Tafilet

by Walter Harris

With light hearts we set out briskly upon the march, for although we had no hopes of reaching the Sultan’s camp that night, we were determined, unless some unforeseen mishap occurred, to sleep in the district of Tafilet. Our Berber from Dads, whose heart and soul were centred in my success, which I owe not a little to his good management and fidelity, sang loudly as we pushed on through the palm-groves that lie to the east and south of Ul Turug. Pleasant enough the walking was in the cool of the morning with the shady forest of trees around us, but experience had taught us that these oases are never of any very great extent, and surely enough we had soon left cultivation behind and set out upon a twelve-mile trudge over barren desert. It was just at the commencement of this arid plain of Maghrah that we forded the Wad Todghrá, and we could see the spot where it issued by a gorge from the mountains only a mile or two away on the west. Our road lay almost due south now, the corner of Jibel Saghru having been turned; for the track to Tafilet skirts its northern and eastern slopes, where oases exist, in preference to crossing the barren range where water is scarce and food unprocurable,—for there are no settlements in the northern part of Saghru, the valleys only being resorted to after the occasional rains by the shepherds of the Aït Atta tribe. Otherwise the mountains are free to the muflon—the Barbary wild sheep—which wander in large flocks over the steeps, safe from molestation alike of sportsmen and wild beasts—for, with the exception of a very occasional leopard, there are none of the latter large enough to attack them. The reason that the lion is not found here is no doubt the fact that scarcely any covert exists. However, were the region one that could be reached by sportsmen, unlimited bags of muflon, antelope, and gazelle could be obtained, as the natives seldom if ever hunt. Unfortunately, long before a European could obtain a shot of his quarry, he would probably have fallen to the rifle of some native sharpshooter; for so intense is their hatred of Europeans, that a journey without disguise, or perhaps the company of some great Shereef, would be absolutely impossible. I believe, however, that there are possibilities of much exploration being done amongst the Berbers if one could only get to know them personally; but of doing this they would scarcely give one time or opportunity, for they would probably make an end of one before learning to appreciate the fact that one’s intentions in entering their country were harmless. So many traditions still remain of the Rumin and the treasure they have left buried in these parts, that one’s actions would always be looked upon with suspicion, which it would need much skilful diplomacy to allay.

But to return to my journey. The plain of Maghrah is bounded on the west by the steep black slopes of Jibel Saghru, while to the east it extends across the Wad Gheris to the low line of cliffs and hills that separate the valley of this river from that of the Wad Ziz farther to the east. The plain is quite level except for one low barren hill about five miles south of Ul Turug. In spite of the absolute barrenness of the surrounding country, one was struck with admiration at one feature that presented itself as we proceeded—namely, the great subterranean aqueducts that carry water from the Wad Todghrá to Tiluin, the next oasis to the south, a distance of some eleven miles.

This vast labour deserves some minute description, in order that the extent of the work may be realised. The aqueducts are formed by the sinking of pits at intervals of about 25 yards apart, each some 30 feet deep and 10 feet in diameter. Then from pit to pit a tunnel is excavated, through which the water flows. These tunnels appear to be sufficiently high in most parts to allow of a man walking upright to pass through them. Had there been but one row of these pits and connecting tunnels it would have been a work of vast labour, but I counted no less than eleven, all running parallel with one another, and no great distance apart. A very simple calculation gives the result, that to bring water from the Wad Todghrá to Tiluin no less than 9000 of these shafts have been sunk and the intervening channels excavated—and this with the most primitive of picks and spades. Their existence will remind the reader of the value of water in the desert.

