Through Timbuctu and across the great Sahara /

by A. H. W. Haywood

The last signs of life before entering the waterless desert of Tanezrouft.

I usually rode for the first two hours, and about sunset dismounted to rest my camel and to stretch my legs. If it was a moonlight night I used to walk for several hours, but on a dark night walking was not so pleasant. The country about here was usually open, and it was possible to march, even on a moonless night, without fear of the camels coming to grief.

It was a strange place this desert, and gave me a queer, eerie feeling. On all sides a death-like stillness prevailed; for hours, and sometimes for days, we would walk without seeing a single soul. For miles there would be no signs of animal life, then suddenly a herd of gazelle would come into view, feeding on the desert, scrubby grass, and at the sight of the caravan away they would scamper, frightened at the unwonted sight of man.

In this part of the Sahara there were a fair number of Loder’s gazelle. This creature can live without water, and its habitat is always a desert country. It obtains a certain amount of moisture from the sap in certain plants and grasses, which appears to amply suffice for the little animal. The gazelle is a very pale, creamy buff colour, almost white under the belly, and stands twenty-eight inches high. It is extremely graceful, like most gazelle, and almost invariably starts its flight, when disturbed, by a series of big bounds, wherewith to gain impetus. I generally saw about six in a herd, but sometimes I have known them to include as many as twenty. The venison formed an excellent change from ordinary diet, and was, of course, the only chance of getting fresh meat in the desert. The nomads, whom we occasionally met near a well, had flocks of goats and sheep, but would not sell their animals for untold quantities of “guinée.”

Quite in the southernmost parts of the Sahara, within thirty or forty miles of the Niger, I saw a few greater bustard, and at times, when near a well, I have even seen guinea-fowl several days’ march from the river. As there was no running water for them to drink at, I can only conclude that these birds used to go down the wells to drink. In the same way I saw ringdoves near wells once or twice, far in the interior of the Sahara, and have often watched them emerging from the well after having drunk. These doves, too, appear to be of a far lighter colour than the ordinary grey dove of West Africa and the Niger. The hue is a very pale slaty grey, so pale as to be almost white. In this connection it is strange to note how pale is the colour of every Saharan animal, for it seems to conform to the usual law of nature in assimilating its colouring to its surroundings, so that it is frequently very difficult to detect an animal against the white Saharan sand. The soil is, however, by no means altogether sandy. In parts of the desert here the landscape varied a good deal. After marching through many miles of sandy soil with the typical desert scrub, the scene would gradually change. Isolated hills, standing 200 feet above the plain, would appear. These hills were formations of ferruginous rock, covered with boulders, but devoid of vegetation. The ground here used to be strewn with a layer of shale, presumably broken off in a kind of flakes from the hills by the heat of the sun, and scattered over the surface by the desert winds.

I recollect one of the most trying marches on the way to Kidal was the day we arrived at the Well of Agamhor. We had been two days on the march since the last well, and, by the guide’s information and by my rough calculations, we should arrive at the well by 10 or 11 a.m. As there was no suitable place to camp for the day and get a little shade, at 9 a.m., contrary to my usual practice, I decided to push on to the well and march, if necessary, till eleven. It was one of the hottest days we had experienced, and we were marching over a rocky ridge, which radiated the heat with intense fierceness. I was rather exhausted, too, as I had had a long stalk that morning after some white oryx, before I had managed to shoot one. We trudged steadily on till long after eleven, and still there was no sign of the well. The guide then began to urge that we should halt, saying the well was still far away and we could not reach it till 3 p.m. The men and camels were fatigued and hot, so I decided to halt. Until 4 p.m. we lay gasping on the rocky, burning ground, vainly trying to get some shade. It was not possible to pitch my tent, as the soil was too hard, so I followed the men’s example by lying on the shady side of two or three articles of baggage. The sun was pitiless, there was no pasturage for the camels in that barren spot, and we were all thankful to start once more late in the afternoon. We did not arrive at the well till nearly eleven o’clock that night, when both men and beasts threw themselves down exhausted, glad to stop where they lay till morning-time.

The camels after this march began to show signs of fatigue; several, too, had got terribly sore backs. These sore backs had not altogether developed on the march, for I had noticed them suffering from barely healed wounds before we left Gao. I had been assured, however, that it was very rare to get a hired camel without a tender place on his back, so there seemed to be nothing to do but accept the situation. I used to dress their wounds daily with iodoform and cotton-wool, but it was almost as painful to me to see them loaded as it must have been to themselves. I lightened the loads as much as possible, but most of my kit had to be carried if I hoped ever to reach the other side of the Sahara, so I had to harden my heart and ignore the pain they must have sometimes endured. The Bambara soldiers, when charging a camel, are quite callous. But they do not, and I suppose never will, understand the beast. Being negroes, they are totally unconscious of the pain animals can suffer. Of course, it must be said that they are not natives of a camel country, and so are handicapped by a lack of knowledge of the beast, when they are enlisted in camel corps. I think they never quite appreciate the necessity for giving the camel a regular number of hours daily in a pasturage whenever it is possible, and they certainly are not as careful about watering him as are the nomads of the desert, who are brought up from their childhood to look after camels.

The camel is a curious-tempered animal. He seems to have the same characteristic as most desert nomads. He dislikes mankind cordially, and takes no pains to disguise the fact.

To mount a camel he must be made first to squat on the ground. This is accomplished at the expense of some time and temper, by pulling his head towards the ground by means of the string in his nostril and ejaculating frequently a soothing noise similar to what is used by a nurse when she tries to induce a baby to go to sleep. The camel at last obeys, with many grunts and “protests.” The next operation is to mount. The first point is to seize the rein in your right hand and place this hand on the front of the saddle. At the same time you must seize the camel’s nostril in your left hand, turning his head inwards until the nose nearly reaches the front of the saddle. Every movement on your part will call forth numerous deep growls of protest, but one soon gets accustomed to this, and takes no notice of it. When, however, you seize the nostril and pull his head round he will roar as if he were being tortured to death. It is advisable to place the left foot on the slack part of the rein on the ground, or he may take you by surprise and suddenly jump up.