Tafilet

by Walter Harris

It is almost as soon as one enters amongst the Berber people that one begins to find out how infinitely superior they are in morals and character to the Arab. Their every word and look speak of greater honesty and truth than one finds in a month amongst the Arabs. But of the Berber character I shall have more to say anon.

As soon as we had passed over the ford of the Wad Misfiwa, our road took a turn to the south, following the course of the river, a little way up the side of the hills on its east bank. Gradually ascending as we proceeded, we camped early at a miserable nzala on the summit of a steep incline, from which a fine view was obtainable both up and down the river—up, to the snow-peaks of the Atlas; down, to the plains we had now left behind and the hills of Rahamna far away beyond. Very different was the thatched nzala from the neat and trim villages that dotted the valley below, surrounded by their carefully terraced gardens of olives and vines, walnuts and almonds; but the people where we camped were evidently very poor, and eked a miserable pittance out of the small fees they collected from passers-by—for the road over the Atlas is one not often travelled, even by natives.

The change in the costume of the natives made it clear that we had left the people of the plains and entered into the country of mountaineers, for the length of their garments was much curtailed about the legs, and instead of the draggling and mud-stained skirts of the Arab there appeared the sinewy limbs of the children of the mountains. But peculiar to the Atlas we noticed here for the first time in general use the khanif or haidus, the strange black-hooded cloak with its eye-shaped pattern in yellow or red in the centre of the back, the object of which no tradition seems to make mention, and no history to hint at. All that we know for certain of this strange garment is, that while it is not found throughout Algeria, it crops up again in the mountains near Tripoli. Putting aside all speculation as to the origin of the design, it must be added that the material of which these cloaks are made is an excellent one, the closely woven black goat-hair being impenetrable to cold and rain, and therefore excellently suited to the mountaineers of the bleak heights of the Atlas range.

A few words must be said as to the general difference of costume between the Berbers and the Arabs. While the former wear the jelab, a hooded garment closed down the front, it is never found amongst the

Berbers.

Berbers, whose one desire as to clothing seems to be absolute freedom of limb. The haik, or toga-like garment of the Arabs, is used amongst the better-class Berbers, but merely as a luxury. Their typical costume consists of the chamira, or long loose shirt reaching from the neck to below the knees, and the haidus above, the open hooded cloak called by the Arabs s’lham. This in the case of the mountaineers takes the form of the black goat’s-hair article, and in that of the Berbers of the plains of a thick but finely woven garment of white wool. The one distinguishing mark in the costume of the two races, however, is the following: while the Arab loves to gird his waist with a sash or leather belt, the Berbers have the greatest objection to anything of the sort, and seldom, if ever, wear either. Some exception to these customs can always be found in the case of Berbers who have left their native lands to work in the Moorish cities, and here they can often be found in dress absolutely resembling in every detail that of the poorer class of townspeople; but this is owing far more to necessity than option, for the local Berber materials cannot be found, except rarely, in the Moorish towns.

In appearance, too, besides the difference of feature of which I shall have opportunity to refer anon, there is considerable variance of fashion and custom. While the Arabs leave unshaven their beards and only trim their moustaches, the Berbers of the Atlas and the country beyond shave the entire face with the exception of a small pointed beard on the chin, which is connected with the ears by a fine closely cropped line of hair. This shaving of the head is general throughout both people, the only class who fail to do so being devotees, the sects of “Ulad bu Sba,” who leave the entire skull covered with hair; the followers of Sid ben Aissa, or “Aissaua,” who leave crown alone unshaven; and the Riffis and mountaineers of the north, who wear the gitaya and kron respectively, the former a long lock on the centre of the back of the head, the latter grown on one side above the ear. It would be interesting to discover the origin of these various but unvaried customs of locks of hair, for the common explanation that they are to be pulled up to heaven by is not only absurd but altogether an insult to the high system of theology possessed by many who wear them. So systematically are these customs preserved that there can be little doubt, especially in the case of the Berbers, that they date from a period long anterior to the introduction of Islam.

Leaving the valley of the Wad Misfiwa on the morning of November 3, we turned directly to the east and crossed the spur of the Atlas that lies between the valley of the former river and the Wad Ghadat. This slope of the lower Atlas takes the form of a plateau, with an average altitude above the level of the sea of some 3000 feet, and is known as Tugana, a district under the jurisdiction of the Kaid of Misfiwa.

But very few villages or habitations were to be seen, and the greater part of the soil seemed capable of but little cultivation, being here torn into deep water-courses, there covered with brushwood. One stream alone is crossed, the Wad Masin, a small clear river of no size, but which, from the appearance of its banks, floods in the rainy season. Near the ford were a few gardens, and dense bushes of oleanders lined its course. A very short distance beyond, one of the customary weekly sôks or markets is held; but not being market-day, the place was deserted and left to a mangy dog or two, and a few ravens which sought for food amongst the offal and dirt. There are no buildings at the market, for the native shopkeepers bring their little tents—gaiaton—in which they expose their wares for sale, packing up the same in the afternoon and pushing on, probably to be in time to visit another sôk elsewhere the following day. The usual custom is for the consecutive sôks along the main roads to be held on following days, so as to allow all the travelling vendors of goods to visit one after the other in succession. I have sometimes travelled for a week and found each day some market by the roadside in full swing, by having hit off the right day at the first sôk and followed them up in succession, though it is far more common to miss the entire number, and never see a full market-place at all upon a long journey. These sôks are always known by the name of the day on which they are held, with the name of the place added as a distinctive mark. Thus one finds “Had el Gharbiya,” “Sunday of the Gharbiya,” and “Arbaa of Sid Aissa,” “the Wednesday of Sid Aissa,” so called from its proximity to the tomb of that saint. Near this sôk of Tugana is a small semi-deserted village of stone-built huts, a dreary poverty-stricken-looking place. From this spot we had a choice of roads to the summit of the Atlas—namely, either to pursue the one we eventually followed, viâ the Wad Ghadat and Zarkten, or to turn to the south, and skirting the side of the steep mountains on our right, strike as straight a line across country as the nature of the land would allow. The latter, a mere track, often passing along the face of precipices and at all parts difficult, leads viâ Gadaruz and Tizi Aït Imiger to Zarkten, where the two unite. However, we chose the longer but more practicable, and even that was bad enough. What the other must have been like it is impossible even to guess; but the fact that it is only pursued by the native mountaineers and sturdy mountain mules would probably have meant that for us it would have been impassable.