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Title: Travels and discoveries in North and Central Africa : Including accounts of Tripoli, the Sahara, the remarkable kingdom of Bornu, and the countries around Lake Chad
Author: Barth, Heinrich
Language: English
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BARTH’S TRAVELS IN NORTH AND CENTRAL AFRICA
The Minerva Library
_OF FAMOUS BOOKS_.
Edited by G. T. BETTANY, M.A.
_1. CHARLES DARWIN’S JOURNAL during a Voyage in the ‘Beagle.’_
_2. THE INGOLDSBY LEGENDS._
_3. BORROW’S BIBLE IN SPAIN._
_4. EMERSON’S PROSE WORKS._
_5. GALTON’S TROPICAL SOUTH AFRICA._
_6. MANZONI’S THE BETROTHED LOVERS._
_7. GOETHE’S FAUST (Complete). Bayard Taylor._
_8. WALLACE’S TRAVELS ON THE AMAZON._
_9. DEAN STANLEY’S LIFE OF DR. ARNOLD._
_10. POE’S TALES OF ADVENTURE, MYSTERY, AND IMAGINATION._
_11. COMEDIES BY MOLIÈRE._
_12. FORSTER’S LIFE OF GOLDSMITH._
_13. LANE’S MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE MODERN EGYPTIANS._
_14. TORRENS’ LIFE OF MELBOURNE._
_15. THACKERAY’S VANITY FAIR._
_16. BARTH’S TRAVELS IN NORTH AND CENTRAL AFRICA._
London: WARD, LOCK & CO.
[Illustration: KANEMBU CHIEF.]
THE MINERVA LIBRARY OF FAMOUS BOOKS.
_Edited by G. T. BETTANY, M.A., B.Sc._
TRAVELS AND DISCOVERIES
IN
NORTH AND CENTRAL AFRICA.
INCLUDING ACCOUNTS OF
_TRIPOLI, THE SAHARA, THE REMARKABLE KINGDOM OF
BORNU, AND THE COUNTRIES AROUND LAKE CHAD_.
BY
HENRY BARTH, PH.D., D.C.L.
_With Full-page Illustrations and the Original Woodcut
Illustrations, and a Memoir of the Author._
WARD, LOCK, AND CO.,
LONDON, NEW YORK, AND MELBOURNE.
1890.
[_All rights reserved._]
INTRODUCTION.
The travels of Dr. Barth in Northern and Central Africa rank among the
foremost of the enterprises which have illuminated our ignorance about
Central Africa. They have an especial value, too, as being almost the
sole record of a state of things which has considerably changed since his
time, and will no doubt rapidly change still further.
Henry Barth was born in Hamburg on February 16th, 1821. During his
education at the Johanneum he showed a special taste for languages
and history. In the autumn of 1839 he entered at the University of
Berlin, studying philology under Böckh. While attending Carl Ritter’s
geographical lectures, he displayed a predilection for the countries
surrounding the Mediterranean, which he continued to manifest throughout
his whole life. In August 1840 he went to Italy, travelling from Venice
as far as Sicily. In 1841, after many fluctuations of mind, he fixed
his attention definitely on the classical Mediterranean basin, and
especially the history and influence of the Greek colonies. He took his
degree in the summer of 1844 with an essay on the commercial history of
the Corinthians, and in January 1845 started for three years’ travels in
the Mediterranean. He traversed France, Spain, the northern coast of
Africa, the peninsula of Sinai, Palestine, Syria, Cyprus, Asia Minor,
and thence returned through Greece to Berlin just before the events of
March 1848. Notwithstanding the political troubles, he gained the right
of giving public lectures; and in the summer of 1849 he gave a course
“On the Topography of Some of the Most Renowned Nations of Antiquity.”
Then followed the message from Baron Bunsen which is detailed in the
author’s preface, and the great journey which is here described. In it
he travelled from Tripoli to Bórnu, then through Ádamáwa, Baghirmi,
Sókoto, etc., to Timbúktu, finally returning to Tripoli in August 1855,
after nearly six years’ absence. His great book, published in 1857 in
German and English in five volumes, is the most important work ever
written on the districts of which it treats. We here present the first
half, with the original wood engravings and reproductions of some of
the lithographic plates. Barth not being a naturalist, his work differs
considerably from those of Darwin and Wallace; but to make up for this
he is extremely rich in topographical, historical, and anthropological
details.
On his return Barth found plenty of work to do. From 1863 he was
Professor of Geography in the University. He founded the Carl Ritter
Institute, and was President of the Geographical Society. On completing
his book on Africa, he carried his researches farther among the
Mediterranean lands. In the autumn of 1858 he travelled over the northern
half of Asia Minor, from Trebizond through Cæsarea to Scutari. In 1861 he
visited Spain; in 1862, the interior of Turkey in Europe; 1863, the Alps;
1864, Italy; 1865, Turkey again. In that year he died (November 25) after
two days’ illness, in the midst of most zealous work. He wrote, beside
the present work, “Travels, in the Coasts Bordering the Mediterranean,”
vol. i., 1849; “Journey from Trebizond to Scutari,” 1860; “Journey
through the Interior of Turkey in Europe,” 1864. His great philological
work on the vocabularies of Central Africa was left incomplete, only two
parts having been published, 1862-63.
G. T. B.
PREFACE.
On the 5th of October, 1849, at Berlin, Professor Carl Ritter informed me
that the British Government was about to send Mr. Richardson on a mission
to Central Africa, and that they had offered, through the Chevalier
Bunsen, to allow a German traveller to join the mission, provided he was
willing to contribute two hundred pounds for his own personal travelling
expenses.
I had commenced lecturing at the University of Berlin on comparative
geography and the colonial commerce of antiquity, and had just at
that time published the first volume of my “Wanderings Round the
Mediterranean,” which comprised my journey through Barbary. Having
undertaken this journey quite alone, I spent nearly my whole time with
the Arabs, and familiarized myself with that state of human society where
the camel is man’s daily companion, and the culture of the date-tree his
chief occupation. I made long journeys through desert tracts; I travelled
all round the Great Syrtis, and, passing through the picturesque little
tract of Cyrenaica, traversed the whole country towards Egypt; I wandered
about for above a month in the desert valleys between Aswán and Kosér,
and afterwards pursued my journey by land all the way through Syria and
Asia Minor to Constantinople.
While traversing these extensive tracts, where European comfort is never
altogether out of reach, where lost supplies may be easily replaced, and
where the protection of European powers is not quite without avail, I had
often cast a wistful look towards those unknown or little-known regions
in the interior, which stand in frequent, though irregular, connection
with the coast. As a lover of ancient history, I had been led towards
those regions rather through the commerce of ancient Carthage, than by
the thread of modern discovery; and the desire to know something more
about them acted on me like a charm. In the course of a conversation I
once held with a Háusa slave in Káf, in the regency of Tunis, he, seeing
the interest I took in his native country, made use of these simple
but impressive words: “Please God, you shall go and visit Kanó.” These
words were constantly ringing in my ears; and though overpowered for a
time by the vivid impressions of interesting and picturesque countries,
they echoed with renewed intensity as soon as I was restored to the
tranquillity of European life.
During my three years’ travelling I had ample opportunity of testing the
efficacy of British protection; I experienced the kindness of all Her
Britannic Majesty’s consuls from Tangiers to Brúsa, and often enjoyed
their hospitality. It was solely their protection which enabled me to
traverse with some degree of security those more desert tracts through
which I wandered. Colonel Warrington, Her Majesty’s consul in Tripoli,
who seems to have had some presentiment of my capabilities as an African
explorer, even promised me his full assistance if I should try to
penetrate into the interior. Besides this, my admiration of the wide
extension of the British over the globe, their influence, their language,
and their government, was such that I felt a strong inclination to become
the humble means of carrying out their philanthropic views for the
progressive civilization of the neglected races of Central Africa.
Under these circumstances, I volunteered cheerfully to accompany Mr.
Richardson, on the sole condition, however, that the exploration of
Central Africa should be made the principal object of the mission,
instead of a secondary one, as had been originally contemplated.
In the meantime, while letters were interchanged between Berlin, London,
and Paris (where Mr. Richardson at that time resided), my father, whom
I had informed of my design, entreated me to desist from my perilous
undertaking, with an earnestness which my filial duty did not allow me to
resist; and giving way to Dr. Overweg, who in youthful enthusiasm came
immediately forward to volunteer, I receded from my engagement. But it
was too late, my offer having been officially accepted in London; and I
therefore allayed my father’s anxiety, and joined the expedition.
