But later on I will deal more fully with the subject of robbers, which I have brought up here for a moment, since it has important bearing on the military composition of Agades.
The troops at Agades, or elsewhere in the Territoire Militaire, are chiefly Senegalese natives, while there is also a scouting force of camel-mounted goumiers, composed of local Tuaregs. Altogether there are eleven Europeans at Agades—French officers and N.C.O.s of the regular Colonial Service.
In the old town, apart from the Fort, there is a civic population of some 1,400 Tuaregs, and, in addition, some Hausa traders from the south, and an Arab or two from the north.
At the time of my visit food was remarkably scarce among the natives of Agades, and they were actually living from hand to mouth almost in a state of famine, though there was still three months to run before the Rains were due which promised new grain crops and new grazing for the herds. But, from all accounts, scant rations and poverty may be associated with Agades at most times, and far out on the caravan routes the traveller is warned that there is “nothing to eat at Agades,” while the native soldiers, who get the best that is going under any circumstances, obviously dread being detailed for service there on account of its impoverished condition. On my way north, one of the senior officers at Zinder, speaking of the white men at Agades, remarked to me: “The climate, it is good; we have men there who are strong; but, oh! they are not fat.—Ah, no! they are not fat.”
The fact of the matter is, Aïr, at the present time, is far from self-supporting in what she produces. This, in part, appears to be due to the barren nature of the country, and to lack of rains, but to a certain extent I believe it to be due to the indolent nature of the Tuareg inhabitants, who are essentially wandering fickle nomads, and not ardent toilers in the fields.
Of food-stuffs, Aïr produces goat herds which furnish the people with a certain amount of milk, cheese, and meat; some wild game which is snared for the flesh and hides; and a limited amount of dates, which are gathered during the Rains. Domestic poultry, which one associates with every native village in Africa, are here kept in very small numbers, as there is little grain for them; and it is often difficult to secure a single bird or a few eggs.
There are few villages in Aïr that can boast of inhabitants to-day, and only at three of those is there any grain grown, viz. at Azzal, Aouderas, and Timia, where small garden-plots on the river-bed banks, which are watered daily from wells, are cultivated to produce a small quantity of wheat and millet.
Yet grain is undoubtedly the chief food of the natives of Aïr, and, therefore, since they do not grow it, as much grain (millet, guinea-corn, and maize) as they can afford has yearly to be imported into Aïr on camel caravans and donkey caravans, which travel for this purpose to Tanout and Zinder, and even to Kano, 397 miles distant from Agades.
I was, unfortunately, only able to remain a few days at Agades before proceeding into the mountains, and, so far as the strange old town is concerned, I will not attempt to describe it fully, since I have not had sufficient opportunity to study the ancient history of the place—that all-important background which is the very soul of its significance, and which may only be comprehended after long examination, aided by the wisdom of the oldest inhabitants or learned Senussi, Marabout, or Mohammedan priests.
I have in mind, however, two notable dwellings in Agades with which I am familiar. The first I would like to describe is the Sultan’s Palace, the most notable building in Agades excepting the imposing Mohammedan mosque, and, perhaps, of greater interest now than hitherto, since it was so lately the home of the traitor sultan Tegama, who at the time of my visit lay awaiting trial on the charge of high treason within the fort scarce a mile away. (Tegama, however, never stood trial, for he committed suicide about a month later.)