CHAPTER XX
An unreliable guide — Relief — Typical scenery — Game in the “oueds” — A dreary scene — The effect of the sun — A breakdown — Kidal — Reorganization — A veiled people — The Iforas — Tuaregs and Iforas — Iforas as camel-masters — Adrar — I abandon my bath — The value of dates — French couriers — A solitary post — Relics of the Stone Age — Relics of former nations.
OWING to the heat and the fine particles of sand constantly flying in the air, Sidi Mahomed, the Arab guide, became much troubled with his eyes, developing a kind of ophthalmia. I had then to depend entirely on the Tuareg guide, and it was soon evident that he was not very reliable. We were marching towards the wells of Tinderan, and on the afternoon of the 30th of April we should have arrived there. Time went on, and it began to get dark, while there were still no signs of the wells. On being interrogated, the guide, with customary vagueness, said it was only a short way off, and we should soon be at Tinderan. There was no moon that night, and I soon perceived the ground was becoming very rough; the camels began to stumble into holes and over boulders, until it seemed hazardous to proceed for fear that one would break his leg. It seemed to me that the guide had lost his way. I decided, however, not to interfere with him, as it is a principle in the desert not to harry the guide with questions, since it only flurries him. One is perforce dependent absolutely on one’s guide, so it is the best policy to rely thoroughly on him and leave him alone if he seems puzzled.
As the stars became brighter in the heavens I noticed that we had altered our course from east-north-east to south-east, and gradually we began to turn still further south. There was then no doubt that the Tuareg had lost himself. I halted the caravan, proceeding to question him. He denied that he had lost the way, protesting that we were quite close to Tinderan. However, it was palpable that he must have missed his direction, so without further listening to his protests I camped where we were for the night, sending him off to find the right way, and telling him not to return till he had so done. Anyhow, it was fairly evident that he did not understand how to march by the stars, for we had turned nearly through an angle of 180 degrees, and were now with our backs to the direction in which I knew Tinderan must lie. Should he not succeed in soon finding the wells the position threatened to become serious, for we had nearly exhausted the supply of water on the camels. It was two days’ march back to the last well, whither we must return should the worst come to the worst, and the strictest economy with our water would not make it suffice for that time. I resolved to keep the water intact till to-morrow anyhow, and see what news the dawn would bring. So that night we went to bed thirsty. Eventually it was not till late the following afternoon that we arrived at Tinderan, weary and parched. We had been nearly eight miles out of the true direction, it appeared, the previous night. The general sense of relief, and the men’s joy at the sight of the wells, are not easily described. We had practically no water remaining in the water-skins, and what there was had a disgusting stagnant taste. The sun had been overpoweringly hot, for we had been forced to march through the heat of the day, and the sense of mistrust in our guide was universal. What feelings of relief and comfort did not these wells conjure up! Tinderan meant water to drink, a good rest for weary limbs, food and sleep, and for myself, also the delights of a wash once more!
My Kitchen in the Desert
In the foreground is my servant, Musa, cooking my breakfast. At this spot we were so fortunate as to find some stunted mimosas, so that, with the aid of a rug thrown over some branches, I was able to rig up a little shelter against the blazing rays of the Saharan sun.
To the ordinary observer, it is true, Tinderan was hardly an attractive-looking place. It lay in the midst of typical Saharan scenery. Wastes of yellowish white sand surrounded it on all sides. Besides the wells there was, of course, nothing else at Tinderan, for that was simply the name of the wells. There were some half-dozen of them, consisting merely of holes excavated in the sand, and not discernible until one actually walked up to them. But to the desert traveller, tired and thirsty, the surroundings mattered little; the chief point, and the only point, was that here was water and plenty of it. For the time being all hardships are forgotten and joy reigns supreme.