It was a generous act of Lord Palmerston, who organized the expedition,
to allow two foreign gentlemen to join it instead of one. A sailor was
besides attached to it; and a boat was also provided, in order to give
full scope to the object of exploration. The choice of the sailor was
unfortunate, and Mr. Richardson thought it best to send him back from
Múrzuk; but the boat, which was carried throughout the difficult and
circuitous road by Múrzuk, Ghát, Aïr, and Zínder, exciting the wonder and
astonishment of all the tribes in the interior, ultimately reached its
destination, though the director of the expedition himself had in the
meanwhile unfortunately succumbed.
Government also allowed us to take out arms. At first it had been thought
that the expedition ought to go unarmed, inasmuch as Mr. Richardson
had made his first journey to Ghát without arms. But on that occasion
he had gone as a private individual, without instruments, without
presents, without anything; and we were to unite with the character of
an expedition that of a mission,—that is to say, we were to explore the
country while endeavouring at the same time to establish friendship with
the chiefs and rulers of the different territories. It may be taken for
granted that we should never have crossed the frontier of Aïr had we been
unarmed; and when I entered upon my journey alone, it would have been
impossible for me to proceed without arms through countries which are in
a constant state of war, where no chief or ruler can protect a traveller
except with a large escort, which is sure to run away as soon as there is
any real danger.
It may be possible to travel without arms in some parts of Southern
Africa; but there is this wide difference, that the natives of the latter
are exclusively Pagans, while, along all those tracts which I have been
exploring, Islamism and Paganism are constantly arrayed against each
other in open or secret warfare, even if we leave out of view the unsafe
state of the roads through large states consisting, though loosely
connected together, of almost independent provinces. The traveller
in such countries must carry arms; yet he must exercise the utmost
discretion in using them. As for myself, I avoided giving offence to
the men with whom I had to deal in peaceful intercourse, endeavouring
to attach them to me by esteem and friendship. I have never proceeded
onwards without leaving a sincere friend behind me, and thus being sure
that, if obliged to retrace my steps, I might do so with safety.
But I have more particular reason to be grateful for the opinion
entertained of me by the British Government; for after Mr. Richardson
had, in March 1851, fallen a victim to the noble enterprise to which he
had devoted his life, Her Majesty’s Government honoured me with their
confidence, and, in authorizing me to carry out the objects of the
expedition, placed sufficient means at my disposal for the purpose. The
position in which I was thus placed must be my excuse for undertaking,
after the successful accomplishment of my labours, the difficult task of
relating them in a language not my own.
In matters of science and humanity all nations ought to be united by
one common interest, each contributing its share in proportion to its
own peculiar disposition and calling. If I have been able to achieve
something in geographical discovery, it is difficult to say how much
of it is due to English, how much to German influence; for science, is
built up of the materials collected by almost every nation, and, beyond
all doubt, in geographical enterprise in general none has done more than
the English, while, in Central Africa in particular, very little has
been achieved by any but English travellers. Let it not, therefore, be
attributed to an undue feeling of nationality if I correct any error of
those who preceded me. It would be unpardonable if a traveller failed
to penetrate further, or to obtain a clearer insight into the customs
and the polity of the nations visited by him, or if he were unable to
delineate the country with greater accuracy and precision, than those who
went before him.
Every succeeding traveller is largely indebted to the labours of his
predecessor. Thus our expedition would never have been able to achieve
what it did, if Oudney, Denham, and Clapperton had not gone before us;
nor would these travellers have succeeded so far, had Lyon and Ritchie
not opened the road to Fezzán; nor would Lyon have been able to reach
Tejérri, if Captain (now Rear-Admiral) Smyth had not shown the way to
Ghírza. To Smyth, seconded by Colonel Warrington, is due the merit
of having attracted the attention of the British Government to the
favourable situation of Tripoli for facilitating intercourse with Central
Africa; and if at present the river-communication along the Tsádda or
Bénuwé seems to hold out a prospect of an easier approach to those
regions, the importance of Tripoli must not be underrated, for it may
long remain the most available port from which a steady communication
with many parts of that continent can be kept up.
I had the good fortune to see my discoveries placed on a stable basis
before they were brought to a close, by the astronomical observations
of Dr. Vogel, who was sent out by Her Britannic Majesty’s Government
for the purpose of joining the expedition; and I have only to regret
that this gentleman was not my companion from the beginning of my
journey, as exact astronomical observations, such as he has made, are
of the utmost importance in any geographical exploration. By moving the
generally-accepted position of Kúkawa more than a degree to the westward,
the whole map of the interior has been changed very considerably. The
position assigned by Dr. Vogel to Zínder gives to the whole western
route, from Ghát through the country of Ásben, a well-fixed terminating
point, while at the same it serves to check my route to Timbúktu. If,
however, this topic be left out of consideration, it will be found
that the maps made by me on the journey, under many privations, were a
close approximation to the truth. But now all that pertains to physical
features and geographical position has been laid down, and executed with
artistic skill and scientific precision, by Dr. Petermann.
The principal merit which I claim for myself in this respect is that of
having noted the whole configuration of the country; and my chief object
has been to represent the tribes and nations with whom I came in contact,
in their historical and ethnographical relation to the rest of mankind,
as well as in their physical relation to that tract of country in which
they live. If, in this respect, I have succeeded in placing before the
eyes of the public a new and animated picture, and connected those
apparently savage and degraded tribes more intimately with the history
of races placed on a higher level of civilization, I shall be amply
recompensed for the toils and dangers I have gone through.
My companion, Dr. Overweg, was a clever and active young geologist; but,
unfortunately, he was deficient in that general knowledge of natural
science which is required for comprehending all the various phenomena
occurring on a journey into unknown regions. Having never before risked
his life on a dangerous expedition, he never for a moment doubted that it
might not be his good fortune to return home in safety; and he therefore
did not always bestow that care upon his journal which is so desirable in
such an enterprise. Nevertheless, almost all his observations of latitude
have been found correct, while his memoranda, if deciphered at leisure,
might still yield a rich harvest.
One of the principal objects which Her Britannic Majesty’s Government
had always in view in these African expeditions was the abolition of
the slave-trade. This, too, was zealously advocated by the late Mr.
Richardson, and, I trust, has been as zealously carried out by myself
whenever it was in my power to do so, although, as an explorer on a
journey of discovery, I was induced, after mature reflection, to place
myself under the protection of an expeditionary army, whose object
it was to subdue another tribe, and eventually to carry away a large
proportion of the conquered into slavery. Now, it should always be borne
in mind that there is a broad distinction between the slave-trade and
domestic slavery. The foreign slave-trade may, comparatively speaking,
be easily abolished, though the difficulties of watching over contraband
attempts have been shown sufficiently by many years’ experience. With the
abolition of the slave-trade all along the northern and south-western
coast of Africa, slaves will cease to be brought down to the coast; and
in this way a great deal of the mischief and misery necessarily resulting
from this inhuman traffic will be cut off. But this, unfortunately, forms
only a small part of the evil.
There can be no doubt that the most horrible topic connected with slavery
is slave-hunting; and this is carried on not only for the purpose of
supplying the foreign market, but, in a far more extensive degree,
for supplying the wants of domestic slavery. Hence it was necessary
that I should become acquainted with the real state of these most
important features of African society, in order to speak clearly about
them; for with what authority could I expatiate on the horrors and the
destruction accompanying such an expedition, if I were not speaking as
an eye-witness? But having myself accompanied such a host on a grand
scale, I shall be able to lay before the public a picture of the cheerful
comfort, as well as the domestic happiness, of a considerable portion of
the human race, which, though in a low, is not at all in a degraded state
of civilization, as well as the wanton and cruel manner in which this
happiness is destroyed, and its peaceful abodes changed into desolation.
Moreover, this very expedition afforded me the best opportunity of
convincing the rulers of Bórnu of the injury which such a perverse system
entails upon themselves.
