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Tafilet

Chapter 15: CHAPTER XII. THE RETURN JOURNEY.
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About This Book

The author recounts an exploratory journey across the Atlas Mountains and the oases of the north-west Sahara, describing preparations, routes, and the practical difficulties of travel. He presents vivid urban scenes from Marakesh and sequences of mountain ascent and descent, with sustained attention to Berber villages, valley landscapes, and local customs. The narrative includes encounters with local authorities during a royal progress and considers political and logistical challenges. Ethnographic observations, sketch maps, photographs, and numerous illustrations accompany detailed chapter-by-chapter accounts of places such as Dads, Ul Turug, and Tafilet, and a concluding account of the return journey.

In Tafilet.

the high walls of the gardens obstruct one’s vision in every direction. These walls are built of the native concrete, tabia, and are often so high that only the tops of the fruit-trees within appear above them. The water from the irrigating channels finds ingress into these gardens by subterranean conduits, while small bridges cross the roads, generally formed by palm-trunks laid from side to side and covered with sand. One comes quite suddenly upon the high-walled ksor, which, until one has approached them nearly, are entirely hidden by the gardens and palms. The outer portions of the oasis are less thickly grown over with palms, but the line between the desert sand and the alluvial soil and irrigated oasis is clearly defined. One walks out of a green field of palm-trees ankle-deep into soft yellow sand, and one’s vision stretches away over undulating white hills the very glare of which is painful to the sight. Here and there throughout the oasis are large open spaces, usually for the purpose of drying the dates in, and now and again for local markets, or sôks. The walled villages, too, often have a clear space surrounding them of 20 yards or so of open ground, to allow the sight of the attacking force in their continual intertribal wars.

Nothing more bewildering can be imagined than the roads, or tracks, that thread the oasis. Owing to the great value of land they are as narrow as is practicable, and turn and twist in every direction amongst the gardens. In going from El Meharza in Sifa to Dar el baida on the east side of the oasis on the borders of the desert, although the general direction is south-east, one is often travelling due north or due south, owing to the extraordinary turns the path takes amongst the walled gardens of the district of Wad Ifli.

The ksor of Tafilet all follow much the same design of building, and though I entered several and saw many, they were so alike one to the other that a general description will be sufficient, and answer equally well for all.

These villages are usually square or oblong, surrounded by high tabia walls of great thickness, protected at intervals by towers, sometimes the same height as the walls, and often considerably taller. One gate alone gives entrance to the ksar, and this is always closed from sunset to dawn. These gates are often double, there being a turn half-way through, so that from without one is not able to obtain a view of what lies within. At times, surrounding the whole ksar, is a deep ditch, often formed by the digging out of the soil for material for the walls, but nevertheless of great use in time of war. A common practice in warfare, as already mentioned, is to bring, by means of a canal, water to the foundations of the walls of the ksar. The action of the stream upon the soft tabia is quick and sure, and in an hour or two a breach is formed. These ditches, therefore, prevent the immediate application of this plan, and are generally drained into the surrounding fields, so that before the dangerous element reaches the wall it is carried off elsewhere.

A guard is placed at the gate, and a stranger entering is questioned as to his business and scrutinised. I myself went through this process on entering Meharza at Sifa, when in disguise; but my men were quick in answering the questions, and we hurried on, so that I was not suspected for a moment. Few or no windows look out from the outside walls of the ksar, but loopholes are common in case of attack from without.

Within the walls a certain amount of regularity and good building is to be found. One generally, after passing through the gate, enters a large court, or square, from which the streets lead into the more thickly inhabited portion of the ksar. These squares are usually surrounded on three sides by houses, the fourth side consisting of the outer wall, in which the gate is situated. The houses are solid and very large, often several storeys in height. Windows open out into the streets, which is seldom found in the private houses of the large towns of Morocco. As a rule, the windows and doors are small, wood being a valuable commodity, as it has to be carried from a long distance, generally from the Atlas slopes of Beni Mgild and Aït Yussi to the north of the basin of the Wad Ziz. Palm-tree trunks are used as rafters and ceilings, though I was informed that in some of the houses of the wealthier Shereefs handsome ceilings in decorated plaster and painted wood are found, the artists and workmen having been brought from Fez for the purpose of decorating them. The use of lime is uncommon, and only the better-class houses are whitewashed within, and very few indeed on the outside, the ordinary population being content with a plastering of light mud, which, when well applied, has by no means a bad effect, much resembling our plaster walls in colour and surface. The streets of the ksor are usually narrow, and in many cases the houses are built above them, forming dark tunnels, in piercing which, if one does not wish to fall into some hole or bang one’s head against a low beam, one has to light a match or candle. Fondaks, or caravanserais, are common, usually consisting of large open squares, surrounded by a colonnade supported on rough tabia pillars.

The local markets are not held within the ksor, but in the open. There are several large weekly sôks in Tafilet, but that which is by far the most important is the Arbaa, or Wednesday market of Mulai Ali Shereef. It lies close to the tomb of that saint, and within a short distance of Abuaam and Rissani. Although, as a rule, the natives

A Corner of a Sôk—Early Morning.

bring their small tents—gaitons—in which to expose their goods, there are, as well, a number of small domed huts built of clay and mud bricks, much resembling beehives in appearance, the dome being rather more elongated. In this the native can sit protected from the fierce rays of the sun and vend his wares. Little rain falls at Tafilet, and these mud hovels are therefore of a permanent nature: so often are the goods displayed for sale perishable from heat, that they are of great benefit to both buyer and seller. Such articles as vegetables, fruit, sugar, candles, matches, &c., would be useless after an hour or so of exposure to the sun in Tafilet in summer.

