Egon Erwin Kisch, the Raging Reporter: A Bio-Anthology

Vatican in the Sahara

Vatican in the ~ahara The most venerable and holy sharif and sheik Sidi EI Hadji.Ali ben Sidi EI Hadji Aissa, caliph of the monastic order ofTidjania, founded the monastery of Tamelaat more than a hundred years ago, and his· name and title can be read on his tomb. This is a mausoleum the size of a cathedral. The stone vault soars at least twenty meters above the coffin; sculptured ornaments of stone and authentic Arabian arabesques decorate the inner walls, a crystal chandelier descends over the deceased, another one over those praying; the wroughtiron barred windows bulge outward ina wide curve; the sarcophagus is, as usual, draped with the offerings of pilgrims, with silk,. gold, carpets, and rosewood; the wall is ornamented by colorful frescoes and a family tree of the great marabout, which is important to the present monastery dwellers; since they are almost all his descendants. The monumental tomb is enclosed by the mosque, in which old men and children sit with legs crossed, text tablets in hand, and in unchanging melody continuously wail out suras of the Koran. While this is going on, people wander about the monastery, which is a vast city, a remarkable city with ruins offortifications at its corners and with two gates: one for the pilgrims who come from Tern Assin, the nearest community, and the other for those on their wayto Blidet Amar, the last oasis of the Ued Rirh. Most of the ground-level houses have decayed; the "brickwork"cracked lumps ofday stuck together with camel dung-remained. Grass grows Egon Erwin KiHh, the Raging Reporter. rampant in open courtyards, where goats and cattle pasture. Even palaces, one-storied houses, have collapsed, and from the street you can catch sight of brightly painted apartments with stalactite vaults. In days past, when no Gallic cock gave ahoot about the desert and only .the crescent reigned, the Za-uja Tamelaat must have been more inhabited. Nonetheless, grandchildren and great-grandchildren ofthe founder multiplied abundantly and it is still the most important Mohammedan base in Algeria, the most influential monastery of the Sahara, and still wealthy. The worldly power ofIslam has been broken, the Rumi [foreigner] holds power in his hands: his are the regiments of the Spahis, the battalions of Senegalese, the Tirailleure [riflemen], Zouaves, and Foreign Legionnaires. It is he who purchases palm gardens and drives out, shoots, imprisons, or deports the hereditary owners; it is he who imposes taxes and drafts soldiers For four years Mohammedan Africa had to fight for the Entente, despite the fact that the standard of the Prophet was unfurled against it in a Holy War. The Rumi has power over life and death. But he does not have power over love and hate! He knows that, hence the foreign occupation of the Territoire Militaire, the garrisons all over consisting of colonies of people of different races and languages, the many minarets that have been turned into observation posts so that binoculars and floodlights can comb the sandy plains for Djihs (armed native troops), and the ban on carrying weapons, buying ordinance, conducting telephone conversations or sending telegrams in theArabic language. All these measures weren't entirely successful; there were uprisings during World War I that flared upsimultaneously in many places and which might have been dangerous, as the Rifkabyles in Morocco demonstrated emphatically. Who organizes this resistance? There's no need to look farther than the holy monasteries, since they represent the sole independent authority, one not subject to supervision. There is no Muslim who will admit this; only in matters offaith, he maintains, doesthe influence ofthe Za-ujas make itselffelt, and they are nothing more than places of devout meditation and theological instruction. Before sunset the foreigner can view the Za-uja in peace; however, according to Islamic religious precepts Jews daring to enter the mosque or the Za-uja must be killed. In small monasteries, in Tolga or Rab-Abbar, for example, I saw a labyrinth of courtyards, people singing psalms, children, Vatican in the~ahara pale youths, men with white ~eards, all with their legs qossed, holding ancient editions or magnificent manuscripts of the Koran, committing the words of the law to memory loudly and rhythmically; they seemed to scrutinize the intruder with burning eyes. They sit the same way here, in the mosque of Za-uja Tamelaat. But in the narrow, often arched alleyways, I run across men who...