NOMADS

Evening Star, Issue 21784, 28 July 1934, Page 2

NOMADS

MEN OF ACTION [Written by.M. H. Holcuofi for the ‘ Evening Star;-’] I once sat in a cafe in Gafsa, a large oasis on the fringe of the Sahara dosert. It was a dim and, smoky little place, not unlike a cellar, and most of the customers were Arabs, Some old men were sitting cross-legged in a corner, beneath an nnglassed window through which ,1, could see the green fronds of date palms and a section of the white dome of a mosque. They were playing cards, and smoking through long tubes which came together in a sort 'of communal bowl. From qutside came a lazy murmur of life. It was in the middle of the afternoon, and the little town was newly W'akened from its midday sleep. The .camels were being loaded in the market square, and urchins were driving their asses through the walled lanes of the oasis. . Their shouts rose faintly upon an air that was heavy with heat and perfumed by ripening dates. ' • • THE RENEGADE. . I was accompanied by a little" , fat man who wore sandals and pantaloons, the discarded jacket of a European lounge suit, and a red fqz. He was a guide who had attached himself to me irom the hour of my arrival, but as ho could speak nothing but the mangled French picked up by the town Arabs, our intercourse was at all times spasmodic, I was glad to have him with me, however, when'a tall stranger came up the stone steps into the cafe and stood in the doorway, staring about him with fierce, provocative glances. My guide was drinking black coffee rather greedily,, but he put down his ; cup and left it untested for , the re- ; mainder of our stay/hi the cafe. I. heard him draw in his breath with a a nervous, sucking sound, and when I S questioned liipi ,he podded,in..,a con--11 strained waytolvards the newcomer and ;; whispered me his name, I repeated it after him, and remembered that 1 bad heard the man spoken of in Gafsa as ? the former lieutenant of a notorious bandit who had . made a'nuisance of himself in the low red liillsjthat rose beyond the town. It was said that the lieutenant had quarrelled with his captain and bad purchased his own pardon from-the French Government by lead-; ing it troop of Spahis .to his: hiding place. The bandits had been exterminated, and now the former lieutenant sulked in the streets of Gafsa, ignored and feared by the townspeople.

FATE IN THE DESERT. I watched him swagger to a beach and shout in a loud and blustering way tor coffee. He was a big man, with something of the hawk in liis face, and a nervous way of looking about him that reminded me of certain ■ animals that live -in the constant fear of enemies. His eyes- were shifty beneath their surface boldness, and although he spoke in a loud, voice and looked about with a sort of fierceness when anybody else spoke in a higher tone—as if he scouted an insult aimed at himself—l thought it possible to. see the real man beneath his. pose. Biich fellows are bravo enough in tiroes of danger, and until his quarrel be might 'have, been: loyal -to, bis com-, rades. Rut, like t a lot of those North African Arabs who have come too near the towns, ho was irresponsible and violent, and capable of those sudden rages which turn quickjy enough into treachery. He wore ah abba and a headclotli, and when he rose to go I could see the horseman in his stride. 1 wondered what would be the end- of him. Perhaps he would migrate to another of the oasis towns—-to Nefta or Tozeur, where the caravans start oft for Timbuktu. Nows travels quickly in the desert, as elsewhere, and his re-: putation would arrive before him. But apart from local prejudice the Arabs are tolerant towards attributes winch they, mugt know to be ingrained and racial; they think little of the sudden acts of violence which bring them into conflict with the laws. If he wished to ride with the great caravans lie might be employed as a driver of camels, or even as an escort. Later, no doubt, he would attach himself to sonic lawless tribe in the lower and barren regions where policing is difficult. There he ■would ride and shoot until the inevitable end—a bullet that would strike him from his horse while the raiding party swept on, and a resting place in the silence until the first desert wind covered him with sand and erased his memory from the minds of men. A TRAVELLER. Such types bring one nearer to that wilder Africa which is not to bo discovered in the streets and bazaars of the towns. A few days later X was with a French official from a phosphate mine, who had labour problems to discuss with a tribal sheikh. The sheikh was a thin, sinewy-looking man, and had been badly pitted by smallpox. He had an uncertain eye, and although I knew not a word of Arabic I could tell quit© clearly that he was lying to the official and battling hard for'some longdesired'concession. All the time he spoke he - was--smiling,,'blit there was evil in his' eye, and 1 thought that a generation ago an argument of, this kind would almost certainly have ended in bloodshed.

