There were sixteen natives at the start: now there are only six—Elatu, Mohammed, Sili, Gumbo, Sakari, and Ali. Most of the others have gone through fear of the dangers of the journey, lack of heart for the hard, endless work, physical weakness, and incurable sickness. (Two of the latter, left behind in good hands, to recover, when next heard of, had died).
There had been forty-four camels at the start; now there are but twenty-one. I have long learned to know them by their native names. Those that are with us still are:
| “Awena” | =“Wall-eyed, or piebald-eyed.” |
| “Banri” | =“The one-eyed one.” |
| “Alletat” | =“White Belly.” |
| “Aberok” | =“The dark grey one.” |
| “Kadede” | =“The thin one.” |
| “Adignas” | =“The white one.” |
| “Terfurfus” | =“The piebald female.” (A female, because of the T prefixed before the name, which designates sex in the Tamascheq language of the Tuareg nomads of the Sahara). |
| “Korurimi” | =“The earless one” (because ears damaged). |
| “Tabzow” | =“The white one, but not quite white.” |
| “Emuscha” | =“The white-mouthed one.” |
| “Owrak” | =“The pale fawn male.” (A male designated because there is no T.) |
| “Towrak” | =“The pale fawn female.” (A female designated because of the T that is prefixed.) |
| “Ezarif” | =“The pale grey male.” (T omitted denotes sex.) |
| “Tezarif” | =“The pale grey female.” |
| “Mizobe” | =“The broken-nosed one.” (So named because he has a piece out of one nostril where a rein-ring has been torn away.) |
| “Buzak” | =“The white-footed one.” |
| “Ajemelel” | =“The spotted one.” |
| “Kelbado” | =“Big Belly.” |
| “Doki” | =“The Horse.” (Because a very diminutive camel, about the size of a horse.) |
| “Bako” | =so named, in hausa, before it came into my possession. |
| “Feri n’Gashi” | =“White feather.” My riding camel. |
NOMAD AND CAMEL-MAN
I am conscious, as I look the caravan over, of a soft-hearted affection towards both man and beast. They have all served loyally, and have given of strength to the uttermost. Moreover, the whole caravan has come to embrace that free-and-easy, comprehending comradeship, that belongs to the wise when long on the great Open Road.
We have, therefore, as a body, lost all rawness and idle ornament. The weaknesses in our composition at the start have been found out and gone under. Battered, but hardened, we are travelling now as a band complete and experienced through grim wilderness of naked reality. The men that remain are of sterling quality, and all, except Sili, look like lasting through any amount of hardship.
But it is not so with the camels. Good as they are, they are not built to endure continuous work for ever; and the greatest struggle and sacrifice are theirs. No matter how much one may try to save them, the pitiless country claims its victims from their midst. All along the trail that lies behind I have witnessed their comrades go out, and know that, inevitably, others must follow. Indeed, too well I know that few, if any, will ever reach the goal; and that it will be left to others—that must be found among natives in remote oases—to carry us through to the North African Coast—if we are ever to reach our distant destination.
But all wayfarers in the desert become fatalistic, and the many misfortunes of the trail teach the traveller to consign all disasters to “Kismet,” or “Mektuib”; for it is learned, sooner or later, that this is a land where Destiny irrevocably takes its course, whatever man’s hopes may be. Wherefore the deep eastern sadness that is found in the hearts of the nomads of the desert, and that touches the soul of the white man in the end.
As if to bear out my thoughts, trouble rides upon us.