Other sports, amusing to watch, were held under the shade of the mimosa in the gardens. The incongruity between the dignified appearance and lithe grace of the competitors and their childlike glee in each other’s performances, made even walking along a greasy pole a delightful comedy. Hearty laughter is not one of the lost arts amongst the Arabs.
At night there are more processions, with Chinese lanterns and torches, crackers, weird music and dances, and the whole place is alive and gay, whilst noise reigns triumphant.
STREET OF THE DANCING GIRLS, BISKRA
The dancing is not limited to the Ouled Naïls, or dancing girls; the men have a fine sword-dance that looks like a serious duel. The music is stormy, martial, passionate. The musicians shout, the women scream to incite them to further fury. Their own war cries are deafening. The correct finish is for one to be conquered and disarmed, whereupon he shakes hands with the victor; but it sometimes happens that the excitement goes a little too far, and a bad cut brings the play to an abrupt and more dramatic termination.
CHAPTER VI
TIMGAD
“Leaving Biskra is like dying—a thing we must all get through somehow,” an American lady wailed, partly because she “just hated going,” but still more because of her fate at being condemned to get up at the unearthly hour of 5 A.M. to catch the first train.
This used to be the only train in the day, but now matters have so far progressed that on three days in the week a new one has been added as far as Batna, which saves much tribulation on the part of those who wish to see Timgad and cannot bear beginning their day with the sun. Dawn, however, is as beautiful as sunset, so that it is perhaps as well even for the lazy to be obliged to see it sometimes.
The four or five hours on the backward journey seem long. The keenness of excitement is wanting; there are only the glimpse of El Kantara, and some smiling greetings as the train passes through, to help pass the time. In the afternoon it soon gets dark, and the train goes crawling on slowly as if groping its way.
It is not possible to get up much enthusiasm until Batna is reached, for that is only a halting-place from which the start will be made next day to the ruins of the City of Timgad. Batna itself is nothing more than a clean little town with wide streets and low houses, an important military centre, with a large garrison and barracks, which are perhaps the most striking buildings in the place. There is no quartier indigène; little or nothing to amuse or interest.