Coast of Africa: Cyrenaica, Benghazi, Bedouins and desert Samum

When we were inspecting the camp, the horses, and the well, I was accompanied everywhere by a boy, the sheikh's son. At this time, dinner was being prepared at our host's. Having returned, I found two old men with him, the very same ones who had met us together with him at his tent. We sat in a circle: first the Sheikh, and on his sides, on the right I, on the left Kaeieri; then the two old men and finally Ibrahim. Three women entered, and brought food on a round tray, placed it before us, served us fresh water in turn to wash our hands and mouths, and stood respectfully at a distance, to serve. These were the sheikh's wife and two daughters. They remained without veils. They wore short blue cotton skirts, fastened at the waist with a belt decorated with copper plaques; over the left shoulder was thrown a short mantle, which left the arms and chest almost bare. Their hair was braided in plaits, wrapped around the top of the head, and held there by a silver needle; on top of this a blue veil, but not lowered and not covering the face. I also noticed necklaces, earrings, and armlets of oriental workmanship, silver, gilded, interspersed with coral beads, and I suppose that, in honor of the visiting guests, they had put on their best outfits that day. I did not see great beauty in any of them; but they were slender; the skin on their faces was delicate, their eyes lovely, like those of a chamois; but their teeth were long, although very white. The eldest daughter was about 17 years old. The women did not take their eyes off us, and looked with great curiosity. The Sheikh paid not the slightest attention to them, and no one said a word to them. The dinner consisted of three dishes; these were: pilaf, excellently prepared, almost dry; mutton kebab, and roasted wild goat. I ate everything with great appetite, and my comrade twice as much as I. Our host seemed very pleased with this. He handed us pieces with his hand, because there were neither spoons nor knives. When we had eaten our fill, the hostesses carried the tray behind the curtain to finish our dinner there, and the boy, the sheikh's son, brought a small woven basket with pomegranates. I was very glad of them, because I had long wanted to drink. This fruit, in the East, during the heat, is invaluable; it contains the most pleasant and refreshing juice. Having washed our hands and lit our pipes, we began a conversation. Only then did the Sheikh and both old men allow themselves to ask us some questions. "What is your faith?" the Sheikh asked me. "God is great!" I answered him. "The whole universe is under His hand!" "Malaj akbar!" he repeated. "Do you have a Sultan? And is his kingdom great?" "Our Sovereign is great and strong, and his kingdom occupies almost half of the entire universe!" "Allah! Allah!" he exclaimed. "Is that far from the Turkish Padishah?" "Their lands border each other." "So you are at war with him?" "Before there were wars; now we live in peace; I am now traveling from Istanbul, and visited the Padishah, who received me graciously." "Good, good!" said the Sheikh. Then the old men asked: do our people buy bulls? I said that we have many of our own, but that we buy a fair amount of camel hair. "Why then do your ships not take it from us?" "The Bukharians bring it to us; but now I will tell my people, and they, perhaps, will send their ships here too." "Do not forget this, please! Our wool is even better than Moroccan." I promised to inform them about this, and they seemed pleased. Then they asked Kaeieri: when will the Maltese come for the bulls? He boldly promised them that in about two days the ships would certainly arrive. This so delighted them that they patted him on the shoulder and served more pomegranates. From all these conversations I could only conclude that the Bedouins' understanding is very limited: beyond their everyday life, their needs, and a small trade profit, they are not curious to know about anything; they live patriarchally, and, perhaps, happily! Their one grief, one misfortune is the simoom (°), and livestock plagues, when they occur. (° The simoom, a midday wind, disastrous in the sandy desert of Africa. It instantly weakens man and all animals, inflaming the blood, and bringing all limbs into immobility. Moreover, it carries with it a fine and even invisible to the eye sand, which a person involuntarily inhales, and this harms his lungs. The sand also packs into the eyes, mouth, and ears of travelers when the simoom catches caravans on the march, in the deserts. Then it is almost always fatal to both people and livestock. In Italy, where the simoom reaches across the sea, it is still heavy and oppressive. There they call it sirocco.) I noticed that during our conversation the women pulled back the curtain a little, and looked at us. Soon afterwards one of the young women came out, carrying a jug on her head; behind her ran a tame gazelle (). The Bedouin woman was going for water, and in this pose she was so picturesque that she reminded me of a painting by Horace Vernet, where a Bedouin camp is depicted. Admiring the gazelle, I began to caress it; the Sheikh took advantage of this and