The cave dwellers of Southern Tunisia

by Daniel Bruun

From the hearths rose a light blue smoke that was wafted over the valley beneath us.

We had a view over the mountains of the valley, the plains, and the Mediterranean Sea, as we followed the route along the western declivity of the Matmata range, which commands the low-lying land that extends right away to Tripoli.

For a while we were accompanied by two women who were on their way to the mountains. They tripped along beside our horses, and stared at me in astonishment through carelessly drawn veils.

The mountain tops, where lie the villages of Shenini and Sguimi, are a continuation of the southern range. As I was aware that the inhabitants of these villages were absent sowing their crops, and having been told that the dwellings were similar to those I had already seen, I decided not to visit them. We therefore left them on one side and rode down the mountain and across a small plain encircled by hills, behind which lie the great steppes. Towards the east this plain is bounded by low hills, where water springs are found, and where we could descry herds grazing. It was here that, when passing through a little thicket, we spied a covey of partridges running amongst the bushes. Erzib tried to fire at them from his horse, but it would not stand long enough, and when he got off it was too late—the birds had flown.

Before traversing the last of these hills, we halted and partook of dates, bread, and water, as many hours would elapse before we could arrive at any place of habitation.

The ride on the mule had tired me, so I preceded the others on foot, and reached the farther side of the acclivity. There lies an interminable flat plain stretching as far as the eye can reach from the east to the north-west; whilst towards the south the mountains fade away in long undulations. In the midst of the plain I distinguished a hill, and on its summit what appeared to be a tower or fortress. This was the signal station near Metamer. It corresponds to the one we saw near Gabés, and also to another farther south.

I wandered down the gentle slope, through bushes and among stones, and crossed the bed of the river, that, coming from the mountains, winds out into the plain. There were many paths, all leading in an easterly direction. I followed one of these, crossed yet another stony torrent bed, and continued steadily towards the east, making the signal station my point of direction; until, looking round, I discovered the two riders in their white burnouses far away towards the south. They beckoned to me, as we were compelled to make a détour to avoid a rough and uneven river bed.

Joining once more my party, we rode farther and farther over the plain, which becomes dismally desolate and monotonous; with the exception of the hill and its signal station, nothing breaks the long line of the horizon.

At last we viewed in the distance a couple of palm trees, and concluded that the Ksar of Metamer was probably near them, but we could not see it at all, as it lay in a hollow.

For long, naught but these trees showed on the level horizon. Then at last the tops of other palm trees appeared, and a little later some huts; the number of these increased, and proved to be the outskirts of the town. The huts—of straw and branches—were round, as a rule, with a pointed thatch. But it was easy to infer that the inhabitants were absent, as the network which usually encloses the verandah that runs round each hut had been removed, and only the centre of the huts remained, their thatched eaves sticking out all round, so that they resembled thick mushrooms on short stalks.