Evening Star Newspaper, April 27, 1930, Page 100

THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D, C, APRIL 27, 1930. Among the Desert Pirates of Africa Invading the Strongholds of the Tuareg, Called “The People of the Veil”—The Last Stand of This Vanishing Race. < EDITOR'S NOTE: Count Byron Khun de Prorok, author, explorer, artist and lecturer, was born in Mexico City in 1896 of Polish-Hungarian parentage. Be- fore reachsng the age of 25 he had been a wanderer among the castles & the Rhine and the Carpathian Mountains, the ruins of ancient Mexico and the Everglades of Flor- ida. He contsnued his archeological researches in the prehistoric caves o Switzerland and in Rowme and Pompeis. His great adveniures, however, have been on expeditions into Northern Africa. By Count Byron Khun de Prorok. EW regions of the world are as strange and wild as the home of the Tuareg in the heart of the Saharan Alps— the brooding, mysterious Hoggar. This volcanic region resembles noth- ing so much as a lunar panorama. Imagine a land of towering mountains whose peaks are needle-pointed, glistening black in the clear mountain air and closely resembling thousands of gigantic minarets or vast medieval towers and battlements. And they frown down upon all those who are alien to the land. Far back in the fastness of their impregnable heights are dark and gloomy canyons set with a few trees and desert plants—and it is there that you find the tents of the truly “Abandoned of God!” The silence is appalling; in the crystalline mountain air sounds are magnified as nowhere else on earth. As you approach a Tuareg camp you are generally met, not greeted, by one of the tall, majestic nobles. They are suspicious of strangers (they have a right to be), and like the American Indian they wait for you to speak first. .Quite naturally, they resent being regarded as so many animals in a 200, for it must be borne in mind that they are the knights and nobles of the desert. I have often wondered how I would feel toward strangers who came suddenly and un- announced into my own home to begin an investigation into the mode and manner of my living. I might refrain from booting them out, but I am quite sure my resentment would rise considerably should any such stranger be graceless enough to display a humorous interest in my customs! HOWEVER, the Tuareg was quite hospitable and we sat down to a cup of tea! But the social amenities ended there and we became the focus of the great black, kohl-painted eyes of the veiled giants who, wordless, gazed stead- fastly at us. Now, suddenly, the tables were turned and we were the objects of interest. There is no question but what one feels the malignity that envelops the hidden personality of the Tuareg, and at such times it is sur- prisingly easy to recall the death-dealing spear that traversed Reygasse’s tent one silent night, or the tombs of Palat and Douls and Flatters, far out in the sands, or, what is far more tragic because of its nearness to me, the passing of some of my own brave comrades, killed by Tuareg in 1928. (Capts. Debenne, Pasquet, Res- set and Gen. Clavery. They were massacred on the road to Beni Abbes.) Behind the veil masking their faces is the hate of ages and I confess that I felt it ever when in their presence. Whatever their out- ward actions, however gracious their manner (and they can be as courtly as any “parfit, gen- tit knight”) nevertheless I could not put from my mind the historical fact that the Sahara is spotted by marked and unmarked graves—mute testifony that the Tuareg holds the desert to be his own and strikes hard and swift when he feels that trespassers are violating his rights. The Tuareg life is nomadic, for they have a sueerstmon that it will bring misfortune if they sleep under a real roof. The noble Tuareg is not an agriculturist. He disdains the toil of the soil—*it is the work of Negroes and slaves,” he says, and their camps, therefore, are always on the trail. Their tents are never grouped close together, but are situated several hundred yards apart, generally in the lee of some wind-protected boulder, I shall never forget the Tuareg camp that we found in the wild “Valley of the Giants.” The great rocks in this valley had been molded into fantastic forms by the winds of ages. The continual wearing of their bases by the sand- laden winds had made monuments of stone, lightly balanced at the bases, and many of them took on the grotesque forms of prehis- toric monsters. In the moonlight they are really Quite terrifying. ‘This “Valley of the Giants” is inclosed by towering volcanic peaks and is filled with these strange rocky forms chiseled by nature’s hand. Elephants, gigantic frogs, walruses and dino- sauria seem to appear in great troops. The. Tuareg firmly believe that they are the evil @pirits of enemies turned into stone as they Thrills for the Adventurer. sought escape from the wrathful, avenging hand of their ancestors. ON the second day “in this camp we tested the athletic powers of these superbly mag- nificent physical specimens. We had running and jumping and javelin throwing—a sort of Olympic games of the Sahara! We had heard so much of their physical prowess that we were in some measure prepared for the startling results of our games. Several—not one— cleared the bar at 6 feet, running straight