# The Fire of Desert Folk/Chapter 16

A SULTAN'S PALACE O'ER A PIRATES' NEST
ONCE on our westward way, this time between Meknes and Rabat, we again ran through a well-cultivated region where colonists supplemented the natives in the agricultural development.
In the valley of the Fra, one of the affluents of the Sbu, I noticed many small tortoises, Emys Leprosa, crawling along the bank near the water. On the grass-covered hills we frightened hares of a type that are common here, Lepus mediterraneus and rabbits, Cuniculus alginus, larger than the European ones and having short ears and dark-brown marking on their backs. Then not far from the military post of Bel Amri, which lies behind the half- European, half-Arab village in the southeastern part of the fertile plain of Beni Ahsen, I noticed a flock of bustard of the variety that is known from Senegal to the Mediterranean and is distinguished by their diminutive size—Otis Arabs.
From Knitra the character of the country changed, showing a sandy region interspersed with marshes and surrounded by shrubs, in which wild boars were known to be numerous. South of this the great Mamora forest of cork-oaks stretches away over some five hundred odd ​square miles between the rivers Sbu and Regreg. Not far from Knitra the largest river of Morocco, the Sbu, or the Subur Ammis magnificus et navigabilis described by Pliny, empties into the sea. It was at the mouth of this river in the fifth century b.c. that the Carthaginian commercial colony of Thymiatherion was founded and that the Berber tribe of Beni Ifrem later established their little town of Mehediya, which became a nest of daring and relentless pirates. Portuguese came and settled here for a time, followed by Spaniards and Dutch; but they were all forced to leave the shores of the Sbu in 1681 by the warlike Ismail In the earlier centuries of the Christian era the Romans had maintained an outpost near Knitra, attracted there, as was true of all the subsequent foreigners, by the opportunity the river afforded to reach into the heart of the country.
The Carthaginians, who always extracted the various forms of wealth from the country where they had their colonies or trading posts, took slaves from this region and left behind them ethnic traces and some visible influence of their occupation, if only in the form of the stigmas that are to this very day tattooed on the faces of the women from the Gharb and Beni Hassen tribes. Distinct traces were also left by the Romans, who readily married native women here, just as in all the other parts of North Africa, and infused much of their blood into the Berbers, who thus became in part the descendants of the citizens and warriors of the magnificent Caesars.
Turning south along the shore of the Atlantic, we passed through Sali just as the shining, white town and its guardian minarets were being shrouded in the soft ​veil of twilight, crossed the marshy delta of the river Regreg and entered an ancient gate of the city of Rabat, the principal seat of the reigning Sultan and of the French protectorate.
The following morning I paid a visit to the minister. Monsieur Urbain Blanc, who was acting as the temporary representative of Marshal Lyautey during the chief's absence in France. Monsieur Blanc received me very courteously and accorded me the privilege of a long and interesting talk, in which he explained the program and the policy of France in Morocco with the same sincerity and frankness that had appealed so strongly to me and had come somewhat as a surprise from General de Chambrun in Fez. The minister loved this country and was enthusiastic over the recent organization of its powers and opportunities by Marshal Lyautey, who has faith in Moroccans and in the final success of the action of France, who regards herself as the heir of Rome in Africa.
Through the kindly suggestion of the minister to the chief of the bureau of civil administration, Monsieur Leroy, that he should show us the interesting features of the place, we were able to visit the city and the surrounding country under most delightful auspices. While running through the rich and closely settled locality east of the town, I realized why the Sultan should have wished to transfer his capital from Fez to this Atlantic port. From here it were easier to send out armies to conquer or calm independent or revolting tribes, just as from here he could reach out more quickly and with more security for the tribute from the High Atlas, since the road ​leading along the seashore affords a short and direct route on which his emissaries would not be threatened by the warlike mountaineer tribes. This ocean road is well guarded and defended not only from Rabat to the Atlas country but northward to the frontiers of the Rif.