Some mention must here be made of Sijilmassa, or, as it is now called, Medinat el Aamra, which for so many centuries formed the capital of Tafilet. Mulai el Hassen during his visit to Tafilet, and only the day before my arrival in that place, made an expedition to the ruins of the old city and camped for the night there, praying in the half-ruined mosque. Little can now be traced of the place: immense blocks of tabia lie scattered in every direction for some five miles along the east bank of the Wad Ziz, but rank vegetation covers a considerable portion, while in other places the land is cultivated in such spots as render cultivation practicable. Several ksor of more or less modern construction exist amongst the ruins. A great amount of reverence is still paid to the spot; and the yearly prayers on the Eid el Kebir and Eid Soreir are held in the msala adjoining the mosque, the minaret of which still remains.

I found the natives loath to talk of Sijilmassa, for after my arrival in the Sultan’s camp I made no pretence of being a Moslem. At the same time they were greatly surprised that I had ever heard of, or knew anything about, the place, and not a little proud that such was the case. Their reticence I put down to the fact that there is a tradition of untold gold buried in the city—a tradition that exists about every ancient site in Morocco. The inventive genius of newspaper correspondents caused to be circulated in the English newspapers a report that Mulai el Hassen, the late Sultan, had recovered this treasure and built an immense fortress to conceal it in; but I fear, as I was present during nearly the entire visit of the Sultan to Tafilet, and saw his Shereefian Majesty every day, that the story must be discredited. So far from obtaining treasure, I estimate the expense to his Majesty of his stay at Tafilet of twenty days at a sum of nearly a million of dollars.

Of the foundation of Sijilmassa the natives seem to know but little. They, as is nearly always the case, connect its origin with the Rumin, or Romans, a term the Moslems use for any nation not professing Islam, and which is far more likely in this case to mean the Amazighs or original Berbers than any one else; for, as already mentioned, it is quite clear that the Romans never reached as far as this, though I am inclined to believe the Carthaginians, if never actually in Tafilet, approached it very closely.

No discoveries of any great importance in the way of buildings are likely to be made in Sijilmassa, though bronze implements are reported to be found there, for apparently all the buildings were constructed of tabia or a poor form of brick. A bridge of arches crosses the Wad Ziz at one portion of the ruins; but unfortunately I was not able to see of what it was constructed, as I only caught a distant view of it, and it appears to be coated with yellow plaster. Probably it is built of brick and covered with cement, or possibly stone was brought from Jibel Saghru for the purpose.

The inhabitants of Tafilet consist of both Arabs and Berbers, with a considerable number of Jews.

The Arab population, which is considerably the largest, is divided into four tribes or divisions—

  • 1. The Shereefian families;
  • 2. Ahl Subah Arabs;
  • 3. Beni Mohammed;
  • 4. Tafilet Arabs;

while the Berbers consist almost entirely of members of the large and powerful tribe of Aït Atta; and there are as well the Haratin, or free blacks, who may be classed as Berbers, their language being Amazigh in character, though their blood is largely tainted with negro strain. They come from the Wad Draa, and are employed as labourers in the fields. I have spoken in the earlier portion of my book of these Haratin, and little remains to be said here. In colour they are very dark, but the features usually incline more to Berber than to negro. Considered as a lower class, the Arabs and Berbers never intermarry with them, though they themselves are proud of the fact of their freedom, which their name of Haratin implies.

The Shereefian families, inhabiting large ksor of their own, are principally the descendants of Mulai Ali Shereef, who came from Yembo in Arabia. They live and marry principally among their own class, the first wife of a Shereef nearly always being a Shereefa, though after that they will marry from the better native or Fez people. The children, no matter who the mother may be, are Shereefs, though the child of a Shereefa whose husband is not a Shereef has no claim to the title. Even the sons of Shereefs by purchased slave-girls are Shereefs. It is from these families that the reigning Sultans choose a governor or arbitrator to be their representative at Tafilet. At the time of my visit to the oasis this post was held by Mulai Reshid, a brother of Mulai el Hassen, whom I saw upon several occasions. He was slightly younger than the Sultan in appearance, of vivacious and pleasant manner, and seemed justly very popular.

The Ahl Subah are a powerful Arab tribe of desert propensities, always fighting with their neighbours or amongst themselves, great horsemen, and apparently, like their steeds, indefatigable. Their warfare with the Berbers is unceasing, and at the time of my stay in the Sultan’s camp a skirmish took place between the two in the very presence of Mulai el Hassen, several on both sides being killed, altogether some fifteen it is said. The Sultan promptly imprisoned the ringleaders of each party; but such force was brought to bear upon him by the prisoners’ fellow-tribesmen that he was obliged to release them in the course of a few days.

The Beni Mohammed are an Arab tribe much resembling the Ahl Subah in character and appearance. They live in ksor of their own. The Tafilet Arabs consist probably of a mixture of tribes, and have unmistakable signs of Berber blood. Gentle, of kindly nature, but fierce when roused, they are an excellent people, and have a certain charm of manner which is indescribable, due not a little to their melodious voices and the beautiful Arabic they talk. Their colour is usually dark and their faces rather expressionless, though lacking the coarseness often found in those of the other Arab tribes.

