The Finger Tips of Allah

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLIII, Issue 14, 6 October 1909, Page 33

The Finger Tips of Allah

By

BROUGHTON BRANDENBURG

With photographs taken by the French Commandant of the District of Biskra

EEP in the yellow bosom of ■ the Sahara there are spots f where a man may live and find N- -X seant food and drink, but lam about to write of the last outpost of civilisation, the final footprint of the modern, not on the edge, but thrust into the desert itself, the beautiful, scantilymemorialised oasis of Biskra.

The political geography that draws dotted red lines in the ministry of foreign affairs says that it is Algeria, and that the territory is French, but if I had my way it would be only’ Biskra, Heart of North Africa. To begin with, Algiers is not one of the way stations of the beaten path, and to seek Biskra one must start from

Algiers. The French have tried to build a railroad up through the region by the way of Constantine, and have halfheartedly endeavoured to make the wornout materials and rolling stock of the French provincial roads overcome the obstacles of nature in the rough country

where the desert begins. By all means go by’ the way of Constantine (there is no other way to go), ami stay in Biskra as long as possible, for it is worth one jourjtey, but no more. There is one incomparable view, and that is, when approaching from Touggourt, the nearest oasis, just at dawn after a still night. Perchance the moon, almost full, a luminous, white disc of great size, is receding into the purple abyss of the as yet unlit west. On one hand lifts the serrated and seamed ridges of the Mohonneihe, and on the other and to the rear is the stretching desert sand and the hills it cannot subdue. On the ridges rests lightly a growing flush, blending exquisitely with their purples, lavenders, and greys. Like the sudden rising of the curtain on the opera, the flood of sunlight pours

over the hills, and one beholds the green nest of Biskra liefore him. embowered in the hills, and half hiding its jumble of sun-bleached houses with the spreading fronds of its date palms and orange Immediately to the east there lies a

rocky waste that marks the bed of the occasional torrent when rain does come and the hills hurl down the flood on the plain below. On its hither bank are rough mounds that indicate where once the ancient Biskra stood, in the davs when the Arabs came out of the East and dispossessed the autochthons. Where the grave of the elder citv ends the poorer part of the new Biskra begins, the earth-built structures appearing at a distance to be a part of the 'lock scheme. Gradually the hewn stone and the tile structures assert themselves, until at last, when the eye rests on the quarter immediately about the residence of the Bashaga, the chief holding authority both from the French and Arabs, there is no doubt but that one looks at a town. More it cannot be called, as, in the terminology of the theatrical booking agent, its extreme drawing population is not (HMM). The fully advertised reappearance of Mahomet would not provoke a greater concourse. The initial signs of life the traveller will see are odd-moving figures in white out on the waste of rocks beyond the old city. At glance they seem to be rocks, but a closer look * will show them bending, rising from kneeling positions to full height, and genuflecting. 1 hey are heads of families from the town praying to the East. 1 he few horses in the caravan begin to neigh, the camels to cough, choke, and grunt, ami lift their bobbing heads. From the nearer side of the town there come answering sounds. The first one distinguishable is the shouting of boys at play. Ihe worshippers are returning. One of them carries under his arm a great roll of matting and a veritable tablet library of skin-covered slabs inscribed in Arabic. At the confines of the town the noisy boys gather around him. after pro fouml salaams, and by the time the caravan reaches the spot, he has selected a palm tree, has spread the mat. producing an ominous rod from within it. The boys have slipped off their shoes liefore squatting on the mat. as it js now sacred territory and school has lieen taken up. Queer little chaps they an*, in their tattered cotton clothes, conning over sections of the Koran, the majority wearing fez. some few* the bournouse of the Bedouin. Ihe schoolmaster’s spectacles are opaque with grease and date juice, and worn on the tip of the nose so as not to interfere with his vision, hi that he displays a common idiosyncrasy among

