Gero is alone carried on long journeys when water is scarce, since the nomad can eat it without cooking. It is often crushed and mixed in a goat-skin of water and consumed as a sort of mealy drink; which is nourishing, and an antidote to thirst. Guinea corn must be cooked, and is preferred when milk can be added. Wheat is usually rolled, and steamed, and, afterwards, left to simmer in dubious fats that are added. Wheat—Erid in Tamascheq—is grown solely in the oases of the Sahara. I obtained some of the grain, which, as an experiment, was planted in Lincolnshire, England. The result was negative, but curious. Its nature in the Sahara is to grow at an astonishing speed whenever it is planted, provided the soil is kept supplied with water. The moment it felt the heat of the sun in England it leapt up in the same manner as in Africa—far too rapidly; and it browned and died, with unfilled heads, while the English wheat that grew beside it was still undeveloped and green.
A curious antidote to constant diet of milk is tobacco, and most Tuaregs of the wilderness crave it for the purpose of chewing along with natron; particularly the womenfolk, and often have the fair sex, old and young, pestered the life out of me for some of my precious pipe store, to be mightily pleased with even the smallest of portions.
They are a lean and hungry people in their remote camps, far removed from markets, and not above begging from a stranger, though there is often a pleasant courtesy of exchange in an unexpected rustic present, after a gift has been delivered. It is the loafer, or “ne’er-do-weel”—and the Tuareg tribes harbour these burdens to the community as well as all other countries—who is the shameless rascal in begging alms, particularly if he be somewhat aged. These are the individuals who make a purposeful visit to camp, soon to tell of a dire ailment and ask for medicine; then for sugar; then for tea to go with the sugar; then for millet to eat with the tea—until one has lost all good-nature and patience, and bids him go with disgust.
The White Stranger is, more or less, looked upon as fair game for the beggar, and for the artful salesman. I once had reason to inquire, when near Ideles, if any native remembered Geyr von Schweppenburg, who had made a zoological expedition to Ahaggar in 1914, and one individual recalled the event owing solely to the fact that “The white man gave a woman some needles, and paid 10 francs for a goat.”
As a race, the Tuaregs are grave and haughty, and stand aloof from everyone. Their bearing suggests the inheritance that is claimed for them, for it is fairly well established that they are a white race akin to some of the oldest European stocks. Some can trace their descent back about 500 years, in the district they reside in to-day; but they have no written records, and all declare that they came originally from Mecca or Medina, which, as they are Moslems, is their general way of expressing that they came from the north, from a land beyond Africa.
I consider them to be of varying castes, when divided by widely separated regions, and am more attracted to the fine physiognomy of the Tuareg of the south, than to the heavier features of many of the Tuaregs of the north. Through mating with captive women or serfs, the blood is not always pure. All true Tuaregs should be fair-skinned; and many of them are almost white. Small feet, delicate hands, refined wrists and ankles, clean-cut facial features further betray their Semitic origin. All have splendid carriage, and they are born athletes. They are superb camel-men, and wonderful travellers, rich in instincts of direction, born to endurance, and used to eating and drinking as little as possible on the trail, when food and water mean life or death. They are seen at their best on the open road. In the camps they have little to do and grow lazy.
In spirit, when by themselves, they are care-free and moderately contented; nevertheless, there is a curious underlying sadness in their character, caught partly, perhaps, from the religion of the Koran, and partly from drear environment where existence, of necessity, is eked out to the lowest ebb of fortune in a land that holds no kindness, and ever threatens the destruction of their race.
A TUAREG VILLAGE
