“To the nomadic Tuaregs the environment is natural, and they know no better. Above all else they love their freedom, and hate the roof of permanent dwelling.”
And they are tolerably happy, if left to themselves, notwithstanding the suppressed melancholy that is an inherent characteristic of the race. One must know them well before they will express their moods of infinite sadness that lead toward brooding over their harassed life and the decadence of race and power.
If we, in Europe, with thoughts turned towards Africa, ever happen to view the new moon in May we can know that the people of Islam, in the remotest corners of the Sahara, have entered on the Thirty Days’ Fast of Rhamadan, when no one may eat before sunset; while on the first sight of the new moon of June it ends in the Feast of Bairam. That religious observation, strangely enough, is typical of the life of “The People of the Veil,” who throughout their walks of life have long associations with sadness and want, and intensified joy when they have the good fortune to reach a brief spell of plenty and peace of mind.
Be they soldiers of fortune, steel-girt travellers, or peacefully pastoral, the Sahara still remains theirs, despite the ravages of poverty and their dread of the encroachings of civilisation; and they share its mystery.
CHAPTER IX
THE HAND OF DOOM
CHAPTER IX
THE HAND OF DOOM