#Tuareg cross

[sweetdreamsjeff]

Jeff's Tuareg Cross

For sale on Etsy

The Meaning

Any question about their symbolism put to the users generally elicits only vague answers. Some attribute to it a function of "grigri" or “reserve of wealth". The ethnologists Germaine Dieterlen and Ziedonis Ligers spotted a situation where the father gave the jewel to his son in age of virility, marriage and nomadism, saying to him: "My son, I give you the four directions of the world, because we do not know where you will go to die".[6]

According to one Tuareg elder narration, a young nomadic warrior wanted to declare his love to the young girl of his heart, the latter being locked up at home and therefore inaccessible to his messages. The village blacksmith then had a very important place in Tuareg society. As such, the blacksmith had the right to enter the houses of all the families with whom he traded with. The young man then had a jewel forged which combines the two syllables of the Tamashek word " T (a) R (a)" ("tara" meaning " love" and spelled "ⵜⵔ" in the Tifinagh alphabet.) and entrusted the blacksmith with the mission of transmitting the message of love to his beloved in the greatest discretion.[7]

[ciaomilhouse]

Does anyone know what this cross means? Maybe it s just decorative

[panlight]

For those who missed it this morning, we solved the mystery of what was on Benjamin's necklaces. We've long known about the ankh (an ancient Egyptian symbol meaning life or eternal life), but we've discovered the other pendant is an Agadez Cross, a type of Saharan Berber jewelry made especially by the Tuareg people of Niger. They vary in design but the above example is nearly a perfect match for Benjamin's.

[the-nosy-neighbor]

Tic-Tac_Toe (Part 1)

Throughout the website, we have found instances of Tic-Tac-Toe games, so I decided to write about it, to see if I couldn’t find some reasoning for the inclusion of this, beyond Julie’s love of games. 

(I have separated this into 4 posts because I write very long things that are bad for morale.)

Rules of Tic-Tac-Toe

It seems like this is something that everyone knows (though sometimes under a different name, like noughts and crosses or x's and o's).  We will look, though, in case it gives any clues.

Of course there is a wikihow.  Draw the board (9 spaces).  First player goes and can choose to be x’s or o’s (but it do believe there is a rule that x goes first).  The first recommended move is to take the center, as it gives more options in getting three in a row or diagonal (winning).  Second player goes. They go back and forth until someone wins or the board is full, which is a tie. 

Ancient Origins of Tic-Tac-Toe

Huh, the game dates back to Ancient Egypt, called “Three Men’s Morris” and consisting of each player having three pieces and trying to put them all on one line.  The board looks like this:

The Roman version was also played with three pebbles.  (Roman version is called “Three Pebbles at a Time”?).  https://www.coolmathgames.com/blog/tic-tac-toe-history-three-in-a-row-thru-the-ages  It is also found in Middle Eastern and American Indian culture.  From what I can tell, this version in ancient Rome was circular, with an unknown name, but we call it “Rota” the Latin world for “wheel.”  These gameboards can be found in the streets of Roman cities.  https://mythologycrafts.com/rota-a-game-of-roman-tic-tac-toe/

“Rota is a very fast and simple game and you can play it almost anywhere. Each player moved three pieces around on a circular board until they got three in a row. The reason that Rota is called Roman Tic-Tac-Toe is that it is played on a board that has nine spaces and the main objective is to get three pieces in a row. However,  these two games are different because Rota takes longer,  you can move the pieces from their original positions, and unlike Tic-Tac-Toe it cannot end in a tie."

According to the coolmathgames.com website, the most comparable thing about these games is a 3 x 3 board.

The American Indian version (Zuni or Pueblo) looks like this:

Other versions:

Tant Fant:  India

Nine holes:  England

Achi:  Ghana

Shisima:  Kenya

Dara/dili/doki/derrah:  West Africa

Wali:  Africa

Dama Tuareg:  North Africa

Tria/Tris/Grisia:  Italy

Each version in the top half is pretty recognizable as tic tac toe, but the second half are further away.

Just a note to include that humans attach a lot of importance to the numbers 3 and 9, but especially 3.  Humans can process around three things in our short term, it has become a waypoint in writing or speaking (example:  x, 1,2,3 essays), and in symbols.  Symbols relying on the rule of three:  heaven, earth, hell; the father, the son, the holy spirit; birth, life, death; youth, middle age, old age; mind, body, soul.  Because of this human tendency, lots of things have been categorized by threes, but importantly, it has achieve a mystical significance in magic and luck.  In the European tradition, three is used in casting spells (bubble, bubble, toil, and trouble).  Also, how many times have we seen three witches as a storytelling device or focus?  In numerology, 3 has an association with Jupiter.