While' the talk continued another, man edged up to-the sheikh and stood indolently beside him. -Although he said nothing, his nearness seemed to provide some kind of support, for the sheikh grew; insistent aa<i flQsjti^ ? &ad ja the

end the business had to be abandoned without satisfaction or profit on either side. As we walked back towards the mine the official asked me if 1 had noticed the second man. 1 had. He was more heavily built than the sheikh, and I had been impressed by the fire that brooded under a sort of smokiness within his eyes. I was told that he was a brother of the sheikh, and had been a great traveller. Since his return he had been a thorn in the side of the mine officials. We talked of this man, and of his travels, and I began to discover the strange world of the Arab who goes wandering. To a European travel means the great capitals—London, Paris, Vienna —or the country of the Black Forest, or the Alps of Switzerland, If ho ventures farther abroad there are the countries of America, North and South, and the regions of forest where the great rivers come down from some of the highest mountains in the world. He sets out in large steafners, and stays in good hotels; if he is poor he can still afford to live among his own kind and find something of the comfort of jiis .civilised life in the remoter places. DANGEROUS JOURNEY. The travelled Arab also seeks his kind. There is a belt of country through which he may wander, in abba and sandals, and be sure of finding people of Iris own race, He can go up out of 'Tunisia to Algeria, and along the seaboard to Morocco: or else ho can travel towards Egypt, sojourning in narrow streets of -Cairo, and meeting his fellows in places where the dance girls sway to the reedy music, or on the steps of mosques, where Mohammedans worship the ono god. Across the Suez Canai is the Sinai Peninsula, a bare and terrible region oven to the desert-dweller; but our Arab has word of the secret springs, and will go with fellow-travellers to the kinder country beyond Jordan. Crossing the hills of Moab, and wandering where the plains of the Hanran lie golden with grain, ho comes to the gates and towers and lovely gardens of Damascus, the oldest city in the world. Here ho can find all that he' needs. Caravans are loading for the Interior, and in the . shops or markets he can meet his friends,' or those to whom he has' been recommended.' If he wishes to go further he can attach himself to some train of merchants, The Hedjaz railway will take him down to Mecca if his aim is pilgrimage. And in the course of months, perhaps, he will drink the Emir’s coffee in Riyadh, and tell the news of Africa to those of his countrymen who have been persuaded to carry arms in the desert, or'have fallen into the ways of trade, and like to chaffer with the beduins who drive in their camels from the outlying country, _ in Arabia the North African Arab is always known as a Moor, irrespective of his place of origin, and is usually treated with respect. He has the name of a fighter.

AN ENCOUNTER. We see these men in passing, but without actively touching their lives. Only rarely do we see them in action while wo linger in the towns or in the fertile coastal country. My own ; worst experience with ,an Arab had nothing of the; colour or excitement of adventure. The background was no tvild tract of desert,:but a mere railway station. This Arab was a porter.. I saw him first as my train: drew in, to the .plaform. He was. watching the windows, and as soon as he saw me he made a dive for the carriage platform, and shouldered: his way inside. He was a big fellow, with long arms and a scarred face, and'when he seized my suit case from the rack I thought it*better not to make objections. .My hotel was not more than 100yds from the station, and 1 decided to walk. The porter followed me with the suit case on his shoulder, and when we came into the lobby of the hotel—which was quite deserted—he stood over mo. and held out his hand for payment. I gave him all the change I had. which amounted to fm;r francs, but this did not please him. He asked for more.

By this time I was finding him too overbearing, and shook iny head in a decided negative. Ho insisted, using many strange words, which might have been harmless, but which had the sound and emphasis of oaths. I ordered him out of the place; but he refused to go, and,, what was more, had put his hands on my shoulders, and was offering violence. 1 know that the whole thing had gone too far, and that 1 must act at once if I were to escape unharmed and with any remnant of dignity. Therefore (feeling very much afraid), I made a convulsive effort to break free from his grasp. Ho staggered under my sudden effort, and reeled against the wall. For a moment he stayed thus, glaring at me, and I saw him fumbling in the folds of his robe, as if he sought a knife. I held his glance as firmly as was in my power, and in the end he turned with' a sulky gesture, and vanished from the hotel. I had seen the old fighting man peeping through those inflamed eves, and was glad to see the last of him. He was a bandit, if ever there was one.