A ZAGHAWA SHEIKH
A ZAGHAWA WOMAN
That night’s march was tiring for everybody. We had arrears of sleep to make up, and keeping the camels going in grazing country was hard work. Mohammed and Herri both rode most of the way, with Hassan carrying the lantern. Just before dawn, however, Mohammed got down and relieved him. When we rounded up the camels for our morning prayers the men looked more weary than I had ever seen them.
Friday, May 11. Start at 4:45 P.M., halt at 3:15 A.M. (of the 12th). Make 42 kilometers. Clear and fine. No wind. Warm all day and night. Highest temperature 39°. Soft sand covered with dry tufts of grass like a field of ripe corn. At 12:45 A.M. pass an ordinary gherd. At 1 enter flat serira without grass. At 3:15 halt at sandstone hills, having missed our way.
The day was spent in sleeping and eating, and at 4:45 P.M. we started with the intention of marching all night. But by ten everybody was tired and sleepy. Even Mohammed was riding his camel. In the next few hours he fell asleep at intervals and because of his fatigue did not look back to correct his direction by Polaris. When a guide neglects the Jadi he is far gone indeed. Senussi Bu Hassan and I felt certain that he was not taking the right course but did not want to interfere with him again after the previous night.
At 3:15 A.M. we came to a ridge of hills, and Mohammed stopped dead. Until now I had been walking behind the caravan and checking from time to time the bearing on which we were going. We had been walking since ten o’clock more to the southward than before. When the caravan halted I rode forward to Mohammed and asked why we were stopping.
“This opening in the hills,” he says, pointing in front of him. “I do not recognize it, and I do not know what kind of ground follows it.” Whatever his faults he is perfectly frank.
I did not want to arouse any feeling of anxiety in the men, and so I said casually: “Let us camp until daybreak. We are all tired to-night.” I have hardly spoken the words when the camels are barrakked and their loads are on the ground. I have never seen men fall so quickly to sleep. Each one wraps himself swiftly in his jerd and takes shelter from the cold northeast wind behind a piece of luggage.
Mohammed goes up the ridge to look about him, and I follow.