The History of Tic-Tac-Toe after 1884

The first instance of the name “noughts and crosses” is from 1858, “tic tac toe” is seen in 1884.  Tic Tac Toe is a game used to test artificial intelligence.  From Wikipedia “Arcade games with tic-tac-toe playing chickens were popular in the mid-1970’s. Apparently this comes from an appeal for a mentally ill murderer in which they introduced chickens playing tic-tac-toe as evidence that it doesn’t prove someone is mentally sound." From r/todayilearned, “TIL that in the 1960s there were coin operated machines with live chickens that would play piano, ring a bell or play you in tic tac toe when you dropped in a dime.“

This would have been during the time of the show, but what it could mean is curious (I wonder if Mama Beagle plays tic-tac-toe.)  I thought they meant a graphic of a chicken playing this game, but they really mean live chicken:

There were several game shows that used the game as their format, notably “Hollywood Squares,” “Tic-Tac-Dough,” Secret X from “The Price is Right,” and “Minute to Win It.”

There is a connection between Muppets and Hollywood Squares.  It seems that Kermit, Big Bird, Elmo, Piggy, and Zoe have all been on Hollywood Squares.  Also, Bear from Bear in the Big Blue House.  I love Bear. 

There is a cipher related to Tic-Tac-Toe.  There is a letter associated with the placement of the symbols.  They use the grid to denote the position of the letter. 

[victoryriders969789blog]

Urgent help is needed for my family🚨

✅ Verified campaign – please check the end of the story 🔍📌

Hello dears! I am Alaa and thank you for looking at us with compassion and I ask you to support my campaign to help me achieve my goal. I am in a dire need of your support now to help my family survive and be safe. Gaza is a very dangerous place to live in. I need your financial support to enable me to get the basic needs for my family until the Rafah crossing is reopened to transport my family to safety and peace. Please help my family survive through your small donations and sharing with others. Thank you so much for standing by those who in need😭🇵🇸

https://gofund.me/12523597

Vetted by @Gaza-evacuation-funds, my number verified on the list ( #4 ) and posted on my profile.

What about the people of Syria, Yemen, Lebannon OR WHAT ABOUT THE WOMANS BEING PERSECUTED IN IRAN?? WHAT ABOUT UKRAINE?? WHAT ABOUT TAIWAN THAT IS BEING PERSECUTED BY XI JINPING AND THE CHINESE COMMUNIST PARTY??!! WHAT ABOUT HAITI AND THE CANNIBAL BARBEQUE???!! WHAT ABOUT VENEZUELA AND THE DICTATOR MADURO??!! WHAT ABOUT THE CUBAN PEOPLE BEING SLAUGHTERED BY DIAZ CANEL AND THE COMMUNISM??!! WHAT ABOUT THE BELARRUSIANS BEING VICTIMIZED BY LUKASHENKO??!! WHAT ABOUT THE PEOPLE OF LYBIA?? WHAT ABOUT THE TUAREG IN MALI?!! WHAT ABOUT THE CHRISTIANS BEING SLAUGHTERED AND PERSECUTED IN ALL AFRICA??!! WHAT ABOUT THE PEOPLE OF SUDAN?? WHAT ABOUT ROJAVA AND THE KURDS IN SYRIA?!! WHAT ABOUT NORTH KOREA THREATING JAPAN, SOUTH KOREA AND NOW INVADING UKRAINE ALONG WITH RUSSIA??!!

WHEN WOULD YOU TALK ABOUT ALL THAT STUFF??! OR MAYBE JUST YOUR COUNTRY HAS WAR, FAMINE, A DICTATORSHIP OR AN INVATION TO DEAL WITH?? JUST THE PEOPLE AND SOULS OF GAZA NEEDS ATTENTION?? SYRIA HAS BEEN IN A CIVIL WAR, BEEN THROUGH A DICTATORSHIP OF THE TYRANT BASHAR AL ASSAD AND EVEN THE SYRIAN PEOPLE HAS TO DEAL AGAINST THE ISLAMIC STATE!!! WHEN YOU WILL HELP THEM?! AND I ONLY HAVE TO LISTEN TO YOUR ONLY SUFFERING!!?? YOU ARE JUST LIKE ISRAEL!!! BOTH ISRAEL AND PALESTINE LOSTED THE GRACE OF GOD CAUSE YOU BOTH FORGET ABOUT JESUS!! JESUS SACRIFICE HERSELF!!! WOULD THE JEWS OR THE PALESTINIANS SACRIFICE THEMSELVES TO SAVE SYRIA OR THE WOMANS OF IRAN JUST LIKE JESUS CHRIST SACRIFICE HIMSELF ON THE CROSS???!!

ANSWER ME THAT!!

😡😠

[stormxpadme]

Whumptober 2024 Alternative prompt - Secrets Revealed

06/2017

Of all the shitholes on this planet, why Egypt?

Pyro pulled the dark, camouflaging cloth of his turban down his face just long enough to spit a combination of dry saliva and sand onto the scorching ground; his very personal declaration of love for this pile of dirt and slums. Three hours of dully standing around in the godforsaken middle of nowhere, and he was already desperate to get back home.

Mystique's ideas were becoming more and more absurd. While her timeless blue and red skin didn't look her impressive retirement age, all the more senility seemed to have taken hold of her mind in the last few months. Not that Pyro had ever suspected the bitch to have lots of sanity in the first place, especially not since she had been forced to take over the Brotherhood. But this ... was perverse.

