Through Timbuctu and across the great Sahara /

by A. H. W. Haywood

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.