Egypt of prehistoric age. There are drawings of giraffes, gazelles of every kind, lions, ostriches, cattle, but none of the camel, yet no traveler can reach this oasis now except with the camel because of the absence of water on the route and of any grains which could make the journey possible for a donkey or a horse. The remains of routes found in the Egyptian oasis west of the Nile Valley point toward the oasis of Ouenat, and it is probable that in the old times the route from the Mediterranean coast to central Africa was through this oasis and not through Kufra, as is the case now.]

It is not easy to move about, for books and chests of books are ranged along the walls and in the middle of the room as well.

There are many very ancient chests used as cup-boards and at the same time fitted with attachments at the sides which enable them to be straightway loaded upon a camel in case of need. The library is somewhat out of order, books piled carelessly one on top of another, for Sayed Idris has long been absent. There is a great number of manuscripts inclosed in beautifully tooled morocco covers. There are modern books printed in Cairo and in India. There are manuscripts from Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia. With the exception of a few books in the Persian language, all are in Arabic. There are two or three manuscripts of the Koran illuminated in gold. It was a great privilege for me to be allowed to go into this library, for as a rule no one is admitted.

I found many manuscripts laboriously written on ancient parchment, works on philosophy, the Arabic language, theology, Sufism, a few on poetry and mysticism, another on talismans and magic. Many were the interesting and pleasant hours that I spent among the collection. The surroundings and the atmosphere were just right; so remote, so many miles from the world, one felt in the mood to absorb the thought to be found in these manuscripts. Sit in a comfortable chair in the midst of civilization and try to read such books; one ring of the telephone would be enough to make them appear archaic.

_Saturday, April 7._ A fine pair of shoes came as a present from Sharrufa. The chiefs of the Zwayas came to pay me another visit. We talked over our coffee about Zwaya history. I learned that it was not the Zwayas who first conquered Kufra from the Tebus, but the Ghawasi and Jahama tribes. The names of two of the Kufra villages, Tollab and Zurruk, are family names of the Jahama tribe.

I gave each of my visitors a photograph of the group which I had taken several days before, and they were delighted with them.

I realized to the full that day the perils of Kufra. Rohlfs almost lost his life here by violence; I almost lost mine by kindness. I lunched prodigally at El Abid’s, as usual, and the meal was followed by coffee, three glasses of tea, with amber, rose-water, and mint, and three glasses of milk enriched with almond pulp. Then Sharrufa insisted that I should come to his house and offered me three glasses of perfumed tea, followed again by three glasses of almond-flavored milk. I reflected that to refuse was to offend, and gulped down the beverages, which, by now, had become somewhat nauseating. The end was not yet. Shams El Din hauled me off to his house and set before me biscuits and nuts and a huge glass of sweet syrup. It was almost more than flesh and blood could endure, but—to refuse was to offend. There followed three glasses of coffee, but I stalked forth with all the dignity of a man going to the gallows or the Spartan boy with the fox gnawing at his vitals.

As I lay down in my room to recuperate, many thoughts surged through my brain. Would that the Bedouin, whoever he was, who selected “three” as the mystic number to characterize desert hospitality, had died unborn! But it was lucky that he did not hit on seven instead of three. I came to the desert perfectly prepared for destruction by the hand of nature or hostile men, but the idea of perishing through indigestion did not commend itself to my sense of the fitness of things.

And yet, at the proper time, I went to El Abid’s again for dinner. Some of the Bedouin chiefs were my fellow-guests, and once more the route to the southward was discussed. Bu Helega persisted in his refusal to go by way of Ouenat.

“The conditions laid down by Sayed Idris,” he said, “call for a journey to Wadai and not to Darfur.” He would send neither his camels nor his men that way. I argued like a lawyer that since he had contracted to provide thirty-five _marhalas_—or days’ journeys—from Kufra southward, it should make no difference to him whether I use those _marhalas_ to go to Wadai or to El Fasher or back to Egypt. He was unconvinced by this ingenious reasoning, but when he realized that I was determined, that El Abid was not opposed to my plan, and that I was willing to take fewer camels than originally stipulated, he gave a reluctant consent. But he would not go himself or send his men.

_Sunday, April 8._ The affair of Bu Helega’s horse came to a head. I bought him for thirty-three pounds. He was sturdy and a splendid traveler, needing to drink only every second day.

After luncheon I took El Abid’s photograph and had a long talk with him about his malady, which he bore with true Bedouin fortitude, about conditions in Cyrenaica and Egypt, and about my plans for the trip to the Sudan.

I had had bad luck with my scientific work at Kufra. I did not find it easy to escape surveillance and to move about unattended or to use my instruments without arousing suspicion. What was worse, it had been cloudy every day since I arrived there, and I had been unable to take observations of the sun or Polaris with the theodolite.

A view of the inhabitants of Ouenat, the second oasis discovered by the explorer]

After dinner I was thoroughly tired. I had used up all the indigestion tablets which I brought with me. I felt that it would be a relief to get back to the simplicity of the open desert again.

