There was joy that morning in the oasis. Over two thousand men and women departed hastily in small caravans—some going far away to the country south of the western shott, others to the nearer lying plains. Only those who possessed neither camels nor horses remained, with the old men and some women and children.
Whilst dressing I heard the Arabs quarrelling below my window, just as they had done the previous day, and as, probably, they do every day since the Khalifa first held his court of justice in this place.
From the doorway at the top of the stone steps I inhaled the fresh morning air in full draughts. Across the yard, where the horses were eating their fodder, I looked over the flat grey roofs to the palm groves. From some of the dwellings smoke was rising, and the murmur of many voices reached me.
The sun had just risen, and shone on the distant mountain tops, as I passed through the yard and the long dark gateway into the verandah. There, on his stone bench, was seated the Khalifa, calm, mild, and amiable. My eyes wandered amongst the rows of pillars and over the mob that surrounded him in the courtyard; a quarrelling, gesticulating, noisy crowd. He rose and, laying his hand on his breast, saluted me by bending his head. I did the same, and then we passed on together through the square between his house and the cemetery. His sons, assisted by the farm men and women, were there directing the departure of the last caravan.
From an open doorway in the long white wall came old women dragging heavy corn sacks, and men with wooden ploughs and rope harness. Other women brought water in great bullock skins, and all was bound securely on grumbling camels, amidst much loud shouting and talking; while, leaning against the wall and holding each other’s hands, stood a row of half-naked children.
The Berber women are of fair complexion, and wear the usual blue garb wrapped round the body, and fastened on the shoulders with silver pins, leaving their sides and throat visible. On their bare arms and legs they wear rings of silver, lead, or bone, and their nails are stained with henna. Many of them have good features and black eyes, and their movements are pretty and graceful.
There are other women, however, as smartly dressed, but whose dark colouring, coarse features, and ugly mouths bear witness to their foreign extraction. In these there is negro blood.
Later I expressed my astonishment at finding so many of the latter here. “They are more prolific than the other women,” said Hamed, “therefore many men take them as handmaidens to have the more children, for children signify riches.”
They are descendants of slaves brought by caravan from the Sahara viâ Rhadamés. Officially there are now no more slaves; but, in fact, over the whole of Southern Tunisia, one finds numbers of negroes who are more or less closely bound to the households of the great proprietors. They are well treated, and therefore remain in their masters’ houses, even though the French have declared that slavery has ceased to exist.
The costume worn by the negresses is the same as that of the Berber women, but their black wool is plaited in thick locks, that fall over their foreheads, whereas the Berber women’s hair is either hidden by a handkerchief or hangs loose like the front hair of our own women.