“May God make your efforts succeed and send you back safe to your people,” he said, yielding to my desire. “You have visited the tomb of our grandfather at Jaghbub and the kubba of Sidi El Mahdi here, and you have their blessings. ‘He who struggles and has faith is rewarded by God.’” He quoted from the Koran. We then read the “Fat-ha”; he gave me his blessing and again prayed that God might guide our steps and give me and my men fortitude. I felt very happy as I wound my way through the multitude of corridors and courtyards. I was relieved to know that I had an ally in Sayed El Abid, and that he would not prove an obstacle in my new plan of going to the Sudan by way of Ouenat.
All the men of my caravan were there when I entered the house. One look at their faces told me with what suppressed excitement they had been waiting since my departure to Sayed El Abid to hear his verdict on the journey south. Slowly I made my way to my room and asked them to come in. I too had to suppress my excitement; but mine was the excitement of success and not of expectation. There was a long pause before I could control my voice and make it as indifferent as it should be.
“The Sayed has blessed our journey to Ouenat and has given me the ‘Fat-ha’ for it.”
I dared not even look in the men’s faces.
“We have the blessings of the Senussi masters with us, Sayed El Abid has assured me, and God will give us fortitude and success; and guidance comes from Him.”
CHAPTER XV
KUFRA: ITS PLACE ON THE MAP
Friday, April 6. The day began with the arrival of an immense bowl of roses, gloriously fragrant, sent by Sayed El Abid. This is the way the desert belies its name every now and then. I defy the Riviera to produce anything finer than these, or more fragrant.
It was Friday, the Moslem Sabbath, and I attended prayers at the mosque. The young Senussi princes were expected, and some of the Bedouins came in their best clothes, but side by side with the richest of silk kuftans were the shabbiest jerds. Every one took off his slippers as they came in. I watched them for a while. There came a prosperous Zwaya or Majbari merchant with the crease still fresh in rich robes just removed from the chest, and kohl in his eyes, put in with a madwid (kohl stick) of ivory or brass. The prosperous man, maybe, has everything upon him new, and he smells strongly of scent, perhaps pure rose-water distilled in Kufra, or else musk or other strong perfume from the Sudan. He enters in a dignified way and takes his place. There comes another, and his jerd is tattered and his face bronzed and withered, not flabby, but he is no less dignified. Clothes play but a small part in this assembly because of the natural dignity and courage of these people, and those qualities are brought out in relief even more by the tattered jerd than by the fine silks and scents, which sometimes take away something of the personality of the individual.