Tie wROGLODMVDES OE SOUTHERN 
TUNISIA 845 
Photo by Marie Helms 
CAMEL AND MOSQUE: THE MAIN THINGS IN AFRICA 
houine, one gun in particular, when | had 
dined with the caliph the week before. 
On the stock of the gun were 100 small 
cuts. Each cut meant the death of one 
of the enemy by a shot of the caliph’s 
gun. 
I understood now why Brabisch, that 
roguish, lovable boy, was such a deadly 
shot with his gun. Woe to the pigeon 
or hawk that flew across our trail. Off 
would tear Mohammed and Brabisch at 
full gallop. Bang! would go the gun 
and down flutter the game. 
These men of the mountains are true 
sports, according to their code. 
Ghourmessa is situated on the top of 
a sugar-loaf mountain with the point cut 
off. It dominates all the surrounding 
country, and is the wildest and most diffi- 
cult of access. Its inhabitants are a war- 
like race, not friendly to strangers. 
We were the guests of Sidi Hadj, a 
great friend of the cadi. He and his 
five sons had come half way to meet us. 
They are all married and have Troglo- 
dyte homes of their own, unlike the 
tribes around Matmata, where the head 
of the family lives with his wives, his 
sons, and his sons’ wives and children in 
one of those large dwellings dug out of 
the earth. An Arab, no matter how old, 
is subject to his father, and cannot travel 
or do much without his father’s permis- 
sion. When a Mohammedan has been 
to Mecca he is called Sidi Hadj, and the 
more pilgrimages he makes to Mecca the 
more holy he becomes. Sidi Hadj had 
been three times and wore a green tur- 
ban, showing that he is a direct descend- 
Ait Olen the leropliet 
Never shall I forget the sunset scene 
from the entrance of Sidi Hadj’s cave. 
A narrow path ran in front, and from 
its edge one could drop a stone hundreds 
of meters down to the plains below. 
Mountain ranges stretched all around us, 
but to the southwest lay the Sahara, a 
golden reddish sea of sand and colors no 
man can paint and hardly imagine. A 
sirocco had been blowing all day, and 
the fine dust in the air turned the sunset 
colors into green, with ribbons of gold 
and purple. We all sat spellbound; no 
one spoke. The colors dimmed and 
faded into blue. Far below on the hori- 
zon were the tiny camp-fires of some 
nomads preparing their evening meal. 
Above us the stars came out one by one 
and formed “the dipper” upside down. 
Ghoumrassen is another of the impor- 
