LIBYA: Back to the Desert

For 20 years His Eminence, the Grand Senussi, Seyyid Mohamed Idris, had eaten the bitter bread of exile in a cozy villa on the Nile. But never did the spiritual and temporal leader of three million warlike, puritanical Senussi tribesmen give up hope of returning to his native desert. Never did he falter in hatred of the Italians who had cruelly dispersed his people and turned their holy city of Girabub into a fort. Over cups of China tea flavored with mint (Senussi Moslems may not touch alcohol or coffee), His Eminence entertained intriguing envoys from remote Saharan oases, helped recruit Senussi scouts and guerrillas for World War II’s Battles of Libya, talked over with his British backers prospects of his return to Girabub.

Last week the cautious British judged that war-scarred Cyrenaica had sufficiently settled down for His Eminence’s return. For the British it would be only a slightly nerve-wearing three-week junket, during which El Senussi would inspect British reconstruction in his former homeland. But for the eminent exile it was a triumph, or a preview of triumph, done in a style almost worth “waiting 20 years for.

In snowy robes and tasseled headdress, His Eminence posed for Cairo cameramen. Then he climbed aboard a Western Desert train pranked out with plush chairs and fragrant with Nile roses. At battle-battered Tobruk, first stop, the British-trained Cyrenaican Guard of Honor smartly presented arms. Excited Senussi tribesmen bowed, kissed their leader’s hand or the top of his sacred head. Down a strip of red carpet His Eminence swished majestically to a waiting British staff car.

From Tobruk the cavalcade rolled on to the mud huts of El Mrassas. All across the desert burnoused villagers on camelback peered eagerly from sand ridges, hailed their long-absent leader with rifle volleys fired into the air. At the village gates there were more gunfire greetings. Local sheiks genuflected. Desert drums throbbed. Horsemen staged a riotous rodeo. His Eminence, calming the hubbub with a gesture, told his followers they must thank the British for driving out the Italians. Some day, he added, he hoped to go back to Girabub to live. While the tribesmen cheered, El Senussi retired for the night; next day his British guides shepherded him onward across the desert wastes.