Of the Aït Atta I have already spoken in the earlier portion of this book. They are a fierce tribe of Berbers, intent upon the annexation of everybody else’s country and property, and have extended their conquests in every direction, from the Draa to the Ziz basin. The oases of Medaghra and Ertib, often included in Tafilet, are in their hands, the only Arabs being a sprinkling of Shereefs. The Aït Atta are said to have captured these lands at the beginning of this century.

The Jews exist in Tafilet under much the same conditions as in Dads, of which a full description has already been given—that is to say, each Jew family lives under the protection of some Moslem, be he Arab or Berber.

The costumes worn by the Berbers and Arabs of Tafilet are almost identical: in the former case the long linen chamira is never belted at the waist, the Berbers, for some reason which I was unable to discover, objecting to this. The jelab, or hooded garment sewn up the front, is unknown, the haik and haidus forming the costume of both peoples. The khenif, or black cloak with its strange red mark on the back, is seldom seen, except in cases of Shloh from the mountains who come with caravans; while the embroidered short brown jelab of the Riffi who accompanied me was considered as a marvellous curiosity by the natives.

The women wear either indigo-blue dyed cotton or jute, called khent, or else coarse woollen haiks of native manufacture. Leo Africanus mentions in his notes upon this district that large quantities of indigo were grown there, but nowadays all the blue khent is imported from London or Bombay. Amber beads, silver and coral necklaces, silver anklets and bracelets, are worn, according to the wealth of the families. The women are usually short and coarse in appearance, dirty and loud voiced. No doubt the harems contain better specimens, but those we saw in the open could be safely, one would think, permitted to go abroad with uncovered faces. The children are sometimes pretty; but soap is an expensive luxury in Tafilet, and washing seems to be an annual affair, if practised as often. However, I saw men bathing in the Wad Ziz as I forded that river on one occasion. The women are a great deal tattooed, the nose, forehead, and chin being often highly decorated by this process. They perform all the housework, fetch water, mind the cattle, collect firewood, and take vegetables, &c., to market—in fact every duty except that of fighting seems to fall to their lot.

The men are armed with guns and swords. Every youth, as soon as he reaches a certain age, is obliged to purchase a gun, all his earnings being saved for this purpose. Although the most common weapon is the flintlock of the country, a quantity of cheap double-barrelled guns, all muzzle-loading, are to be found. The native of Tafilet has a hankering after bullets that fit a No. 12 bore, and a charge of loose buckshot and nails he looks upon as a most estimable way of attacking his enemy. Little quarter is given: in the case of fighting between Arabs and Berbers, all males taken prisoner who are able to carry arms are mercilessly killed, usually stabbed with knives,—powder and shot, as already mentioned, being expensive.

The saddlery is of native design, but the bridles are usually brought from Algeria, being of the style used by the Franco-Arab cavalry of that country. This the Filelis find stronger than their own.

The food of the common people consists principally of gruel and kuskusu, the latter at times garnished with vegetables, and on rare occasions with meat or fowl; but it may be safely said that so great is the poverty in Tafilet that the poorer classes, although never wanting for absolute food, do not taste meat two or three times in the year, mutton on the Eid el Kebir being often the sole occasion.

The coinage to-day in use in Tafilet consists almost entirely of the Moorish money struck in Paris, and although in Morocco City all kinds of damaged Spanish silver is in use, at Tafilet it is not accepted. The rates in use at Tafilet are quite different to elsewhere. All sums of money are calculated in mitkals and okeas, neither of which exist in coin, being only verbal terms. In Morocco 12½ mitkals go to the Spanish dollar, and 10 okeas to the mitkal, which gives 125 okeas to the dollar; but at Tafilet, although 10 okeas compose a mitkal, 5 mitkals complete the dollar, so that 50 okeas is the value of a Spanish dollar there, instead of 125 okeas. However, as the same coins are in use all over the country, and the okea and mitkal are only expressions, the result is the same, though at first confusing. This change in calculation begins at Dads, and is found in the districts east of that country.

With regard to the products of Tafilet, the most important without doubt are the dates, and it is from this culture that the inhabitants are enabled to exist at all. Not only are they sent by caravan all over Morocco, but there are merchants of Fez who ship large quantities to London, and we often eat here in the centre of civilisation dates that are grown in this far-away and little-known oasis, and which have been carried on mule or donkey back over the hot arid desert and the snowy passes of the Atlas Mountains. To realise the enormous quantity of dates grown at Tafilet one must see the oasis. The palms, planted so thickly and so closely together as to obstruct one’s vision in every direction, form a gigantic forest, to pass through which, by the narrow lanes, is bewildering. I have explained elsewhere by what means the system of irrigation is carried on, and the scanty crops of vegetables and lucerne grown amongst them. The groves of the finest date-palms are in the vicinity of Abuaam in the district of Wad Ifli, and here they are nearly all enclosed in high walls. It is these dates, the Bu Skri and Bu Kfus, that are most prized, and luscious they are indeed, though they spoil by travelling. The commoner varieties are eaten in the country, or given as fodder to the cattle, goats, and horses. In the outer portions of the oasis the palm-groves are not walled, and the expense of building walls would not be repaid by the price realised for the commoner varieties of dates. Between the Wad Gheris and the Wad Ziz, in the province of Es Sifa, but few walls are found in repair, and the want of proper irrigation has caused the date-palms to deteriorate; but near Abuaam and Rissani the gardens are nearly all in the possession of the Shereefs, and are kept in a state of excellent repair. The dates were ripe at the time of my visit (November), and I was able to see not only the plucking but also the drying process. The labourers, principally the Haratin, are very skilful in climbing the palms. When the summit is reached either the entire bunch is cut off or else shaken, in either case the dates falling to the ground. Here they are collected into panniers, which are placed upon the backs of donkeys and taken to the drying-grounds. They are always plucked slightly unripe, as otherwise they fall to the ground themselves, and are rotted by the irrigation. At the drying-grounds—large open spaces, sometimes surrounded with walls—the dates are laid in the sun, a guard, often of women, being placed over them; for although they never object to one’s picking up a handful for one’s own consumption, the fruit would probably be stolen in far larger quantities were they left absolutely without watchers. These guards usually live in brown ghiem, as the hair tents of the Arabs are called, but sometimes build themselves huts of palm-leaves. The dates are poured in great heaps upon the ground, being turned over by the women every now and again to allow of the sun reaching them. The sight of acres of great heaps of dates is a most curious one. There are various processes of treating the dates. Some kinds are merely sun-dried and left single;

