Some fifty kilometers before reaching Touggourt one comes into the sand. It is an impression as different as possible from anything which has been passed up to the present. Soft white dunes rise up before one, curling back and looking like great waves of the Atlantic about to break into foam. In all directions this sea extends without any sort of break, and one realizes a little what it must be to lose one’s way in a desert where there is nothing to guide one, nothing to differentiate one dune from another.
If the wind is not blowing, it is a pleasant drive through this area of sand, but if it is, the drifting grit blinds, gets into the engine, and covers the track, and it is practically certain that sooner or later the car will stick and that it will take infinite trouble to free it.
Touggourt itself is a typical southern town, of little interest beyond its situation in the sand; moreover, it has lost a good deal of its charm by the presence of the railway and the consequent invasion of tourists. Hotels have sprung up, and the streets are infested by guides. It is one of the great date centers of Algeria, and the sweet luscious fruit eaten in England at Christmas-time comes from the one hundred and seventy thousand palm-trees which form its lovely oasis. If one is here in November one can see the Arabs swarming up the trees in a miraculous fashion and cutting off the bunches of golden dates, which are let down to earth by means of a rope slung over one of the branches.
In March and April one will see a still more curious sight, the fertilization of the palm. The flower of the male tree is carried to the top of the female by an Arab who places it in a cleft in the head of the tree while he chants religious airs. A date-palm does not bear fruit for twelve years, but when it does it goes on for over a hundred, and those who own palmeries in the areas which produce the right kind of fruit are excessively rich.
One night will suffice to see Touggourt, and the sunset over the sand-dunes is a spectacle never to be forgotten, while if a caravan from the south arrives it affords a wonderful impression of a period of the past. It is hard to realize that in this sandy country the only really adequate mode of transport is the camel. Some men ride horses, but even then they have a hard time, whereas the ship of the desert, with its spongy padded feet, its nostrils and eyelids hermetically closed to the dust, and its endurance without food or water, prove that it was created for this purpose, and that traveling by any other means is hazardous. It is not a very rapid conveyance, but one can average a good twenty-five miles a day and be certain of reaching one’s destination.
Further south one finds the mehari, or trotting white camel, which moves along at a great pace, but it is reserved almost entirely for the Meharistes, or French African camel corps, who guard the lonely caravan tracks of the Sahara.
On leaving Touggourt the road follows the railway through a country of sandy patches which gradually get stonier as it progresses north. Pleasant little oases are passed, as well as salt lakes which are usually practically dry but which give excellent mirage effects.
We are now in the confederation of the Zibans, one of the most famous tribes of the south, and to-night we shall be at their headquarters, the world-famed city of Biskra.
CHAPTER XXXII
BISKRA
With the aid of a railway an English novelist inadvertently made of Biskra what it is to-day. I say inadvertently because there is not the least reference to Biskra in the whole book, and I am sure that Mr. Hichens was the last person to wish to create of a Sahara oasis a kind of Dieppe-on-sand. Neither would this town have been so thronged with trippers had it been miles away in the desert without a railway, but it is so easy to get into the train at Algiers one night and detrain the next day in time for lunch in the Sahara that more people come here than to any other place in the south.