The Marabout.—"He plays; his time of work is past."
I believe this unequal distribution of the women is a great check on population. It prevails to a greater extent amongst the Negro tribes. I am not of opinion that Central Africa is populous. I saw nowhere any populous districts myself.
The wood used in the construction of buildings is that of the date-tree, which, apparently, grows stronger and tougher with age. Of this all the doors of the houses and the lighter works are made. Wood for fireing is brought in from The Sahara, but from a great distance. It is sold for three Tunisian piastres the camel-load. It is the common brush-wood, underwood, or scrub of The Desert, and is excessively dry, for withered and dead trees or shrubs are gathered. In seasons of rain The Sahara creates this wood quickly, it then perishes for want of rain. Sometimes wood for building is brought from Tripoli, i. e., deal-boards. Our caravan brought some doors for a mosque, made of deal.
This evening was a grand celebration of divine worship in the house of the Rais, and a Marabout chanted verses from the Koran. His Excellency certainly gains the respect, if not the affections, of the pious. He is often said by the people to be a man who "fears God." I sat near the door listening. A fellow said to me, "You must sit farther off whilst the people are praying, it is unlawful to sit where you are." I took no notice of his impertinence. The Rais sent me yesterday, as the evening before, a very good supper. Being Ramadan, I stopped up till midnight talking politics with him. He is a native of a province, near Circassia, fallen under the iron rule of Muskou (the Russians). Having been in the Syrian campaign he was enabled to see the feeding of the English soldiers and sailors, which quite astonished him. He observed, "The Emperor of Russia will never have good troops, he scarcely gives them anything to eat. It is not surprising they desert to the Circassians." The Rais has a great dread of the Russians absorbing the Ottoman empire: it is not an unreasonable dread.
6th.—My turjeman complains that neither he nor the people can pay their excessive taxes; they must all be soon ruined. Yet a couple of thousand pounds per annum is nothing for a commercial city like this. He says, "If we were to cultivate our gardens, we should have more; but then the Turks would demand more, so our spirits are broken, and we are eaten up. We have no heart to work for our oppressors." Continue to read the Arabic New Testament, which aids me in colloquial disquisitions with the people. The Ghadamsee people persist in not taking medicines during the fast. One told me, "Even if a man dies, and medicine could save him, he must not take it." I have therefore fewer patients during the inexorable Ramadan. But I save my tea and coffee—"An ill wind blows, &c." The Rais, however, gets his tea in the evening. It is remarkable with what willingness, and without any sort of prejudice, several of the people offer me information. Even when refused, I always find it arises from indolence to narrate it. They are not afraid that I am collecting information to supply the English Government with the means of invading their country, like some Moors in Barbary. They look upon the thing just as it is,—that I am writing a book about their country to amuse Christians.
The Sheikh of the slaves came in, with several Ghadamsee youths:—
"The Governor says, you are not the Sheikh; he is the Sheikh."
"So, does he say?"
(The Youths.—"But the Sheikh is the Sheikh.")
"I am," says the Sheikh, "from Timbuctoo; all the people are Mohammedans, and fast. Do you fast?"