_Monday, April 9_, was still cloudy, but a cool breeze was blowing. I spent a quiet day, reading in Idris’s library, developing a few films, and buying _girbas_ and barley for the journey. Sayed El Abid gave me copies, written with his own hand, of letters by El Mahdi to various _ikhwan_. He made me presents of a Moorish knife in a silver scabbard and a flint-lock pistol also beautifully inlaid.

_Tuesday, April 10._ The clouds cleared away in the afternoon, and I took photographs of the valley. I arranged with the shoemaker for shoes for myself and my men, and for bandoliers, which the men insisted on having, in view of the alarming rumors they had been hearing.

I met Mohammed Sukkar, who was to be our guide over the Ouenat route, for the first time, and liked him.

_Wednesday, April 11._ El Abid had heard of my purchase of Bu Helega’s horse and sent me a Tuareg sword and an Italian carbine, to carry when I ride him.

At last I was able to make observations with my theodolite. I was anxious to see how my results would agree with those of Rohlfs.

_Thursday, April 12._ I sent Sayed El Abid my shot-gun as a gift.

In the afternoon I rode with Sayed Mohammed Bu Tamanya and Zerwali to Jof. We were met by the chiefs of the village. I visited the _suk_, where the weekly market was being held, the _zawia_, which is the oldest Senussi school in Kufra, and the mosque. Jof is the trade-center of Kufra. It was interesting to find side by side in the _suk_ rifle-cartridges whose marking showed them to be thirty years old, Italian tomato sauce in tins from Benghazi, blue and white calico made in Manchester and imported from Egypt, and leather, ivory, and ostrich-feathers from Wadai. These products of the south, however, are not plentiful now in Kufra, except when a merchant who has brought them from Wadai is prevented for some reason from going on to the north to sell them in Egypt or Cyrenaica. Kufra had seen its best days as a trade-center before the occupation of the Sudan. Then it was easier to find an outlet for the products of Wadai and Darfur through Kufra than by way of the country to the east. Even now, however, there is a contraband trade through Kufra in female ivory and ivory of less than fourteen pounds weight, the exportation of which is prohibited by the Sudan Government.

In addition to the trade that passes through Kufra, most of the big Zwaya chiefs who have enough slaves go in for agriculture. They raise barley and maize. The Senussis are more progressive and grow melons, grapes, bananas, marrows, and other vegetables of the more delicate kinds, all of which are a great treat after the monotonous fare of the desert. They raise mint and roses, from which they make the rose-water and mint essence so essential in their ceremonies of hospitality. From a few olive-trees some olive-oil is produced in primitive presses. The animals of Kufra are camels, sheep, donkeys, and a few horses. Meat, however, is very expensive, as there is little grazing for sheep in the valley. The animals are fed on pounded date-stones, which do very well as a staple diet. But some green stuff is necessary at intervals. The Senussis, who are in everything more progressive than their neighbors, raise chickens and pigeons.

The price of slaves, I learned at Kufra, has risen a great deal during the last few years because there are no more slaves coming up from Wadai on account of the vigilance of the French authorities in that province. Occasionally the Bedouins get round this by contracting a marriage with a slave-girl in Wadai and then, when they come back, divorcing and selling her. On one of my travels in 1916 I was offered a slave-girl for six gold louis (120 francs); now the price varies from thirty to forty pounds. A male slave costs less. The Bedouins sometimes marry their slave-girls, and if one of these bears a male child she automatically becomes free. The Bedouins have no prejudice against color; that is, if a slave bears the head of a tribe his eldest male child, that child ipso facto becomes in his turn the head of the tribe, however black he may be. Whereas the children of slaves are slaves, the child of a slave-girl and a free man, however poor, is always free, and even though his father dies and he is left an orphan, he can never be a slave. The lot of a favorite male slave especially is preferable. They have more power and are taken more into the confidence of their masters than free men. They are very well treated and become members of the family. They are well dressed, for an ill-dressed slave reflects badly on his master, just as a shabby footman would detract from the glory of a millionaire’s Rolls-Royce. The favorite slave of Sayed Idris, Ali Kaja, is not only the most trusted man of Sayed Idris, but he has more power and authority among the Bedouins themselves than many a free man. Such a slave is treated as a confidant. If the slave of Sayed El Abid came to me with a message, I took it to be absolutely true, knowing that it is his duty to report exactly what he is told. In the same way, if I wished something to reach the ears of Sayed El Abid, and only his ears, I knew that I could tell it without a moment’s hesitation to his slave and be perfectly confident that it would not go anywhere else.

A man slave is permitted to buy a slave-girl. Once when I asked Ali Kaja about the price of slaves, he complained: “They are very expensive nowadays. The other day I bought one, and she cost me forty pounds in golden sovereigns.” He said it with such an air that he might never have been a slave himself.