But besides this, it was of the utmost importance to visit the country
of the Músgu; for while that region had been represented by the last
expedition as an almost inaccessible mountain-chain, attached to that
group which Major Denham observed on his enterprising but unfortunate
expedition with Bú-Khalúm, I convinced myself on my journey to
Ádamáwa, from the information which I gathered from the natives, that
the mountains of Mándará are entirely insulated towards the east. I
considered it, therefore, a matter of great geographical importance to
visit that country, which, being situated between the rivers Shárí and
Bénuwé, could alone afford the proof whether there was any connection
between these two rivers.
I shall have frequent occasion to refer, in my journal, to conversations
which I had with the natives on religious subjects. I may say that I
have always avowed my religion, and defended the pure principles of
Christianity against those of Islám; only once was I obliged, for about a
month, in order to carry out my project of reaching Timbúktu, to assume
the character of a Moslem. Had I not resorted to this expedient, it would
have been absolutely impossible to achieve such a project, since I was
then under the protection of no chief whatever, and had to pass through
the country of the fanatic and barbarous hordes of the Tuarek. But
though, with this sole exception, I have never denied my character of a
Christian, I thought it prudent to conform to the innocent prejudices of
the people around me, adopting a dress which is at once better adapted to
the climate and more decorous in the eyes of the natives. One great cause
of my popularity was the custom of alms-giving. By this means I won the
esteem of the natives, who took such a lively interest in my well-being
that, even when I was extremely ill, they used to say, “ʿAbd el Kerím[1]
shall not die.”
I have given a full description of my preparatory excursion through the
mountainous region round Tripoli; for though this is not altogether a
new country, any one who compares my map with that of Lyon or Denham,
will see how little the very interesting physical features of this tract
had been known before, while, at a time when the whole Turkish empire is
about to undergo a great transformation, it seems well worth while to
lay also the state of this part of its vast dominions in a more complete
manner before the European public.
Of the first part of our expedition there has already appeared the
Narrative of the late Mr. Richardson, published from his manuscript
journals, which I was fortunately able to send home from Kúkawa. It is
full of minute incidents of travelling life, so very instructive to the
general reader. But from my point of view, I had to look very differently
at the objects which presented themselves; and Mr. Richardson, if he had
lived to work out his memoranda himself, would not have failed to give to
his Journal a more lasting interest. Moreover, my stay in Ágades afforded
me quite a different insight into the life, the history, and geography of
those regions, and brought me into contact with Timbúktu.
Extending over a tract of country of twenty-four degrees from north to
south, and twenty degrees from east to west, in the broadest part of the
continent of Africa, my travels necessarily comprise subjects of great
interest and diversity.
After having traversed vast deserts of the most barren soil, and scenes
of the most frightful desolation, I met with fertile lands irrigated by
large navigable rivers and extensive central lakes, ornamented with the
finest timber, and producing various species of grain, rice, sesamum,
ground-nuts, in unlimited abundance, the sugar-cane, etc., together with
cotton and indigo, the most valuable commodities of trade. The whole of
Central Africa, from Bagírmi to the east as far as Timbúktu to the west
(as will be seen in my narrative), abounds in these products. The natives
of these regions not only weave their own cotton, but dye their home-made
shirts with their own indigo. The river, the far-famed Niger, which gives
access to these regions by means of its eastern branch, the Bénuwé, which
I discovered, affords an uninterrupted navigable sheet of water for more
than six hundred miles into the very heart of the country. Its western
branch is obstructed by rapids at the distance of about three hundred
and fifty miles from the coast; but even at that point it is probably
not impassable in the present state of navigation, while, higher up, the
river opens an immense highroad for nearly one thousand miles into the
very heart of Western Africa, so rich in every kind of produce.
The same diversity of soil and produce which the regions traversed by me
exhibit is also observed with respect to man. Starting from Tripoli in
the north, we proceed from the settlements of the Arab and the Berber,
the poor remnants of the vast empires of the middle ages, into a country
dotted with splendid ruins from the period of the Roman dominion, through
the wild roving hordes of the Tuarek, to the Negro and half-Negro
tribes, and to the very border of the South African nations. In the
regions of Central Africa there exists not one and the same stock, as in
South Africa; but the greatest diversity of tribes, or rather nations,
prevails, with idioms entirely distinct. The great and momentous struggle
between Islamism and Paganism is here continually going on, causing
every day the most painful and affecting results, while the miseries
arising from slavery and the slave-trade are here revealed in their
most repulsive features. We find Mohammedan learning engrafted on the
ignorance and simplicity of the black races, and the gaudy magnificence
and strict ceremonial of large empires side by side with the barbarous
simplicity of naked and half-naked tribes. We here trace a historical
thread which guides us through this labyrinth of tribes and overthrown
kingdoms; and a lively interest is awakened by reflecting on their
possible progress and restoration, through the intercourse with more
civilized parts of the world. Finally, we find here commerce in every
direction radiating from Kanó, the great emporium of Central Africa, and
spreading the manufactures of that industrious region over the whole of
Western Africa.
I cannot conclude these prefatory remarks without expressing my sincere
thanks for the great interest shown in my proceedings by so many eminent
men in this country, as well as for the distinction of the Victoria medal
awarded to me by the Royal Geographical Society. As I may flatter myself
that, by the success which attended my efforts, I have encouraged further
undertakings in these as well as in other quarters of Africa, so it
will be my greatest satisfaction, if this narrative should give a fresh
impulse to the endeavours to open the fertile regions of Central Africa
to European commerce and civilization.
Whatever may be the value of this work, the Author believes that it
has been enhanced by the views and illustrations with which it is
embellished. These have been executed with artistical skill and the
strictest fidelity, from my sketches, by Mr. Bernatz, the well-known
author of the beautiful “Scenes in Æthiopia.”
I will only add a few words relative to the spelling of native
names,—rather a difficult subject in a conflux of languages of very
different organization and unsettled orthography. I have constantly
endeavoured to express the sounds as correctly as possible, but in
the simplest way, assigning to the vowels always the same intonation
which they have in Italian, and keeping as closely as possible to the
principles adopted by the Asiatic Society. The greatest difficulty
related to the “g” sound, which is written in various ways by the
Africans, and puzzled even the Arabic writers of the middle ages. While
the “k” in North Africa approaches the g in “give,” it takes the sound of
it entirely in the Central African languages. On this ground, although
I preferred writing “Azkár,” while the name might have been almost as
well written “Azgár;” yet further into the interior the application of
the g, as in “Ágades,” “Góber,” and so on, was more correct. The ع of the
Arabs has been expressed, in conformity with the various sounds which it
adopts, by ʿa, ʿo and ʿu; the غ by gh, although it sounds in many words
like an r; ج by j; the چ, which is frequent in the African languages, by
ch.
The alphabet, therefore, which I have made use of is the following:—
_Vowels._
a as in cat.
á ” father.
ʿa (not English) not unlike a in dart.
e as in pen.
é like the first a in fatal.
i as in it.
í ” ravine.
o ” lot.
ó ” home.
ʿo (not English) not unlike o in noble.
u as in put.
ú ” adjure, true.
ʿu not unlike oo in doom.
y, at the end of words, instead of i.
_Diphthongs._
ai as i in tide (ay at the end of words).
oi (oy), as in noise.
au (aw), as ow in now.
_Consonants._
b as in beat.
d ” door.
f ” fan.[2]
g ” got.
j ” join.[3]
k ” keep.
l ” leave.
m ” man.
n ” not.
ñ ” the Spanish “campaña,” like ni in companion, onion.
p ” pain.[2]
r ” rain.
s ” son.
t ” tame.
v ” vain.
w ” win.
y ” yet.
z ” zeal.
_Double Consonants._
gh as in ghost, and the g in grumble.
ks as x in tax, excise.
kh as ch in the Scotch word loch.
th as in tooth.
ts as in Betsy.
ng as in wrong.
HENRY BARTH, PH.D.
ST. JOHN’S WOOD, LONDON, _May 1, 1857_.
=Transcriber’s Note:= The author’s orthography is not always consistent.
Accents, spelling, hyphenation etc in his transcriptions of the languages
of Africa have been retained as printed, except in the Index, where, if a
spelling was used that appeared nowhere else in the book, the assumption
has been made that the form in the main text is the correct one and the
index entry has been changed to match that. Some obvious printer errors
in English words have been corrected.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAPTER I.
FROM TUNIS TO TRIPOLI 1
The First Start—The Passage of the Syrtis—Little
Progress—Trials of Temper—Our Companions—An Old Friend—Reach
Tripoli.
