After long hours of driving through endless bushland, steep mountains, a sandstorm, camels and rusty car wrecks, we finally reached Ghadames.
It is located 600 km southwest of Tripoli, deep in the arid Libyan region of Tripolitania. There, the towering white and ocher walls of this town, lined with palm trees, appear as an incongruous spectacle.
The name of Gadamés has been known for at least 2,000 years, although its current compact structure was developed by Muslim Arabs in the 7th century, after which it expanded over the centuries.
This oasis city, which was perfectly designed to combat the desert winds and the harsh climate of the north of the Sahara, was declared a World Heritage Site by UNESCO and is known as “the pearl of the desert”. It is one of the greatest architectural works in the Sahara and a spectacular example of environmental planning.
With temperatures exceeding 40°C (peaking at 55°C in the summer and dropping below zero in the winter), my guide Manshour and I immediately plunged into the maze of dark and gloomy passageways. As we made our way through the winding zinqas (arched alleys covered with palm wood), the sun’s rays streamed in through occasional skylights, bringing illumination and ventilation.
Gadamés is literally an oasis in the desert.
How is the city?
“The number [de tragaluces] it reflects the importance of the street, helps with orientation and also keeps the temperature around 20°C,” Manshour explained. “The idea behind the curved walkways is to stop the blowing of desert sand.”
The interior walls, gleaming white with a protective layer of lime, were made of sun-dried mud brick. This mixture of clay, sand and straw was placed on stones that isolated them from moisture.. Susannah Hagan, Emeritus Professor of Architecture at the University of Westminster and an expert on green architecture, explained why this building technique is so ingenious:
“The secret is in the walls: thick walls of earth or stone that delay the penetration of the sun’s heat into the interior of a building during the day, and radiate that heat towards the cold sky at night“, said.
“By morning, the walls have cooled down enough to start the protection cycle again.”
The expert adds: “The skilful use of available building materials [logra] maximum comfort with minimum means. In the desert, this means cool without air conditioning and hot without heating.”
mystery and charm
Continuing the tour, we pass doors of simple palm trunks, some pierced with brass, as well as low arches, curved niches and dakkar (built-in benches) which, perfect for resting, usually indicate that there is a nearby mosque (there are 21 of them, although only a few are still in use, and only on Fridays).
There were also arches that were carved, chiseled, or decorated with delicate paintings. (a hand of Fatima, a star, intricate geometries), which added to the mystery and charm.
In the center of the medina we come to two squares surrounded by giant blackberry trees. Here, Manshour explained, was where slave markets once took place.
Indeed, it was this centuries-old trade of sub-Saharan men, women and children that shamefully fueled the city’s economic heyday and ultimately caused its downfall once the practice was abolished in the 19th century.
But long before its demise, this caravan crossroads had flourished spectacularly as a center for traveling merchants who traded exotic goods such as ostrich feathers, gold, ivory, civet, brass, and pewter, as well as weapons and horses.
a meeting point
Gadamés is strategically located where today Tunisia, Algeria and Libya, and from here laden camels would proceed with heavy loads west to Timbuktu, south to Ghat and Bornu, or north to Mediterranean ports. The city became a key meeting point of civilizations.
Thus it flourished until the abolition of slavery, nominally ceding to Ottoman rule and with interludes of Italian and French occupation in the early 20th century. In the 1980s, water shortages and a lack of modern sanitation led Muammar Gaddafi to order a new city built next door.
Today, old Gadamés has no permanent residentsalthough during the hot summer, its environmental superiority compared to the concrete apartment blocks of the new city attracts a steady trickle of ethnic Amazighs and sub-Saharan locals, who return to enter its mosques and tea rooms for enjoy its fresh beauty.
They also come to care for many of the 121 family gardens that are watered by a complex system of canals from artesian wells and the Ain al-Faras underground spring, the legendary origin of the oasis.
In the shade, next to gardens of date palms and fruit trees, I admired the crenellated outer walls of the town. The natural ocher hue of the mud bricks was edged with white, topped by triangular openings and extravagant finials, both typical of Saharan architecture throughout the Maghreb. Manshour told me with a laugh that the spiked finials are to prevent djinn (malicious spirits) from landing on rooftops.
A surprise inside a private house
Back in the cool labyrinth, we enter one of the few private houses open to the public. From the storerooms on the ground floor stairs led up to the tamanhat (living room). It was a revelation.
Compared to the white minimalism of the streets below, here was an explosion of riotous color, texture, and decor: geometric wall paintings in bright scarlet, richly patterned cushions and rugs, cupboards and alcoves containing dusty family memorabilia, and dozens of pots of pottery. copper wall hangings and mirrors, both designed to refract available light.
This was multiplied when Manshour opened a hatch in the ceiling, unleashing an avalanche of sunlight.
At the top of the house, past a rudimentary kitchen and shaded patio, a final flight of steps led to a large roof terrace, where I found another architectural revelation: an amazing puzzle of low parapets, finials, steps and corridors that connect each home, to its neighbor and always onwards through the medina.
This elevated world, Mansour explained, was the domain of women who, limited to using only one main street by local Islamic custom, spent their days cooking, sewing and socializing while acting as lookouts for approaching caravans. Some even slept there on hot summer nights.
As the merciless sun beat down on this luminous white geometry bordered by bushy green palms, it seemed patently clear that the best business was reserved for the men in their cool and bleak underworld.
But what both men and women shared was the beauty, intelligence and complexity of this remarkable abandoned village, lost deep in the Sahara, still enjoyed intermittently today.
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BBC-NEWS-SRC: https://www.bbc.com/mundo/vert-tra-63435208, IMPORTING DATE: 2022-11-05 12:10:05
FIONA DUNLOP
BBC TRAVEL
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