THE FLIGHT FROM TAJ 225 



should have to buy a camel-man for twenty pounds and 

 sell him again at Jaghabub, Yusuf, to say the girbas still 

 leaked after all his cunning treatment, little Sidi Omar, 

 resplendent in a wonderful yellow jubba, to hint about 

 the scarcity of pocket-knives in Kufara, Sheikh Musa, 

 from Hawari, to tell us that the men of his village were 

 too over-awed to visit us in the house of the Sayeds, 

 but were exceedingly regretful concerning their reception 

 of us. 



So the hot hours wore away and about five we 

 wandered out to see the amazing sunsets over the wadi, 

 when for a few minutes the whole oasis was dyed in 

 rainbow flames. Generally, before the crimson disk had 

 sunk beyond the western sands, Surur was anxiously 

 scanning the landscape to announce the dinner hour. 

 We had long ago lost count of European time. We 

 used vaguely to calculate that the sun rose at 6 a.m. and 

 set at 6 P.M., but for all practical purposes we followed 

 the Arab day, which begins an hour after sunset. We 

 set our watches each evening to solar time and found 

 ourselves counting the changing months by the lunar 

 year of Islam. I never knew what day of the week 

 it was till Friday came, when, if we were in a town, 

 we joined the stream of worshippers, clad in their best 

 clothes, who w^ended their way to the mosque. In the 

 desert the most learned would recite the Koran and 

 read a simple form of prayer. While the muezzin was 

 crying the melodious call to prayer, "La Illaha ill'- 

 Allah! Haya alia Salah! Haya alia Fallah!" from 

 the round tower at the end of the zawia wall, we passed 

 between the shuttered houses, gravely greeting the few 

 white shrouded forms who crossed our path. As the 

 last appealing yet triumphant "Allahu Akhbar!" rang 

 out to the evening star we entered the first low door, 

 and the oppressive secrecy of the house shut us in. 