CHAPTER II.
TRIPOLI—THE PLAIN AND THE MOUNTAIN-SLOPE; THE ARAB AND THE BERBER 8
An Excursion—Arab Encampments—Commencement of the Hilly
Region—The Plateau—Turkish Stronghold—Berber Settlements—The
Picturesque Fountain—Wady Welád ʿAli—Khalaifa—Beautiful
Ravine—Um eʾ Zerzán—Enshéd eʾ Sufét—Roman Sepulchre—Kikla—Wady
Kerdemín—Rabda—Kasr Ghurián—Mount Tekút—Kasr
Teghrínna—Hanshír—Wady Rummána.
CHAPTER III.
FERTILE MOUNTAIN REGION RICH IN ANCIENT REMAINS 23
Wady Rán—Jebel Msíd—Singular Monuments—Structure
Described—Conjectural Character—Other Ancient Ruins—Approach
to Tarhóna—The Governor’s Encampment—Ruins near ʿAín
Shershára—Kasr Dóga—Kasr Dawán—Jebel Msíd—Meselláta—Kasr
Kerker—The Cinyps—Leptis—Khoms.
CHAPTER IV.
DEPARTURE FOR THE INTERIOR—ARRIVAL AT MIZDA—REMAINS OF A
CHRISTIAN CHURCH 38
The Departure—ʿAín Zára—Mejenín—Wady Haera—The Boat crosses
the Defile—Ghurián—Kuléba—Roman Milestones—Mizda—The Eastern
Village—Jebel Durmán—Wady Sófejín—Ruined Castle—Christian
Remains.
CHAPTER V.
SCULPTURES AND ROMAN REMAINS IN THE DESERT—GHARÍYA 51
Roman Sepulchre in Wady Talha—Wady Tagíje—Remarkable
Monument—Description of Monument—Wady Zemzem—Roman Sepulchres
at Taboníye—Gharíya—Roman Gateway—Arab Tower—Roman
Inscription—Gharíya eʾ sherkíya—The Hammáda—Storms in the
Desert—End of the Hammáda—El Hasi, “the Well.”
CHAPTER VI.
WADY SHÁTI—OLD JERMA—ARRIVAL IN MÚRZUK 65
Wady Sháti, or Shiyáti—Éderí and its Gardens—Wady Shiúkh—Sandy
Region—Reach the Wady—Ugréfe—Jerma Kadím—The Last Roman
Monument—The Groves of the Wady—End of the Wady—Arrival at
Múrzuk.
CHAPTER VII.
RESIDENCE IN MÚRZUK 75
Delay—Character of Múrzuk—Ground-plan of Múrzuk.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE DESERT—TASÁWA—EXACTIONS OF THE ESCORT—DELAY AT ELÁWEN 78
Setting out from Múrzuk—Tiggerurtín, the Village of the
Tinýlkum—Gathering of the Caravan—Tasáwa—Arrival of the
Tuarek Chiefs—Reformation of Islám—Return to Múrzuk—Move on
finally—Sháraba—Wady Aberjúsh—Rate of Travelling—Join the
Caravan—Tesémmak—Wady Eláwen—Hatíta’s Intrigues.
CHAPTER IX.
SINGULAR SCULPTURES IN THE DESERT—THE MOUNTAIN PASS 88
Hatíta—Sculptures in Telísaghé—Subject of Sculptures, Two
Deities Fighting about a Bull—Herd of Bulls—Cattle formerly
Beasts of Burden in the Desert—Fine Valleys—Breaking
up of the Plateau—The Narrow Gutter-like Pass of
Ralle—Téliya—Sérdales—Valley Tánesof—Mount Ídinen—The
Traveller’s Mishap—Astray in the Desert—The Wanderer
found—Arrival at Ghát.
CHAPTER X.
THE INDIGENOUS BERBER POPULATION 102
Fezzán, a Berber Country—The Berbers—Their Real Name Mázigh;
the Name Tuarek of Arab Origin—The Azkár—History of the
Azkár—The Hadánarang—Degraded Tribes—The Imghád—The Kél—View of
the Valley of Ghát.
CHAPTER XI.
CROSSING A LARGE MOUNTAIN-RIDGE, AND ENTERING ON THE OPEN
GRAVELLY DESERT 108
The Town of Bárakat—The Date-groves of Bárakat and their
Inhabitants—Alpine Lake—The Tawáti—High Mountain Pass—Deep
Ravine of Égeri—Threatened Attack—Region of Granite
Commences—Desert Plain of Mariaw—Afalésselez—Approach
to Tropical Climes—Wild Oxen (“bagr el wahsh”) in the
Desert—Nghákeli, New Vegetation (_Balanites Ægyptiaca_).
CHAPTER XII.
DANGEROUS APPROACH TO ÁSBEN 120
Picturesque Peak—Valley of Arókam—Caravan of
Merábetín—Aséttere—The Guinea Worm—The Caravan (at
Aísala)—Berber Inscription—Ikadémmelrang—Peculiar
Mounts—Marárraba, the Halfway—Bóro’s Threats—First View
of Ásben—Asïu—Approach of the Enemy—Valley Fénorang—The
Freebooters’—Timázkaren—Máket-n-Íkelán, the Slaves’
Dance—Continued Alarms—The Valley of Jínninau—Pleasant
Valley of Gébi—The _Capparis sodata_.
CHAPTER XIII.
INHABITED BUT DANGEROUS FRONTIER REGION 134
Tághajít—Character of the Borderers—New Alarms—Order of
Battle—Mohammed Bóro—A Tardy Acknowledgment—Formidable
Threats—The Compromise—Mountains of Ásben—Valley of Tídik—Sad
Disappointment—Definitive Attack—The Pillage—_Cucifera
Thebaïca_—Selúfiet—Tintagh-odé, the Settlement of the
Merábetín—Short State of Supplies—A Desert Torrent—Arrival
of the Escort—Valley of Fódet—Camel-Races—Parting of
Friends—Valley of Afís—New Troubles—Arrival at Tin-téllust—The
English Hill.
CHAPTER XIV.
ETHNOGRAPHICAL RELATIONS OF AÏR 151
The Name Aïr or Ahír—Country of the Goberáwa—The
Kél-owí—Recent Conquest—Descent in the Female Line—Mixed
Population—Language-Sections of the Kél-owí—The Irólangh—Tribe
of the Sheikh Ánnur—The Ikázkezan—The Kél-n-Néggaru—The
Éfadaye—League of the Kél-owí with the Kél-gerés and Itísan—The
Kél-fadaye—The Word “Mehárebí”—The Kél-ferwán—The Itísan and
Kél-gerés—Population of Ásben—The Salt Trade.
CHAPTER XV.
RESIDENCE IN TIN-TÉLLUST 158
The Sheikh Ánnur’s Character—Rainy Season—Nocturnal Attack—Want
of Proper Food—Preparations for Advance.
CHAPTER XVI.
JOURNEY TO ÁGADES 162
Attempt at Bullock-riding—Tuarek Blacksmiths—The Double Horn
of Mount Cheréka—Ásodi and its Ruins—Mounts Eghellál, Bághzen,
and Ágata—Mounts Belásega and Abíla—The Valley Tíggeda—The
Picturesque Valley of Ásada—The Valley of Tághist with the
Ancient Place of Prayer—Picturesque Valley of Aúderas with
the Forest of Dúm-palms—Barbarity—Valley Búdde—The Natron—The
Feathered Bur—Imghád of the Valleys—Fertile Valley Bóghel—The
Large Báure-tree—Arrival near Ágades—The Troopers—Entrance into
the Town.
CHAPTER XVII.
ÁGADES 175
The Retail Traders from Tawát—The Learned ʿAbdallah—Aspect of
the Town—The Sultan’s Quarter—Interview with the Chief—Mohammed
Bóro’s House and Family—Markets of Ágades—Manufactures—Native
Cavalry—View of the Town—The Kádhi—Interior of Ágades—Various
Visitors—The “Fúra,” a Favourite Drink—Manners and
Customs—A Misadventure—Language of Ágades the same as that
of Timbúktu—My Friend Hamma—The Fatal Dungeon—Ceremony
of Investiture—The Procession—Visitors—Rumours of War—On
Rock-Inscriptions—Visitors again—Episode—Parting with
Bóro—Tailelt (Guinea-fowl) Tobes—Áshu’s Garden—Letters from the
Sultan—Military Expedition—Results of the Expedition—Interior
of a House—The Emgedesi Lady—Ruinous Quarter—Wanton
Manners—The Mosque and Tower—Interior of the Mosque—Hostile
Disposition of the Kádhi—Other Mosques in Ágades—Enlightened
Views—Preparations for Departure.