For a long time the masters of Fez and Meknes had turned their eyes toward the mouth of the Bu Regreg, but it was only after a long period and with great difficulty that they finally succeeded in gaining this important post with its dominated land route along the shore and its point of embarkation for war or commerce with Spain, as the mood of the moment dictated. The independent tribe of Beni Ifrem had been in control here, and before them the powerful "sea panthers" of pirates ruled the two towns of Rabat and Sali, from where they set out on daring expeditions and beat off all attacks until the seventeenth century, having formed the "Republic of the Two Shores" and combined in a general federation with the pirates of Algeria. But this is a story of rather modern times, and before the pirates, before the Beni Ifrem, this strategic point was in the hands of the Berghwata tribe, who were pagans and who, as I was informed by some learned Berbers and Arabs in Marrakesh and Sail, preserved for a long time the tenets of the cult of the Phoenician goddess, Astarte. The emblem of this goddess, a moon between the horns of a bull, is even now tattooed on the faces of some of the Berber women. These same Berghwata later accepted Islam but soon fell away into heresies and during nearly two centuries fought with the orthodox Moslems of the country.
Going back into earliest times, we find that the region ​around the mouth of the river was peopled over two thousand years ago by the Phoenicians, then later by the Romans, who established their post of Salacolonia here. It is evidently a very old abode of man. Pliny writes that in his time elephants still lived to the south of the Regreg and that the villagers in the valley trafficked not only in agricultural products but also in ivory, wild animals, fruit and rare qualities of wood.
In later centuries the Andalusian Moors and the Jews that were banished from Spain began arriving here, and in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries art and industry began to develop among the mixed population of the two towns. Synchronously Spanish, Portuguese, Dutch and English ships, returning from India, had to pass near the Moroccan shores, from where the pirates put out to attack the brigantines and frigates in this trade, pillaged the cargo and captured both men and women. In this period new streams of Anglo-Saxon, Indian and Malay blood thus found their way into the veins of the Berber pirate colonies. It was only at the beginning of the nineteenth century that the Morocco sultans destroyed this nest of freebooters and made a death penalty for any of their subjects to capture Christians. Later, as order under the sultans grew, the population of these towns separated into two distinct bodies, Sali remaining the seat of the former piratical families and of Berbers from everywhere, while Rabat became exclusively the home of Arabs and Andalusian Moors. Some of these Andalusian families, it is said, keep until now the keys of their old houses in Cordova and Granada, from which they were expelled and banished by the Spaniards. I heard ​that in one Andalusian family an old sword is preserved, on which is engraved a Latin inscription:
Unsheathe me not without cause; Replace me not without honor.
Rabat and Sali, these two towns which are always competing for honors and gain, made a strong impression on me. The inhabitants of Sali look with disdain upon the people from the opposite bank and have a common saying that runs:
"If you want a liar, look for him in Rabat."
Sali is a concentrated, mysterious town of narrow streets, lined with the vaults and stores of the ancient pirates, who are succeeded today by bold and energetic merchants. We took tea with one of the inhabitants of the town, Si Jafar Naciri, living in the Maanna Street in a house built after the old model with much storage room for goods and able to withstand a long siege. Today it is renovated and, in place of chained slaves, chests of loot and firearms, it contains the beautiful library of the hospitable Monsieur Naciri and the other appointments of a modern house of culture.
On the other bank of the river Rabat is more and more losing the appearance of a Moroccan town with the new European buildings already elbowing their way among the old structures of the Medina and the Mellah and with the palace of the Resident General and the buildings of the military and civilian offices dominating the European quarter, that presses itself right up to the lines of the Medina. When one visits this beautiful modern city with its unusual architecture, the crenelated walls of the old ​town and their monumental gates of Bab el-Alu, er-Ruah and Zaïr make a strange impression, seeming almost to be artificial decorations on the strange background of the ocean.
One Friday Monsieur Leroy proposed that we go with him to see the sultan leaving for the mosque. The palace, Dar el-Makhzen, is outside the Zaïr gate at the end of a large place used for military parades. The white walls and minaret of the mosque, El-Sunna, rise at the opposite end of the place.
As we arrived, we were thrilled by the sight of a splendid body of horsemen, in white bournouses and turbans with their rifles resting on their hips, drawn up around the whole square and keeping back the crowd. Before the open gate of the palace a company of the Black Guard stood rigidly at attention—strong men in white trousers and short, white jackets with red fezes to add the note of color, while behind them the military band was assembled.
