Lowdermilk’s niece’s diary entry: The Slow Train to Souk Ahras

January 27, [1939] Friday—Wrote in the morning and then after lunch Miss Nora Beth from the mission station in the native quarter to go shopping. I got another ring to replace the one I lost at Bou Saada, a really old ring too. Everything they had was being sent to the New York Exposition.

Visited the mission building but no classes were in session. It was Arabic style and quite attractive.

Constantine is a very beautiful city and interesting. It was built on either side of a rocky gorge by the Phoenicians. Part is very old and part is modern. Throughout North Africa we have noticed that the natives are very friendly and love to shake hands with you. They do it at the least opportunity.

We took the bus out to the orphanage run by Miss Loveless, (old maid-ish, I like her the least.) It was a fine building, modern with lots of equipment and plenty of room. After tea the children came in and sang several songs, and introduced themselves. Soon after we made our adieus and went to the Douglass’ to say goodbye and then to the hotel for dinner with Miss Austin and Miss Ostrom as guests. Packed then and went to bed.

January 28, Saturday—the hotel called us at 5:30 a.m. and we were up, dressed, and breakfast eaten and at the station at 6:15. It was rather filled with white robed natives and it fell to me to get the tickets.

I managed to jam as much as the natives and soon we found ourselves packed in the train with one half hour to wait.

Off at last following a riverbed with rocky mountains on either side. The hotel gave us a picnic lunch and we amused ourselves with the dog, writing and reading. Into a green fertile plain, which was lovely. Probably owned by French colonists.

Our train was so slow. I swear it stopped at every cow pen along the way.

About 12, we came into a large city (we were expecting to get off at 12:30) and out of idle curiosity we glanced out to see what place it was. Much to our surprise and confusion it was Souk Ahras, our destination.

It was a mad scramble of closing zipper bags, putting typewriter away and grabbing coats and the dog. We expected walk into Uncle Walter’s waiting arms but he was not there. A lot of Arab boys rushed forward for our bags.

We were all so loaded down we were glad to surrender our burdens until a fight among eight or ten boys as to which was to carry a zipper bag started. That was a mad scramble to get our bags back and have the errand boys grabbed them from us, and we all shouted “no, no, no.”

Then we couldn’t find the waiting room. Finally, there was so much confusion a station official came to see what the trouble was. I explained in French (what a task) that Uncle Walter was coming for us to 12:30 and that we wanted a place to wait in. He shooed the pesky Arabs away and took us inside the station where we waited.

Finally Auntie couldn’t stand it any longer, and had me ask if this was the only station in Souk Aras.

It was.

Then she wanted me to tell the man that monsieur. was coming for us at 12:30 and we went back and continue to wait until Uncle Walter and Mac finally arrived at 1 p.m. Were we glad to see them! They had been taking pictures along the way.

Well we were off for Tunis at last through pine forests in desert like country.

At Le Kef, we were stopped by an officer who tried his hardest to find something the matter with us. He must’ve been looking for someone for he was sure we had a radio and then he wanted to see Uncle Walter’s movie camera and see what was going on inside of it.

Uncle’s special passport didn’t seem to make much difference.

He even showed his letters from Sec. Wallace with the United States seal on them. He finally couldn’t find anything wrong with us and had to let us go on, thank goodness. Glorious sunset of brilliant reds. I slept for an hour and soon we were in Tunis. Rooms in the Majestic Hotel, delicious dinner, and bed.