The Horses of the Sahara 32

The Horses of the Sahara 32

On their return, the robbers divide their spoils. The vow made to the

marabouts who were invoked is scrupulously fulfilled. The chief of the

_douar_, and the woman who opened her girdle, each receives a present.

The share that falls to the lot of the _hammaze_ is the largest; for it

is he who has played the most important part, and incurred the greatest

risks.

 

 

CAMEL-STEALING.

 

Camel-stealing is practised in the same manner as horse-stealing. They

choose full grown camels,—or, at least, such as no longer cry—or

she-camels with foal. Having removed the clogs, the robbers prick the

animal with a poniard or knife to make it go off, and get on its back as

soon as they are far enough away from the tents. All that night they

travel on, and if at daybreak they do not feel that they have gone

sufficiently far to escape the pursuit of horsemen, they halt and

conceal themselves in a spot the soil of which does not retain

foot-marks. The pursuers give up the chace if they find no traces of the

fugitives. In the other event they often recover what they have lost;

and, unless the robbers let go their prize and hide themselves, they may

pay for their daring with their life.[77] This is the supreme moment for

invocations and vows. "O Sidi Abd-el-Kader," cries the robber, on seeing

the enemy close at hand, and in dread of discovery, "if thou wilt save

us yet this one time, we will make in thy honour an _ouadâa_ for the

poor." In the Sahara, Sidi Abd-el-Kader-el-Djilaly is the patron of

robbers. This very undesirable patronage is due to the charity of the

holy marabout, who shrinks from leaving in trouble those who invoke his

name.

 

 

SHEEP-STEALING.

 

Sheep are but a poor prey, and more troublesome than profitable. They

walk slowly, and it is impossible to drive them far enough away by the

day after the theft. The Arabs, therefore, content themselves with

stealing from an enemy, in his absence, to feed themselves while lying

in ambush. Nevertheless, the opportunity is sometimes tempting. A flock

is seen grazing at a distance from the _douars_. The shepherd is lying

down, asleep, or in some other way occupied. It is yet early morning,

and there is time to cover a considerable distance before sunset, when

the flocks are driven home, and the theft is likely to be discovered.

Sometimes, therefore, they risk the hazard. Striking the negligent

shepherd a heavy blow on the head with a stick, they throw dust into

his eyes, and, tying his hands behind him, draw over his face the hood

of his burnous. The robbers then share with one another the task of

driving off the flock, broken up into small sections, each taking a

separate course, and going slowly at first, but after a while quickening

their pace. On the morrow, after traversing none but lonely paths, they

meet again at an appointed spot. In an affair of this kind they take the

shepherd with them, and set him free only in the middle of the night,

when they have nothing more to fear from him.

 

 

 

 

WAR BETWEEN DESERT TRIBES.

 

 

A caravan has been plundered—the women of the tribe have been

insulted—the right of water and pasturage has been disputed. These are

wrongs which no _razzia_, not even the terrible _tehha_, can

sufficiently avenge. The chiefs, therefore, assemble and decide upon

war. Then they write to the chiefs of all their allied tribes, and claim

their aid. The allies are loyal and faithful—are they not also enemies

of the tribe to be chastised? Have they not the same sympathies, the

same interests, as those who summon them? Are they not an integral part

of the confederation? Not a single tribe will refuse to send a

contingent in proportion to its importance. But the allies are distant.

They cannot arrive within a week or ten days, and in the meantime

counsels are taken, and the passion of the warriors excited by the

proclamations of the chiefs:—

 

"You are warned, O servants of Allah! that we have to exact vengeance

from such a tribe that has offered us such or such an insult. Shoe your

horses. Supply yourselves with provisions for a fortnight. Forget not

the wheat, the barley, the dried meat, and the butter. You must provide

not only for your own wants, but also that you may be able to afford a

generous hospitality to the horsemen of such and such tribes that are

coming to our assistance. Command your prettiest women to hold

themselves in readiness to accompany us, and to array themselves in

their finest garments, and adorn their camels and litters to the utmost

of their power. Do you yourselves also put on your handsomest dresses,

for with us it is a matter of _nif_ [self-love]. Keep your arms in good

condition. Supply yourselves with powder, and be assembled on such a day

at such a spot. The horseman who owns a mare and does not come, the

foot-soldier who possesses a gun and stays at home, shall be fined, the

former twenty ewes and the latter ten."

