290 THE SECRET OF SAHARA: KUFARA 



immense block of red sandstone flung up by the hands 

 of some forgotten giant upon a mighty base of polished 

 white, so that it looked like a primeval altar to the 

 gods of earth and sky. Here the Mahdi used to halt 

 his immense caravans on the Jalo journey and under 

 the shadow of the rough natural sanctuary pray for a 

 prosperous venture or give thanks for a safe return. 



Even Suleiman spoke no more of barraking. With- 

 out a word spoken, everyone felt that the Maghrib 

 prayers must be said where the spirit of the Mahdi 

 would surely welcome travellers from the far-off oasis, 

 whose red and amber he had changed to wealth of grain 

 and fruit and flowers. The weary camels were hurried 

 from their indifferent nibbling among the dry shrubs. 

 When the full glory of the golden west lit up the 

 strange altar, balanced between heaven and earth, and 

 the faint silver crescent of a new moon glowed pale 

 amidst the flame, we came round the corner of the rock 

 and saw the simplest kibla that ever the faithful turned 

 towards the Ka-aba. It was but three grey, rough 

 boulders, with a circle of stones to mark the shape of 

 an imaginary mosque, yet it was holy ground and we 

 left our worn shoes outside, before we bowed our faces 

 to the desert sands. What prayers the stern Mohammed 

 mixed with his, "In the name of Allah compassionate 

 and merciful," I know not. What simple thanksgivings 

 were murmured by our weather-beaten guide, if the 

 young zawia student, Amar, grasped the perils from 

 which he had been protected, if Yusuf's mind realised 

 for one fleeting moment that there was something beyond 

 his comfortable practicality, I cannot guess, but I know 

 that never in my life have I offered more whole-hearted 

 gratitude to the Power that, called by many different 

 names in many different cities, is omnipotent in the 

 deserts ! 