“Fucking finally.” He made no effort to hide his bad mood when his leader finally approached this ruin of a camp again on her stolen horse, several miles from at least the saving grace of a glass of gin in some dump in Alexandria, where he'd been forced to sit out Mystique's latest madness. Hopefully, she had at least found whatever it was she was looking for, while Pyro had been guarding a piece of parched land without even the slightest clue as to what they were actually doing here. “You done?”

Mystique didn't even dignify him with an answer. The two of them had rarely ever engaged in extensive communication. She nimbly jumped from her mount and carelessly released the reins, sending the horse out into the open desert with a sharp slap on its white rear, where it probably wouldn't survive for more than half a day. A much slower, more torturous death than its owner had suffered this morning. The shape of a hooded junk dealer dissolved before Pyro's eyes, revealing Mystique's slender, bare silhouette as she leaned over a rotten wooden table, one of three pieces of furniture in this barely ten-square-meter shelter with only a very holey roof left. With two aggressive thick lines, she crossed out the picture of a house on the map she'd brought with her. “Destroyed,” she finally deigned to explain after all. “She's probably already back out on the streets alone.”

“Who?” Even though he should be used to not always being immediately informed of all the details after all these years, Pyro was slowly reaching his limit.

Mystique had been neglecting her duties in the White House for months. Pyro had had to put out fires for her more than once already to keep her cover from being blown.

And now this fruitless treasure hunt in this shitty environment, from which Pyro would take home nothing but severe sunburn and sand in all possible or impossible orifices ... He'd fucking had it. “Can you maybe finally be so kind ...”

“I don't know the name she went under with after her father's death, but I have photos,” Mystique spoke up unexpectedly, absent-mindedly, monotonously, while she drew abstract patterns on the map with her marker. ”I'll recognize her as soon as I see her. Without her, all this is pointless. I've already positioned scouts in all major cities. Until they are successful, we have to guard this site. Any incidents? Horsemen in the area? Tuareg? Military?”

“Not even scorpions.” Pyro rolled his eyes impatiently. First, they didn't tell him anything, and now he was supposed to be content with cryptic statements again. This day just got better and better.

“Good.” Mystique watched with an amused little twitch around her eye as Pyro repeatedly wrung out his soaked shirt. Thanks to her powers, she didn't mind the unpleasant ambiance half as much, a fact that only made Pyro more irritated. ”Apparently, we are indeed the only ones who know about this place so far. Install a camera on that beam over there. 24/7 surveillance, weekly report. If there's trouble here someday, after all, we'll have to station people at the dig until we find this girl. For now, we'll fly back and keep an eye on New York. The girl has been in the local media a few times too many because of her powers and her knowledge of historical facts that she actually can't even have. We need to make sure we don't lose her to Westchester."

“Why? What do you need her for? What the hell are we even looking for?” Pyro grabbed Mystique's arm before she could impatiently trigger the signal on her watch that would start the autopilot of the helicopter in the distance. At that moment, he didn't even care about sand, crawling nuisances, or sunstrokes. He finally wanted to know what was going on here. “Raven!”

There were certain surefire ways to throw the Brotherhood leader off course. Calling her by her slave name was one of them. Sometimes she was ridiculously predictable.

Pyro had anticipated the brutal attack maneuver and reacted instantly, spinning around Mystique and bringing her down with a strong kick to the back of the knee, holding her arms together behind her back at the elbows. Her rude curse had him grin broadly. She shouldn't have trained him so extensively if she hadn't wanted him to become just as good as she was. “Cut the crap. I'm one of your most important warlords. You can't treat me like a primitive henchman all my life. What are you looking for?” It happened faster than he realized that she had already freed herself, her limbs thinning out under his grasp, her powers melting her cells into a flexible mass slipping out from under him. One moment he was kneeling over her naked form in the sand, burning hot even in the shadow – a quite suggestive situation if it hadn't been so damn warm and Mystique hadn't always awoken about as much horniness as a freezer could in Pyro ever since he'd left puberty behind. The next, his eyes were staring up at the bright blue, cloudless sky, and a painful burning sensation spread through his stomach. “Okay, okay!” he managed to get out, panting for air, struggling in vain against the pressure of a muscular leg resting heavily on his solar plexus. ‘I'm just kidding, okay?”

“Finally grow up, Pyro, if you ever want me to take you seriously as a partner." Mystique was surprisingly generous today; she released him without another painful kick. “I didn't talk about it yet because I never knew for sure. But this ...” She gestured vaguely at the remains of the camp. ”This is exactly how it was described in the book that Erik left me. I've been searching for this place for years. It marks the entrance to an underground temple from the time of the Old Egyptian Middle Kingdom, protected by several deadly traps. We need someone who can make contact with those who have been there before, when it was still in use, before we can dig. Someone who knows their way around down there.”

Pyro spat out sand again, laughing and coughing at the same time. His leader was really losing it. “Where's the problem? Then all we have to do is find someone who can talk to the dead. Are you fucking with me?”

