CHAPTER XIII
THE SACRED CITY
Seven visits to the sacred city of Kairouan are equivalent for the devout Mussulman to one pilgrimage to Mecca. A pleasant alternative for those who wish to gain a high degree of sanctity at a small cost, for since the railway simplified the journey there are neither terrors nor difficulties to overcome.
Picturesque hill towns are passed on the way, and also the first of the chain of Chotts, or shallow salt lakes, almost or quite dry in summer, strange reminders of the time when the Mediterranean penetrated the desert as far as Biskra. Plans have often been proposed for letting in the water again from the Gulf of Gabès to the Ziban. But though in some ways this might bring added prosperity, in others the change of climate would probably spell ruin. The date harvest at Gafsa and Gabès would be spoilt, and most likely that of Biskra and Tougourt as well.
The Tunisian oases vie with, if they do not surpass, those of Algeria, but they are little visited, partly because it is not the fashion, but much more in consequence of the discomforts to be faced, as travellers are mostly dependent on their own resources, a native fonduk, or the kindness of some French officer. The fonduks by all accounts are intolerably dirty, and sleep has to be snatched during a lull in the noisy talk, in the corner of a crowded space, with a portmanteau for a pillow, the mud floor and a rug by way of bed. No food or refreshment are offered except coffee. The inns when they exist give rise to pathetic tales of food and dirt. Birds apparently made of india-rubber, quite black and utterly impervious to the blunt knives, pose as chicken, the eggs are of untold age, and the bread sour. Cous-couss is the best thing; it is not at all a bad variety of stew when well made, rather like curry, but laid on a bed of semolina instead of rice, with a very hot, piquant sauce. The number of ingredients is always rather mysterious, and when ill-made it is horribly greasy.
These various drawbacks make even the excursion to the fine Roman ruins of Sbeitla too uncomfortable without a camp, as it is a two days’ ride from Kairouan. The road is supposed to be fit for carriages, but owing to the badness of the track, a strong country cart cannot stand the strain, and is always coming to grief, or losing a wheel at critical moments, so that a rider finds he has chosen the better part. Then it is rather a shock to be told on the return journey, with many miles yet to travel and darkness coming on apace, that no Frenchman considers this district safe without a revolver loaded and ready to hand.
Altogether it is decidedly annoying as well as disappointing, because drawings and photographs of curious places and buildings make the longing for adventure in the wilder regions so strong as to be almost unbearable. There are houses at Tozeur with decorative façades, built with raised designs in projecting sun-dried brick. At Matmata and Douïrat the Troglodytes dwell in rock-hewn cells, forming hill cities cut out of, not built on, castellated crags, whilst at Medénine the houses are built one above the other, five stories high, with doors that serve as windows. Most of these houses are reached by climbing up on jutting stones built into the wall, which, even with the assistance of a cord, needs a steady head, though a few have the luxury of an outside staircase.
There is great consolation in the thought that until quite lately Kairouan itself was almost a sealed book, for travellers could only see it when provided with an escort and a special permission, and these were not sufficient to admit them to the mosques, or to protect them from insult or stones in the streets, so that little joy came from a visit even so late as 1888.
Now the nervous need have no misgivings, as the train crawls like a snail over the barren waste, redeemed from desolation by the flowers, more glorious than ever in contrast with the monotonous brown-hued desert framed by distant mountains.
The old walls that encircle Kairouan, with their tones of dusty brown, blend with the plain they rise from, and would be invisible at a little distance were it not for the white minarets and domes within their bounds, which stand out clear-cut as a cameo against the blue of the sky, the purple of the hills, and the faded tints of the soil.
Tradition says that in the year fifty-five of the Hegira (675 A.D.) this was a vast forest, almost impenetrable, and full of wild and terrible beasts of prey and still more alarming serpents, huge and poisonous. Hither, surrounded by his conquering host, came the warrior-saint, Sidi Okba. Here he planted his lance in the ground, saying, “This is your ‘Kairwan’” (caravan, or resting-place). After which he caused fifteen chosen men, the companions of the Prophet who were with the army, to come together for prayer. Then advancing he called out, “Serpents and savage beasts we are the companions of the blessed Prophet; retire! for we intend to dwell here.” At the sound of his inspired voice they fled in a body with their young, and took refuge in the wilderness, whilst the woods that had been their home vanished also. Moreover, it is said that this miracle so astounded the Berbers who dwelt in that land, that they were one and all converted at once, and further it is alleged that it is for this reason that the holy city continues to stand in the midst of a desert unto this day.