CHAPTER XVIII.
HISTORY OF ÁGADES 203
Ágades not identical with Aúdaghost—Meaning of the Name—The
Songhay Conqueror Háj Mohammed Askiá (Leo’s Ischia)—The
Associated Tribes—Leo’s Account of Ágades—The Ighedálen—Tegídda
or Tekádda—Gógó and the Ancient Gold Trade—Position of the
Ruler of Ágades—The Sultan and his Minister—Meaning of the word
“Turáwa”—The Town, its Population—Period of Decline—Ground-Plan
and Quarters of the Town—Decline of Commerce—Market Prices.
CHAPTER XIX.
DEPARTURE FROM ÁGADES.—STAY IN TIN-TÉGGANA 211
Abortive Commencement of Journey—The Valley Tíggeda full
of Life—Tin-téllust deserted—Arrival in Tin-téggana—Stay
in Tin-téggana—Mohammed el Gatróni—Turbulent State of
the Country—Conversation on Religion—Poor Diet—Prolonged
Delay—Preparations for Starting.
CHAPTER XX.
FINAL DEPARTURE FOR SUDÁN 220
Taking Leave of Tin-téggana—Trachytic Peak of Teléshera—Valley
of Tánegat—The Salt Caravan—Wild Manners of the Tuarek—Mount
Mári—Richer Vegetation—Well Álbes—Tebu Merchants—Chémia—Mount
Bághzen—Camels lost—Rich Valley Unán—Stone Dwellings of
Kél-gerés—Christmas Day—Taking Leave of Hamma.
CHAPTER XXI.
THE BORDER REGION OF THE DESERT—THE TAGÁMA 229
Travelling in Earnest—Home of the Giraffe and _Antilope
leucoryx_—The Mágariá—The _Cornus nabeca_ and the Feathery
Bristle—Princely Present—Animals (_Orycteropus Æthiopicus_)—The
Tagáma; their Peculiar Character—The Tarki Beauty—New
Plants—Steep Descent—Ponds of Stagnant Water—Cornfields
of Damerghú—The Warlike Chief Dan Íbra—Ungwa Sámmit—Negro
Architecture—Name of the Hut in Various Languages—Animal and
Vegetable Kingdoms—Horses grazing—Arrival in Tágelel—The
Ikázkezan Freebooter—Niggardliness of the Chief—Towns and
Villages of Damerghú—The Haunts of the Freebooters—Market of
Tágelel—The “Devil’s Dance.”
CHAPTER XXII.
SEPARATION OF THE TRAVELLERS—THE BORDER DISTRICTS OF THE
INDEPENDENT PAGAN CONFEDERATION—TASÁWA 243
Dissembling of the Chief—His steadfast Character—Mr.
Richardson’s Health—Separation—Different Roads to
Kanó—Animated Intercourse—Native Warfare—The First Large
Tamarind-tree—Villages and Wells—Separation from Mr.
Overweg—Improved Scenery—Encampment at Gozenákko—Lively
Camp Scene—Native Delicacies—Revenues of Tasáwa—Astounding
Message—Visit to Tasáwa—The Market in Tasáwa—Náchirá, Ánnur’s
Estate—Character of the People and their Dwellings—Intrigue
defeated—Counting Shells—A Petty Sultan—Dyeing-Pits.
CHAPTER XXIII.
GAZÁWA—RESIDENCE IN KÁTSENA 257
An African Dandy—My Protector Elaiji—Camp Life—Fortifications
and Market of Gazáwa—March resumed—Desolate Wilderness—Site
of Dánkama—Struggle between Islámism and Paganism—Encampment
near Kátsena—Estimate of Salt Caravan—Negro Horsemen—Equestrian
Musicians—The Governor of Kátsena—Detained by him—The
Governor’s Wiles—Disputes—Who is the “Káfer”?—Clapperton’s
Companion—The Tawáti Bel-Ghét conciliated—Extortionate
Demands—Subject about the Káfer resumed—The Presents—Promenade
through the Town—The Governor’s Wishes—Taking Leave of him.
CHAPTER XXIV.
HÁUSA—HISTORY AND DESCRIPTION OF KÁTSENA—ENTRY INTO KANÓ 273
The Name Háusa—Origin of the Háusa Nation—The Seven
States—Origin of the Town of Kátsena—The Mohammedan Missionary
Ben Maghíli—Kings of Kátsena—The First Moslim—The Oldest
Quarter—Magnitude of the Town—Its Decline—Salubrious Site and
Favourable Situation of Kátsena—Departure from Kátsena—Wild
State of the Country—Shibdáwa—Rich Scenery—Kusáda—The Bentang
Tree—Women with Heavy Loads—Beehives—Gúrzo—Approach to
Kanó—Straggling Villages—Composition of our Troop—First View of
Dalá—Entering Kanó.
CHAPTER XXV.
RESIDENCE IN KANÓ—VIEW OF ITS INTERIOR—ITS HISTORY AND PRESENT
STATE—COMMERCE 286
My Situation in Kanó—Debts—Projects—The
Commissioner—Difficulties—Sickness—Interior of Kanó; Animated
Picture—The Quarters of the Conquered and the Ruling Race—The
“Serkí” and the Gháladíma—The Audience—Presents—Plan
of Kanó—Street Groups—Industry—View from Mount
Dalá—Acquaintances in Kanó—Meditated Departure—Historical
Sketch of Kanó—Growth of the Town—The Quarters of the
Town—Ground-plan of my House—Population—Commerce—Various
Kinds of Zénne—Export of Cloth—Grand Character
of Trade—Produce—The Guinea-fowl Shirt—Leather
Work—Kola-nut—Slaves—Natron, Salt, Ivory Trade—European Goods
in Kanó—The South-American Slave-traders—Small Quantity of
Calico—Silk—Woollen Cloth—Beads—Sugar—Firearms—Razors—Arab
Dresses—Copper—The Shells and the Dollar—Markets of
Kanó—Revenues—Administration—The Conquering Tribe.
CHAPTER XXVI.
STARTING FOR KÚKAWA—THE FRONTIER DISTRICT 310
Leaving Kanó quite by myself—My Trooper—Get off later—Domestic
Slavery—Gezáwa—My Runaway Servant ʿAbdallah—The
Sheríf and his Attendants—Mules in Negroland—Kúka
Mairuwá—Insecurity—Scarcity of Water—Natron Trade—Endurance
and Privations of the Traveller—Arrival at Gerki—Take
Leave of Háusa—Gúmmel—Housebuilding—Antidote—Market at
Gúmmel—Magnitude of Ilóri—Two Spanish Dollars—Depart from
Gúmmel—Benzári—The Rebel Chief Bokhári—His Exploits—The
Governor of Máshena—Letter-carrier’s Mistake—Curious
Talisman—Manga Warriors—Wuëlleri—Scarcity of Water again—Town
of Máshena—State of the Country—Cheerful, Out-of-the-way
Place—Álamáy—Búndi and the Gháladíma—The Kárda—Route from Kanó
to Álamáy by Way of Khadéja.
CHAPTER XXVII.
BORNU PROPER 333
Intercourse—Change of Life in Negroland—Region of
the Dúm-palm—The Kúri Ox—The River Wáni—Enter Bórnu
Proper—Zurríkuló—News of the Death of Mr. Richardson—Sandy
Downs—Déffowa—Industry—The Stray Camel—Town of Wadi—Good
Market and no Provisions—Hospitable Treatment—The Banks of the
Wáni—Locusts and Hawks—Ngurútuwa; Grave of Mr. Richardson—The
Tuarek again—Aláune—The Jungles of the Komádugu—Ruins of
Ghámbarú—A Forest Encampment—Nomadic Herdsmen—Abundance of
Milk—Ford of the Komádugu—Native Ferry-boats—Khér-Álla, the
Border-warfarer—Changing Guides—The Runaway Horse—A Domestic
Quarrel.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
ARRIVAL IN KÚKAWA 352
Peculiar Character of the Alluvial Plains of Bórnu—The
Attentive Woman—Entrance into Kúkawa—Servants of the
Mission—Debts of the Mission—Interview with the Vizier—Sheikh
ʿOmár—Mr. Richardson’s Property—Amicable Arrangements.