“This is exactly why I only need you for backup, not for strategy,” Mystique replied harshly. The faint sound of rotor blades in the distance revealed that she had already summoned her preferred mode of transport during their little scuffle. Time to go home. ”You never had any respect for things much bigger than yourself. Cameras. Now. I have a few phone calls to make.” With that, she took a few steps aside and dug out the cell phone from her belt pouch that was reserved for White House matters. The argument seemed already to be settled for her.

Pyro gritted his teeth and leaned over the bag of equipment that Toad had prepared for him yesterday, so foolproof that hopefully, he would be able to handle all this complicated technical stuff that had never really interested him much. He obviously wouldn't learn much more today, and Mystique had once again made it very clear to him how she viewed his role at her side. No matter how hard he tried, he would never be enough for her. It wasn't the first time he wondered why he put up with all this crap in the first place. Unfortunately, there were no other options. “Fine, you need a tour guide, gotcha. At least tell me what we're looking for down there. Do you want to fill our treasure troves with rusted gold and clay bowls?”

“That, my dear St. John ...” Mystique looked back over her shoulder at him with a pitiful smile, “… you won't believe anyway until you see it with your own eyes, thanks to your pitifully limited horizon. Now get to work. We have other things to do.”

*******************************************************************************

@whumptober | @whumptober-archive

[fatehbaz]

Occupying an interstitial position between different continents [...], [t]his position as a space-between-spaces makes the Maghrib a hub [...]. [I]nvestigate the location of the Maghrib beyond the dominant binary of Arab vs. Francophone, the much-critiqued idea of the Sahara as a barrier, or the assumption of the Maghrib as an insular space. [...] [T]he Maghrib was a revolutionary concept [...]. [T]he idea of the Maghrib was rooted in anticolonial thought, one which the machinations of colonial power and exigencies of postcolonial state building and border disagreements have stalled ever since. [...]

Tamazgha -- as indigenous Amazigh activists have chosen to call North Africa since the 1990s -- was populated by Amazigh populations of Christian and Jewish faiths. [...] These dynamics, however, neither eliminated Amazigh language and culture nor drove out the sizable Jewish populations that shared this Judeo-Islamic space. Rather, it was nineteenth- and twentieth-century European colonialism [...]. Governments have either entirely silenced Amazigh language and culture, as was the case in Libya and Tunisia, or actively repressed them, as was the case in Algeria and Morocco.

Nevertheless, a vibrant Amazigh Cultural Movement (ACM) has struggled to re-Amazighize the Maghrib by inventing traditions and refiguring toponymies.

---

Tamazgha, which this ACM defines as extending from the Siwa Oasis in Egypt to the Canary Islands in the Atlantic Ocean, has replaced both “North Africa” and “the Maghrib” in activist nomenclature.

Activists have thus reinscribed this consciousness of “al-dath al-amazighiyya” (the Amazigh self/subjectivity) in public spaces as well as in the markers of Maghribi geographies.

Gone are the days when Amazigh people could be simply erased from the cartography of their native lands. Tamazight has acquired a constitutional status in Morocco and an official one in Algeria. Its speakers are working to have it recognized in Libya and Tunisia. [...]

The ubiquity of the Tifinagh alphabet (the Tamazight script) and the proliferation of Tamazight literary and audiovisual production has created a new cultural reality. Across short stories, novels, film, and music, Amazigh creators are reinventing the Maghrib and reconciling it with its indigenous past. [...]

---

The rise of taskla Tamazight (Amazigh literature) and cultural production is the single most transformative literary development in the last thirty years of the Tamazghan intellectual movement. [...] Amazigh cultural producers are not just rehabilitating their mother tongue. They also rehabilitate an erased geography, a sense of indigeneity, and the relation-ship between space and people.

Shamal Iiriqiyya (North Africa in Arabic), Afrique du Nord (North Africa in French), or the Maghrib, are geographical and political appellations superimposed on the region [...]. Alternatively, Tamazgha is a politically conscious name that is from the same root as Tamazight.

Tamazgha means the land of the indigenous Imazighen, which reconfigures space, revisits history, and questions accepted toponymies. [...]

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The plurality of the Maghrib and its multilingualism will undoubtably acquire a different meaning when we read them from the perspective of indigenous authors in Amazigh languages. Immersion in the discourses of the ACM reveals [...] foundational ideas like le Maghrib pluriel (the plural Maghrib) [...]. These organizations seeded and then advocated the idea of “al-wahda fi al-tannawwu‘” (unity in diversity). [...]

Whether it is Algerian Kabyle musician Idir, the Moroccan band Izenzaren (Sun Rays), or Malian Tuareg band Tinariwin (Deserts), Amazigh melodies and poetry travel, cross boundaries, and reconnect Imazighen across the globe.

This “traveling Tamazgha” complicates the Maghrib’s location and invites a constant mapping and remapping of the space and its aesthetics.

---

Text by: Brahim El Guabli. ”Where is the Maghreb? Theorizing a Liminal Space.” Arab Studies Journal Vol. XXIX, No. 2. Fall 2021. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]

[scotianostra]

The explorer Alexander Gordon Laing was murdered on September 26th 1826 in Edinburgh.