Young Women of Tafilet drying Dates.

others are crushed into solid masses, which are sewn up in basket-work for transport; while others again, used by the poor natives when travelling, are crushed into the shape and size of turkeys’ eggs, and are easier to carry in this manner. On one occasion, travelling in Morocco, I was given one of those solidified date-balls by a native of Tafilet, who was journeying to Tangier on his way to take ship to Mecca. Its appearance and feel was that of a stone, its weight that of lead! I kept it for some time in my house, and visitors used to take it for a fossil. What became of it I do not know, but I never found any native of North Morocco brave enough to attempt to eat it. Yet by the donor it was considered a great luxury.

Besides the dates, crops of wheat and barley are grown at Tafilet, especially in the land to the west of the Gheris, called Beled el Unja. Millet and maize, however, are more common, and form the principal food of the people. In the gardens cabbages, onions, peas, beans, grapes, pomegranates, apples, pears, gourds, and melons flourish, but are only cultivated by the richer classes, turnips being the favourite vegetable of the poor. Large quantities of lucerne are grown in the shade of the palm-trees, and stored away for winter fodder for the horses and cattle.

The only export of manufactured goods from Tafilet are the prepared skins, famous all over Morocco as jeld el Fileli, and fine haiks, the fleece of the native sheep being very fine.

Gunsmiths and silversmiths, the latter principally Jews, are to be found in numbers, but the weapons are of coarse manufacture; while such trades as the making of sandals, universally worn by the poorer Arabs and Berbers, flourish. All good shoes are brought from Fez, those made in Tafilet, in spite of the fine leather, being very inferior. Bags for kiff, the chopped hemp which the natives smoke, are made in considerable quantities and sent to Morocco. These bags are generally some 6 inches in length by 3 in width. An outside cover or shell, open at one of the narrow ends, allows the bag with its several pockets to be drawn out. The whole is worn round the neck on a string, which, passing through the two upper corners of the outside bag, is made fast to that inside, so that to get at the kiff the outer cover is slid up the two strings.

Antimony and lead are both found in the vicinity of Tafilet, and the former, known as kohl el Fileli, was once famous, but it can be imported into Morocco nowadays from Europe at a cheaper rate than it can be worked and sent from Tafilet. The lead worked is only used for bullets, and is obtained merely in small quantities.

The aromatic gums which reach Fez from Tafilet are not products of the oasis, but are brought thither to the Fez merchants in small quantities from the different tribes, a good deal from the Sudan.

The imports into Tafilet exceed very considerably in value the exports. Most caravans travel from Fez, the road being better and safer than that from Morocco City. Cotton goods, shoes, khent, silk belts and handkerchiefs, iron bars, candles, sugar, and green tea, form the principal imports, a good deal of the whole being sold at Abuaam to other merchants and tribes, who send it farther afield into the Sahara and Sudan. The return caravans take away dates and Sudan produce.

The slave-trade flourishes at Tafilet, the slaves being brought direct to that spot from the Sudan. At the time of my visit they were being freely hawked about the Sultan’s camp. The girls of the Hausa country fetched the best prices, being considered more cheerful and neater than those from farther west. The prices averaged from 30 to 40 dollars for boys, and up to 100 and 120 dollars for young girls.

