Brothers of the Desert

BLACK TENTS OF ARABIA--Carl R. Raswan--Little, Brown ($4).

In 1912 Carl Raswan, a German horse-breeder who spent much of his life in the East, visited the Ruala Bedouins, who were then camped near the edge of the great Nufud desert, some 120 miles east of Damascus. Raswan had been drawn there by his admiration for magnificent Arabian horses, wanted to learn their history and the secrets of their breeding, found his task greatly simplified when the 8-year-old son of his host accidentally hit him between the eyes with a stone from his slingshot. Worried because he had drawn the blood of his father's guest, little Amir Fuaz childishly made Carl Raswan his blood-brother in a desert ceremony which pledged man and boy to a life-long tie. Amir Fuaz grew up, became leader of the Ruala, respected his pledge even when, years later, he discovered his European blood-brother in the ranks of enemy raiders and thieves.

His relationship with the prince enabled Carl Raswan to observe and participate in aspects of Bedouin life closed to most foreigners. He lived with the Ruala as one of them, visited them eleven times in the next 22 years, hunted and raided with them, was eventually adopted into the tribe as a chieftain. Black Tents of Arabia consists of 28 lean chapters of reminiscences that give the impression of having been carefully selected from a great storehouse of similar memories. Essentially the work of a man of action--the author dismisses in two paragraphs his experiences in the Turkish Army, an attack of typhus, work in Russian prison camps, revolution in Poland, destitution in California--it is a romantic, uncritical, admiring book.

When Carl Raswan returned to Arabia after the War he was given as guide and traveling companion Faris ibn Naif es-Sa'bi, gentle-eyed, black-bearded Bedouin nobleman, "the truest friend I have ever known.'' With Faris he drove from Damascus over the hard, dry, gravel uplands in search of Amir Fuaz, witnessed the unfolding of Faris' romance with a young shepherdess, Tuema, encountered on the way. When the two travelers pledged Tuema their protection, she let them sleep in her tent without fear, knowing that they would not break their word. Later Carl Raswan learned to understand why Bedouins' promises and the unwritten laws of their social code were so rigidly upheld: "Without these rules of the game, indeed, all human life in nomad Arabia would have become extinct." The love of Faris and Tuema was gay, poetic, eloquent and chaste. To Faris the girl was "as shy as a gazelle fawn." He cried out: "I shall never be at peace until the slender blossom bends before the storm of my love." Awed and impressed by such tempestuous passion, Carl Raswan received the confidences of the lovers, was present at their meetings. Faris would put his hand over Tuema's heart, saying thoughtfully: "It jumps like a wild rabbit." And Tuema would murmur in reply: "It will become quite tame."

With Faris, Carl Raswan rode over the billowing dunes of the Nufud, whose red sands, "saturated with sunshine," looked as if they had been covered with crimson silk. They hunted panther and ostrich, saw gazelles, outrode a prolonged sandstorm that nearly killed them all. Carl Raswan studied desert customs, developed an affection for the noble, helpless, panicky, good-natured camel, learned to eat locust, which he liked roasted but not boiled.

Famine suddenly threatened the Ruala, forcing a great migration into enemy grazing grounds. The entire tribe of 35,000 with 350,000 camels, moved north into Syria. A movement so vast had international complications. French scouting planes flew overhead; raiding automobiles harried the tribe on the march. In a desperate move, Faris and Carl Raswan, representing Amir Fuaz, drove into the enemy grounds of the Fid'an to ask permission for the Ruala to graze there. Received suspiciously, threatened with death, they threw themselves on the hospitality of the Fid'an, who were thus compelled to let them go uninjured. To their astonishment, the Fid'an suddenly capitulated, moved their enormous tribe to make room for the Ruala, inviting Carl Raswan to visit them.

Returning with this good news to the famished Ruala, the party was attacked by raiders in three automobiles from yet another hostile tribe. Modern Arabian raiders travel in big cars, shoot high-powered rifles and race off like satanic hit-&-run drivers in a motorist's nightmare. Although the Ruala ambassadors killed the crews of the raiding automobiles, Faris was terribly wounded with two bullets in his breast. Carl Raswan wanted to take him to Damascus to a French surgeon, but the dying man demanded to be taken directly to Tuema. They were married the next night. In the morning relatives found the bridegroom dead, the bride unconscious.

Carl Raswan rode on to other parts of Arabia, was captured by raiding enemies of Amir Fuaz and rescued by Amir himself, went on a great falcon hunt with the prince. Two years later he saw Tuema again, learned that Faris' brief marriage had ended happily by the standards of Bedouin romance, since Tuema had borne his son.

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