We stopped near the door, where Monsieur Leroy spoke with a group of palace dignitaries that were gathered there to await the signal for the beginning of the ceremony. After a moment we were directed to the interior of the palace, where we were given a place in the gallery that surrounded the whole of the entrance court, in which were waiting a large group of palace officials, high mullahs, servants and the personal orchestra of the sultan. This musical element in the sultan's entourage was made up of over fifty musicians, for the most part youths of from only twelve to fifteen years in gaudy uniforms heavy with gold and silver lace, and equipped ​with brass wind-instruments of all sizes, clarionets and flutes. Soon the doors giving on the inner court were flung back and opened to us a view of a corner of the lovely park and of a shining, white palace with two coalblack eunuchs at either side of the entrance steps. From somewhere a trumpet sounded, and then a small green carriage, ornamented with red and gilt arabesques and drawn by an excessively fat little white horse with a plume of feathers on the top of its head, drew up at the stairs. The sultan appeared from the palace and took his place in the carriage. As he entered the court where we were waiting, the gathering of courtiers, stretched in two lines between the outer and inner gates, bowed low in salute, while the orchestra let out a most unexpected, piercing shout of welcome and began playing a lively air with many of the performers well off the key.
With the advance toward the outer gate we had time to observe the other elements of the procession. First came the vizier on a white horse caparisoned with a red saddle and cloth, followed by other dignitaries advancing slowly on foot with a measured, solemn tread. Behind these came another of the courtiers, a tall, stout, quite black old man with a sparse gray beard, walking in a strange manner—backwards, with his face ever turned toward the sultan and moving with such an air of ease and certainty that one felt sure he must have had long practice in his part. I took him to be the chief of the eunuchs. Immediately behind the slaves who were leading the pony by the bridle two courtiers walked close to the wheels of the carriage and continually waved long silken streamers to keep the flies away from the face of ​their master. Behind the carriages well-dressed slaves and stable servants led seven saddled horses of different colors, one for each day of the week.
We had a close and leisurely view of this sultan of Morocco, Mulay Yusuf of the Alawite dynasty, who reigns under the protection of France and has made great progress in the direction of uniting his country with the general current of modern civilization. However, the anarchistic tendencies of the Berbers, occasional dynastic troubles, propaganda put out by some of the religious organizations under the direction and guidance of the Marabouts and, recently, the secret, destructive work of Soviet agents have often floated dark clouds up over the horizon of the sultan's life, clouds that have left their shadows upon the pale, full, rather wise-looking face of Mulay Yusuf with its many wrinkles and its eyes that tell of anxiety and longing.
Outside the gate the band struck up a loud march, the soldiers presented arms and then swung into line to conduct the sultan to the mosque of El-Sunna, that the master might take counsel of Allah and pray for the country, for happiness and for the glory of his reign.
On our way back to the hotel we drove through theFrench quarter, passing the picturesque palace of the Resident General, the administrative buildings and the lovely villas, whose gardens reached down to play with the sea, and feeling before all these a strange contrast of impressions as they mingled with the pink walls and old gates with their ancient inscriptions, the mysterious Hassan tower and the powerful square mass of the Udaya kasba, more especially as we still had before us the vivid ​picture of the sultan's cortege with its black guard, its ancient etiquette and the attendants fanning away the flies.
Even though the feeling of strange contrasts and astonishment may be the first, superficial emotion, after a time that of pride gradually asserts itself, mingled with a real satisfaction that the civilization of the white race can respect and guard not only those relics of the past that are cut in stone or molded in bronze, but also those that are preserved in the customs and cults of the living, that it can calmly continue its work and its life alongside the quite different currents of thought and life of other peoples whose spirit is foreign to its own. As I have had occasion to observe great masses of colored men during my wanderings and travels, I have always felt the dangers that seemed to be menacing them from every side, their helplessness and their terror before the unknown of the future. Here in Morocco I had an impression such as one feels when a doctor arrives at the side of a sick man who is threatened with death unless scientific medical aid be tendered, or when the firemen arrive at a building that has just burst into flames. Involuntarily one's eyes turn to the Shellah minaret, to the Hassan tower and to the walls of the Udaya—to all these which speak so eloquently of the dire illnesses which once tormented this land and of the fires which gutted it.