Leaving the plain of Maghrah one enters the oasis of Tiluin, a branch of the tribe of Aït Merghad. Twice previously on the way hither we had seen other settlements and oases belonging to these people, once near the end of the gorge of Imin Erkilim, near Todghrá, and again to the north-east of Ferkla, not many miles from Gheris. Here, just on the northern extremity of the oasis, are the ruins of a large kasba, or possibly ksar, the bare high tabia walls of which wear to-day a melancholy appearance. Opposite, on the top of a rocky hill, once apparently stood a large village; now nothing but crumbling heaps of stones and tabia mark its site. A few hundred yards only beyond this spot, and amongst the palm-trees, stood some saints’ tombs, the largest whitewashed and in good repair. Nothing could have been prettier than the picture they formed—the white domes against the rich green of the trees. At a stream of running water, on the very banks of which the tombs were situated, were a party of soldiers bivouacking. They had lit a small fire and were cooking tea, the sunlight falling in bright spots on their polished trays and brass kettle, the crimson and scarlet saddles of their tethered horses, and their bright clothing. The bit of colour was charming, for all through the desert one longs for something brilliant. It is quite a mistake to imagine that colour is to be found in such countries—in fact, the whole of Morocco is almost devoid of it. In the desert especially the absence of anything bright becomes almost oppressive in time. The sky takes a heated white appearance, only a shade or two different in colour from the white glowing sand. Any figures, or life of any sort that may appear, but alters the tones of the landscape; for so covered is everything with the white dust, and so fierce is the glare of the sun, that at a distance the shadows only appear, and they as hard black patches. The natives, with the exception of the indigo-blue cotton of the women, wear no coloured garments, and even the women’s costume appears black against so light a background. It may be imagined, then, how to our weary eyes the little group of soldiers formed a pleasing picture; but, tempting as it was, we did not dare accept their cordial invitation to join them in their meal, lest my disguise should be discovered; for it is a very different matter to deceive the Berber, who has never seen a European, and generally imagines him to be some kind of a wild beast in appearance, to attempting to do so in the case of Arabs of Morocco proper, who know well the Christian type, and would discover at once the presence of a foreign accent in one’s speech. So with many regrets to be obliged to refuse the proffered drink of tea and hard-boiled eggs and bread, we pushed on, driving our little donkeys before us with sharp cries. Through the palm-groves we passed, until issuing again, we crossed the narrow strip of desert that separates the oasis of Tiluin from that of Fezna, and entered the palm-groves of the latter.

Fezna showed far more signs of prosperity than Tiluin, for whereas in the latter we passed only one ksar that was in good repair, the former boasts many, while, too, the cultivation of the palm is much more carefully attended to. Water flowed in tiny canals on every side, while the soil was green with fsa, on which the natives are entirely dependent for fodder for their few horses and cattle, the soil in the oasis being entirely cultivated, and without its limits all is sand, and sand capable not even in the rainiest times of bearing grass. The inhabitants of Fezna belong to the tribe of Aït Yafalman, members of which we had first come across in Ferkla.

Again only a narrow strip of desert divides Fezna from Jerf—“the cliff”—which owes its name to a low line of hills ending abruptly in a precipice, that extends from Jibel Saghru into the valley of the Wad Gheris. This point forms an excellent landmark from almost all directions, and was visible from the hill above Dar el Baida, where the Sultan’s camp was pitched, to the east side of the oasis of Tafilet, in the district of Tanijiud. Jerf is a large and flourishing oasis, and the two ksor near which we passed were not only of considerable size but also strongly fortified. Very different were these ksor of the valley of the Gheris to those we had been accustomed to at Askura and Dads, for here there were none of the ornamental towers, but only the level walls of tabia, protected at intervals with flanking towers. In fact, the style of architecture resembled much more the walls of a Moorish city than the picturesque Berber residences of the country directly south of the Atlas Mountains.

We had now approached, and been travelling parallel to, the course of the Wad Gheris; but until after we had left Jerf some little distance behind we did not actually catch a glimpse of the river. From here on, however, to our night’s resting-place, the Wad Gheris was continually coming into sight, whenever almost an open space presented itself in the long string of oases that line its western bank.

The first of these cultivated districts is Bauia, but the soil is poor, and though attempts at fields appear now and again, the sand has in places almost obliterated them. After Bauia one passes near the Kasba el Hati, where quantities of grain were being stored against the Sultan’s arrival. Very little of this grain was the produce of the soil, for the crops of barley and wheat are very poor in this part, and far the larger quantity had been brought on camel-caravans from Morocco.

Between Bauia and Kasba el Hati we passed the only unwalled and unfortified village we had as yet seen—the only one I saw, in fact, during the whole of my travels south of the Atlas Mountains. I was told that it was only used in spring, and then only for herding cattle in, for the soil round yields, if rain happens to have fallen, some scant grazing for cows and goats.

A mile or two beyond Kasba el Hati one passes Ulad Hanabu, which, like all this string of oases, is inhabited by Arabs of Tafilet, though the name Hanabu is without doubt a Berber one, and probably the same as Hannibal.