On our march to Tinderan we had finally left the “Oued Telemsi,” the dried-up watercourse along which we had been travelling since leaving the Niger, and were now on the northern confines of the Kountah Arabs’ country. Just before quitting the Telemsi we had crossed two other “oueds,” called Northern and Southern Eguerrer respectively. These are big shallow valleys, and must at one time have been two large streams which united south of Tinderan to form the River Telemsi. I saw several herds of Loder’s gazelle in these “oueds,” and shot three of them just before dusk. We had not had any meat for some days, so they were a welcome addition to our larder. It was not till the following day that I again saw some White Oryx (Oryx leucoryx). These fine antelope are extremely local in this part of the Sahara. I generally saw them in a locality where there was rocky ground as well as sand. A favourite spot for these animals would be a sandy “oued” with “cram-cram” grass growing in its bed, and on each side barren, rocky hills. They appear to care little for shade, feeding in the early morning in the “oued” and retiring to the rocky, shadeless hills during the heat of the day. They invariably seemed to be well-fed and in good condition, and one cannot help marvelling at the sustenance they seem to get out of such a poor-looking diet. The white oryx is a dangerous animal to approach if wounded, for he can inflict terrible wounds with his sharp, spear-like horns on anyone who is so unwary as to come within reach of them.
On the 1st of May we passed a piece of desert rather different from anything I had yet seen. For several miles there were clumps of dead mimosa shrubs, the soil was sand, and the terrain here was very flat. The appearance of the scene was most dreary; it seemed as if this had once been a comparatively fertile spot for the Sahara, when all of a sudden the blight of the desert must have descended upon it, mercilessly killing every bit of living vegetation. The guides informed me that there had been no rain there for five years, hence the destruction of the mimosas. Although rain in the Sahara is rare, still there are not many places which are not favoured with a shower, or perhaps two, every year or every other year, and it is marvellous how this infinitesimal quantity of moisture will put new life into Saharan vegetation, making new plants spring up in a very short time. It is fortunate that this is so, for otherwise even the camel could not exist in the desert.
On the 3rd of May we saw in front of us a rocky barrier of mountains, which seemed to block the horizon to the north. These were the Mountains of Adrar, and we were approaching the Adrar Plateau, upon which was situated the post of Kidal. All the way from the Niger we had been gradually rising towards this plateau, which forms a tableland at an elevation of about 2500 feet in the south of the Central Sahara. The next two days were the hottest we experienced. The way lay over burning granite rocks, rough boulders obstructed our route at every step, while the sun beat down with pitiless vigour on our heads. Path, of course, there was none. In the desert such a thing as a path is unknown; each caravan seeks its own road. Every guide has his own landmarks to help him, but two caravans, both destined for the same well and starting from the same place, might easily pass each other en route without being in view. The average temperature during those two days was 116 degrees in the shade; our throats were parched, our feet were burnt, and the glare from the blazing sun was intolerable. Up to this point I had not adopted sun-spectacles, but now I was forced to do so. I had taken the precaution to bring three pairs with me, and the relief to the straining eyes was inexpressible. The chief objection to them is that they make one’s face perspire to an uncomfortable degree, and when they are removed it is difficult to see in the strong sunlight for some minutes.
Until now I had flattered myself that I was fairly well hardened to the African sun, for I had travelled through the tropical heat, in the hottest season, during the past three months, with my sleeves rolled up to the elbow and knickers cut short at the knee. Now, however, I found that my skin was as tender as a child’s against the fierce rays of the Sahara sun. My face, arms, and knees got terribly burnt and swollen. I suffered tortures every time I touched them or bathed them. The skin came off, and I must have looked a very peculiar object. Even the natives’ hard feet became fearfully blistered and swollen by the burning heat of the rocks. Raids on the water-skins during the march were frequently attempted, and I had to give the N.C.O. of my escort the strictest orders to keep the men from the water. If they had been allowed to drink all they wished the water supply would soon have been exhausted, and it is always a sound principle to arrive at a well with some water in your water-skins, for it is never certain in the desert that the wells will not be found dry.
Halting in the middle of the day was the time everyone disliked most, for the heat of those rocks and the lack of any shade were truly appalling. However, a halt was absolutely necessary for several hours during the day in order to give the camels a rest, so I used to stop at some “oued” where there was some parched-up “cram-cram” for them to feed on. As it was, two of the camels fell down during the march on the 4th, refusing to get up. They were exhausted by the heat. I relieved them of their loads, leaving the guide, Sidi Mahomed, to look after them, and bidding him follow as soon as they had rested. Those two camels died before reaching Kidal, and the only wonder was that we did not lose more.