While some Scottish explorers' exploits are engraved on the national psyche, such as David Livingstone and Mungo Park, others like Alexander Gordon Laing have long since slipped into near obscurity. Yet he achieved that most coveted of prizes, Laing managed from here to Timbuktu located in the West African nation of Mali on the southern edge of Sahara Desert.

Gordon Laing, as he became known,was the son of school professor William Laing who initially educated his son personally. Alexander joined the military and rose through ranks, being part of York Light Infantry Volunteers since 1811, 2nd West India Regiment since 1815 and Royal African Colonial Corps since 1822 seeing much of Africa while in the army.

As well as the military campaigns Laing had an interest in geography, managing to find and map the source of river Rokel and relatively precisely ascertain the source of river Niger. In 1825 he managed to secure the permission for finding the source of river Niger and finding the route to the city of Timbuktu. His journey came with the blessing of the Famous explorers Joseph Banks, and Henry, 3rd Earl Bathurst who then commanded colonies in Africa.

Laing was instructed to explore the hydrography of the Niger basin. His journey began on 16 July 1825, two days after he married Emma Warrington, daughter of the British consul in Tripoli. He travelled across the Sahara, reached the settlements of Ghadames and In Salah. During the last leg of the journey across desert of Tanezrouft his party became attacked by the group of Tuareg raiders, during which he wrote that he received over 20 wounds. In the end, he managed to reach city of Timbuktu on August 18 1826, barely alive and with only one hand. He thus became the first European to cross the Sahara from north to south. Laing wrote another letter on 21st September, which eventually reached Tripoli. This reported his position in the city as being very difficult, and noted his intention to leave three days later. It was later established that he had done so, and that he was murdered in the desert on the night of 26th September 1826.

The pics are of Laing, and the house he stayed at in Timbuktu, now a tourist spot.

[panafrocore]

Telek Dagger of the Tuareg Nomads of the Sahel Desert

The Telek dagger holds a significant place in the rich and intricate cultural tapestry of the Tuareg nomads of the Sahel desert. With a straight, long blade and a solid copper pommel in the shape of a cross, this traditional weapon embodies both practical functionality and profound symbolism. Despite the predominantly Muslim faith of the Tuareg people, the retention of the cross-shaped grip on…

[reckonslepoisson]

Afelan (2013), Sousoume Tamachek (2017), Ilana (The Creator) (2019), Afrique Victime (2021), Funeral For Justice (2024), Mdou Moctar

The legend goes that word of Mdou Moctar spread across the Sahara phone-to-phone, battered old mobiles transmitting via Bluetooth (or otherwise) the Tuareg guitarist charms in a sort of digital cross-continental wind. And on early records it is understandable how Moctar’s talent would shine through even the brickiest Nokia or Sony Ericsson. His guitar skills, even with a stripped back, folkier sound, are audible and undeniable.

These days (since Ilana, really) Mdou Moctar is a psych outfit, a desert-borne, Mad Max-style machine beaming out spangly, entrancing, mesmerising, pointedly political rock music off into the horizon. The guitarist’s music winds and overlaps and, more than anything, crunches – all while never losing its uproarious elements. There has arguably been no better psych record this decade than this year’s Funeral For Justice; until, that is, the next Mdou Moctar record.

Pick(s): ‘Chet Boghassa’, ‘Tanzaka’, ‘Tarhatazed’, ‘Afrique Victime’, ‘Oh France’

[womenandherstory]

THE QUEEN TIN HINAN!

(Painting of The Queen Tin Hinan by Hocine Ziani)

The Queen Tin Hinan, also known as Queen of the Hoggar, is a legendary woman that lived in the 4th Century whose skeleton was found in a pre-Islamic tomb in the Ahaggar Mountains. The literal meaning of Tin Hinan is “she of the tents.” She is believed to be the ancestress of the Tuareg ethnicity of northern Africa; they call her “The mother of us all.”

As centuries went by, her character gradually faded into myth and folklore until the discovery and opening of her tomb in 1925. the discovery reaffirmed her existence. Like many centuries old legendary characters, her true origin has become shrouded in mystery. Sadly without any real documented evidence because the Tuaregs of that time did not keep written records, oral narratives by the locals is a key option in retracing her history.

There are sources that say Tin Hanin was a princess driven from the Northern Sahara, and after a near-death journey through the Sahara Desert with her entourage, they reached the desert anthill where luckily they found grain.

Some say she was a Berber moslem who came from the Tafilalt oasis. with her maidservant Takamat. that she might have had a daughter called Kella. they settled in the mountainous region of Algeria. There is no record anywhere of her tribe, whom her husband or lover was, why she migrated to Hoggar, whom her parents were or the cause of her death.

Takamat had two daughters. Historians believe Tin Hinan gave the Oasis of Silet and Ennided to the two daughters of Takamat which til present day belongs to the descendants of the two women.

