The gate, like so many others in Morocco, takes a turn half-way, this form being the easiest in case of defence being necessary. From the outside, as well as from the interior, a dead wall meets the eye when looking in or out as the case may be. Within we entered a large square, surrounded on two sides by buildings, while the two others were faced with the outside wall, along which a covered arcade had been built where animals and goods, as well as human beings, could find shelter from rain—whenever that rare event happens—or sun. From this square streets lead between the houses to the different parts of the ksar. Many of the dwellings are extremely well and solidly built, one and all of tabia, but with arched windows of wood, and doors of the same material,—not the rough planks we had seen at Dads, but showing considerable signs of skilful carpentry. We found provisions obtainable, even eggs, a fowl, and some bread, and in every respect Ul Turug resembles more a little town than a desert ksar. We took up our position under the high wall of a house, and, tying our donkeys to a couple of tent-pegs, lit a small fire of wood we had collected outside and supped.
Quite a number of people were passing the night at Ul Turug. Not only were groups of Berbers to be seen hurrying to and fro, but Arab soldiers from the Sultan’s camp, many of them with their horses, and Jews and negroes, all either coming from or going to Tafilet, a sudden impetus having been given to trade by the presence of the Sultan and the vast multitude that follows him in his marches. Camels and mules laden with grain from Marakesh there were too, all horribly lean and sore-backed after the long march over the Atlas and the desert. In the crowd our little band escaped observation altogether, and very few took any notice of us: one or two Berbers, more friendly than the rest, shared our little blaze of sticks, bringing us in return thin strips of flabby native bread, which when toasted became quite crisp and good.
A few words must be said as to the powerful Berber tribe of Aït Atta, a stronghold of which Ul Turug is. Probably no division of the Shloh people south of the Atlas is so well known as this tribe, and deservedly so, for by their bravery and warfare, by their constant extension of territory, and the fear in which their name is held, they have become a byword for all that is fierce or strong.
Professing an Arab origin—for they claim descent from the famous tribe of the Koreish, that gave to the world the Prophet Mohammed—they have lapsed by time into essentially a Berber people, speaking the Shelha tongue, and adopting the Berber manners and customs, and to a great extent dress and appearance. Almost the sole reminder of their Arab origin to-day is the fact that they are great horsemen, and still greater robbers and plunderers. As a rule, the Berbers seem to be constantly at war without the idea of plunder, their feuds being far more often matters of revenge. With the Aït Atta, however, this is different, and they seem to retain from the time of their Eastern ancestors the love of going afield for conquest and booty, with the result that there is little land of the eastern portion of trans-Atlas Morocco which has not at one time or another been overrun, or at least attacked, by their hordes. Not only to-day do they hold sway over the immense wastes of Jibel Saghru, but even a large portion of the Wad Draa has fallen into their hands, the natives, Haratin, paying to their conquerors an annual tribute, in return for which they are protected against attack from other quarters. On the banks of the Wad Ziz, the principal river of Tafilet, they hold the districts of Ertib (Reteb) and Medaghra, and it is members of their tribe who plough the banks of the Dayet ed Daura, far to the south of Tafilet, the great marsh formed by the rivers Ziz and Gheris. To the north their influence extends as far as the southern slopes of Jibel Ayashi, near where the caravan road from Fez to Tafilet passes, and to the east they hold much territory in the desert.
In appearance they differ much from the Berbers of Dads, for instance, being, as a rule, men of short build, thin and very wiry, with sunburnt complexions, and lacking the handsome features and bearing of many of the other Berber tribes. Although, like the other Berbers, they shave their moustaches off, and leave only the pointed beard on the extremity of the chin, they resemble far more the Saharan Arab tribes than the kinsmen with whom they claim relationship. Their costume much resembles that of Dads, though generally far dirtier, and modified to suit horsemen. In addition to the chamira and haidus, they often wear the haik, the toga-like garment found through-out Morocco. Curiously enough, while the dress of the men has no particular points different from the other tribes, that of the women is unique in this portion of the desert, for they cover their shoulders with a shawl of red, black, and white stripes, closely woven of native wool and imported cotton. These shawls are longer than they are wide, and are held in their place by two short strings near the centre of one of the longer sides, the shorter ends being fringed in the same colours as the material is made of. With this exception, the rule is to find the rest of the costume of khent. The hair, too, is quite differently worn to the usual mode in vogue in these regions, being parted in the middle and drawn back under the ear in heavy plaits, held in position by a head-dress of khent. A few I noticed wearing silver ornaments on the front of their dark-blue head-dresses. The women offer none of the attractive features of those of Dads, being heavily built and clumsy, dirty and slovenly.
I had more than once been interested upon the road at watching the various games practised by the boys of the different oases. At Dads kora, or football, was the general favourite, apparently identical with the game so common amongst the tolba, or “scholars,” of Morocco. At Ferkla it had been a kind of hockey, one boy armed with a stick endeavouring to keep out of a hole in the ground a hard small ball which some half-dozen others were trying to hit in. For clubs they used the centre stem of the palm leaf, from which the fronds had been cut. Held by the thin end with the knob at the bottom, they formed an excellent weapon. Here, however, at Ul Turug we saw neither kora nor hockey, the whole youth of the place having taken to stilts, on which some were very skilful in getting about. The stilts resembled exactly the kind in use amongst boys in England, and one could not help feeling a sort of brotherly love with these desert urchins when one found them playing games identical with our own.
However, the tranquil state of affairs in Great Britain has not yet necessitated one practice, common amongst the youths of the Aït Atta tribe, which we saw going on outside the ksar. This consisted in practising escape from an enemy by holding on to the tail of a galloping horse, the rider urging his steed meanwhile to its full pace. It is marvellous what speed can be made in this manner, and it was a sight well worth seeing to watch an old ruffian of the tribe galloping about on his handsome desert horse, with a youth holding on to each stirrup, and another to the tail, and scudding over the ground beside and behind him respectively. This means of retreat is in common practice amongst the tribe of Aït Atta, and soon puts their foot-soldiers, no match against many of the Berber tribes in running, out of distance of their pursuers.
We spent the night of November 15 at Ul Turug, and though I found the elevation of the place to be only some 2850 feet above the sea-level, we experienced a sharp frost, and suffered not a little from the cold. In the grey dawn we rose, and, packing our little donkeys with their light burdens, left the ksar as soon as the gates were opened; nor was I sorry to get safely out of a spot that has the reputation of being one of the most fanatical in this portion of the Sahara.