One of the Khalifa’s sons kept me company whilst I ate.
After Hamed and the other attendants had consumed the remainder of the meal in the next room, I had the door and the shutter closed, and lay down in the half darkness for a midday nap. It was almost impossible to sleep on account of the noise in the verandah, but at last I dozed off.
Hamed woke me presently to tell me that there was a wedding in the oasis, and that if I wished to see the bride brought home I must hasten. So I started, together with some of the sons and dependants of the house. As we passed the cemetery I saw that the women had again gathered there, and could hear their lamentations, so I hurried on into the street, trying to shake off the mournful impression, before joining in rejoicings.
On the way I met an Arab who, with a good French accent, said, “Bon jour, Monsieur.” It was one of the Khalifa’s retainers, who now owned a little palm grove and home in the oasis, but who, some years ago, had served in the Algerian tirailleurs, and therefore spoke good French.
I was delighted with this new acquaintance, as through him I should be better able to make myself understood than through my good Hamed, so I asked him to accompany me.
On the way he told me that he had served in Mexico and, later, in the war with Germany. He had been wounded on three occasions, and showed me his scars with pride. The last time he was wounded was in the battle of Gravelotte. He was afterwards kept a prisoner in a little town in Germany, and since had completed his long term of service in Algiers.
From the street we espied a man on the top of a palm tree behind a high wall; he was busy gathering the date crop. I lingered to watch him, and when he discovered my presence he smiled amicably, and said something to my attendants about wishing to offer me some of the fruit. He really did climb down, and came to me with a bunch of remarkably good dates, which I accepted and sent to my quarters.
When we had passed the village we entered the palm grove. From every side people were streaming in; men, veiled women, young girls, and children, all to see the bride taken to the bridegroom’s dwelling.
The whole scene closely resembled what I witnessed a couple of days later, under better circumstances, in Hadeij. I will therefore restrict myself to mentioning that we saw her arrive in a closely shut litter, borne on a camel, accompanied by some female relatives and a man who led the camel. Negro musicians headed the procession, which halted in an open space.
Then began a “fantasia” of horsemen, who galloped past us firing their muskets. They were richly dressed, and the horses’ quarters were decked with brilliant silken coverings. But there were not many riders, neither did the “fantasia” last long. This, I was told, was because there was mourning in the oasis on account of the many deaths.