The great veneration bestowed by the Moors and Arabs upon deceased saints is as noticeable at Tafilet as elsewhere. Although the founder of the present ruling dynasty of Morocco and his son lie buried in the oasis, their tombs are reverenced more by strangers than by the inhabitants, though the name of Mulai Ali Shereef is continually upon their lips. But Mulai Ali Shereef never founded a brotherhood, and this has to some extent detracted from the esteem that would have accrued to his memory, these societies of devotees doing more to keep up the reputation of their founders than any number of stray pilgrims could do. The love of belonging to some particular brotherhood is extremely noticeable amongst the superstitious people of the Sahara, who are far more religious than their brethren in Morocco proper. Some follow the sect of the Taiebiya, or followers of Mulai Taieb of Wazan; some are Aissoua and practise the rites of Sidi ben Aissa of Meknas; some again Hamacha, devotees of Sidi Ali ben Hamduch; some of Mulai Abdul Kader el Jilani of Baghdad. But the most favoured of all in this portion of the Sahara is the sect of the Derkauiya, or followers of Mulai Ali and Mulai el Arbi el Derkaui, whose patrons lie buried, one in the Sahara, the other in the tribe-lands of the Beni Zerual to the north-east of Fez. The Derkauis are distinguished by carrying a long stick, and by wearing round their necks a string of large wooden beads, often of preposterous size. Often, too, a green turban decorates the head, a sign in the East of the accomplishment of the pilgrimage to Mecca or of holy descent from the Prophet, but here meaning neither, being merely a sign of exceeding devotion to the sect. Mulai Suleiman, who reigned as Sultan of Morocco from 1795 to 1822, was a devotee of this sect, which no doubt then became fashionable. The brotherhood possesses zauias, or holy houses, all over the country, where offerings are taken and meetings of the sect held. These zauias are in the hands of chosen Mokadmin, elected for the purpose. One of the little party who accompanied me as far as Dads was a Derkaui, and I took the opportunity of questioning him about the sect. The original idea was “revivalistic”—that is to say, it was the desire of the founder to cause the world to return to the pristine purity of Islam, and to do away with any worship except of the One God. However, so impressionable are the minds of Arabs that, instead of turning them from the reverence of earthly saints, he only added his own name to the long list. So firmly convinced was Sid el Arbi el Derkaui of the unity of God, and that to Him alone must be paid reverence, that he ordered his followers in repeating the Shedda—There is no god but God; Mohammed is the Prophet of God—to only mentally mention the second half of the sentence, so that Mohammed, holy though he was, should not be spoken of in the same breath with the Almighty. A constant repetition of prayers and attendance at the mosque was also enjoined.

With regard to the animal life to be found at Tafilet a few words must be said.

With the exception of domestic animals, little or no wild varieties are to be found in the oasis. These domestic animals consist of camels, cattle, horses, mules, donkeys, goats, sheep, and dogs. Poultry and pigeons are also found in the villages. The camel is the ordinary large heavy variety found throughout Morocco, though the oasis is from time to time visited by desert tribesmen riding the lighter and swifter camel of the south. Cows and oxen are found in considerable quantities, but are all stall-fed, being only turned out to graze in the spring, when scanty grass is to be found on the outskirts of the oasis. Their fodder consists of dried lucerne and the commoner varieties of dates. The fertile and irrigated land is of too great a value to allow of its being used for grazing purposes. However, there are large flocks and herds of goats and sheep which find sufficient to eat amongst the more deserted portions of Tafilet, and I noticed great numbers feeding amongst the ruins of Sijilmassa and on the outskirts of the oasis on the east side near Dar el baida. At times of drought they are given lucerne and dates. The sheep are of a curious desert variety, called by the natives dimaan. They are hornless and with large loose ears. The wool on their backs is curled, but their sides, stomachs, legs, necks, and heads are smooth. Usually they are of two colours, either black and white or brown and white. The wool, as much as there is of it, grows close to the skin, and is very lightly curled and fine in texture. The goats, too, are peculiar to the district. Goat and sheep milk is largely used for butter.

Of the larger varieties of wild animals the oasis is said to be void. Jackal are likely to be found, and a few hyena in the more deserted parts, though probably the latter are visitors from the mountains, and come in search of food. Large quantities of rats exist, but I saw no voles. Gazelle are found in numbers in the desert, but appear not to approach the oasis; while the muflon seldom, if ever, leave the vicinity of the mountains. In Jibel Saghru they are very plentiful. Ostriches are hunted only a day or two’s journey to the south, and are said to haunt the vicinity of the Dayet ed Daura, into which the surplus waters of the oasis of Tafilet eventually run.

The horses of Tafilet are a small wiry breed, often very handsome, and capable of standing a great amount of fatigue. Many of the tribes ride entirely mares, on account of the fact that an ambush can be formed with these, whereas entire horses would neigh on the approach of a mounted enemy. They are also more docile, and can be left standing with their bridles on their necks, without fear of their running away or joining other horses. Their heads are small and legs fine, while their tails are better set on than those of the usual barb. Very large prices, comparatively to those in Morocco, are paid for them; but it must be taken into account that their rearing is much more expensive, as there is no grazing-ground, and they are fed entirely on lucerne and dates. Owls seemed to be the most plentiful of all the birds, but I saw large flocks of doves, several varieties of birds of prey, and a number of herons.

There remain now only a few words more to be said to complete these notes upon Tafilet—namely, regarding the trade-routes which lead to and from the oasis.

I have in the earlier part of my book given a detailed account of the road from Morocco City to the oasis—the route by which I travelled, which may be ranked as the second most important, a far larger trade being carried on with Fez.

As I have not myself, nor has as far as is known any European, travelled over this trade-road, I will only give briefly its principal features, preferring to be on the safe side rather than put too much trust or belief in native authorities who, though their general description may be true enough, have no idea of time or distance beyond that certain spots can be reached in one day.

The actual distance and time employed in the journey from Fez to Tafilet is about a day shorter than from Morocco City—that is to say, ten or eleven days, the r’halat, or stoppages, being, when possible, made at stated points where security for man, beast, and goods is be found.