Moslem pedagogues. They must wear spectacles, but not to look through. Winding around the little artificial pool, on the bank of which the school ~its. the caravan plunges into one of the narrow streets, nothing more than a slit lietween dividing walls. The arrival in Biskra i~ accomplished, ami the caravan disintegrates. The date-laden beasts turn aside at some dividing point, and are lost in the compound of the merchant who buy- the fruit. The wool-bearers vanish down another by-lane. and the Bedouin outriders stop before the door of a repairer of anus. There is a longevity In the khan or patio stvle of architecture of habitations which is puzzling, to sav the least. The modern cottage, or villa with a lawn, is a legitimate evolution of the ancient castle with a terrace; but why half the civilised world should cling to the style of walling-in dwellings, stock-shel-ters and grounds, is more than T can understand. In former centuries of complete lawlessness, protection from robl»'rs was the real reason, but over all southern Europe, western Asia, northern Africa. Mexico. Central and South America one finds the persistent khan and pation without excuse. Biskra streets are a maze of nearly blank walls, uselessly inclosing the real life of the town These walls are largely of sun-dried mud bricks with holes in the upper reaches to accommodate rafters, as the houses within utilise the outer wall in the economy of their structures. By reason of the quality of the material, great catastrophes sometimes occur, with heavyloss of life and property. The holy men when praying for rain qualify the invocation by asking for not too much. A really heavy shower, such as rarely occurs. melts the mud walls, the houses fall down, and the streets become rivers of mud. while the irrigating canals are filled

up. the water pools ruined, and misfortune rules in general. Sandstone, which can be easily worked, is abundant, convenient and durable, yet the Arab clings to mud.

The reliefs to the blankness of the walls are doors, of very old wood as a rule, very carefully preserved, as the scant timbering of a house often costs as much as the whole remaining strue-

ture. A look into one of these reveals the life within. A sluggish stream of water wanders through the grounds in a clay-lined ditch. This is the day of the week in which this particular street has its share of water turned in to fill the pools and cisterns. A loud-voiced representative of the Bashaga is exercising his small authority over the people of the place, driving them away from the gate that admits the water, while they beseech him to let it run a short time longer. On the banks of the pool the maternal head of the so-called slave family that serves the house-owner is beginning the important operation of making the kusskuss. Her eldest daughter is dutifullybringing the water while the mother kneads the maize meal with an infinite slowness. It seems that by her mere finger-work the Arab woman can get a toughness into the kuss-kuss which no Australian bush-baker might ever achieve for his product. While one compound will be seen to be wretched and ill-kept, the quarters for the servants thrown down and mere tentlike pretences of shelters erected, the next will be truly a garden of beauty. Around the pools and along the ditches exquis-itely-shaped palms nod in the slight breeze that comes from without the walls. There are stretches of soft sheep-grass, and the life of the inmates has a different complexion entirely. All this is a question of individual character as shown in the number of palms. Every man's wealth is accounted by the number of palms he possesses, for the fruit of the palm is the one great source of revenue of the region. The palms of Biskra, with a little wool from the sheep, a few hides from the Bedouin horses, produce the staples that can be exchanged for the -gold that will

buy silks and cottons, arms and tobacco, and what very few other things are essential to the life that goes on unchanged from generation to generation. Not quite unchanged, for while the French Protectorate, backed up with the presence of French officials with a handful of soldiers, has had little real effect on the lives of the people, it has greatly reduced the price of wives. A law was put in force with the full support of the Bashaga and all the minor chiefs, that no man should have a harem with more than two wives in it, and the law of supply and demand beginning to act at once, the market price of brides declined with great rapidity. In fact, many men who have never owned a bit of property, and have never had anything but copper money in their hands, are possessed of a full complement of helpmeets. The paternal government hoped to better the condition of the common people, but the results of recent years may lead to a repeal of the law, inasmuch as the increase in population bids fair to surpass the possible resources of the region. By rendering the harem relatively unimportant the strict Mohammedan laws concerning women appearing veiled in public have been encroached upon, for in Biskra, where religious observance reaches its most intense form, more women of all classes are to be seen unveiled than in any like community of northern Africa. Of course, one is very fortunate to see a woman of the aristocracy unveiled, for at the first glimpse of an approaching European, even the little girls of the poor are accustomed to snatch corners of their head-shawls across their faces. There are some beautiful symbolisms in the marriages, though they fit very poor-

