Tafilet

by Walter Harris

However, all our fears were needless, and with but the shortest of delay we found ourselves within the great double gateway that protects the ksar—for so constant is warfare in the district, that the natives have thought it necessary, or at least expedient, to have two gates, one within the other, and separated from one another by an open piece of ground, surrounded with high walls, so that should their enemies force the outer gate, there would be every chance of annihilating them from the ramparts as they assailed the inner one.

Proceeding by a wide street with high houses on either hand, we at length found a large fondak, or caravanserai, where we took up our quarters under an arcade that ran along two of its sides; and to commemorate our safe arrival in Tafilet, we bought some tea and sugar and a candle, hired a kettle, and enjoyed ourselves as far as was possible in the cold.

Travel had left its mark on all of us. I felt ill and weak, and my throat gave me much pain. Poor Mohammed had a most unbecoming cold in his head, and no pocket-handkerchiefs. The negro—upon whom many curses—worried us by his constant demands for more food, and enraged us by insisting on riding our little donkey the whole way, while Mohammed and I walked. The old Dadsi Shereef’s nephew, too, was thin and tired, and one and all were begrimed with desert sand and with our clothes torn by desert thorns, while our bare legs and feet were fretted over with scratches. Yet we thought of none of these things that night; we merely huddled together in the cold and laughed and chatted, and congratulated each other that now, at long last, after some seventeen days’ weary march, and often from thirty to forty miles a-day, our goal was reached and success attained.

I little thought then that the greatest hardships of my journey were yet to be borne, for I imagined that the Sultan and his Viziers, though doubtless not pleased at my coming, would extend to me some small form of hospitality, and at least not refuse to me the only request I had to make to them,—a few yards of canvas, the smallest of the soldiers’ tents, as a place where I and my few faithful men could rest in. But I was wrong.

Near us, spending the night in the fondak, were a few Haratin of Wad Draa, short in stature, of deep copper colour, and with faces showing much of their negro origin. Cheery fellows they were, and we invited the three or four of them to our dinner-party; and though they spoke but little Arabic, their laughter added to our amusement. They, like myself, were travellers, wandering apparently for no particular object, though the principal cause of travel amongst these Draa natives is, that the cultivated banks of the river produce only sufficient to support a certain number of lives, and thus the excess population, for it is a largely increasing one, seeks its livelihood elsewhere. This no doubt accounts for the large number of Haratin, &c., found throughout the entire country of Morocco.

We were up before dawn, and, loading our donkeys by the light of the remains of the little candle we had bought overnight, set out on the last stage of our journey. Entering the thick palm-groves, we presently joined a larger track than usual, and, taking a south-easterly course through the district of Es Sifa, forded the Wad Ziz, the principal river of Tafilet, some four miles from El Meharza. The water of the Ziz, unlike that of the Wad Gheris, is fresh, and it is on it, therefore, that the natives are principally dependent for their supply for irrigating purposes. The actual course of the river, and the flow of water, was by no means equal to that of the Gheris at this period; but this may have been owing a good deal to the fact that a large quantity is drained off from above, for so deep does the river lie below its banks, that water for cultivation of the land immediately adjoining any part of its course has to be brought from many miles higher up.

The district of Es Sifa, through which we had been passing between the Wads Gheris and Ziz, except in the immediate vicinity of El Meharza, does not show any great fertility, though palm-groves exist in comparatively large quantities. The soil is sandy and the gardens ill-cared for and almost untended, most of the tabia walls that we saw being more or less in a ruined condition. From where we forded the Ziz, entering just to the north of the ruins of Sijilmassa—or, as it is more generally called now, Medinet el Aamra—far more attention is given to the cultivation of the palm and other trees; while the carefully walled gardens of Wad Ifli, for so this district is called, show signs of much care and attention on the part of their owners. Canals of water run in every direction, the largest and deepest we had as yet seen, especially the one which flows to the north of Sijilmassa, and which no doubt supplied that once great city. Even to-day the channel is in good order, with carefully banked walls of bricks, and crossed in many places by arched bridges. Of Sijilmassa I shall have more to say anon. Then on through the thickening palm-groves, by bewildering tracks that turn first in one direction and then in another, over innumerable fast-flowing streams of water; past the great ksar of Rissani, the seat of whatever government can be said to exist here, with its strongly fortified walls; then in sight of the market of Mulai Ali Shereef, with its beehive-like domed stalls in which the natives sell their goods; then again in sight of Abu Aam, the trading centre and seat of learning of the oasis, where the merchants of Fez reside, until at last the ending of the palm-trees brought us into open desert again.

Issuing almost suddenly upon the great waste of sand, a strange but welcome sight met our eyes. Stretching away for a couple of miles along the edge of the desert, white against white hills, the whole dancing and shimmering in the heated air, lay the great camp of Mulai el Hassen, the late Sultan of Morocco. It was a welcome sight indeed, for whatever reception I might meet with from the Sultan and his officials, I knew this at least, that my life was safe.

We stood still in silence and gazed upon the imposing scene before us. Amongst the white tents, many decorated in designs in blue, passed the soldiery, mounted and on foot, and the crowds of camp-followers and natives who accompanied his Majesty upon his last fatal expedition into the desert. Horses galloped here and there, many of the riders engaged in the picturesque sport of lab el barud, or powder-play. The smoke of hundreds of camp-fires curled almost imperceptibly into the air, and above all was heard the dull hum of human life.

We had not breakfasted, and already we had been marching some three or four hours, so we sat down in the shade of a few palm-trees and cooked the last drops of our little packet of green tea, and rested for a while. Then a little later I sent my Riffi servant into the camp to announce my arrival to the Sultan’s Minister of Foreign Affairs, Sid Mfdhul Gharnit.