The first stoppage after leaving Fez is Sufru, some six hours’ caravan-travelling from the capital, a short march necessitated by the difficulties and delays in leaving the city and the security to be found within the little walled town, one of the most picturesque in all Morocco. Here the Berber tribes are entered, and the following day’s march is the ascent of the northern slopes of this portion of the Atlas, a halt being made for the night at Tagharzut in the tribe-land of Beni Mgild. Here there is a large ksar built tabia. From Tagharzut to Njil forms the third day’s journey, where there is a Kaid, or tribal governor. Njil lies on the borders of the Beni Mgild and Aït Yussi tribes. The latter are said to be one of the wildest Berber tribes, but are more trustworthy and a simpler people than usual. From Njil to El Kasabi, the fourth day’s journey, the road ascends the valley of the stream which eventually, after receiving the drainage of the surrounding valleys, forms the Muluya, which flows into the Mediterranean between Melilla and Nemours. El Kasabi itself is on this upper reach of the Muluya. At the pass over the Atlas, Tizin Telremt, on the east of Jibel Ayashi or Ayashin, another watershed is crossed, and the basin of the Wad Ziz and Wad Guir reached. A halt is made for the night at a ksar, or nzala, as villages or buildings erected for the purpose of resting-places for caravans are called. From this nzala to the district of Gers, where the river of that name joins the Wad Ziz, constitutes the sixth day’s journey, from which, by following the valley of the Ziz, Tafilet is reached in four days, the halts being made in any villages which can be trusted as friendly toward the caravan-men.

A few words must be said as to the trade-routes from Tafilet to Algeria, though no very great quantity of produce is brought that way, owing to the desert that has to be crossed and the wild tribes inhabiting it.

From Tafilet a number of tracks run almost parallel across the Hamada el Kebir to Es Saheli, El Megren or El Barka on the Wad Guir (95 miles), thence viâ Ain Shair to the north, or Kanadsa to the south, to Figig (130-150 miles). At Ain Sefra, 58 miles from Figig, is the termination of the French railway from Oran. The distance, therefore, as the crow flies, from Abuaam in Tafilet to Ain Sefra is about 260 miles.

Of the roads to the south of Tafilet but little need be said, as proportionately only a very small amount of the Sudan trade comes into Morocco by this route, the greater portion being taken viâ Tenduf and the Sus to Mogador. From Tafilet, however, a road across a corner of Jibel Saghru and viâ Tamgrut leads to the Wad Draa, and thence, viâ El Feija, Tatta, and Akka, communication exists with Timbuctu; but little water is found between Tafilet and Tamgrut, and this portion of the Anti-Atlas is only inhabited by a few shepherds of the Aït Atta. The distance to Tamgrut is some 95 miles—three days’ good travelling for caravans.

Two other roads are sometimes followed to Timbuctu—namely, (1) viâ Wad Igidi or Igidin to the south-east of Tafilet, and (2) viâ El Harib to the south-west; but in both cases large sums of money have to be paid to the tribes to secure a safe journey, and, especially on the latter, water is very scarce.

A road leads to Tuat viâ the Hamada, El Kebir, Ghrlnema, and Fum es Shink—fifteen days’ travelling.

I have not dwelt at any length upon these trade-routes, as no very reliable information can be obtained from the natives.


CHAPTER XII.
THE RETURN JOURNEY.

At dawn on Saturday, November 23, Kaid Maclean and I had left the Sultan’s camp some way behind, and were hurrying as fast as our sturdy mules allowed in the direction of home. A long march lay before us, over some 300 miles of desert and mountain, and winter had now set in. I had purchased a pony and native saddle at Tafilet; but riding was by no means a pleasure, for I was yet weak and ill. The cold was intense, and we longed for sunrise, even though we knew that in a few hours we should probably be complaining of the heat.

We did not follow the same road as I had pursued in coming, but struck more directly to the north from the Sultan’s camp at Dar el baida, passing through the low range of barren hills near that spot. Then a few miles of desert, and the main stream of the Wad Ziz, here known as the Wad Tizimi, from the oasis it has just left at this spot. The sun rose, and in the bright morning our spirits increased. The scene was pretty enough; for although we were in sandy stony desert, only a mile or so away to our right lay the palm-groves of Tizimi, and here and there the yellow walls of a ksar were visible.

Our party was a large one; for quite a number of soldiers accompanied Kaid Maclean, some of whom were mounted, while others rode the pack-mules on the top of the baggage, and it was evident from their chatter and laughter that one and all were overjoyed at escaping from the dust and dreariness of the mahalla, to say nothing of the fact of the scarcity of food there. Kaid Maclean was the bearer of special letters to the various Governors and Sheikhs on the road, and we looked forward, if not to luxury, at least to being able to obtain food enough.

From Tizimi we skirted the southern end of the small oasis of Mulai Brahim, and caught a glimpse of the white-domed tomb of the saint amongst the palm-trees. Then desert again until we struck my old road near Fezna, having crossed the Wad Gheris shortly before. The river here presents a very different appearance to what it does near Tafilet, for there are none of the steep cliffs of clay or wide channels at this portion of its course, as it hurries along over stones and boulders in a shallow bed through the desert valley. A few reeds and scraggy oleanders line its banks. The stream was strong, and we had to get the mules across with care, lest they should be carried off their legs by the current and soak our luggage.

Then on again, until, leaving Tiluin behind, the weary plain of Maghrah opened out before us. We pushed on fast, for the afternoon was well on, and at dark arrived at Ul Turug, weary with our twelve hours’ ride.

We pitched the tent outside the ksar, and sent a soldier with the Sultan’s firman to interview the young Kaid, who had recently been appointed. He met with no happy reception, and came back hurriedly and in considerable fear with the message that they had no provisions to give us, and that a “Christian’s” portion was powder and shot, and not food. However, later on the young Kaid came in person, and was tolerably polite, though the aspect of his retinue was by no means friendly, and we were glad of the protection afforded us by an old hag of a Shereefa, very dirty and in rags, who declared that a divine mission had been ordained her to guard our persons. She seemed much venerated in the place, and was altogether a good old soul, though quite mad; and so friendly were her attentions that she raised a sheep from somewhere and brought it to the Kaid—much to the joy of our hungry men.

