Travels through Central Africa to Timbuctoo; and across the Great Desert, to Morocco, performed in the years 1824-1828, Vol. 2 (of 2)Caillié, René
History
Travels through Central Africa to Timbuctoo; and across the Great Desert, to Morocco, performed in the years 1824-1828, Vol. 2 (of 2)
Caillié, René
Sahara -- Description and travel; Sudan (Region) -- Description and travel
On the 21st, at ten o’clock in the morning, we halted. The burning
east wind which was beginning to blow rendered the heat insufferable,
and the scorching sand found its way into our eyes, in spite of the
precautions which we took to exclude it. We pitched our tents, and
tepid water was distributed, which we thought delicious though it
had little effect in quenching our thirst; after we had drunk it,
we stretched ourselves on the sand to repose. Notwithstanding all
the precautions I had taken, the heat was so intense and my thirst
so tormenting, that I found if impossible to get any sleep; my throat
was on fire and my tongue clave to the roof of my mouth. I lay as if
expiring on the sand, waiting with the greatest impatience for the
moment when we were to have our next supply of water; I thought of
nothing but water—rivers, streams, rivulets, were the only ideas
that presented themselves to my mind during this burning fever;
in my impatience I cursed my companions, the country, the camels,
and for anything I know the sun himself, who did not make sufficient
speed to reach the horizon.
The spot where we were encamped was frightfully arid, there was
not a single leaf to refresh the eye, and nature presented her most
terrific aspect.
The camels scattered over the plain, the profound solitude, the
silence of the desert, produced painful impressions, which it is
difficult to describe; the poor animals, exhausted with fatigue,
were lying near the tents, with their heads between their legs,
quietly waiting for the signal of departure; it was given at last.
At half past four Sidi-Aly who had undertaken to provide our rations,
threw a few handfuls of dokhnou into a large calabash, and poured
water upon it; he then mixed the whole with his hands, thrusting
his arms in up to the elbows—a sight which would have disgusted
any one less hungry than ourselves, for water was so precious that
old Aly’s hands had not been washed for many days. Though the
beverage was luke-warm, and very dirty, we drank heartily of it,
and with the greatest delight.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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