We had finished with the mountains, and with a sigh of relief emerged from the valley to the level country, feeling that at last the weary work of continual ascent and descent was done with, for a time at least.
CHAPTER VI.
GHRESAT TO DADS.
A few words must here be written regarding the country now about to be traversed—that is to say, from Ghresat, the spot where we emerged from the valley of the southern slopes of the Atlas Mountains, as far as Dads. Not only does my sojourn in the latter place make it a fit opportunity for my description of the road, but the physical features of the country before us also render it expedient, for it is immediately to the east of Dads that the watershed lies that separates the rivers flowing south and west to the Draa, more especially the Wad Dads itself, and those the course of which is east, and which form the basin of the western tributaries of the Wad Gheris. This river, after uniting with the Wad Ziz at Tafilet, is eventually absorbed by the desert at the marsh of Dayet ed Daura, to the south of that oasis. This long strip of country lying between the great range of the Atlas Mountains and Jibel Saghru, or the Anti-Atlas, consists of a plain some sixty miles in length and averaging about thirty wide, rather more at Ghresat and somewhat less at Dads. This plain, with an elevation of roughly 4800 feet at Ghresat and 4700 at the southern extremity of the tribe of Dads, near Aït Yahia, slopes slightly from north to south and from east to west, the rivers which leave the Atlas flowing mostly almost due south until they meet either the Idermi or the Dads, where these two streams have an easterly and westerly course respectively, before uniting near Mesgita to form the more important Wad Draa.
The soil of this plain consists for the most part of sand strewn with small stones of almost black colour, with here and there large boulders, sometimes of limestone, at others of black igneous formation. The peculiarity, however, of this strip of desert—for, with the exception of the immediate river banks and oases, it consists of little else—is the manner in which the river beds are sunk below the level of the surrounding country. Usually on approaching a river one first perceives a flat-topped range of low hills crossing the plain from north to south. These hills passed, one comes, generally from half a mile to a mile farther on, to a steep descent, leading to the bed of the river in question, the same formations being found on the opposite side. At Dads and in other spots the cliffs that have to be descended before the bed of the river is reached are of considerable altitude, and the number of the population of all the districts hereabouts varies according to the breadth of the valleys between the cliffs, for on this depends the amount of land that can be put under irrigation and cultivated, and accordingly the quantity of life the soil can support by its products.
The effect is a curious one, for often when one is approaching a settlement on the river-banks, the fact that the watercourse and its cultivated surrounding land is far sunk below the level of the plain renders it invisible until one reaches the very edge of the decline. Up to that point one’s eye ranges from the level plain on which one is to where it commences again beyond, its barren appearance and uniform colouring presenting the effect that both join, and it seems impossible that a large colony with gardens and irrigated lands can exist in the neighbourhood. It is easy to see that the whole formation of the country is due to the streams poured down from the greater Atlas, which, flowing south as far as the parallel range of Jibel Saghru, are there obliged to seek a common outlet by following the direction of the mountains as far as Mesgita, where the united force of the rivers has formed a passage through the range.
All the ksor of Ghresat are situated upon the east bank of the river, and at some height above it, while the west bank is occupied by a few gardens, where fig and almond trees seem to thrive well. The stream is clear, and even in this dry season we found a couple of feet of water in the ford, which was perhaps some sixty yards across. The river-bed is stony, with larger boulders of limestone strewn here and there, no doubt carried to this position from the mountains above.
Several of the ksor are handsome buildings, one, just above the ford, being particularly so, the decoration and turreted towers giving it a most imposing effect. The inhabitants, like those of Agurzga, are a subdivision of the Imerghan tribe of Berbers, who are continually at war, not only with the surrounding tribes but also amongst themselves. Sometimes a feud arises between neighbouring ksor within easy range of one another, when a strict watch is kept from the roof of each, and shots exchanged whenever the opportunity presents itself. We were pointed out two ksor where this unsatisfactory state of affairs was progressing, both in a sad state of disrepair from constant attack, and from the fact that no opportunity could be found to reconstruct the damaged portions on account of the builders being fired upon by their neighbouring enemy. The only parallel case we can well imagine would be a blood-feud between two houses exactly opposite one another in a street. While a bullet from the tiles would lay low the footman who answered the door on the one side, the host returning from an evening party would be struck in the back on the other, and so on until possibly no male member remained in either family.
After following the course of the river for perhaps half a mile, the road takes a more easterly direction, and one enters upon fifteen miles of stony desert, which extends, without water at this period, as far as the Wad Mdri, the easternmost of the rivers of Askura. This strip of dreary country is known as the “Sebaa shaabat,” or “seven undulations,” from the fact that such exist. No vegetation was to be seen but bunches of wild thyme, a few thorny bushes—the sidra of the Arabs—and a little dry rank grass, and the latter only where there were signs of water collecting in the rainy season.
The absence of animal life was most noticeable, and scarcely a bird was seen. From the summit of the Atlas this had been so, and a few red-legged Barbary partridge, a magpie or two, and a couple of ravens, were all I had come across. Of four-legged beasts still less, for though both gazelle and muflon are to be found, we saw neither, and I can remember having perceived no other signs of animals than a couple of jerboa.