True hockey being out of the question on account of the deep sand, they
have invented a variant, a simple affair: they arrange themselves roughly
into two parties, and the ball is struck into the air with a palm branch
from the one to the other; there, where it alights, a general rush ensues
to get hold of it, clouds of sand arising out of a maze of intertwining
arms and legs. The lucky possessor is entitled to have the next stroke,
and the precision and force of their hitting is remarkable; they evidently
do little else all day long.
I noticed an element of good humour and fair play not prevalent among the
Gafsa boys; there was no peevish squabbling, and I only saw one fight
which was a perfectly correct transaction--nobody interfering with the two
combatants who hammered lustily at each other's faces, and at last
separated, satisfied and streaming with blood.
For some days past they had seen my interest in the game, and yesterday I
observed that it was suddenly suspended; a consultation was taking place,
and presently one of the boys approached me and politely asked whether I
would not care to join; if so, I might have his club; and he placed the
weapon and ball in my hand.
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