LEGEND

Tin Hinan accomplishments were no mean feat. As a woman coming from a foreign land she had to establish herself in the new territory and judging from history’s treatment of women during those times one can only imagine her level of wisdom, Intelligence, courage and endurance as she overcame opposition, won the hearts of the people, united them and rose to become their queen.

She was regarded as a fearless warrior; many Tuaregs today refer to her as the African Amazon Queen. She possessed a knowledge of herbs for healing and medicinal practices, taught her people poetry and the Tifinagh alphabet. Her greatest achievement was founding, uniting the Tuaregs and establishing a kingdom in the Hoggar. Her daughter Kella is widely judged to be the founder of the Kel Rela Tribe.

Under the leadership of Queen Tin Hinan, the Tuaregs established essential caravan trading routes through which they built great wealth and economic prosperity throughout the 4th and 5th century.

TIN HINAN TOMB

It was not until 1925 that Tin Hanin resurfaced again. A Polish American archaeologist Byron Khun De Porok unpopular within the science community at the time and dubbed “The Tomb Raider” discovered her tomb at the Hoggar regions of Abalessa in Southern Algeria.

 It was a Circular stone structure on a hill with a height of about 4 meters and a diameter of about 23 meters overlooking a dried river bed. It contained a number of rooms but only had one entrance.

Upon opening her tomb, Byron found the remains of the queen lying on her back legs crossed and covered with a red cloak of leather that had since turned to dust; she lay on a wooden litter her head facing east and was heavily adorned with gold and jewels. She wore seven silver and seven gold bracelets on her left and right arms respectively and a necklace of gold and pearls. A separate silver bracelet and a Gold ring were placed beside the body. Other funerary items and many pieces of jewelry like beads of turquoise, garnet, amazonite, and cornelian were also discovered in the tomb.

In the 1960s, the anthropologist E. Leblanc examined the skeleton within the Tin Hinan tomb. He observed that the remains were tall (1.72 to 1.76 meters tall) and lithe, with a narrow pelvis, broad shoulders and slender legs.

Today her remains can be found in the Bardo Museum of Algiers.

[julierysava]

Sci Fi Saga 2

In the distant future, where technology and mystery intertwined seamlessly, a lone agent named Tuaren found himself on the brink of a mission which would challenge both his skills and his beliefs. In a world where new dimensions and alternate realities were not just the stuff of science fiction, but a reality, he was tasked with a mission holding the promise of unparalleled riches and wealth rise, but also carried the weight of uncertainty.

The mission dossier lay on the table, illuminated by the soft hum of holographic lights. Tuaren's gaze was unwavering as he studied the contents of the file. He was to identify a heavily guarded door, a portal of sorts leading to another realm, an enigmatic place which had been sealed shut for years. Due luck of the choosens, hardly ever anyone accomplished all the tasks needed for such door to be open.

The door was unlike anything he had encountered before, adorned with complex patterns seemed to shift and dance as if alive. It was protected by an intricate alarm system, even the most skilled doers had failed to breach. But Tuareg was no ordinary agent – he was chosen for his exceptional abilities and sharp intellect, to identify the door, and to report to authorities if it still guarded.

As he stood before the door, his heart racing with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation, he spotted her. She was standing there, right in front of the door, her presence almost ethereal. A robot awaiting for next chosen to be taken through.

Without a word, she motioned for him to approach. The alarm system, though still active, seemed to falter in her presence, as if recognizing her authority. Tuaren cautiously stepped forward, his senses on high alert. As he reached the door, he felt a strange energy emanating from it, like a current of possibilities tingling at his fingertips.

"The door to the realm," she began, her voice carrying a mixture of caution and longing. "It opens only for those who are chosen. Those who pass through it are rewarded beyond measure – wealth, knowledge, and a place of honor beyond imagination. But once you enter, there is no returning to your old life. The path ahead is unknown, and the journey irreversible."

Tuaren looked at her, his mind swirling with questions. Why was he chosen for this mission? What lay beyond the door? Was the promise of riches worth the uncertainty of the unknown? As he pondered these thoughts, he felt a resonance within himself, a curiosity burned brighter than his apprehension.

With a determined nod, he turned back to the door. It responded to his proximity, its patterns rearranging themselves as if in acknowledgment. He took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest, and reached out to the door's surface.

The door opened, its motion accompanied by a soft, melodious hum which seemed to echo through time and space. As Tuaren stepped through, the world around him transformed. Colors shifted, shapes morphed, and he found himself in a realm unlike any he had ever imagined. The air was charged with an energy pulsing through his veins, and he realized he had embarked on a journey which would forever alter the course of his destiny.

In the distance, he saw figures who had left his old path, their faces illuminated by a radiant glow were vanishing, evaporating into the mist. They welcomed him with smiles to hold the wisdom of those who had embraced the unknown and reaped its rewards. As the door closed behind him, Tuaren felt a mix of exhilaration and apprehension, for he had crossed a threshold into a future to be held both challenges and wonders beyond imagination.

And so, in a sci-fi future where realms awaited to be explored, and the choices made could reshape lives, Tuaren embarked on a journey of discovery, his heart filled with the promise of a destiny was uniquely his own.