ly with the conventional Romeo and Juliet ideals. The age of wedding for the girls is alwiut twelve, sometimes less and sometimes more, and the preliminaries are entirely a business matter conducted with much ceremony. After a definite contract is male it is then that th ■ bride is permitted to see and talk with her future husband, if at all. Tiie time of the wedding is set, and the date in variably falls on a Monday or Friday evening. The night before, the bride’s hands and feet are steeped in henna, with which are stained the nails of all women who make any pretence at keeping up appearances. When the day comes on which the bride is to go to the house of her husband she is arrayed in a rich g. wn. on her arms and ankles are bracelets, and about her slender little waist she wears a corded girdle holding in place a broad plate of gold, silver, and turquoise, usually an inheritance of great age and rare workmanship. These plates cannot be bought for many times their intrinsic value. The spangled bride’s veil is cast over her head and she is led to the door of her parents and given over to a coni p.iny of joyous friends and hired mu sieians and eelebrators. who parade through the streets beating the raw hide tambourines and cymbals, dancing an I shouting, flank'd by miserable beggars beseeching backsheesh in the name of the bride though she never receives one penny. So the tumultuous pageant winds its way to the house of the groom, where the happy child takes off the girdle an! plate, gives them to her husband with a deep obeisance, the ceremonies are recommenced. followed bv feasting and

merry-making that lasts as long as the bridegroom keeps his purse open. It is odd to find in a little community of a few thousand souls almost shut oif from the influence of the rest of the world, the usual Mussulman type of men dicancy developed in such a high form. The beggar* of Biskra are the most per-

sistent, numerous and versatile by comparison that one will find anywhere in the East. If in an unguarded moment one gives a wretched creature a copper as he droop.s apparently dying on the edge of one of the street irrigating ditches, and then enters a house or a place of business, he will find when he emerges

a solid phalanx of beggars lined up to assail him with appeals in the name of Allah and Mohammed, and hair-raising curses if their demands are not heeded. They see in every Bedouin funeral a harvest. Whatever the faults of the Bedouin may be. the grim dweller within the desert is not lacking in grief for

the dead. When in some of the camps by the outlying oases a human soul flickers out. the remaining clay is carefully prepared in the best robes, is bound on a horse, and the entire tribe sets out on foot for Biskra, wailing as

they go, and singing high-pitebed nasal funeral hymps, that drop away into quavering minors. It is a moving sight to see such • procession coming through the gorge of the Mountains of the Rosy Cheek, th* white line winding among the rocky walls which echo the mournful sounds. Runners have gone on ahead, and long before the first of Biskra is seen songs of sorrow and wild cries will be heard from the direction oF the town. A troupe of professional mourners clad in red and yellow, tatterdemalion mendicants and idle populace, appear crossing a ford, and the grief of the approaching tribe breaks out anew. The two columns meet and join. The booming of the tambourines redoubles, wild and weird rise the cries breaking into the doleful chants. Slowly the procession moves on to Biskra, where a company of solemn faced, small boys forms in front of the horse on which the body is bound, and sing the mellow, resounding passages of the Koran incessantly, until the grave is reached, filled and closed. There are two seasons of the year when Biskra is in the full flood of its life. One is the spring festival called the Mutton Feast ordinarily, and the other is the merry-making following the end of the Fast of Ramadam and during the fair. Then there is a great temporary bazaar opened up; there are feats of riding and shooting, and travelling dancers appear, one wonders from where, and there is feasting, eating, drinking, and general gaiety. The Fast of Ramadam is variable in the calendar, and cannot be called annual. During the time it lasts nothing can pass the lips of a true believer, except after sunset. This is very severe on the poor people who go on with their work sometimes in weather of awful heat, yet will not touch a drop of water. When the weary day is almost done one can see them begin to gather in the street beside the irrigating ditches. In one hand is an earthern drinking vessel, in the other a cigarette and a match. Patiently they stand and wait. The sunset gun rings out from the military headquarters, the cigarettes are popped into their mouths, lit, and deeply inhaled—* then they drink.