CHRISTMAS IN THE DESERT 121 



On Christmas Eve the whole party devoted themselves 

 to washing their clothes, with surreptitious drinks of the 

 sweet Buttafal spring, the first good water we had tasted 

 since we left Jedabia. Zeinab and Hauwa laboured 

 patiently to reduce the retinue's flowing garments to their 

 pristine whiteness. I had to disguise myself in a jerd 

 while my own red tobh was in the tin pan that served as 

 a laundry. The blacks, stripped to the waist, their top- 

 knots bobbing above their shaven heads, pommelled and 

 pounded beside the well. By the afternoon the desert was 

 spotted with patches of white, whose snowiness rapidly 

 disappeared beneath stray drifting sand. However, there 

 was a general feeling of cleanliness in the air, and we 

 were glad when Musa She-ib appeared from the direction 

 of Jalo, with three donkeys and a camel in search of 

 the waters of Buttafal which could be sold in Jalo, 

 where the wells are brackish and salt, for half a mejidie 

 a girba. We are glad to have an excuse for "fadhling," 

 so we pressed the kind old man to stay for a midday meal 

 and, sitting round the fire in the largest zariba, we made 

 green tea while Abdullah cut goat-hide thongs for a new 

 pair of sandals, Hassanein mended the watches of the 

 party, all of which had stopped in the sandstorm, 

 and Mohammed made primitive rope out of the palm 

 fibre. 



That night we watched the camels being fed by 

 moonlight. It struck me at the time that it was a stupid 

 plan to put all the dates in one large heap, as the greediest 

 camels devoured more than their share and the slowest 

 eaters got little. However, I daren't argue with Abdullah 

 about what was obviously his own job. After the animals 

 had eaten there was a great argument as to whether they 

 should be watered that night or the following morning. 

 Finally it was decided to let them drink at once and it 

 was amusing to see the way they rushed to the well. 



