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Excerpt from
DESERT WINDS
by "Hafsa"
Published by
The Century Co., 1927
. . . Our coffee finished,
we continued on our way to the dance of the Walid Nails. No light shone
from the unbroken rows of houses in the narrow, angular streets. But through
the darkness came the stifled barbaric rhythm of drums, now close, now
distant; and, fainter still, the persuasive plaint of flutes: an epic fantasia
of desert life, grown not from one but from many, yet never to grow old,
an echo of these peoples' thought and of the whole complex structure of
desert world. The drums pulsed with live emotion, primal and unconcealed--the
force that must persist as long as life is life itself, the force which
kindles the cruelest schemes and yet the finest arts and aspirations of
mankind.
We came to a massive door set
in a high wall; a guttural voice replied to our knock, and a dim wrinkled
face appeared behind an iron grille level with the eyes. Slowly, with hinges
harshly creaking, the door was opened just wide enough for us to enter,
and we could see by the flickering rays of a pendent lantern, a large open
court paved with cobbles. Around this enclosure were the rooms of the Walid
Nails. Loose curtains hung in the doorways and from some, where light filtered
through, came the tinkly laughter of women and the voices of men. The court
was like a caravansary, but empty of sleeping camels and caravaneers; a
court where men found a strangely different sort of welcome and shelter,
yet in structural essence the same as the solemn, cloistered enclosure
of a mosque or of a Moorish palace bright with flowers and fountains and
verdure. On our right was a door, shut and doubly sealed by darkness, whence
came the seductive music.
Bu Saada, "Place of Happiness"
and "Queen of the South," is in the native territory of the Walid Nails,
a mixed Berber tribe of the Monts des Ouled Nails extending approximately
from Biskra to Jelfa. According to legend, their unusual attitude toward
their women had its origin many years ago, when a chief forgave his young
and beautiful wife her unfaithfulness during his absence in a time of war.
The girls leave their homes when very young to earn their marriage dowries
in dance-halls and by the entertainment of men. They always dress as lavishly
as possible and wear necklaces of gold coins of which they are especially
proud, since the number of coins they accumulate is attestative of their
charm and desirability; many of the Walid Nails are very beautiful . .
.
When a Walid Nail has sufficient
wealth, she may, if she wishes, return to her mountain home, marry, and
settle down to domestic life. However, although the sons of her marriage
then remain at home, the daughters at a youthful age fare forth to some
populous center as did their mother in her youth. From one point of view,
this is a rather clever economic scheme; for the collective feminine pulchritude
of the village is capitalized at town prices and each girl has the opportunity
of "selling" herself not only many times but twice: to the dance-hall and
to the subsequent husband . . .
We had entered a long, crowded
dance-hall; the lights were unshaded, and the air was heavy with tobacco
smoke. Along each side of the poorly ventilated room were tiered benches
crowded with burnused men; a crude bar was on the left, and the remaining
floor space was covered with small tables and chairs. Here and there, conspicuous
among the closely seated white-robed figures, were the vermilion cloaks
of caids and spahis, the blue uniforms and red caps of a few French officers.
Nearly everyone drank coffee, but some were served with liqueurs or a light
beer which seemed a favorite beverage.
At the far end of the room were
Walid Nails in costumes as primly voluminous, despite exotic colors, as
Western fashions of the eighties. In contrast to this quaint attire, they
wore a profusion of bizarre jewelry, and their hair was covered with spangled
veils held in place by gold fillets. On the platform near by, the musicians
were seated cross-legged: one old man among them drummed a deep-toned darabukkeh;
another, pattering bony fingers on a small tambour, peered furtively at
the audience; and three younger men blew upon reed pipes, their heads inclined
to one side, as if they were listening for notes no one lese would hear;
notes muted by the brazen flare of cymbals. And with the trebel rise and
fall of flutes, the hollow throb and pit-a-pat-pat of drums, a dancer,
even more pretentiously appareled than the others, stood swaying and trembling
on the platform--twirling a bright square of silk, the "Bu Saada handkerchief,"
above the head, lowering it, fluttering, just below flirtatious eyes, rippling
and jerking every muscle, dislocating the abdomen with each spasm--and
sang, to the mad swirl of music, a Beduin love-song in falsetto. Yusef
exclaimed, "I last saw him in Biskra; he is a popular mimic of Walid Nails."
Slowly the impersonator sank
back and back, until his head touched the floor, and pivoting in this position,
he made a complete gyration. One of the men sitting close by placed a ten-franc
note between his teeth and leaned over the performer, who, catching a corner
of it in his mouth, quickly arose. Bowing in response to guttural calls
of approval, he left the platform and made his way through the crowd, accepting
gratuities and stopping occasionally to chat and drink with patrons.
* * * * * *
IDD Archives * http://ourworld.compuserve.com/homepages/IDD/
Donna Carlton, Editor
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