at the jump. What they could do if well trained is impossible to forecast, but certain it is that many college coaches would glow with enthu- siasm at the prospect of having one of these Tuareg youths on his track team. It must be remembered that the Tuareg never removes his veil in the presence of others, and no man, even a blood brother, ever looks on his face. Should the veil come loose, or be torn from his face by some unhappy accident, the Tuareg would hurry for the seclusion of a sheltering rock, or duck behind his camel, where he could readjust this highly important ~ piece of wearing apparel. I wondered, as I watched them wrestling, what would happen if one of them should have the ill fortune to lose his veil. I feel certain that his antagonist would instantly cease all efforts until the embarrassed one could return to the game more suitably clothed! Interesting as were all their games, and sur- prising as were the results, the one mental picture that I shall always retain is the memory of their Greeklike torsos when, stripped to the waist and ready for their sports, they stood like so many classic statues, silhouetted on “the roof of the Sahara.” Tuareg endurance is the subject of many a desert camp-fire tale, and it is common knowledge that he completes many a journey after his camel has fallen by the way. His camels are his main possession, and they are his faithful companions through life. He is born by the camel's side; he remains by him until death. The Hoggar camel is a magnificent beast, with a thick, shaggy coat, and is far taller than the ordinary camel. He is truly a fit companion for the Tuareg. » It is uncertain when the camel was first in- troduced into the Sahara. Some historians put it as late as the fourth century, AD., but I feel that it was much earlier than this. In- deed, I cannot imagine the Tuareg ever having existed without his useful and inseparable com- panion, the Hoggar camel. Herodotus says that ancient desert transportation was carried on by means of oxen. The oxen of the ancient Garamantians are depicted on several of the rock sculptures of the Sahara, crude drawings which were first seen by Barth on the rocks of Telizzarhen, in the heart of the desert. But today the Tuareg travels by camel—or on foot if disaster places him in such predicament. With a little water in a skin, a bag of dates for food, he is off!—ready for hundreds of miles. The chief pastime of the veiled ones is the sport of raiding. As soon as the Tuareg is old enough to ride a camel his one ambition is to raid, and he finds ready teachers to assist him in the realization of his dreams. Distances are nothing to these pirates of the sands. They have been known to ride, when forced, a hun- dred miles in a day, but as a rule they do about 40 miles, and this, considering the nature of the terrain, is indeed a good average. THE early training of the Tuareg youth is Spartanlike in its severity. From the day & Tuareg boy takes the veil (at about the age of 15) he is considered to have come into man’s estate. Then, proceeding on the theory that he is made of iron, his elders no longer make the way easy for him. He can go four or five days without water, and can go without food for more than a week. Such denial, to all appearances, in no way lessens his physical stamina, and it is certain that it places no drain upon his resolute spirit. Perhaps this can be accounted for in some measure by the fact that he is generally half starved, is all muscle and brawn, and has not the slightest chance to become obese. He is always dieting —involuntarily. A Tuareg has been known to travel a thousand kilometers (over 600 miles) on foot carrying his water and food on his back! It is due to their unequaled endurance and stoical indifference to hardship and suffering that they have been dreaded since time immemorial by all the other races of Africa. Their raids are swift and sudden. As a rule they attack a camp at dawn; there follows a hand-to-hand fight of unbelievable intensity and vigor—and they are gone, rapidly diminish- ing specks on the boundless horizon. They will raid an oasis camp or caravan a thousand miles from the scene of the planning, and then Tetire into their mountain fastness, where they will “lie low” for months. Many are the caves hidden in the great Hoggar Mountains still filled with the fruits of raids conducted hundreds of years ago, and that is why every now and then we come across seventeenth century guns and coins of the middle ages! C. Killian found such a cave in 1921, and the King of the Hoggar told me While among the Tuareg camps in the I noticed that some of the cam away from water wells and that transport their water for many questions in this direction brought answer that they never camp near fear of a raid, as raiders always water points in hope of finding a caravan. To go back for a moment to the question ‘Tuareg endurance, I will cite the now famous { { + ] g 11 g 2% death to the commander of the troops at Zinder, falling dead at the feet of the commandant, but not until he had fought back death long enough to gasp out his appeal for relief. This episode has been handled in the novel “Beau Geste.” Today his grave is marked by the laconic Mort Pour La France, yet his memory should live with those of the heroes of old. The Tuareg