As soon as the natives had retired she announced that we were by no means safe, and also that it was her intention to sleep in our camp, as her presence would protect us from danger. This she did, under the flap of the tent; and very glad we were of the old lady’s presence, for the reports the men brought us were by no means reassuring. Our guard, sufficient to protect us on the road and well armed, would have been of no use in a general attack of the natives, and we were grateful indeed to the old lady whose insanity had taken so useful a direction.

In our conversation with the young Governor, when we hinted to him the results that would ensue if he refused to take notice of the Sultan’s commands that Kaid Maclean should rest in peace and security, we discovered the reason of his altogether neglecting the terms of the firman, or daira as it is called in Morocco. He, it appears, had paid a visit to the mahalla, and been presented by the Sultan with a suit of clothes, the customary gift of the country—and the kaftan, or coloured garment of cloth, had been missing. For this oversight in his Majesty’s gift he had almost turned rebel, and although Mulai el Hassen himself only a few nights later was to camp at this very spot, he absolutely disregarded his written orders. The fact of the kaftan is worth narrating, as it gives an insight into the turbulent character of these wild Berber people. Yet in carriage and manner, though by no means friendly, they were gentlemen all over. We struck camp about 3 A.M., and the sun rose upon us after we had crossed the bleak hills, and were proceeding west towards Ferkla. Once more I admired the palm-groves of Milaab and the picturesque situation of the village of Igli, dominating the mouth of the valley where the Wad Todghrá enters Jibel Saghru from the plain.

On issuing from the hills our road varied to that I had already taken, and we passed to the south of the conical hills I mentioned in describing my journey, near the settlement of Islef, a picturesque little place of a few ksor, with some gardens and running water in the vicinity. The natives all turned out to see and talk with us, and the presence of the soldiers, and the fact that we were ready to purchase a few of their red, black, and white kanderas, or shawls—part of the costume of the women of Aït Atta—kept them in a state of tolerable politeness, though their curiosity was unlimited, Kaid Maclean’s mackintosh cloak receiving enormous attentions, being stroked and pinched and examined and ejaculated on by the whole crowd.

At Ferkla we were well received, the Governor, who expected the Sultan in a few days, knowing better than to disregard his lord and master’s orders, for the oasis was already in bad odour at Court on account of the murder of a couple of soldiers who had been sent there as Imperial messengers only some few months before. More than this, it was at Ferkla that the tent and property of the Sultan’s uncle, Mulai Othman, had been found. This old Shereef, who had been sent to settle some intertribal warfare, and collect taxes due, a year or two before, from some of the Berber tribes nearer Fez, had been treacherously murdered, and his guard annihilated by the tribe of Aït Shokhman, whose chief, Ali ben Yahia, a sort of king amongst the Berbers, had been equally treacherously captured by the Sultan a month earlier and sent a prisoner to Marakesh. The very day that I had left that city he had arrived in chains. It was no doubt for these reasons that the Governor of Ferkla received us with a show of welcome, and supplied us with ample provisions from the store awaiting the arrival of the Sultan and his army. We camped on a level piece of ground near one of the canals that, running from the Wad Todghrá, supplied a portion of the large oasis with water. This canal near here more resembled a swamp, and when, before dawn, we were obliged to ford it, was covered so thickly with ice that my donkeys took several steps before the coating broke under their weight. Yet it was running water, and well sheltered by palm-trees.

From Ferkla we crossed the weary plain of Seddat; but on reaching the Wad Todghrá near the south of the oasis of that name, forded it there, about a couple of miles north of Imin Erkilim, and continued up its right (west) bank, camping for the night near the large village of Taurirt. The latter part of the ride along the river’s banks was a charming one, and presented as picturesque scenes as could be imagined anywhere. Amongst the groves of palms ran the river, and its fall being steep, it had in many spots been banked up by the natives, in order to raise its waters to the level of their irrigating canals. In these places it formed large deep pools, out of which it tumbled in no mean waterfalls to the level of the stream below; and the entire route was enlivened with its splashing and the groaning of the millwheels it turned as it passed on its way.

We reached our destination before sunset, having passed almost immediately before a market-place, with the same beehive-like domed stalls as I had seen at the great market of Mulai Ali Shereef at Tafilet. We found the Kaid of Demnat, under whose jurisdiction this portion of the Sahara nominally is, encamped quite close to us, and we had no difficulty in obtaining provisions. Although there are nominal Kaids and Governors over all this portion of trans-Atlas Morocco, it must by no means be thought that they hold any jurisdiction, nor would the above-mentioned Kaid have even been able to visit Todghrá had not the Sultan been approaching. Even in his little town of Demnat, on the other side of the Atlas, his position was never secure, and on the death of the late Sultan last June (1894) his house was razed and he himself murdered.

The cold of a night was intense, and our men suffered much. Even in the excellent tent of Kaid Maclean, with every possible invention to keep out sun and frost, we had the greatest difficulty in keeping warm. The early mornings, too, were miserable, when, while the camp was being struck and the mules laden, I would crouch over the remnants of a small fire and try to warm myself. It was always too cold to ride, and we used to give our horses to the men to lead while we stepped out as fast as our legs would carry us over the level plain. At sunrise matters mended, though even at noon the heat was not severe, and on one if not two occasions we saw ice in exposed positions unmelted at mid-day, though no doubt the temperature then was above freezing. Yet the rays of the sun were sufficient to warm our chilled bones, and the process of thawing as he rose higher into the sky was indeed pleasant.

