Zerwali and Suliman Bu Matari, a rich Zwaya merchant, came to discuss the trip southward. Bu Matari had discouraging counsel to offer as to the route I had now decided to take.
“Eight years ago,” he said, “the last caravan to go that way—of which my brother Mohammed was the leader—was eaten up and slaughtered on the frontier of Darfur. They went, not as you wish to go, but by the easier route from Ouenat to Merega”—a small oasis about 290 kilometers southeast of Ouenat. “This journey you propose to make is through territory where no Bedouin has passed before. The daffa I thanked him for his advice; but I knew that I should not take it. THE KING OF OUENAT He is holding his Mohammedan rosary in his hand After luncheon royally provided by El Abid, I went to visit his son Sharrufa. He is an intelligent young man, thirsting for knowledge. He has gone as far into the outside world as Benghazi and that by no means metropolitan community is still for him “the” city of the world. He apologized for the illness of his father, and I offered to send medicine which might possibly help him. Tuesday, April 3. It was very warm, with heavy clouds and a bad southwest wind. After luncheon as usual I went to visit Shams El Din, a cousin of Sharrufa, and his younger brother. The older boy is very intelligent and has eyes that seem to be asking questions of the world. They offered me three cups of milk with almond pulp and home-made jam. I knew that to refuse such an offer is to offend; so I left the house in a state of torpor. Dinner later at Sayed El Abid’s did not improve matters internally. Again I discussed the plan of going by way of Arkenu and Ouenat. I was more determined than ever. We would see what Bu Helega had to say when he arrived from Hawari. Wednesday, April 4. I was awakened by Jeddawi, who as usual brought me a pot of fragrant tea.