This morning is cool and temperate. Every day continue to administer solution for ophthalmia, and even those whose eyes are quite well, will have a drop of it put on their eyes. They say it will prevent them, after I am gone, from having the malady. Everybody begs a bit of sugar, a little bread, a scrap of paper, a something from the Christian. Content all as well as I can.
This evening saw, for the first time "the playing with the head," which is performed by females. This was done by a young girl. After baring her head and unbinding her hair, throwing her long dark tresses in dishevelled confusion, she knelt down and began moving her chest and head in various attitudes, her whole soul being apparently in the motion. Part of her hair she held fast in her teeth, as if modestly to cover her face, the rest flew wildly about with the agitation of her head and chest, and all to the tune or time of two pieces of stick, one beating on the other, by the woman upon whose knees she leaned with her hands. The motion was really graceful, though wild and dervish-like, but there was nothing lascivious in it, like the dancing of the Moors, nor could it well be, the upper part of the body only was in agitation, being literally "the playing with the head." I never saw this before or again in North Africa. I gave the young lady twenty paras, the first time she had so large a sum in her life. Received a present of leghma from the Sheikh, very acrid and intoxicating. The women admire much my straw hat, made of fine Leghorn plat, and wonder how it is done. None of the inhabitants but our Marabout read and write. Portions of the Koran, however, are committed to memory; and one day an old blind man repeated several chapters of the Koran for my especial edification. He did it as a protest of zeal against my infidelity before the people, but I took care not to show that I was aware of the object. The men pray now and then, the women never, that I could see, and never think of religion beyond ascribing all things, good and bad, to God. Indeed, all classes in these mountains think the sum of religion consists simply in ascribing all matters, how great or how small, how evil how good soever, to the Divine Being. When they have done this, they think they have performed an act of piety and mercy. At my request, Mohammed made Said a pair of camel-driver's shoes, or sandals, to save his best. The plan is primitive enough. They get a piece of dried camel's hide, and cut it into the shape of the sole of the foot. Then they cut two thongs from the same hide. Holes are now bored through the soles, a knot is made at the end of the thongs, and they are pulled through the holes. The whole is then rubbed over with oil; the hairy side of the hide is fitted next to the foot, and the thongs are bound round the ancles. These sandals serve admirably well their purpose; some are made of double soles. But for the especial benefit of our cordwainers, I may mention, the African shoe has no heel to the sole.
15th.—His Excellency the Sheikh, and his factotum, or shadow, took coffee again with me this morning. A cup of coffee is a rare treat in Rujban. The Shadow of his Excellency brought me a few bad Fezzan dates, from which oases The Mountains are mostly supplied. Dates are not cultivated in The Mountains. The palm requires a low and flat sandy soil. The climate is not of so much consequence as the soil. Jerbah, and the Karkenahs, islands in the Mediterranean, produce as fine dates as the most favoured oasis of The Sahara. The Sheikh tells me there are thirty negro slaves in his district. One would wonder how the people could keep slaves when they can scarcely keep themselves. His Excellency is very sulky. He threatens to resign his Sheikhdom. The poor Sheikh is the dirtiest, unhappiest mortal of all his people. He is without wife, family or friend; he is without a rag to cover himself, except a filthy blanket. He houses in a little dirty cabin. In looks he is a hard strong-featured man, and large of limb. I asked his Excellency what he got by his Sheikhdom, to plague him. He growled, "Shayen (nothing)." "Why don't you resign?" I continued. "I can't; all my ancestors, from the time of Sidi Ibraim, and our lord Mahomet, were Sheikhs. We're one blood. I shall dishonour them:" he returned. The principle of aristocracy is irradicably bound up in the Arabian social economy. The levelling and co-operative system has no place here. The Sheikh's factotum is a noisy, roguish-looking Arab, with several bullet-marks about him received in the late wars. As he does all his master's dirty work, he is universally detested. Master and man swear the country is ruined. There certainly is nothing in these villages to render life tolerable. No rustic plays; no moon-lit dance to the sound of the rude calabash drum and squeaking pipe; no cheerful family circle—all is poverty and loneliness! Such a life is really not worth living. To make wretchedness still more wretched, for three years there has been no rain in these mountains. God's power and man's cruelty press sorely upon these miserable people.
The curiosity of the villagers begins to abate, or my Mohammed refuses them admission into his house to see me. He pretends to be honest in his opinion of his countrymen. He says: "The Arabs are all dogs (kelab)." They certainly have most begging propensities. And Mohammed adds, that when they have sufficient they will still beg, being born beggars. But, alas! these poor people, I am sure, never know now what it is to have enough. Yesterday some audacious thief stole the Sheikh's leghma. His factotum is foaming with rage, but the Sheikh laughed heartily at the impudence of the thief. His Excellency is accustomed to send me some every morning. I shall here relate a case or trait of selfishness amongst Arab women. I gave to the wife of the Marabout half a bottle of solution for washing her eyes should she be attacked with ophthalmia. Her sister-in-law, living next door, was laid up in a dark room with a dreadful ophthalmia. She sent her husband to beg a little of the solution. The Marabout's wife first denied that she had any, and then that she could find it. When I came from my walk, I scolded her soundly and gave the poor sufferer some solution.
The Marabout seeing my little stock of oil, burst forth with a violent panegyric on olive oil, as he dipped his fingers into it and licked them, not much to my satisfaction:—"Oil is my life! Without oil I droop, and am out of life; with oil, I raise my head and am a man, and my family (wife) feels I am a man. Oil is my rum—oil is better than meat." So continued Mohammed, tossing up his head and smacking his lips. I have no doubt there is great strength in olive oil. An Arab will live three months on barley-meal paste dipped in olive oil. Arabs will drink oil as we drink wine.
16th.—This morning we leave for Ghadames. What is remarkable, nearly all the Mountaineers offered me their services, and were willing to leave their native homes, and go with me any where or everywhere. I hardly observed a spark of fanaticism in them, so far as accompanying me was concerned. They were all actuated with the common and universal feeling, to obtain something to live withal in this poor world.
I have endeavoured to give some minutiæ of Arab mountain life. It will be seen to be not very stirring or agreeable, and there is certainly no romance in it, but, such as it is, I offer it to the reader, and he must make the best of the information. Life is life under any and all forms.
From Tripoli to The Mountains our route was southwest, so that we were not so far from the coast as at first might be imagined, from the number of days' journey, and we were still within the influence of some cool sea breezes, for any point almost between west and northeast, brought reviving life to The Mountains, in this terrible season of heat.
My journey seemed now to begin again, I felt a sickening regret, even in leaving my new Arab acquaintances. But the oppression which ground down to the dust these poor people filled my mind with the horror of despotic government. I was glad to get away from its victims, and from under the sphere of its influence, and plunge into the wild wastes of The Sahara, where I could breathe more freely. I must relate one other anecdote illustrating this oppression. A poor man sold me a peck of barley. The myrmidons of power, hearing of the sale, immediately went to him, and he refusing to give them the money, they got hold of his throat and nearly strangled him. To make them desist, I paid them also the value of the barley. Several of the poor people ran out after me when I mounted the camel, and amongst them many women and children, all crying out "Bes-slamah, bes-slamah," (Good-bye, good-bye). We now entered upon the most difficult, and the most critical part of our route in this season, and I commended myself and the people again to Eternal Providence.
20th.—Seenawan. I find it impossible to write daily in this part of the route.