I am told the nearest route from here to Tunis is viâ Douwarat (or Duerat), a portion of the Atlas where is situate Shninnee. This village, scattered over all the hills, is three days from Ghabs and seven from Ghadames. The Souf Arabs tell me there is no water for seven days in summer and twelve in winter, on the road they came from their country to Ghadames, the difference being the length of days. The well is called Beer-es-Saf, and sometimes Beer-ej-Jadeed. The route lies entirely through sand, N.W. This region of sand is the celebrated hunting-place of the Souf Arabs.
Dined again with the Rais this evening. His Excellency complained that the Ghadamsee people show him scarcely any attention. He never receives the smallest present, neither a few dates, nor a melon, nor a vegetable; he buys and is obliged to buy everything[22]. I thought myself more fortunate than the Rais, for I have received several little presents from various individuals. His Excellency says he never punishes the people except for abusive language to one another, and than he only gives them twenty or fifty strokes of the bastinado. In this respect he says, "Ghadames may be compared to Paradise, there being no crime in it." His Excellency repeated that the greater number of the resident inhabitants, who do not travel abroad, spend their time in reading, writing, and prayer—that, emphatically, this is a Marabout city.
30th.—Occupied two or three hours this morning in administering medicine and visiting the sick. My turjeman came back and apologized; he said the people were fanatic. Received a visit from Haj-el-Beshir, eldest son of the Sheikh Makouran. He said his father had been twice to Timbuctoo, and resident there many years, and would give me some information. The Rais says there's no Sheikh of the slaves, and adds, "I'm the Sheikh of the slaves." This again is not correct, as the people all told me, there must be a headman or Sheikh of the slaves in all countries. Had a visit from two young men who were quite free from the prejudices of their countrymen. They told me to take courage, "that God was the Maker of Christians as well as Mohammedans, that in this city no one could do me harm, but I was not to expose myself to the ignorant." I seem, indeed, to get on better with the people, their prejudices apparently are beginning to give way; I shall be able to open the way for some other person. The father of one of my young friends has been now twelve years in Kanou; when he returns he brings a fortune.
Speaking to the Rais of the Ghadamsee people, I asked him what they did for soldiers before the Turks came? He replied, "These people are not soldiers and never had soldiers; they are like women and children; if any body came from The Desert to plunder, he stole what he pleased and was allowed to go away unmolested. They depended upon God and prayer for their protection. You see I told you these people were dervishes." Still there is reason to believe that if they did not fight themselves, as, at the present time, they got their quondam but powerful friends, the Touaricks, to fight for them.
This afternoon saw some doves in the gardens; and also a small flight of birds hovering over the city, perhaps there were twenty. These birds were called arnout, and have very long bills and necks. When the men leave off working at the wells, they dart down to drink. The palm-groves are the favourite resort of the doves, as poetical as natural. Animals, and especially birds, are so rare in those regions that every sight of them is worthy of mention; indeed, these are the first birds I have seen since I left Tripoli. No meat to be had to-day in Souk. People usually club together and buy a whole sheep: they then kill it, and divide it into so many portions according to the number of purchasers; so that meat is rarely exposed publicly for sale, and it is necessary to join these private purchasers. Purchase-money is always paid down at once and not on delivery. The meat is never weighed but divided at guess. When any disagreement takes place lots are drawn for the division.
During the four or five days of my residence here, the weather has been comparatively temperate; at least, I have not felt the heat excessive. To-day has been close and cloudy: no sun in the afternoon: wind hot, ghiblee. I continue to be an object of curiosity amongst the people, and am followed by troops of boys. A black from Timbuctoo was astonished at the whiteness of my skin, and swore I was bewitched. The Ghadamsee Moors eat sugar like children, and are as much pleased with a suck of it. The young men carry it about in little bags to suck. The Rais is sometimes called Bey by the people and sometimes Sultan, but by the low people, not the better classes. Here, as elsewhere, the lower classes are the more servile.
31st.—Went this morning to buy meat, but got some with great difficulty. Passed some Touaricks, who showed an excessive arrogance in their manners. They look upon the Ghadamsee people with great disdain, considering them as so many sheep which they are to protect from the wolves of The Sahara. Met several of the merchants I knew at Tripoli. They asked me how I liked their city, and if better than Tripoli. I always replied, Haier (better). It is singular that though these merchants are so enterprising themselves in the interior of Africa, they cannot conceive of the possibility of a Christian coming so far from home into The Desert, and when I tell them I wish to go to Soudan, or Bornou, or Timbuctoo, they look at me with incredulity and say, "No, no, you cannot go so far, you will die, or the people will kill you." They have not the least idea of the courage and enterprise of European tourists, nor can they understand their objects. But these their objections may be founded in jealousy of us Christians.
The following is a nice neat facsimile specimen of the writing of a young taleb and Ghadamsee Marabout, one of the best I have seen in The Desert. It is a bill of sale, consisting of gold—slaves, male and female—bullocks' skins—pillow-cases—elephant's teeth—senna—bekhour (perfume)—camels—sacks—and (I think) household slaves.