The shabbiest slave that you see in an oasis is generally the freed slave, who curiously enough is looked down upon by the other owned slaves, and himself feels ashamed that he is a freed slave and belongs to no one!

There are many date-trees all through the Kufra Valley, and many of them belong to the Senussis. When the Zwayas invited Sidi Ibn Ali El Senussi to come to Kufra, each one of them gave the Senussis one third of his property, land, and date-trees. The proportion of two to one between the date-trees owned by the Zwayas and those of the Senussis has, however, in the years since then, been considerably altered in favor of the Zwayas. These regular inhabitants of the valley naturally planted new trees faster and thus increased their own holdings. One can still see in the valley the walls separating the Senussi lands from those of the Zwayas.

On our way back from Jof we met a wedding party. The officer commanding the troops at Kufra was being married, and the father of the bride invited me to “empty gunpowder” in honor of the occasion. I was glad to pay a compliment to the officer, who was an old friend of mine, and, when they fired their guns in salute, in good Bedouin style I rode my horse at a gallop up to the party, pulled him to a sudden halt in front of the bride, and fired my gun into the ground before her. It was astonishing how Baraka, the moment he heard the sound of the guns, took to the gallop and brought me at a rush within the prescribed distance for firing. It was all a part of his training.

_Friday, April 13._ A slave of Sayed Idris came to be treated for an illness which had lasted for two months. It seemed to be a digestive upset, with continual vomiting. I gave him ether on a piece of sugar, milk, and rice, and by evening he was better.

Bu Helega arrived from Hawari with seventeen camels. I told him to complete the twenty-five we had agreed upon.

I received a visit from the bridegroom and his father-in-law, who came to thank me for the compliment I paid the wedding procession.

_Saturday, April 14._ Bu Helega brought the rest of the camels. He was in a dilemma about sending a man with us. He did not wish to send his son, or even a slave, on such a hazardous journey which none of us might get through alive. On the other hand, there was the off chance that Fate might be good to us and let us escape. In that case, remote though it seemed to him, if he had no representative with us, how should he get his camels back, or rather their value? For it would be the natural thing to sell them at the end of the trip.

The afternoon was spent in packing and the evening in making observations. The weather was now more gracious. This was only the third night since reaching this spot that I had been able to see Polaris. I determined that I would not leave Kufra until I had made at least twice as many observations on different nights.

_Sunday, April 15._ The morning was spent in loading. Bu Helega was still in a quandary about sending a man with us. But since I had the camels it did not make any particular difference to me what he decided.

The slave whom I had been treating was astonishingly improved in health. He came to thank me. No one was more surprised than I at what I had been able to do for him.

At two the caravan set out for Ezeila, the last well of Kufra Valley on the south. There we were going to do _tag-heez_ properly, taking several days for perfecting our final preparations. I had bought two sheep for Bu Zafar, as none of us had made this journey before.

All my men had been newly clothed and made a cheerful sight, in spotless white with red shoes. Their carefully cleaned rifles glittered as they hung on their backs. Most of the new camels looked fresh and strong.

_Monday, April 16._ Abdullahi took the horse to Taj for shoeing, as I found that the stony ground was too hard for him. I sent a brass tray to the commandant as a wedding present, and the last three bottles of Bovril to Idris’ sick slave. Our departure was postponed because the guide was still occupied before the _kadi_ with a legal matter over a camel.

_Tuesday, April 17._ I had breakfast at Soliman Bu Matari’s in Jof with Zerwali, Abdullahi, the commandant, Saleh, and Mohammed Bu Tamania. The rest poked fun at the commandant because, being a new bridegroom, he would not partake of a dish cooked with onions. “They do not forgive when they are young,” said Bu Tamania, winking at the commandant.

The red rocks and rose-colored sand are the peculiarity of that region]

I bought a _hejin_, or trotting-camel, for my own use, paying nine pounds for it. We were at last ready for the start the next day.

As I made my last observation of Polaris, I had a strong hope that I should have succeeded in putting Kufra into its proper place on the map. I had been keen to check Rohlfs’s determination of the position of Kufra, which he made from the observations of his companion Stecker at Boema. Taj had not been built in Rohlfs’s day. When I made my first observations at Taj, I discovered that they were not in agreement with the results of Stecker’s observations at Boema, which is two kilometers from Taj in a direction 54° east of true south. I thereupon determined that I would not leave Kufra until I had secured a sufficient number of observations to preclude the possibility of any appreciable error. Polaris was observed with the theodolite by me on six different nights, under conditions which Dr. Ball, in his scholarly paper on my work published at the end of this volume, declares to leave no room for an error greater than a single minute of latitude or longitude.

The net result of my observations, when they were finally reduced after my return to Egypt, was that Kufra is some forty kilometers south-southeast of the position assigned to it by Rohlfs from Stecker’s observations. I found the altitude of Kufra to be almost precisely the same as that ascertained by Rohlfs, 400 meters for Boema, on the floor of the valley, and 475 meters for Taj on the valley’s ridge.