208 THE SECRET OF SAHARA: KUFARA 



lutely!" he said. I would not agree. The guests had 

 come to us strong with a great resolve, wound up to battle 

 pitch, each man determined to support the others. Now 

 they would separate and, each alone, would have the nasty 

 cold feeling of wondering what he had done and what 

 the final result of his action would be. "Wait!" said 

 I. "Very soon they will feel that they have shown us 

 how dangerous it is to cross their borders and they will 

 only remember in whose house they met us!" 



Later in the afternoon a Mojabra merchant, Tawati 

 Haifan, cousin of our old friend She-ib, and one of the 

 ekhwan, Sayed Mohammed Semmen, visited us, partly 

 to welcome and partly to console us for the behaviour of 

 the Zouias. "They are bad people," they said. "They 

 have always been like that." 



Then sunset came and with it the summons to dinner 

 in the house of many courts. The Wadi of Kufara is 

 always beautiful, but at sunset it is magical, for the 

 girdle of strange hills glows with wonderful mauve and 

 violet lights and the oasis lies half in shadow where blend 

 the emerald and sapphire of palm and lake, half in flame, 

 where the burning sands reflect the glory of the sky. It 

 used to make me catch my breath with ever-new surprise 

 as I came out of the discreet little door in the wake of 

 the ebony slave, who took a great interest in the state 

 of my appetite and never could understand why I could 

 not cope with three separate breakfasts sent me by as 

 many hosts. 



I never realised more fully the remoteness of Kufara 

 than when, after the deft-handed slaves had spirited away 

 the huge, brass traj^ and with it every trace of our meal, 

 we sat motionless beside our host in the long shadowed 

 room, while he silently and very slowly made his carefully 

 prepared tea. The many high-walled courts produced a 

 silence in that dim room of thick carpets and rare lights 



