Secrets of the Tuareg cross

The Tuareg cross is one of the most recognizable Berber symbols. Today, the marketplaces of North Africa bow under the onslaught of these ethnic ornaments. Be that as it may, next to the Khamsa - the hand of Fatima, it is the Tuareg crosses that most often leave this African patch of land and, thanks to the tourists enchanted by them, roam freely around the world. And while it's not at all surprising that these intricately crafted ornaments are ideally suited to the tastes of visitors, it's worth remembering that behind their recognizable face they also hide a pinch of local legends and history.

The Tuareg cross, contrary to all appearances, has little in common with its Christian counterpart. It is not a historical affinity, but rather a simple association, used by the first Europeans who appeared here, that coined the name, which came into common use. The Tuaregs do not have a word like cross in their language at all. They refer to these silver ornaments as Teneghelt, which refers directly to the way they are made. The verb enghel contained in the word Teneghelt means as much as to pour. At the production stage, each of the resulting crosses uncompromisingly requires its wax prototype to be brought to life. He it tightly wrapped in clay wanders directly into the depths of the heated furnace. There, the outer shell hardens, while the wax interior melts enough to be easily replaced by liquid silver poured in its place. Then it is enough to wait for it to cool down, break the clay shell and it is ready - the skeleton of the future work of art can now wait for jewelry processing.

As is usually the case with traditional products, it is not the case that the craftsman's workshop could leave the cross in any shape or form. Tuareg masters in this matter had to strictly adhere to the twenty-one canonical patterns, and there simply could not be any deviation here. Hardly surprising, anyway, since the Teneghelt, the one in the possession of a Berber man, is almost an identity card or birth certificate. After all, each of the strictly observed templates was linked to a particular oasis, town or region, and thus to a particular Tuareg group. Thus, the father passed this clan mark into the hands of his son, when the latter, standing on the threshold of maturity, transformed from a boy into a man. "My son," he said, "I give you the four directions of the world, for I do not know where you will be at the end of your life." Once upon a time, when adherence to customary laws was the indispensable norm, Teneghelt among nomadic desert peoples proved a highly effective means of intra-ethnic identification. Today Tuareg crosses in the role of pedigrees are increasingly rare, it is rather the decorative function that indivisibly holds the first fiddle here.

On the African mainland, distant history often fades into a swarm of myths, tales and legends. Reaching deep into history, including that of the Tuareg cross, is an almost impossible task to accomplish. There are documented 13th- and 14th-century accounts of Europeans who were already in awe of this small silver work of art centuries ago. There are also local legends that can only be taken at their word.

According to some stories, this Tuareg ornament was created in order to imprint on its surface a map of the sky leading across the boundless sands of the Sahara. The patterns engraved on the cross are star constellations for wandering nomads capable of pointing the right way. The central circle motif here is a life-giving well, without which functioning in this terrain cannot do without. The smaller circles around it, on the other hand, are herds of cattle - the greatest material wealth the herders possess.

Another of the stories says that the first Teneghelt was created as a symbol of love. Ta-rah is the term for love in the Berber Tamashek language, while + and O are a direct transcription of that word in the Tifinagh alphabet. A long time ago, a young man in love with a princess imprisoned in his home went to a blacksmith who had been a friend for years, asking for help. The blacksmith, having heard the story, came up with the idea of constructing a sign that would remind the imprisoned woman of the affection she had for him. So he enchanted the two mentioned letters in a silver pendant - so encrypted, love confession through the hands of a trusted servant reached the separated from the world lady. It was this cross that ensured the happy ending of this uneasy emotional ordeal. In fact, it must have been a success, as young engaged maidens became accustomed to hanging this pendant, shrouded in an aura of magic, around their necks. Are there any powers in this small Tuareg ornament, other than the power of love, of course? To this day, it remains unknown. The Inadane, Tuareg craftsmen, do not deny this rumor with a playful eye.