Tafilet

by Walter Harris

However, pleasant as was the half hour or so of cool and shade, it was soon over, and once more we issued into the barren glare of the stone-strewn valley, not without many regrets for the fertile tract we were leaving behind us, and much admiration for the people who had raised so luxuriant a grove in so dreary a spot. The inhabitants of Milaab belong to the Berber tribe of Aït Iazzer.

The valley of the Todghrá here takes an almost circular form, being shut in on all sides by dreary black peaks, torn and scarped apparently by volcanic action. Away a mile or two to the south-east was visible the narrow gorge by which the river issues to the valley of the Gheris. The road does not follow the course of the Todghrá, but, maintaining its easterly direction, crosses by a weary track over the brow of a range of black hills, descending again into the wide open valley beyond near the immense fortified ksar of Ul Turug, the principal stronghold of the Aït Atta tribe of Berbers.

It had been a shorter march than usual, and though nearly some thirty miles had been accomplished, we were able to rest under the shade of some trees near a small stream before entering the ksar, which we did not desire to do until dusk, so as to run less risk of discovery; for we knew well that so near had we now come to Tafilet that the place was likely to contain a large number of Arab tribesmen from the Sultan’s camp, to some of whom I might be known.

We feasted that afternoon, for we had dates in plenty, and our Berber who accompanied us fetched us a few grains of green tea and a little sugar from the ksar, with a kettle to brew it in and a tiny glass to drink it out of, and we made merry in the shade of the tree, enjoying our rest and the pleasant coolness

Ul Turug.

that precedes the bitter cold of the winter nights in the Sahara. Our journey was nearly accomplished now: this one night in Ul Turug, a long march on the morrow, and we would sleep on the soil of Tafilet, if not actually in the Sultan’s camp—and all our weary adventures would be over.

But there was yet another reason that made me desire to push on, and rejoice that the termination of our journey was so near. The bitter cold at night, want of food and clothing at all times, the scorching rays of the sun by day, and the long marches made barefoot over the hot sand, had sorely taxed my strength, and I already felt in my throat the sure signs of a coming illness, with which I had a couple of years previously lain long prostrate. Already, to swallow had become an exertion attended with pain, and I knew well what to expect. Yet I could not allow my spirits to sink, ill and weary though I felt, for there was so little now between me and success, and retreat was out of the question. So I laughed and talked as gaily as I could with my men, sipping the weak solution of hot green tea by turns, and promising ourselves no end of luxuries when once the great camp of the Sultan should be reached, and a day and a half of travelling at the most lay between us and it.

Between the spot which we had fixed upon to rest at for a while and the large ksar was the cemetery, a flat piece of ground covered with the low mounds which the Berbers raise over their graves, with here and there a high-domed building, or kubba, marking the last resting-place of some Shereef,—for Ul Turug is a zauia, or sanctuary, and many of its inhabitants Shereefs. The ksar itself is situated partly on the steep slopes of Jibel el Kebir and partly on the plain, where the palm-groves commence, the whole settlement being surrounded by a wall of considerable defensive powers. Every 50 or 60 feet along the wall is a large tower, of the same height as the wall itself, but projecting slightly from it. One gate alone gives entrance to the ksar, situated under a heavy buttress in the centre of the east side of the stronghold. Seen from where we stayed for an hour or two before entering, the place presents an appearance of great solidity and strength, which is by no means belied by its interior.

Shortly before sunset we passed in, being scrutinised closely by a group of guards at the gate; but a word from our Dadsi sufficed, and we entered unmolested.