A sandstorm was blowing when we arrived at Kidal on the 5th of May, about 10 p.m. I shall not easily forget my sensation of joy at again beholding a European’s face after the past twelve days in the desert. What a pleasant spot Kidal seemed! Here there were actually two houses, or huts to be more accurate, built of mud. Further, there were about a dozen date palms surrounding the little post. The spectacle of real trees and real green leaves once more was most refreshing. Then, one need no longer stint oneself for water. How I revelled in a bath that evening! The water at Kidal was beautifully pure, not like some of the disgusting liquid we had been obliged to drink on the way. Almost the strangest thing was that I had been only twelve days on my journey. It seemed as if I had spent a lifetime already in the Sahara, so new and varied were many of the experiences I had undergone. The little hut allotted to me was very hot, but the relief at being in the shade, and being able to discard my helmet during the day, was great. Besides, it was cooler at Kidal. The soil was sandy and those burning granite rocks were farther away.
The Sergeant of Tirailleurs in Charge of my Escort, and my Two Guides to Kidal
Three distinct types are here depicted. On the left a white-bearded Arab of the Kountah tribe, whose handsome face and picturesque garb make him a fascinating figure. In the centre is the sergeant of my escort, a stalwart Bambarra with the distinctive thick lips and snub features of the negroid races. The third man is a Tuareg, one of that curious tribe which wanders in the Central Sahara, shunning contact with the rest of mankind to an extraordinary degree.
I did not leave Kidal till the 8th of May. I had to reorganize my caravan here. The officer in charge of the post had fortunately been able to retain the services of a guide for me, and the same man was willing to let me his camels if we could agree as to terms.
The day after my arrival I had an interview with Mohamed Ben Kaid Kaddour, as the guide was called. He was an Arab trader who did business between Insalah and the Adrar country. He had not intended to return to Insalah till the cool season commenced, about September, but owing to some urgent private affairs he had just been recalled to the northern part of the desert. The man was a shrewd Arab, about thirty years old, a keen trader, and with the reputation of being a sure guide in the desert. The opportunity was a good one, so I decided to take it at any cost, for, owing to the time of year—it being the hottest part of the hot season—no caravans were travelling, and I should be extremely unlikely to get another guide to take me.
After a good deal of bargaining matters were settled. I hired four baggage camels and one “mehari,” or riding-camel, from Mohamed, who agreed to furnish one camel driver for the party and guide me safely across the desert to Insalah for a sum amounting to about twenty-three pounds. I naturally stipulated that he should not be paid until the end of the journey. It seemed to me a good plan to hire the camels from the man who would act as guide, for in this way he had more interest in keeping them in good condition. It was to his advantage to get them fit to Insalah, but certainly I was rather in the hands of my guide should he prove unscrupulous. If he wished to make away with me en route, and abscond with my despatch box and baggage, it might be hard for me to prevent it, and it would be difficult for the authorities to catch him and punish him for his crime. However, I was determined to be very wary, always sleeping with one eye open and my firearms close beside me.
The other member of the caravan was my servant Musa, while the guide asked permission to bring four camel loads of merchandise and a young camel he wished to sell at Insalah.
At Kidal I saw some of the finest camels I had yet seen; these belonged to the detachment stationed at the post, and had been bought from the Ifora Tuaregs. These people breed a very fine class of “mehari,” their riding-camels being renowned for their power and endurance throughout the Central and Western Sahara. The Iforas are the Tuaregs who wander in the Adrar country, and it was at Kidal that I first came into contact with this interesting race of nomads.
The chief peculiarity of these people is that they always wear a veil over the lower portion of their faces, which conceals all the features except the eyes, and sometimes the ears. This veil is made of blue stuff, generally of the well-known “guinée.” It is called a “litham.” The use of a “litham” is obvious to anyone who has travelled in the desert, for it serves to prevent the wearer from being choked by the clouds of sand which are ever blowing about in the Sahara. Moreover, it prevents thirst to a remarkable extent. It is a most essential article of kit for the desert traveller, and I soon found myself obliged to adopt it. I often used to think that my appearance in a civilized country would have caused some astonishment and, probably, not a little merriment. My face was so swathed in strange objects that very little of it was visible. I think I might fairly have beaten a motorist in the strange disguises on my features. My eyes were hidden beneath huge blue sun-glasses, while the remainder of my face was entirely obscured by the “litham,” which, in my case, generally consisted of a handkerchief. I found the same objection existed to the “litham” as to the glasses, but that was quite a minor discomfort, and one very soon forgotten.
