Mysteries of the Libyan Desert

by W. J. Harding King

The interior of the tower was a perfect labyrinth of breakneck stairways and little rooms opening out of narrow dark passages. After scrambling up several sets of steps and repeatedly banging my head in the dark against the low roof, we at length emerged into a sort of courtyard at the top, surrounded by two tiers of small chambers, each provided with its own locked door. Some further scrambling landed us on the roof that covered the rooms and formed a kind of platform surrounding the courtyard. From here a wide view could be obtained over the oasis and depression.

There was not much of consequence to be seen. Below lay the village, looking, when viewed from above, even more squalid than from below. Scattered round it, within a radius of a few miles, lay a number of small patches of cultivation, showing the positions of the various wells and springs. Seven or eight miles away to the west was a cliff of considerable height, forming the scarpment of the Guss Abu Said—an isolated plateau beyond which, though invisible from the tower, lay a well, “Bir Labayat,” and the little oases of Iddaila and Nesla, in another large depression, the dimensions of which were unknown. Here and there on the floor of the depression a few isolated hills stood up to break the level monotony, the most conspicuous amongst them being Jebel Gunna el Bahari, about fifteen miles to the north-east. Otherwise the view over the depression was singularly monotonous. The only other noticeable features being the cliffs in the far distance to the north and east that marked the limits of the higher plateau.

On descending from the tower the ’omda took me round the village. Except for its poverty-stricken appearance, it differed little from those in Dakhla and Kharga Oases. There seemed to be few houses with a second storey, and the palm leaf hedges, that usually topped the wall surrounding the flat roofs in the other oases, were seldom visible.

Having completed our survey of the village, the ’omda took us to his house. It was a very poor residence for a man of his position in the village, and was overrun with fowls, goats and filthy little children, mostly suffering from ringworm. He gave us some dates and very bad tea, but no cigarettes were produced, probably because, like most of the inhabitants of the place, he “followed the Sheykh.”

In the afternoon I went with Abd er Rahman and the ’omda to see the winch of a boring machine that had been given to the zawia by a wealthy Egyptian in Cairo, in order that they could sink a new well. They wanted my opinion on it, as two of the cog wheels had been broken and the work of sinking the well had had to stop in consequence. It was obvious that there was nothing to be done, except to replace the wheels. I took measurements of the broken parts and promised to have duplicates of them made in Cairo, when I got back, and to have them sent to the oasis.

I was engaged in noting down their dimensions, when Abd er Rahman informed me that the Senussi sheykhs from the zawia were coming, and I caught sight of two men, with Qwaytin in their train, stalking along in my direction.

The zawia was run by three sheykhs who were brothers, the eldest was, however, at that time away in Cairo. The other two were not a prepossessing-looking couple. Sheykh Ibn ed Dris, the elder, was a fine-looking Arab, and would have been even handsome if his face had not been marred by its dour, truculent expression. His youngest brother, Sheykh Mohammed, was apparently hardly out of his ’teens, and seemed to be somewhat of a cipher, being completely swamped by the aggressive personality of the elder sheykh. The only impression he made was one of extreme sulkiness. Qwaytin told me that they had come to take me for a walk round the plantations that surrounded the village, adding that as I was a stranger in the oasis they felt that they ought to entertain me.

They did not seem to relish the job very much. Sheykh Ibn ed Dris was extremely taciturn, and his brother never opened his mouth during the whole of our tour of inspection.

Compared with the other Egyptian oases, the plantations in Farafra contained comparatively few palms and a much larger proportion of other fruit trees—olives, vines, apricots, white mulberries, figs, pomegranates, limes, sweet lemons, a few orange trees and a small apple, which, being regarded as a rarity, was very highly prized. Formerly there used to be a considerable export of olive oil to the Nile Valley, but for some reason, perhaps because the trees were getting too old, the crop was said to have diminished considerably, and barely to suffice for the wants of the oasis.

The fields surrounding the plantations were planted so far as I saw only with wheat, barley and onions, but durra and rice are also said to be grown in the oasis. The areas under cultivation seemed small, but the plants all looked healthy, and even luxuriant. I saw no patches of salty ground, such as were often to be seen in Dakhla.