CHAPTER XXIX.
AUTHENTICITY AND GENERAL CHARACTER OF THE HISTORY OF BÓRNU 357
Documents—Beginning of written History—Pedigree of the Bórnu
Kings—Chronology—Harmony of Facts—The Séfuwa Dynasty—Ébn
Khaldún—Makrízí and Ébn Batúta—Surprising Accuracy of the
Chronicle of Bórnu—Statement of Leo Africanus—Berber Origin
of the Séfuwa—Form of Government—The Berber Race—The Queen
Mother—Indigenous Tribes—The Tedá or Tebu—The Soy—Epochs of
Bórnu History—Greatest Power—Decline of the Bórnu Empire—The
Kánemíyín.
CHAPTER XXX.
THE CAPITAL OF BÓRNU 369
My Friends—The Arab Áhmed bel Mejúb—The Púllo Íbrahím from
the Senegal—Dangerous Medical Practice—Áhmed the Traveller—My
Bórnu Friends—The Vizier el Háj Beshír; his Career; his
Domestic Establishment; his Leniency—Debts of the Mission
paid—The English House—Plague of Insects—Preparations for
a Journey—Character of Kúkawa—The Two Towns—The Great
Market—Business and Concourse—Defective Currency—Prices of
Provisions—Fruits—Camels—Horses—Want of Native Industry—Bórnu
Women—Promenade.
CHAPTER XXXI.
THE TSÁD 386
Character of the Road to Ngórnu—Ngórnu—Searching the
Tsád—Longer Excursion—Character of the Shores of the Tsád—The
Búdduma and their Boats—Fresh Water—Swampy Plains—Boats of the
Búdduma again—Maduwári—Dress of the Sugúrti—Account of the
Lake—Shores of the Creek—Sóyorum—Káwa—Return to Kúkawa—Servants
Dismissed—Mohammed Titíwi the Auspicious Messenger—Slave
Caravan—Announcement of Rainy Season—Ride to Gawánge—Mr.
Overweg’s Arrival—Meeting—Property restored—Mercantile
Intrigues—The Sheikh’s Relatives—Messengers from
Ádamáwa—Anticipated Importance of the Eastern Branch of the
Niger—Proposed Journey to Ádamáwa.
CHAPTER XXXII.
SETTING OUT ON MY JOURNEY TO ÁDAMÁWA—THE FLAT, SWAMPY GROUNDS
OF BÓRNU 401
Leaving Kúkawa—The Road Southwards—Inhospitality near the
Capital—Buying with a Shirt—The Winter Corn—The Shúwa
Arabs—Múngholo Gezáwa—Fair Arabs—Magá District—The Gámerghú
District—District of Ujé—Fine Country—Mábaní—Pilgrim
Traders, Banks of the Yáloë—First View of the Mountains—Fúgo
Mozári—Market of Ujé—Aláwo—Approach to Mándará.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE BORDER COUNTRY OF THE MARGHÍ 410
Question about Snowy Mountains—The Blacksmith—Shámo District—A
Storm—Molghoy—The Southern Molghoy—Large Kúrna-trees—Structure
of the Huts—Deviations from Negro Type—The Marghí, their
Attire and Language—Edible Wild Fruits—The Baobab—Beautiful
Scenery—Íssege—Spirit of the Natives—Degenerate Fúlbe—The
Lake—View of Mount Míndif—Wándalá Mountains—Route to Sugúr—The
Marghí Tribe—Scientific Dispute—Unsafe Wilderness—Unwholesome
Water—The Return of the Slave Girl—The Bábir Tribe—Laháula—The
Idol—Alarm—Abundance of Vegetable Butter—Serious March—The Báza
Tribe—The Dividing Range—Úba—The New Colony.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
ÁDAMÁWA—MOHAMMEDAN SETTLEMENTS IN THE HEART OF CENTRAL AFRICA 428
The Conquering Tribe—The Granite Hills—Valley and
Mountain Chain—Isolated Mountain Groups—Múbi—The
Surrounding Country—Origin of the Fúlbe—Bágma and Peculiar
Structures—Camels a Novelty—Compliment paid to the
Christian—Mbutúdi—Fúlbe Way of Saluting—The Déléb-palm
(_Borassus flabelliformis?_) and its Fruit—The Granite
Mount—Simplicity of Manners—Mount Hólma—Legéro—Edible
Productions—Ground-nut Diet—Badaníjo—Fertile Vale—Temporary
Scarcity—Kurúlu—Red and White Sorghum—Saráwu
Beréberé—Comfortable Quarters—Accurate Description—Important
Situation of Saráwu—Tebu Traders—Fair Negroes—Market of
Saráwu—Saráwu Fulfúlde—The Mansion—The Blind Governor—Principal
Men in Yóla—Mount Konkel—Bélem—An Arab Adventurer—Rich
Vegetation—The Young Púllo—Old Mallem Dalíli—Arab Colony—A
Country for Colonies—Ruined Village (Melágo)—Gastronomic
Discussion—Máyo Tíyel—The Bátta Tribe—Sulléri—Inhospitable
Reception.
CHAPTER XXXV.
THE MEETING OF THE WATERS—THE BENUWÉ AND FÁRO 451
Approach to the River—Mount Alantíka and the Bénuwé—The Tépe
or “Junction”—The great Arm of the Kwára—The Traveller’s
Pursuits—Highroad of Commerce—The Frail Canoes—Bathing in the
Bénuwé—The Passage—The River Fáro; its Current—Floods and
Fall of the River—Chabajáure—Densely inhabited District—Mount
Bágelé—The Backwater—Ribágo—Cultivation of Rice—The Bátta
Language—Inundation—Yebbórewó—Mount Bágelé and Island—Reach
Yóla.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
MY RECEPTION IN YÓLA—SHORT STAY—DISMISSAL 461
Inauspicious Entrance—Curiosity of Natives—Quarters—An Arab
Traveller to Lake Nyassa—The Governor Mohammed Láwl—The
Audience—The Mission repulsed—The Governor’s Brother
Mansúr—Ordered to withdraw—Begin my Return Journey—Character of
Yóla—Slavery—Extent of Fúmbiná—Elevation and Climate—Vegetable
and Animal Kingdom—Principal Chiefs of the Country—Tribes; the
Bátta, the Chámba, and other Tribes.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
MY JOURNEY HOME FROM ÁDAMÁWA 474
Start from Ribágo—Hospitable Treatment in
Sulléri—Demsa-Póha—The Memorable Campaign Southward—View of
a Native Settlement—Beautiful Country—Bélem again—Mʿallem
Dalíli and his Family—Múglebú—Múbi—My Quarters—Household
Furniture—Uba—Unsafe Boundary District—Laháula—Íssege—Iron
Ornaments of the Marghí—Funeral Dance—Ordeal—Feeling of Love—A
Party going to Sacrifice—Arrival at Yerímarí—Villages of the
Gámerghú—Ujé Kásukulá—Difference of Climate—Plants—Huts—Plains
of Bórnu Proper—Seizing a Hut—African Schoolboys—A wandering
Tribe—Town and Country—Guinea Worm—Thunderstorm—People
returning from Market—Múnghono—Return to Kúkawa.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
RAINY SEASON IN KÚKAWA 491
Supplies—The Herbage—Tropical Rains—Mr. Vogel’s Statement—The
Winged Ant—Various Kinds of Cultivation—Intended Excursion
to Kanem—Mr. Overweg’s Memoranda—Political Situation of
Bórnu—The Turks in Central Africa—Sókoto and Wadáÿ—The
Festival—Ceremonies of Festivity—Dependent Situation—My Horse.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
EXPEDITION TO KÁNEM 501
Money Matters settled—A Repentant Servant—Delights of
Open Encampment—Dawerghú—Treatment by Slaves—Variety
of Trees—Scarcity of Water—The Town of Yó—Marriage
Customs—Character of the Country—Arrival of Mr. Overweg—Banks
of the River—Character of our Freebooting Companions—Crossing
the River—Town of Báruwa—View of the Tsád—Native Salt—Desolate
Country—Ninety-six Elephants—Another Scene of Plunder—Arrival
at Berí—Importance of Berí—Fresh-water Lakes and
Natron—Submerged in a Bog—A Large Snake—The Valleys and Vales
of Kánem—Arrival at the Arab Camp.
