Travels in the footsteps of Bruce in Algeria and Tunis

by Sir R. Lambert Playfair

El-Bali is on the left bank of the river, directly opposite to Djebel Mahmel, the ancient Mampsurus, the second highest peak in Algeria, only 23 feet lower than Djebel Chellia. The village itself is nearly 5,000 feet above the sea. We strolled about before dinner, purchasing native ornaments and admiring the beauty of the women and children. One dear little child, daughter of the Sheikh, quite attached herself to our party, and accompanied us to the tents; she took with the utmost solemnity, and in the most dignified manner, all the sweets and little presents we gave her; but nothing would induce her to taste anything; she would hardly even speak to us, but she devoured us with her eyes, and cried when she had to go away.

The women of the Aures, as I have said, never veil or conceal their faces; their dress is very similar to that of the Arab of the south; the colours chosen generally two shades of blue or other subdued tints. They disfigure themselves very much by wearing enormous circular rings on the upper edge of their ears, which seem as if they would tear that organ off the head; indeed, some such effect is not unfrequently produced, and to guard against it they support their ears by strings tied to the upper part of the head-dress. They also wear numerous and massive bracelets and anklets of elegant design, similar to those used by the Kabyles, and their garments seem to be held together by large brooches, or pins with immense heads, of the pattern which we style ‘the Maid of Norway’ pin. I am sorry to say that these unsophisticated mountain maidens knew perfectly well how to sell us, as massive silver, ornaments which we subsequently discovered to be made of lead, with a very thin coating of the more precious metal.

The young lads of the village are as sturdy little fellows as one could meet anywhere, with clean and muscular limbs, of bold and independent carriage, and with none of that shrinking timidity, which makes the children of an Arab village retreat behind the shelter of their dogs at the approach of a Roumi.

The inevitable dhiffa was, of course, awaiting us here; we had always to get through two daily; there was a strong family resemblance between them all, the staple dishes being the same, a sheep roasted whole, and piles of couscousou, washed down by beakers of milk; but the little additions, petits plats, and European delicacies such as wine, &c., depended on the amount of civilisation of our host for the time being. The roasted sheep is a dish worthy of introduction into the most civilised society; the animal is skinned and cleaned within a few moments of his death; a stake six feet long is passed through his body, entering at the mouth, and a large fire having been prepared beforehand and allowed to subside into a state of hot embers without flame, the animal is laid across it, supported on two posts, constantly turned round, and basted with butter till sufficiently cooked; it is then served up by the stake being stuck upright in the earth, or supported transversely on big stones; and then it is consumed with the aid only of Nature’s knives and forks. It requires some little education to know exactly where to search for the best morsels, but our hosts were always courteous enough to tear these off and present them to us.

Couscousou well prepared is by no means a dish to be despised; the raw material is simply the semolina of hard wheat, the grains of which are large, carefully sifted from the flour, and prepared in a peculiar manner by the ladies of the household, who roll it about and turn it over with their hands in large wooden dishes. When this has to be cooked it is placed in a small earthen dish pierced with holes, on the top of another in which a soup of meat and vegetables is prepared. The steam causes the grain to swell and soften, without rendering it sodden. When the couscousou is sufficiently cooked it is placed in a large flat dish, the soup highly seasoned with red pepper, and thus called mergäa, is poured over it, the meat or fowls and vegetables, if any are procurable, are placed on the top, perhaps with a morsel of butter; and thus prepared, in the tent of an Arab of rank and means, it is as palatable a dish as a hungry traveller need ever desire to have set before him. Sometimes, instead of the meat and soup, sugar or honey, raisins and milk are substituted. The only thing I can suggest as better than either of them is both in succession.

When the guests have finished their repast, the dishes are passed on to the higher retainers, and so on to the various ranks and classes till nothing remains.

On the morning of May 1, we left El-Bali for the Oued Taga; we had to cross the river at the village, above which the valley opens out to a wide stretch of corn-land. The difference between the state of the crops in different parts of the Aures is very remarkable; it is no unusual thing to see the harvest taking place at the lowest part of the Oued Abdi, the corn green at Menäa, less and less advanced as one ascends, and ploughing going on at some of the highest places. When we were at Menäa the corn was in the ear, and here it had barely germinated.

Gigantic thuyas (Callitris quadrivalvis) and junipers (Juniperus macrocarpa) are met with here. We saw some whose trunks were more than 3 feet in diameter.

The last village we met with was Oulad Azooz, on the right bank, near some rather extensive foundations of Roman buildings.

All along our course we had frequently passed through some villages and in front of others; and although we could not remain long enough to alight from our mules, the Sheikhs never failed to come out arrayed in their official scarlet bernouses to welcome us, and bid us God-speed. I cannot call to mind a sulky look, or an unamiable action during all the time we travelled in these mountains.