French enterprise in Africa

by Hourst

I said, it is true, a few pages back that the Tuaregs were pillagers, and the reader may very well ask how they could be pillagers yet not thieves. We must, however, judge people by their own consciences, not by the ideas current amongst ourselves. Now to pillage and to thieve are two essentially different things amongst the Tuaregs.

All nomads are pillagers, and as a matter of fact war with them is generally simply a pillaging expedition. Migrations are constantly taking place as a very necessity of their mode of life, and as a result casus belli as constantly arise. We must, however, even in such cases as these, do the Tuaregs the justice to add that they generally first make an appeal to diplomacy. In meetings known amongst them as myiad, the question at issue is discussed, chiefly by the most influential marabouts, and they have recourse to arms only if conciliation does not answer.

Even then it is all fair and open warfare. The warriors even challenge each other as in a tournament to single combat. There are razzi too, no doubt, when the Tuaregs make a descent on the enemy’s camp and pillage it, carrying off the flocks and herds if possible, and by thus depriving them of the means of subsistence, compelling them to sue for peace.

There is little foundation for the charge brought against the Tuaregs of pillaging caravans, they respect them when the right of passage has been paid for. This payment is a very just one, guaranteeing the protection of the tribe against the gentlemen of the road, for in the Sudan, as in Italy, there are brigands, but they are not Tuaregs.

On the other hand, if traders, thinking themselves strong enough to force a passage, refuse to pay the tribute demanded, the caravan becomes the lawful prize of any one who chooses to attack it.

Is this very different to what happens amongst Europeans? Suppose, for instance, that we refuse to pay custom and octroi dues, the officials will seize the contraband goods without hesitation, and we shall have to pay the legal fine, or even, perhaps, go to prison, and who will think us unfairly treated? Although they have no officers in uniform in their service, the Tuaregs are quite within their rights in demanding payment for right of way. But pillage merchandise when that payment has been made they never do. Did they do so, all trade would be simply impossible in the Sudan, and when they are reproached on the subject they reply—“Our irezz aodem akus wa der’itett (we do not break the bowl from which we eat).”

When he has to do with Christians, infidels, or, as he calls them, Kaffirs, the Tuareg is perhaps not quite so jealous of his promises and of keeping faith exactly; but this is really chiefly the fault of the marabouts, who tell them that they are not bound where infidels are concerned, and quote passages taken, or said to be taken, from the Koran to prove it.

Then, again, there is something spirited and noble about pillaging, for it often means to expose oneself to danger, and real courage is needed for that. It is not so very long since our ancestors went to do much the same thing in Sicily and in Palestine, and there was not much more excuse for them than for the Tuaregs.

Thieving and petty larceny are very different from pillaging, and of them the Tuareg has perhaps a greater horror than we Europeans.

A careful study of Tuareg society will reveal a very strong resemblance between it and that of Europe in the Middle Ages. Truth to tell, except that he has no strong isolated castles, a Tuareg surrounded by his tribe, or a fraction of that tribe, engaged in one long struggle to defend himself, or absorbed in attacking some chief, brutal and violent, but chivalrous, respecting the honour of women, and curbing his wild passions where they are concerned, his reverence for them inspiring his most courageous efforts, pillaging the traders who will not submit to the prescribed tribute, but protecting those who have paid their toll, has a soul not so very different, after all, from that of the Castellan de Coucy of the twelfth century, or of the heroes he celebrates in his poems.