CHAPTER XL.
THE HORDE OF THE WELÁD SLIMÁN 518
The Welád Slimán—Their Power—Slaughter of the Welád
Slimán—Interview with Sheikh Ghét—Interview with ʿOmár—Specimen
of Predatory Life—Runaway Female Slave—Rich Vales—Large
Desertion—A Jewish Adventurer—Musical Box—False Alarm.
CHAPTER XLI.
SHITÁTI—THE EASTERN, MORE FAVOURED, VALLEYS OF KÁNEM 526
Bír el Ftáim—The Fugábú—Projects frustrated—Kárká and the
Keghámma—Elephant’s Track—Bóro—Bérendé—Towáder—Beautiful
Vale—Preparations for Attack—Left behind—Regularly formed
Valley—Hénderi Síggesí—Attack by the Natives—Much Anxiety—Join
our Friends—Encampment at Áláli Adia—Visited by the
Keghámma—Camp taken—Restless Night—Fine Vale Tákulum—Vales of
Shitáti—Return to the Principal Camp—Wadáÿ Horsemen—Set out
on Return to Kúkawa—Departure from Kánem—Alarms—The Komádugu
again—Return to Kúkawa.
CHAPTER XLII.
WARLIKE PREPARATIONS AGAINST MÁNDARÁ 543
Set out on another Expedition—The Camp, or Ngáufate—The _Chef
de Police_ Lamíno—Army in Motion—Lamíno again—Major Denham’s
Adventure—The Town of Márte—Ála—Encampment at Díkowa—Firearms
and Civilization—Slavery and Slave-trade—The Shúwa—The
Interior of Díkowa—Industry—Banks of the Yálowe—Cotton
Plantations—The Camp Market—Friendly Services—Important
Information—Háj Edrís.
CHAPTER XLIII.
THE BORDER REGION OF THE SHÚWA 557
News from Mándará—Áfagé—Thieves forced to fight—The
Sweet Sorghum—Variations of Temperature—Shallow
Watercourses—Subjection of Mándará—Extensive Rice-fields—Hard
Ground—Elephants—The Court of Ádishén—The Army on the March—The
Súmmoli—The Army badly off—Entering the Músgu Country—Industry
pillaged—Native Architecture—Affinity of the Músgu—Their Chief
Places—The Adventurous Chieftain—Ádishén—Christmas Events.
CHAPTER XLIV.
THE COUNTRY OF THE SHALLOW RIVERS—WATER-PARTING BETWEEN THE
RIVERS BÉNUWÉ AND SHÁRÍ 573
The Deléb-palm—New Features—Worship of Ancestors—Cut
off from the Army—Spoil and Slaughter—Alarm and
Cowardice—Músgu Weapons—The Túburi not attacked—Ngáljam of
Démmo—Destruction—New Year—Pagan Chiefs and Priests—Fine
Landscape—The River of Logón—Singular Water Combat—The Túburi
and their Lake—The Swampy Character of the Ngáljam—The
River again—Water Communication—Plucky Pagans—Balls and
Stones—Consequences of Slave Hunts—Penetrating Southward.
CHAPTER XLV.
RETURN TO BÓRNU 592
Another Alarm—Policy of Negroland—Cattle Indigenous or
Imported—Another District Plundered—The Músgu Slave—Narrow
Escape—Attack by Bees—African Netherlands—Miseries of
Slave Hunts—Barren Country—Residence of Kábishmé—Native
Architecture—Ground-plan of a Dwelling—Amount of
Booty—Wáza—Encampment at Wáza—Re-arrival at Kúkawa.
LIST OF PLATES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
LIST OF PLATES.
KANEMBU CHIEF (See Chaps., xi. xli.) _Frontispiece_
MAP OF NORTH AND CENTRAL AFRICA INDICATING DR. BARTH’S
ROUTE _facing page_ 1
KASR GHURIÁN ” ” 22
MÚRZUK ” ” 75
KANÓ FROM MOUNT DALA ” ” 289
MUSGU ” ” 575
ENCAMPMENT IN THE FOREST ” ” 577
INTERIOR OF A MUSGU DWELLING ” ” 584
ILLUSTRATIONS IN THE TEXT.
Picturesque Fountain 13
General View of Enshéd eʾ Sufét 16
The Monument 17
Aboriginal Structures 27
Kasr Dóga 32
Another Pair of Pillars, with Slab and Sculpture of a Dog 33
Curious Sculpture 36
General View of Mizda 45, 46
Kasr Khafáiji ʿAámer 47
Ruins of Christian Church 48
Two Capitals 49
Ground-plan 50
Roman Sepulchre in Wady Talha 52
Roman Sepulchre in Wady Tagíje 54
Roman Sepulchre at Taboníye 57
Gateway of Roman Station at Gharíya 59
Ground-plan of Station 60
Encampment at Ugérfe 70
Roman Sepulchre near Jerma (Garama) 72
Ground-plan of Múrzuk 77
Tiggerurtín 79
Encampment at Tesémmak 86
Hatíta on his Camel 89
First Sculpture of Telisaghé (two deities) 90
Herd of Bulls 91
Bull jumping into a Ring 92
Mount Ídinen 97
Ground-plan of Quarters at Ghát 102
The Mountain Pass 113
Pond in Valley Egeri 114
Mount Tiska 116
Picturesque Peak 121
Mountain Ridge near Arókam 122
Indented Ridge 123
Stratified Mount 125
Mountain Group 132
View of Mountain Chains 133
Mountains of Tídik 140
Mount Kadamméllet 141
Mountains of Selúfiet 144
Valley of Fódet 149
Mount Cheréka and Eghellál 164
Mount Cheréka, from another side 165
Mountain Chain 166
Deep Chasm of Mount Eghellál 166
Mount Ágata 167
Mount Belásega 167
Valley Tíggeda 168
Distinguished Mount 171
Audience-hall of Chief of Ágades 177
Mohammed Bóro’s House 178
A Leather Box 179
Two Native Spoons 183
Ground-plan of a House 196
Another Ground-plan 197
View of the High Watch-tower 199
Ground-plan of Ágades 209
Encampment in Tin-téggana 215
Mount Mári, in profile 223
Mount Mári, in front 224
Mount Bághzen, from the east side 226
Cornstack 245
Negro Stirrup 263
Ground-plan of the Town of Kátsena 279
Ground-plan of the Town of Kanó 292
Dagger and Scabbard 293
Ground-plan of my house in Kanó 299
Guinea-fowl Shirt 301
Sandals 302
Leather Pocket 303
Henhouse 337
Ground-plan of House in Kúkawa 377
Ground-plan of the Town of Kúkawa 380
The Seghéum of the Marghí 415
Double Peak of Mount Míndif 421
View of Mountain-chain of Úba 429
Mountain 430
Another Mountain 430
Mount Kilba-Gáya 430
Mountain Chain, Fingting 432
Mount Hólma 436
Mount Kurúlu 439
Ground-plan of Huts 440
Couch-screen 441
Picturesque Cone 442
Mountain Range beyond Saráwu 445
Mount Konkel 446
The Governor’s Audience-hall 463
Picturesque Cone 476
Ground-plan of Hut in Múbi 480
Household Furniture 480
Handbill 482
Shield 484
Different Shape of Huts 489
Granary 569
Harpoon 596
Ornamented Granary 601
Ground-plan of Building 602
[Illustration: MAP OF NORTH AND CENTRAL AFRICA, SHOWING DR. BARTH’S
ROUTES.]
TRAVELS AND DISCOVERIES IN AFRICA.
CHAPTER I.
FROM TUNIS TO TRIPOLI.
Mr. Richardson was waiting in Paris for despatches, when Mr. Overweg
and I reached Tunis, by way of Philippeville and Bona, on the 15th of
December, 1849; and having, through the kind interference of Mr. Ferrier,
the British vice-consul, been allowed to enter the town after six days’
quarantine, we began immediately to provide ourselves with articles of
dress, while in the meantime we took most interesting daily rides to
the site of ancient Carthage. Having procured many useful articles for
our journey, and having found a servant, the son of a freed slave from
Gober, we left Tunis on the 30th of December, and passed the first night
in Hammám el Enf. Early next morning we followed the charming route by
Krumbália, which presents a no less vivid specimen of the beauty and
natural fertility of the Tunisian country than of the desolate state to
which it is at present reduced. We then passed the fine gardens of Turki,
a narrow spot of cultivation in a wide desolate plain of the finest soil;
and leaving el Khwín to our right, we reached el Arbʿain.