The Iforas share the usual dislike of the Tuareg to contact with mankind, and with Europeans in particular. They possess an unenviable reputation as first-class looters and highwaymen. A weakly guarded caravan passing through certain parts of Adrar runs a very good chance of being attacked and looted. But in this respect the Iforas are by no means the worst offenders amongst desert tribes. They are said to be plucky in war, but will avoid fighting when possible.
They are intensely jealous for their womenfolk, and are stated to be ready to die to a man rather than allow their wives and female relatives to be harmed. The Iforas have two distinct classes—the Ihaggareen, who are the nobles and govern the various clans into which the tribe is split, and the Imrads, or middle class. All menial work is done by slaves, called “beylas.” These slaves have been captured at various times from various negro tribes during Tuareg incursions into the Niger country, or else when a caravan has been plundered.
Iforas are armed with spears, swords, and shields. They dislike a rifle, and seem to regard it with a strange mixture of contempt and fear. The swords are of two kinds: one is a cutting sword worn at the side, and the other, called a “tellak,” is about twelve inches long, resembling a dagger, and is worn on a leather band on the left forearm, just below the elbow.
The shields are about six feet high, made of bullock or sheep hide, and are sometimes rather picturesquely painted with strange devices on the middle of the front face.
Tuaregs live in encampments, their tents being made of a number of goatskins sewn together. Or they may erect temporary shelters made with bits of mimosa branches, over which is stretched a cloth. It is extraordinary the number of people that one of the tiny shelters will accommodate. A family of father, mother, and four children will in some marvellous fashion find space in one about fifteen feet long by ten feet wide, while the height of the structure is not more than four feet.
Tuaregs are rather a handsome race, and the Iforas are not behind their fellow-tribesmen in this respect. They are usually tall and slimly built, but very wiry. They have well-cut features, blue eyes, and a pale complexion. The language is guttural, not bearing any resemblance to Arabic, which is spoken on the north, or the Niger languages on the south. The origin of these people is shrouded in mystery. Tradition says that one of the Tuareg tribes, probably the Ouilliminden, who are nomads in the Sahara on the east of the Ifora, came about the seventeenth century from the Erg-Iguidi, a tract of desert in the north of the Sahara, under the leadership of their chief, Kari Dena, in search of adventures. The date appears to correspond with the time they conquered the Sonrhais and invaded the Niger provinces near Timbuctu, but it is difficult to establish the authenticity of this legend, for the people are extremely reticent about themselves, and it is doubtful if they know much of their past history. In any case, it seems probable that before they became desert wanderers, they lived in the northern part of Africa, and were probably conquered and expelled from their country by the Arabs, being thus induced to seek a fresh home in the south. After their stronghold, Timbuctu, was finally wrested from them, they migrated more than ever to the desert, hence their poverty and dislike for close acquaintanceship with mankind.
Iforas are wonderful camel-masters. They understand more about these animals than anyone in the Southern Sahara. Besides, they can identify a camel in a most accurate manner by observing his tracks in the sand. I have known cases of a Tuareg, on observing the tracks of several camels at a well, stating that such a one was the track of such and such a man of his tribe, and that he had been there three days before our arrival. On verification, all these details proved to be exact. Iforas are not often at fault in the matter of tracking by the marks of camels’ feet in the sand. They will tell you, correct almost to a man, how many a certain caravan numbered; and when it is recollected that camels usually follow each other in single file, it will be understood that this is no easy matter. Besides, the terrain is often hard, so that to the casual observer there are no tracks whatever discernible.