[mineofophir]

Traditional Jewelry

Buy traditional jewelry and traditional jewelry sets in different designs at Mount Meru Holistic. We provide latest trending designs jewelry at unbelievable prices. Tuareg Agadez cross, charm necklace, hand-made necklace, silver/nickel mix with black onyx beads. For more details email: mountmeruholistic@gmail.com

[arrhakis]

The Last Desert Gate - The Lost Djinn Kingdom by Daniel Arrhakis (2023)

With the music : Bivouac · ARIDEL

youtu.be/RKpDU90p9QU?list=OLAK5uy_l1sFAE2QPdJFpoiRhqxYlh_...

The Last Desert Gate - The Lost Djinn Kingdom

In South-western Libya (Fezzan) there is a holy mountain for the Berber Tuareg people, "Djebel Idinen" or the "Mountain of Ghosts".

The haunted natural rock fortress of Idinen, also known as the legendary Fortress of Ghosts, or the Cave of the Jinn, is located in the southern region of Libya, about 25 km north of Ghat.

It is bordered by Wadi Tanezuft along the east and the Algerian border from the west. The Idinen summit is about 1280 metres high, and is an offshoot of the mountain nearby. The trail from the Algerian border-side, from Meggedet to Ghat, allows an excellent view of this strange mountain.

In fact Meggedet itself is also the home of some bizarre rock formations, of massive sculptures of "devilish" figures that can be easily associated with this mountain.

But this story that I am going to tell you is much more than a legend, it is an extraordinary adventure lived by an explorer Hugh Clapperton, who crossed the haunted mountain in Libya and whose writings and drawings were later found in his leather bag when he died and kept secret to this day...

Story and image by Daniel Arrhakis

__________________________________________________

"The Lost Djinn Kingdom" Is a creative fantasy alien desert mystery series based in the Berber Tuareg mythology and Moorish Stories.

Images created by Daniel Arrhakis

(via The Last Desert Gate - The Lost Djinn Kingdom | The Last Des… | Flickr)

[satashiiwrites]

Morning writing

Getting a few words down before work.  Chapter isn’t done but it’s getting there finally….

From: Death, Rebirth and the Jackal, Chapter VII: Reyes POV, tentatively titled At Odds

Fandom: Mass Effect Andromeda, The Mummy 1999

Pairing: Eventual MReyder

Tags/warnings: first draft, flashback, Zia should be a warning right??

A few years ago… in Hamunaptra

Reyes ordered his soldiers to hold steady, and miraculously they did. His men hadn't slept in days because of whatever malicious and hungry spirit slept beneath their feet, and they'd run out of water hours ago. So parched and on edge, they now faced a Tuareg army that had them hemmed in on all sides and pinned them with the cursed city at their backs. If they stayed—they died of dehydration. If they fought… well, a few of them might get through. 

He had no delusions about the odds of survival, but he had to try. They were his men, his legionnaires. 

Zia, one of the few female soldiers in the legion, crouched next to him. When she'd joined his unit, he'd pegged her immediately as a woman hiding as a man and confronted her privately. She had told him to go fuck himself, she was a soldier of fortune, and he'd respected that which had surprised her. He'd later found out that she'd been robbing churches and synagogues, and the authorities had sentenced her to join the legion, which she'd then enjoyed enough to stay as long as the pickings were rich enough. His learning of her secrets had led to an odd sort of trust, and they'd even had a relationship of sorts up to the point when the map had been found that led them across these cursed sands to the fabled City of Treasure. 

His men—and especially Zia with her sticky fingers—had not listened to his cautions and insisted upon following the map. Reyes had known with each step that there was something in this city that made the pull within him worse. Hamunaptra called him like a siren luring the sailors to their deaths upon the rocks. It sang a sweet, taunting melody in his sleep, telling him he belonged here. It was his home, and the man of his dreams visited him every night, even when he lay with Zia, telling him to come home until he could not stand her touch.  

Home. Ha.  

Hamunaptra was a death trap for his men. 

They'd lost two men the first night—one to a drunken fall off a cliff, but the other had disappeared into the half-covered buildings and was never found again, but the howls of the jackals said something had died that night. 

Oh, and the jackals. The jackals watched him from the shadows, their tongues lolling out of their mouths, occasionally letting out an excited howl or yip and eyes bright with intelligence that he'd never seen in another canine and tails wagging. They never approached if he was with Zia or anyone else, but he'd dared walk alone two nights ago, and an entire pack had come out to meet him like a pack of hounds to their master. Eager noses pushing forward for a stroke or pet, nipping at each other to make room to get closer to him. Their fur had been soft under his hands, and if he had not returned to camp, he knew they would have curled around him protectively while he slept and kept guard. They were wild wolves but as tame as a pampered lapdog in his hands.

  Reyes shook his head to clear it. His thirst was beginning to make him hallucinate in the punishing heat. He was still sweating, but it wouldn't be long before he'd have none to give, and heatstroke took over.  

The Tuaregs were mounted in a line and advancing. Their horses spurred into a gallop as they charged. "Steady!" He yelled. They had the advantage of modern weapons, but if they shot too soon….

