Sahara

by Angus Buchanan

But, to-day, this attitude sometimes recoils upon them. Many of the Tuareg slaves are captives from Hausaland. These are so addressed, and have to be respectful to their masters. But when the Tuareg journeys south, say, to Kano, where he covets cotton gowns and trade, he finds himself completely out of his own sphere, and often treated as so much dirt. His mortification is complete when, in the busy streets, some bold Hausa native openly addresses him as slave, while he is powerless to refute the term, owing to the prejudice of alien surroundings.

But their true province is far removed from towns. Anywhere, where there is scattered grazing and water, one may expect to find the Tuareg nomad of the Sahara, provided that place is remote enough. His home is under the blue sky, and the tiny grass or tent-covered huts of his family are secreted far from the society of other people. Occasionally he may voyage to a trade centre, like a ship seeking a foreign port, to obtain food and clothing and luxuries for his tribe, and glean news of the world beyond his narrow confines; but essentially he is a creature of the wilderness.

Their encampments are usually widely scattered: half a dozen huts where the head of the family is located, then a few other families, perhaps miles apart. It is the economic necessity to be within reach of grazing for their live-stock that causes this isolated method of camping. Sometimes food is so very scarce that a single family is the sole occupant of a wide area.

These nomadic camps are within reach of water, but, as a general rule, never beside it. That would be dangerous, for water is the calling point of strangers. Camped wide of water, the nomads have a chance to be warned if enemy should arrive in quest to slake their thirst. And this is a fine protective precaution, for the raiders must have water at some place or other during their secretive marches, and forewarning of their presence is often gained in this way; for, even if robbers get in at night to a well-head or water-hole, they cannot cover their tracks in the tell-tale sand.

Wherefore, enhancing the strategic position of people who desire to watch and yet not be seen, the dwarf hutments of the encampments are usually in some concealed place: a hollow, or valley, or hill cleft, under shelter of acacias, if such shade is available. Moreover, these places are chosen, if possible, with an eye to a line of retreat in event of an attack. Proximity to low, bouldered hills is favourite ground, or a string of dry river gullies, or, if nothing better offers, a low hollow among deep, billowed sand-dunes.

Grazing for their camels, and herds of goats, and short-haired, lop-eared sheep, never lasts long in any one place, hence the nomad constantly shifts from one quarter to another. On occasions, owing to scarcity of vegetation, it is necessary to camp far out from water: a day, or a day and a half’s journey from the nearest point of supply. This means long treks to water for the herds, and a journey with camels at least once a week to fetch supplies in goat-skins for the pressing needs of camp. It is not uncommon to come upon one man, and, perhaps, two naked, athletic-looking, boys at a remote well-head in the open, alone on bare, sand-swept desert, with about eight to ten camels, employed on the task of filling goat-skins. Without surprise, they tell that they have eight, twelve, or fifteen hours’ journey before they will get back to their camp. In all likelihood they carry no food, and will not eat till they get home, unless one of the camels should chance to be a female with milk.

The frail, gipsy-like huts of the Tuaregs are usually domed to shape like exaggerated mole-heaps. A dozen slim poles and lighter laths cut from acacias or palm-leaf stems, bent over and laced to form a framework, some grass matting and tanned skins indiscriminately thrown over them, and tied down in rude patchwork disorder, compose their low-crouched, diminutive dwellings wherever they select to pitch them near a chosen patch of grazing. Furnishing consists of a branch-built couch, about 15 inches off the ground. It occupies nearly all the floor space, and upon this the whole family are accustomed to sit or sleep, closely wedged together. In addition, there are a few equally primitive utensils, such as a couple of wooden mortar bowls and pestle-poles for crushing grains and herbs, some broken-edged calabash bowls and earthen jars and goat-skins, for holding food, milk, and water. But there end the main possessions of any nomad’s dwelling. The arms that defend them go abroad with the menfolk, or remain concealed. By their very humbleness these belongings have two qualifications that are commendable: they are easily moved from place to place; they are little to lose if abandoned in the panic of a raid.

A TUAREG HOME

In their desert environment the nomads live in a constant atmosphere of sand, and surely there is nothing with greater discomfiting qualities. The clearings before the doors are sand, loose and trodden by the tread of live-stock and playful children. Wind and feet send it ever moving, outdoors and indoors; and clothes, food, and liquids, no matter how carefully guarded, are contaminated with an in-seeking, almost invisible dustiness. It is sometimes said of a creature that it “lived close to the earth”—the Tuareg lives “close to the sand,” and knows no escape from it.