Méhariste Camels out at their Pasturage near Kidal
The vegetation in the illustration is typical of that found in the Oueds of Eastern Adrar. It is strange how even these arid-looking grasses can exist in the Sahara, but Adrar is fortunate in getting several tornadoes annually and is consequently richer in vegetation than other parts of this desert. In this pasturage there were some seventy or eighty camels wandering in complete liberty, scattered over some ten square miles resting and putting on flesh after some arduous months’ marching this troop had recently performed in the desert.
The Iforas own large flocks of sheep and goats. Some of the former are fine animals when the difficulties of grazing are taken into consideration. These Tuaregs take great pride in their flocks, and the principal trade between them and other tribes of the Sahara consists in sheep. Their movements are entirely dictated by the state of the grazing in the “oueds” for their camels and sheep. Sometimes I have noticed a Tuareg encampment as much as seven miles from the nearest well. The encampment is made here on account of good grazing being available. The fact of having to go seven miles to the well and seven miles back for his water has no importance for the Ifora. He drinks little himself, while his sheep are driven to the well every third day to water, and at the same time water-skins are filled and brought into camp on camels. The state of most wells in the Ifora country is for this reason often disgusting. The flocks, when being watered, are allowed to foul the wells, so that, for a couple of days after their visit, the contents are almost undrinkable.
This country, which is really the Eastern Adrar, is generally known as the Adrar of the Iforas, to differentiate between it and Western Adrar, a country in south-west Mauretania, and Adrar Oasis in the Northern Sahara. The word Adrar merely means mountain in the language of the Tuareg.
The plateau of Adrar is about 200 miles long and seventy wide. It consists generally of rocky hills running in parallel ranges from north to south. In certain parts the granite rock has been split up by the action of the heat, leaving isolated jagged crags which stick up in fantastic shapes. The valleys between these hills usually possess pasturage for camels and sheep, for Adrar of the Iforas is on the whole a well-watered country; that is to say, it boasts of periodical rains, which consist of some six or seven tornadoes in the year. The Iforas for this reason are more fortunate than many nomad tribes of the desert, who have to seek much farther afield for a change in their grazing-lands. The valleys in which are found the “oueds” are generally sandy bottomed, in sharp contrast to the rest of the country, which is rocky. Roughly speaking, such was the nature of the country through which I was going to march for the first portion of the way to Insalah.
At Kidal I at last resigned myself to parting with my travelling bath. It was a great wrench to have to discard this luxury, but I had, by bitter experience, found out that it was not a practical article in the Sahara. On the way from Gao I had only on two occasions been able to indulge in the joys of a tub, owing to the scarcity of water in most of the wells. Moreover, the bath was a most cumbersome load on a camel, and more than once had it suffered a severe fall, when some infuriated beast had managed to rid himself of this troublesome piece of baggage by dint of repeatedly rubbing against his companions, while kicking and wriggling at the same time. The net result of all this was not only damage to the bath, but probably a sore back for the animal. So I presented the bath to my host as a slight return for his hospitality to me.
At Kidal I managed to buy a sackful of dates from an Arab trader who was doing a little business with the soldiers of the detachment. These dates were invaluable on the march. They are very portable and nourishing, although hardly appetizing. Indeed, I ate so many dates in the Sahara, and generally dates of the coarsest quality, that I hate the sight of a date to this day. My dates were packed together in a bag, crushed in a solid, consistent mass. They were so hard that many required a hammer to break them. I found the best plan, when there was not time to cook them, or no water, was to simply suck one at a time. If I tried to bite one it might easily break my teeth, so I gave up trying. In any case I was very glad to be able to buy dates here, for my stock of provisions, except the “couscous” and rice, was growing beautifully but rapidly less. Of “couscous” and rice I had plenty, but I had not yet got to the stage of being content with only these simple forms of food.
Before starting on the second stage of my desert journey I had thoroughly to overhaul my pack-saddles and the gear appertaining thereto. I had now gained some experience of the Sahara, and knew better the parts of equipment that were most likely to get strained. I also took the precaution to have a large reserve of ropes, girths, and such-like articles. My water-carriers were nearly all in bad need of repair, and this was a point requiring careful attention. A good reserve of these water-skins was essential.