Zia, sighting down her rifle, muttered to him, "Why can't we just surrender again?" But he ignores her grumbling. Surrendering would mean all of them would be slaughtered. They'd violated Tuareg territory and been followed east as they crossed the desert. It had been foolish to think that the city would protect them. The city that whispered and claimed him was no place for his men or the living.  

"Wait for it!" He ordered, waiting until they were only a hundred paces out when the ground rose slightly. If the horses stumbled and the front fell, those behind would be upon them and unable to avoid the mess, allowing for a second volley. 

The charge was within his targeted range. "Now!" Reyes commanded and shot his rifle, taking out a robed man directly in front of him before the recoil of his rifle had finished. He cleared the cartridge with a quick, practiced snap and reloaded as his men did the same. The Tuareg front line had thinned, and there had been some secondary stumbling, but they were still thundering down upon them with shrill screams of ooo-ooh-Ohloong that were terrifying in the deafening noise, the sun glinting off scimitars raised to strike like steel bolts of lightning.

They manage to get off a second volley, but then the charge is upon them, like a tsunami with sharp edges crashing into them. The noise is terrible, guns going off, screams of horses and men dying, war cries, and underneath it, the sound of dead bodies hitting the sand with soft whumps and the dying gasp for air as hooves trample those caught beneath. Reyes is in the middle of the fray, shooting until he is out of ammunition, and then he uses his rifle as a club until it is cut to pieces by the slash of a sword.  

The strategic line they'd been holding is gone. Around him is chaos, and his men are being cut to pieces by the enraged Tuaregs. Cries of 'die trespasser' echo with other epithets and stranger curses. Zia is gone. She ran after the first volley, her first instinct always to protect herself and others be damned.  

Drawing his pistol, he shoots and runs for higher ground. There's no one to save now, and his men that are not running are either dying or dead. The sands are slick with blood and other body fluids, making him slip as he fights his way free. He takes a shot to the right shoulder but keeps going.  

He does an inelegant dance with a Tuareg that ends with a sword through his abdomen, but he knows from experience that it won't stop him, so he grips the blade's hilt so it can't be pulled out. The Tuareg man doesn't know what to do and yanks ineffectually to free his sword, while Reyes takes the knife from his boot and stabs him in the eye, killing the Tuareg instantly.  

As the dead man sags to the ground, Reyes yanks the sword free and screams at the pain. Holding one hand over the gushing wound, he stumbles to the closest sand-buried building and hides in the shadows, sword clutched in his other fist. He can feel his flesh knitting back together, his cursed gift working faster here than anywhere else. 

The battle is over quickly. The carnage spread out in front of the city like an offering. The Tuaregs are efficient, swords slashing down to make sure each legionnaire is dead methodically before mounting their horses and withdrawing. They have no interest in entering the city, which verifies Reyes' suspicion that they are wary of whatever stirs beneath his feet. He can feel its hunger and knows it is waiting for the sunset to claim the bodies left to it. 

By tomorrow, there will be few traces of the battle remaining. The sacrifice consumed. 

He sees his chance just as the sun begins to set, and he stumbles out of his hiding place. Reyes cannot stay here, the rumbling excitement beneath his feet itches at his brain like a conversation heard at a distance in a language he doesn't quite remember, and it scares him that he will lose his sanity if he remains. 

One stumbling step becomes two and then three, his legs firming up as he gains strength. The first wind of the night hits his nostrils, and there's a cleanness to it that belies the carnage around him. The howl of a jackal announces that they are beginning their hunt, and he gains speed, running. Above him on the ridge, he notices a pair of Tuaregs on horseback. They are watching him but make no attempt to stop him, so he keeps going into the safety of the desert with a pack of jackals on his heels, their calls asking for him to join them in their hunt.

[panlight]

Wait, guys, no, I think I found it! I was close. Saw this pop up IN AN AD after my googling of the Coptic crosses. So, uh, thanks creepy targeted ads?

The Agadez Cross (also Agadès Cross, Cross of Niger, French: Croix d’Agadez) is the most popular category of Saharan Berber jewelry made especially by the Tuareg people of Niger. Only a few of these pieces of jewelry exactly resemble a cross. For most of them, it is a pendant with a varied silhouette, related either to a cross (tanaghilt), or to a form of plate or shield (talhakim). 

After all these years I still wanna know what Benjamin's necklace was, like one of them is the ankh symbol but can find the other so random ik

Yeah I wish we could get a clear look at it, but the ankh tends to obscure the top part of the pendant:

Ancient Egypt is one of my life-long fascinations (in fact I wear an ankh necklace almost exactly like this and have done for years and years) and I can't figure out what that other symbol is. I don't think it's ancient Egyptian, and of course it doesn't have to be because Benjamin himself is not from ancient times. He's from the 1800s.

My best guess is that it's a stylized Coptic cross but that's still not a very good fit. Here are some examples of Ethiopian Coptic cross pendants which are the closest things I've found so far:

But as you can see, it's still not really the right shape.

It could be literally some random thing.