Through Timbuctu and across the great Sahara /

by A. H. W. Haywood

Before one of these terrible storms it is impossible to stand up without the danger of being overcome. The only plan is to fall on the ground and cover up your face, lying there until the storm is past. The camels instinctively do the same. They know, even quicker than a man, when a sandstorm is coming, and prostrate themselves before it arrives. These sandstorms are awful things, to which even the most experienced and philosophical of Arabs never get used. Instead of cooling the air, they seem to make it hotter. The heat when a sandstorm is about is remarkably oppressive. Just before and after a storm of this description the sun is seen through a haze, reminding the spectator of the appearance it has in London on a foggy day. Of course, while the storm is raging no sun is to be seen. Indeed, the air is so thick with sand that it is impossible to see more than a few yards. Moreover, the person who raises his head when a really bad storm is raging is foolhardy in the extreme.

My Servant Musa in the Sahara

This faithful Hausa servant accompanied me uncomplainingly through the hardships of nearly two months’ desert travel. It will be noticed that his garments are rather the worse for wear, and, indeed, he was in a far more deplorable condition in this respect by the time we reached Insalah. He, like myself, was obliged to adopt the “litham,” to prevent the blinding and choking effects of the sand.

Besides making one’s eyes very sore and mouth very parched in spite of every precaution, I found that it made my nose bleed, so great was the irritation caused by the gritty particles of sand. It was rare to have a sandstorm at night. I recollect only one case, and in that instance it was not very severe. These storms usually sprang up about 9 a.m., and raged discontinuously until 5 or 6 p.m.

It was bad enough for me, but in many ways I pitied the unfortunate Musa most. He, after a long, weary night march, was perhaps trying to cook my simple repast at midday, when a sandstorm would come up with its usual impetuosity and bury everything in oceans of sand. I must have eaten gallons of sand on this portion of my trek. I often marvelled that it did not make me ill, but I never noticed any unpleasant effects except for the disagreeable taste at the time.

During these fatiguing days I found it impossible to sleep at the midday halt, tired though I was. The discomfort of the interior of my shelter, even when it was not enveloped in a sand-cloud, was so great that sleep was out of the question. I always longed to start on our weary way once more. But the camels had to rest, and the Arabs and Musa appeared to find no difficulty in slumbering, for which I heartily envied them. The only time I managed to sleep was during the short rest in the evening after dinner. The hour of our departure at night varied with the time of moonrise, but the evening rest rarely exceeded two to three hours. Altogether we used to march about eighteen hours out of the twenty-four.

Even when sleeping in the Sahara it behoves the traveller to have one eye open, for there is always the fear of possible attack from desert robbers. I used to be very particular at night to secure the safety of the camp as far as I could. On arriving at the halting-place the camels were formed in a small circle, each one depositing its load at the spot where it had halted. A miniature zariba of baggage was thus formed. At the rear end of this I would have my bed pitched, and never went to sleep without having my two rifles loaded by my side. Danger in the desert generally coming from the rear, I was in a position to meet it at once, for I am a light sleeper. I could not depend on the Arabs or my servant to keep watch in turns, as I had previously intended them to do. In any case in the Tanezrouft the men were generally so weary that it was almost impossible not to drop asleep.

On the 29th of May, the fourth day of our journey through the Tanezrouft, the monotonous stretch of sandy plain which we had seen without interruption since leaving Timissao, gave way to a different nature of scenery. The country now became rocky and hilly. Barren, rugged peaks of isolated hills appeared. These rocks were of granite, split and cracked into hundreds of clefts by the action of the powerful sun. Although the sandy plains we had been crossing until now were dreary, desolate expanses, yet, in some ways, the gaunt, gloomy rocks before us were suggestive of a terrible loneliness too. On those gloomy but scorching hill-sides there existed no living thing. That parched-up land of desolation was the home of eternal death. The tops of the rugged peaks rose some three or four hundred feet above the surrounding plain, and I dare say, if some enterprising person cared to climb to the top, he would have a view over the whole Tanezrouft from one side to another, for the atmosphere is extraordinarily clear when no sandstorm is blowing.

This rocky spot in the centre almost of the Tanezrouft is known as In Zize. We were to camp on the other side of these hills at noon that day, and as we marched we saw some human skulls and the skeletons of three or four camels. The ghastly remains of some lost caravan. The bones, and in some cases the skins, were perfectly preserved. Here there were no vultures or wild animals to feast on the bodies, nor was there any damp to rot the skin. It was not difficult to surmise how this caravan came to perish. In the desert it is nearly always the same story. Either through losing their way, or an accident to the water supply, a caravan struggles on until it is exhausted and dies of thirst.