The French have now a courier who goes at stated times from Kidal to Insalah and back. The next courier was to take word of my approach to the Commandant at Insalah, so that he might expect my arrival about the beginning or middle of June. This courier is a Tuareg, who has been procured with some difficulty to carry out this service. He travels alone, for it has been found that he is less likely to be interfered with if he does so. His mount is a swift-trotting camel, and in the dry season he has a spare mount as well. I was informed that the mails were rarely looted, as, of course, there is nothing of any value to a desert highwayman in a mail bag. His efforts would be more likely to be directed to stealing the camel than the mails, but one individual well mounted has a good chance of escaping in such a case.
The mail man followed a different line of wells from my proposed route, so I was unlikely to see him on the way.
On leaving Kidal I dare say my host pitied me at having such a long, lonely journey in front of me. For my part I could not help pitying him far more, for I was embarking on new and possibly stirring experiences, while he, poor fellow, was all alone as far as Europeans were concerned, tied down for two years of duty in one of the most dreary of French military posts. He had his work to occupy him, it is true, but how monotonous must continual service in a Saharan post be, more especially when a man is the only representative of his race within nearly 200 miles. Far away from kith and kin, living in a region almost apart from what is known as “the world,” where life is hard, food scarce and bad, and surrounded on all sides by the barren wastes of the desert. His life was not without a large element of danger, moreover; for a well-organized marauding band might easily wipe out his small detachment, and the news would not reach the Niger until the raiders had made good their escape. But perhaps it was this element of danger which lent some excitement to his life and made it more tolerable. I must freely confess that he was a young man who enjoyed capital spirits, and was as cheerful and versatile as is usual with his countrymen.
After leaving Kidal on the 8th of May, my route lay almost due north for a considerable way. Wells were on the average fifty miles apart on this stage, that is to say, through the Adrar of the Iforas; but some of the wells had so much potash in them that the water was quite undrinkable.
The Wells of Kidal
About every third day camels are brought to the wells to drink. In the hottest season these animals can, if well trained, exist eight to ten days without water, but they rapidly lose their powers of endurance after the third or fourth day. The camel standing up, on the left, has just arrived from a long desert trek; it will be noticed how his ribs stand out. The camel squatting in the foreground, on the other hand, has drunk his fill, as is, indeed, indicated by his big barrel and general air of contentment.
The southern portion of Adrar affords some interesting relics of the Stone Age. The wells have probably been in existence for many centuries, and at one or two places we found some curious little stone implements, such as arrowheads, miniature axes, etc. There seems to be no doubt that all this country must have been inhabited at one period by a sedentary population, thus further strengthening the theory that the Sahara was not always the barren waste it now is. In the neighbourhood of Es-Souk, some eighty miles north-west of Kidal, there are unmistakable evidences of much later civilization. Ruins of buildings are there found in the sand. This place is supposed to have been one of the northernmost parts of the Sonrhay Empire, as late as the twelfth century. Mahomed told me that he had on a previous occasion found stone implements near one of the wells in Southern Adrar, but he had, of course, not taken much interest in the discovery or pursued it any further.
In the country between the Niger and Southern Adrar one occasionally observed tumuli, with remains of pottery, and I had been told, although I had myself never seen any, that granite and porphyry pestles and grindstones had been found, with similar evidences of vanished villages.
It is easy to conjure up pictures of former nations inhabiting prosperous townships in this portion of the Sahara in olden times, when the conditions were probably so different from what obtain at the present day. How strange it is to think that this vast stretch of country should now be turned into an arid desert. Instead of a nation dying out as it became effete, in this case it was the land which, for some unknown causes, became so unproductive as to be a country in which man could not settle for any length of time, and he was therefore forced to withdraw to more promising lands. When all the “oueds” flowed, as presumably they must at one time have done, the Adrar must have been a well-watered land, as must also the whole region between the Niger and the Ifora country. To all intents and purposes the Sahara is now a dead world, and although many theories have been started, and experiments tried, for reclaiming small portions of it, it can hardly be said that, so far, they have met with much success even in the circumscribed limits in which they have been given the most exhaustive trials. However, something new in science is always being done, and is it not possible that one day this dead world may be made to live again; that by some ingenious process water may be made to flow once more in dried-up “oueds,” and that the country may be refertilized and repopulated?