is supremely indifferent to the rapid changes in temperature common to the Central Sahara. Whenever I think of that camp in the “Valley of the Giants” it is to re- call the shivering cold nights and the sturdy Tuareg who sleep “as they are,” wearing the . same garments they wore in the day, despite the fact that there is a difference of 70 degrees in temperature. He has excellent reasons for retiring fully clothed, for his life is a life of preparedness. He is ready to take the trail the moment he arises—or what is more to the point, he is “booted and spurred and armed for the fray.” In short, he is a superb child of the desert, to whom the desert belongs. He alone knows her moods, her caprices, her heart- less buffetings and he alone is her equal! The origin of the Tuareg is a matter of the- ory. The general opinion held of students is that “the people of the veil” are a part of the great Berber race of North Africa. HERE is still a great study ahead on this subject. Suffice it to be known that this once great race is of white origin, has many peculiarities of its own and is of great age, as the tomb of Queen Tin Hinan proved. Only by continuing the great work of exploring the mountains of the Hoggar, Air and Tibesti may we hope to solve the problems of Tuareg origin. It was this ever present hope of learning something more of these people that led me, while at the camp in the “Valley of the Giants,” to arrange for a visit to the royal encamp- ment of the King of the Hoggar. Tuaregs do not, as a rule, extend hearty welcome to strangers, but we could hardly ask for better treatment than we received at the hands of the famous Kel Reli, the nobles of the Tuareg tribes living in the Hoggar. There, as guests of the King, Akhamouk, we lived under their tents and learned many secrets of their lives. The first thing that strikes one in a study of these people is the high status of the women, who are called “Tamenoukhalen,” which means “the little queens.” Chivalry is not dead among the men of the tribe and the women hold a unique position in this hidden corner of the world. This position of power and influence is a direct holdover trom antiquity, for since earliest time women have held an exalted po- sition among the Libyan civilizations. Survivals of the matriarchal are numerous among the Tuaregs. The female never veils her face, is entirely independent im her actions, has complete authority over the home and the of the children, owns property and in her own name, and chooses and courts ply in dark garments wrapped around her body, beginning under the armpits, with one The men are more skilled in the art of sewing than the women and are The women of the Hoggar still sleep on the tombs of their ancestors when they wish to consult the future. Their thought is that while sleeping on the tomb a vision will come to them and they will be able to peep into the future. A Tuareg maiden, in love, will spend the night on the tomb of some ancestor with the hope of catching a vision of her lover who is away at war or on a raid. I shall never forget the tournament which was staged for us, but which was announced as being given in honor of the ladies. There was jousting and sword play; there were feats of arms that would have done justice to any knight of old. And as we looked on we could but recall the days of King Arthur and his noble knights. It is strange to see here in the desert the sign of the cross on shields, swords and saddles. It is indeed reminiscent of the Crusaders, from whom not a few stu- dents think the Tuareg is descended. It is a romantic thought, but I fear it is far from the fact. True, they have a noble origin, and a medieval code of chivalry. They bear the sign of the cross emblazoned on their shields and weapons; they carry the crusaderlike, double- handed sword, and their knightly tournaments bear a great resemblance to those held on the Continent 10 centuries ago. In this connection it will be well te remember that St. Louis of France on his last crusade died amidst his knights in the ruins of Carthage in 1270. With this fact in mind, some scholars believe that these Tuareg nobles are descendants of those Crusaders. Certainly there are evi- dences in support of the thought, but one must not forget the overwhelming mass of evidence to the contrary. There is the survival of the Libyan script to be considered; there are Tuareg tombs of greater antiquity than the day of St. Louis of France; there are inscriptions on the rocks that were ancient when St. Louis was born. It would be safer to hazard the guess that certain customs of the Crusaders were copied by the Tuareg, customs which were made to order for the fighting marauders of the desert. It will be a long time before we will solve the mysteries surrounding these fascinating people, In their land are many deep, unexplored cane yons; lost oases surrounded by the awful Tae nezrouft, where Tuareg tell me there are two ruined cities, Tokalet and Tafassaset; and still awaiting discovery are the emerald mines of the Garamantians, whence came the jewels found in Queen Tin Hinan’s tomb. THE land of the Tuareg is a rich storehouse of knowledge for future explorers. If ever the cradle of man is discovered and proven, i$ is my belief that it will be here in the Sahara. Continued on Twenty-second Page