Fountains in the Sand | Page 6

is
amusing to watch them at their laundry-work. Unless a man stand still
and upright, the end of this garment is continually slipping down from
his shoulders; one of the washerman's hands, therefore, is employed in
holding it in its place; the other grasps a stick upon which he leans
while stamping a war-dance with his feet upon the linen. This is only
half the performance, for a friend, holding up his cloak with one hand,
must bend over and ladle the necessary water upon the linen with the
other. Thus two men are requisitioned to wash a shirt--a hand of one,
two feet of the other. No wonder they do not wash them often; the
undertaking, thanks to the burnous, is too complicated.
Yet there is no denying that it adds charm to the landscape; it is highly
decorative; its colour and shape and peculiar texture are as pleasing to
the beholder as must have been the toga of the old Romans (which, by
the way, was a purely ceremonial covering, to be doffed during work:
so Cincinnatus, when the senators found him at the plough, went in to
dress in his toga ere receiving them).
Stalking along on their thin bare shanks, their glittering eyes and

hooked noses shaded within its hood, many adult Arabs assume a
strangely bird-like appearance; while the smooth-faced youths, peering
from under its coquettish folds, remind one of third-rate actresses out
for a spree. In motion, when some half-naked boy sits merrily upon a
galloping stallion, his bare limbs and flying burnous take on the
passionate grace of a panathenaic frieze; it befits equally well the
repose of old age, crouching at some street-corner in hieratic
immobility.
Yes, there is no denying that it looks artistic; the burnous is picturesque,
like many antediluvian things. And of course, where nothing better can
be procured, it will protect you from the cold and the stinging rays of
the sun. But if a European wants a chill in the liver or any other portion
of the culinary or postprandial department, he need only wear one for a
few days on end; raise the hood, and you will have a headache in ten
minutes.
Nevertheless I have bought one, and am wearing it at this very moment.
But not as the poorer Arabs do. Beneath it there is a suit of ordinary
winter clothing, as well as two English ulsters--and this indoors.
Perhaps this will give some idea of the cold of Gafsa. There is no
heating these bare rooms with their icy walls and floorings: out of
doors a blizzard is raging that would flay a rhinoceros. And the wind of
Gafsa has this peculiarity, that it is equally bitter from whichever point
of the compass it blows. Let those who contemplate the supreme
madness of coming to the sunny oasis at the present season of the year
(January) bring not only Arctic vestment, eiderdowns, fur cloaks,
carpets and foot-warmers, but also, and chiefly, efficient furnaces and
fuel for them.
For such things seem to be unknown hereabouts.

Chapter III
THE TERMID
The chief attractions of Gafsa, beside the oasis, are the tall minaret with
its prospect over the town and plantations, and the Kasbah or fortress, a
Byzantine construction covering a large expanse of ground and rebuilt
by the French on theatrical lines, with bastions and crenellations and
other warlike pomp; thousands of blocks of Roman masonry have been

wrought into its old walls, which are now smothered under a modern
layer of plaster divided into square fields, to imitate solid stonework. It
looks best in the moonlight, when this childish cardboard effect is
toned down.
One of the two hot springs of Gafsa is enclosed within this Kasbah,
while the other rises near at hand and flows into the celebrated
baths--the termid, as the natives, using the old Greek word, still call it.
It is a large and deep stone basin, half full of warm water, in which
small fishes, snakes and tortoises disport themselves; the massive
engirdling walls demonstrate its Roman origin. Thick mists hang over
the termid in the early mornings, when the air is chilly, but later on it
becomes a lively place, full of laughter and splashings. Here, for a sou,
you may get the boys to jump down from the parapet and wallow
among the muddy ooze at the bottom; the liquid, though transparent, is
not colourless, but rather of the blue-green tint of the aquamarine
crystal; it flows rapidly, and all impurities are carried away.
There are always elderly folk idling about these premises, and
youngsters with rods tempting the fish out of the water; day after day
the game goes on, the foolish creatures nibble at the bait and are drawn
up on high; their fellows see the