This was the longest march we made, for after going continually—with but half an hour’s rest for lunch—for thirteen and a half hours, we drew rein near the zauia of Aït bu Haddu at Dads. I at once sent Mohammed to the zauia to announce my return to the old Shereef, and collect the baggage and mules we had left behind.

Here it was colder than ever. The fig-trees, which had all been in leaf on my previous passing through, were now bare, and even before we could get the tents up they were coated with white frost, while every canal, no matter how fast it flowed, became ice.

I saw nothing of the old Shereef, for no doubt it would not have suited his purpose to be seen visiting Europeans, especially when I was one of them. Happily so dark was it when we arrived, and so cold, that our camp attracted no attention, and as we left before dawn my presence was never discovered, so that probably to-day at Dads I am remembered as a pious Moslem. There were no signs of Mohammed and my mules when we left the next morning, but we could not delay, so leaving them to follow, we set off.

Soon after noon we camped at Imasin, making only a short stage, as our animals and men required rest, and to allow of my mules overtaking us, which they did before the camp was fully pitched. Very glad I was to see my scanty baggage again, and my two good mules, that we had passed off on the roads as the property of the old Shereef; for my strength was still sufficiently shaky to render riding, especially on a Moorish saddle, no pleasure, and I could now look forward to a comfortable seat on a good strong mule. My poor pony, too, was none of the best. I had found but scant choice at Tafilet, and the poor thin little fellow was all I could procure. In spite of every care and attention, he died a few weeks after my arrival in Marakesh; as did one of our poor little donkeys, on the very day we arrived at Saffi, whence he had started some four months before. The end of the latter was most pathetic. He was ill, and I hired a special man to lead him quietly to Saffi; but within a few miles of the town, just at the spot where he could obtain his first view of his native city, he was taken with violent hæmorrhage and dropped dead. A good little beast he was, and we mourned his loss, and had him buried with every decency. My other donkey I left in good hands, for the missionaries in Marakesh took him from me, and I knew no better home could be found for him than in their care. It was with many regrets that I parted from him, though at our last interview, so young and full of corn was he, he did his best to put an end to my existence with his heels. I forgive him, for he had accompanied us, sharing with us the lack of food and the heat and the cold, for nearly 700 miles of weary mountain and desert. The poor one who died at Saffi, having started from that point, had almost completed 1000 miles when death overtook him.

We found Imasin a poor enough place, and had no little difficulty in purchasing our provisions, though here we found a luxury in quantities of walnuts, which our men as well as ourselves enjoyed. So poor were the people that when Kaid Maclean gave them some of the very walnuts they had sold us to eat, they were most grateful; and the fact that we did not bargain over the price, but gave them what they asked—it was small enough—gained us their friendship, and good fellows these wild Berbers seemed to be. They came and guarded our camp at night, and sat there in the cold, though even they, who seemed scarcely to feel either that or heat, shivered.

It was here I said farewell to the Dadsi who had been my zitat from Dads to Tafilet. No words that I could write would do him justice. Honest, faithful, adventurous, and sympathetic, he had been the cheerer of our spirits when we were weary with marching, the diplomat who had guarded me from discovery as we passed along, and had helped to nurse me when I was sick. Good, trusty soul, may you meet with all the blessings you deserve!

From Imasin to Askura was again a shorter march than usual, but there was no choice of where we were to stay, for beyond Askura lie some fifteen miles of weary desert—the Sebaa Shaabat—before reaching the next inhabited district, Ghresat. We camped near some large tamarisk-trees, a few hundred yards from the palatial residence of a Sheikh, who sent men to guard the camp at night.

Passing Ghresat at mid-day the following day, we reached Agurzga before dark, and pitched below one of the great ksor that crown the eminences of rock high above the river. Here, too, much poverty exists; but the people were good, kindly souls, with apparently no thoughts of murder or robbery, and intent only on selling us almonds and walnuts, and examining our weapons, a few shots from a revolver fired in quick succession causing almost a panic.

Great was their amusement in recognising in me the poor ragged Shereef who had passed through a month or so before, and heartily we laughed together over the deception. I was of course still in Arab dress, and they had not failed to remember my face. They showed no signs of annoyance or anger, nothing in fact but intense amusement, and a certain amount of admiration for my venturesomeness. Only one or two spoke Arabic, the rest nothing but Shelha. One old man, the wit of the party, could not get over the fact of my returning in a new character, and remarked, “I have always heard Tafilet was a terrible place. How bad it must be when it changes Shereefs into Christians!” and then added, fearful that his joke might offend, “After all, the Christians are the best; they buy our walnuts and our almonds and pay for them, and Shereefs want everything for nothing.” There is no doubt we created a good impression in Agurzga, the few cups of tea the men drank with us being a luxury some of them had never tasted before; and when I absolutely sought out the poor people who, when they had believed me to be a Shereef, had brought me supper, and paid them for it, their surprise and joy knew no bounds. Their last words were, when we left the next morning—spoken in broken Arabic—“Arja; Allah ijibna er Rumin.” (“Come back some other time—God bring us Romans”—i.e., Europeans.)

From Agurzga we followed the old road, obtaining the glorious view of the Atlas peaks, which I have already described, as we crossed the mountains above Tiurassín. But we did not stop there, pushing on over the ford of the Wad Marghen, to the great kasba of the Kaid of Glawa at Teluet. It had long