 

Every able-bodied man, though he should have to go on foot, is bound to

join in the expedition. Before setting out, the chiefs confide the

flocks, tents, and baggage of the tribe to the care of experienced

veterans, who are likewise charged to exercise a sort of police

supervision over this assembly of women, children, invalids, and

shepherds.

 

The enemy, on their part, likewise make their preparations. Warned by

travellers, by friends, and even by relatives whom they claim in the

opposite party, they hasten to write in all directions to assemble their

allies. Their flocks, tents, and baggage they place in a secure spot,

and then assign a rendez-vous to the horsemen with the least possible

delay. To guard against a surprise, they select a position suitable for

defence, and await whatever may happen. They have not long to wait. The

tribe that has taken up arms to avenge itself is very soon on the march,

for it has not lost a single moment. On the evening before their

departure, all the auxiliary chiefs join those who have summoned them,

and, in the presence of the marabouts, take the following oath on the

sacred book of Sidi Abd-Allah:—

 

"O friends! let us swear by the truth of the sacred book of Sidi

Abd-Allah that we are brothers, that all our guns shall be as one, and

that, in dying, we will all die by the same sabre. If you call us by

day, we will come by day, and if you summon us by night, we will hasten

to you by night."

 

Having taken this oath, they arrange to start on the following morning.

At the appointed hour a man of high birth, noble among the noblest,

mounts on horseback, orders his women, borne on camels, to follow him,

and gives the signal. There is a general movement, and all set out. The

eye is dazzled by the strange and picturesque confusion, the many-hued

crowd of horses, warriors, and camels bearing rich palanquins in which

the women are inclosed. Here are the foot-soldiers, who march by

themselves—there the horsemen, who superintend the female procession.

Others, again, more impetuous and thoughtless, dash on in front or

spread out on the flanks, but rather as hunters than as scouts, and with

their greyhounds run down the gazelle, the hare, the antelope, and the

ostrich. The chiefs, however, are more serious. Upon their shoulders

rests the whole responsibility. To them will accrue the largest share of

the plunder, if the expedition succeed; and upon them, also, in the

event of failure, will fall imprecations, ruin, and shame. They,

therefore, consult together and form their plans. Lastly, come the

camels that carry the supplies. Thus the host advances, adapting itself

to the irregularities of the ground, all in wild confusion, every one

noisy and joyous, thinking much of the adventure, nothing of the

fatigue, dreaming of glory, not of danger. The warriors relate their

former exploits, while the players on the flute accompany them,

inspiriting or interrupting them, and the women utter joyful cries. And

above all this uproar are heard the loud reports of fire-arms. The

firing ceases, and a young and handsome horseman strikes up one of those

love-songs, through which the ardour of their passion scatters strange

images and striking colours, and which, in the desert, have always a

fresh charm for these chivalrous nations.

 

My heart burns with fire

For a woman come forth from paradise;

O ye who know not Meryem [Mary],

That miracle of the one Allah,

I will show you her portrait.

 

Meryem, she is Osman Bey himself

When he appears with his standards,

And the roll of his drums,

And his _goums_ following behind.

 

Meryem, she is a blood mare

That lives in luxury

In a gilded palace;

And loves the leafy shade,

And drinks limpid water,

And will have negro slaves to wait upon her.

 

Meryem, she is the moon of stars

That betrays robbers;

Or, rather she is the palm-tree

Of the country of the Beni-Mezab,[78]

 

The fruit of which grows so high

That no one can gather it.

 

Meryem, rather is she the gazelle,

Bounding in the desert.

The hunter covers her young;

She sees the powder flash,

Leaps forward to receive the ball,

And dies to save its life.

 

She appointed to meet me

On Monday night.