Both these places enjoy a peculiar celebrity with the natives. El
Khwín is said to have been once a populous place; but nearly all its
inhabitants were destroyed by a spring of bituminous water, which
according to tradition, afterwards disappeared. El Arbʿain, the locality
of the “forty” martyrs, is a holy place; and ʿAli, our muleteer, in his
pious zeal, took up a handful of the sacred earth and sprinkled it over
us. It is a most picturesque spot. Keeping then along the wild plain
covered with a thick underwood of myrtle, we beheld in the distance the
highly picturesque and beautiful Mount Zaghwán, the Holy Mountain of the
ancient inhabitants, which rose in a majestic form; and we at length
reached Bir el buwíta, “the well of the little closet,” at one o’clock
in the afternoon. The “little closet,” however, had given place to a most
decent-looking whitewashed khán, where we took up our quarters in a clean
room. But our buoyant spirits did not allow us long repose; and a quarter
before eleven at night we were again on our mules.
I shall never forget this, the last night of the year 1849, which opened
to us a new era with many ordeals, and by our endurance of which we were
to render ourselves worthy of success. There were, besides ourselves,
our servants, and our two muleteers, four horsemen of the Bey, and three
natives from Jirbi. When midnight came my fellow traveller and I saluted
the new year with enthusiasm, and with a cordial shake of the hand wished
each other joy. Our Mohammedan companions were greatly pleased when
they were informed of the reason of our congratulating each other, and
wished us all possible success for the new year. We had also reason to be
pleased with them; for by their not inharmonious songs they relieved the
fatigue of a long, sleepless, and excessively cold night.
Having made a short halt under the olive-trees at the side of the
dilapidated town of Herkla, and taken a morsel of bread, we moved on with
our poor animals without interruption till half an hour after noon, when
we reached the funduk (or caravanserai) Sidi Bú Jʿafer, near Súsa, where
we took up our quarters, in order to be able to start again at night, the
gates of the town being kept shut till morning. Starting before three
o’clock in the morning, we were exactly twelve hours in reaching el Jem,
with the famous Castle of the Prophetess, still one of the most splendid
monuments of Roman greatness, overhanging the most shabby hovels of
Mohammedan indifference. On the way we had a fine view, towards the west,
of the picturesque Jebel Trutsa, along the foot of which I had passed on
my former wanderings, and of the wide, out-stretching Jebel Useleet.
Another ride of twelve hours brought us, on the 3rd of January, 1850, to
Sfʿakes, where we were obliged to take up our quarters in the town, as
our land-journey was here at an end, and we were to procure a vessel to
carry us either direct to Tripoli, or to some other point on the opposite
side of the Lesser Syrtis. The journey by land is not only expensive,
particularly by people who are encumbered with a good deal of luggage,
as we then were, and very long and tedious, but is also very unsafe, as
I found from experience on my former journey. The island of Jirbi, which
forms the natural station of the maritime intercourse between the regency
of Tunis and that of Tripoli, had been put under the strictest rules
of quarantine, rather from political considerations than from those of
health, all intercourse with the mainland having been cut off. It was
therefore with great difficulty that we succeeded in hiring a “gáreb” to
carry us to Zwára, in which we embarked in the forenoon of Saturday the
5th of January.
During our two days’ stay in Sfʿakes we made the acquaintance of a Jew
calling himself Baránes, but who is in truth the Jew servant named Jacob
who accompanied Denham and Clapperton, and is several times mentioned
in the narrative of those enterprising travellers as self-conceited
and stubborn; yet he seems to be rather a clever fellow, and in some
way or other contrives to be on the best terms with the governor. He
communicated to us many anecdotes of the former expedition, and, among
other things, a very mysterious history of a Danish traveller in disguise
whom they met in Bórnu coming all the way from Dar-Fúr through Wadaï.
There is not the least mention of such a meeting in the journal of the
expedition, nor has such an achievement of a European traveller ever been
heard of; and I can scarcely believe the truth of this story, though the
Jew was quite positive about it.
The vessel in which we embarked was as miserable as it could be, there
being only a small low cabin as high as a dog-kennel, and measuring, in
its greatest width, from six to seven feet, where I and my companion
were to pass the night. We thought that a run of forty-eight hours, at
the utmost, would carry us across the gulf; but the winds in the Lesser
Syrtis are extremely uncertain, and sometimes so violent that a little
vessel is obliged to run along the coast. At first we went on tolerably
well; but the wind soon became unfavourable, and in the evening we were
obliged to cast anchor opposite Nekta, and, to our despair, were kept
there till the afternoon of Tuesday, when at length we were enabled to go
forward in our frail little shell, and reached Méheres—not Sidi Méheres,
as it is generally called in the maps—in the darkness of night. Having
made up our minds rather to risk anything than to be longer immured
in such a desperate dungeon as our gáreb, we went on shore early on
Wednesday morning with all our things, but were not able to conclude a
bargain with some Bedouin of the tribe of the Léffet, who were watering
their camels at the well.
The majestic ruins of a large castle, fortified at each corner with
a round tower, give the place a picturesque appearance from the
seaside. This castle is well known to be a structure of the time of
Ibrahim the Aghlabite. In the midst of the ruins is a small mosque.
But notwithstanding the ruinous state of the place, and the desolate
condition of its plantations, there is still a little industry going on,
consoling to the beholder in the midst of the devastation to which the
fine province of Byzacium, once the garden of Carthage, is at present
reduced. Several people were busily employed in the little marketplace
making mats; and in the houses looms, weaving baracans, were seen in
activity. But all around, the country presented a frightful scene
of desolation, there being no object to divert the eye but the two
apparently separate cones of Mount Wuedrán, far in the distance to the
west, said to be very rich in sheep. The officer who is stationed here,
and who showed us much kindness, furnishing us with some excellent
red radishes of extraordinary size, the only luxury which the village
affords, told us that not less than five hundred soldiers are quartered
upon this part of the coast. On my former journey I had ample opportunity
to observe how the Tunisian soldiery eat up the little which has been
left to the peaceable inhabitants of this most beautiful, but most
unfortunate country.
Having spent two days and two nights in this miserable place without
being able to obtain camels, we resolved to try the sea once more, in
the morning of the 11th, when the wind became northerly; but before the
low-water allowed us to go on board, the wind again changed, so that,
when we at length got under weigh in the afternoon, we could only move on
with short tacks. But our captain, protected as he was by the Promontory
of Méheres, dared to enter the open gulf. Quantities of large fish in a
dying state, as is often the case in this shallow water when the wind has
been high, were drifting round our boat. The sun was setting when we at
length doubled the promontory of Kasr Unga, which we had already clearly
distinguished on the 8th. However, we had now overcome the worst; and
when on the following morning I emerged from our suffocating berth, I
saw, to my great delight, that we were in the midst of the gulf, having
left the coast far behind us. I now heard from our raïs that, instead
of coasting as far as Tarf el má (“the border of the water”), a famous
locality in the innermost corner of the Lesser Syrtis, which seems to
preserve the memory of the former connection between the gulf and the
great Sebkha or Shot el Kebír (the “palus Tritonis”), he had been so bold
as to keep his little bark straight upon the channel of Jirbi.
Our voyage now became interesting; for while we were advancing at a
fair rate, we had a charming view of the mountain-range, which in clear
contours extended along in the distance behind the date-groves on the
coast, seen only in faint outlines. The western part of the chain is very
low, and forms almost a group apart, but after having been intersected
by a gap or “gate,” the chain rises to greater elevation, being divided,
as it would seem from hence, into three separate ranges enclosing fine
valleys.
We had hoped to cross the difficult channel to-day; but the wind failing,
we were obliged to anchor and await the daylight, for it is not possible
to traverse the straits in the night, on account of their extreme
shallowness. Even in the light of the following day, when we at length
succeeded, our little bark, which drew only two or three feet, struck
twice, and we had some trouble to get afloat again. On the conspicuous
and elevated promontory the “Jurf,” or “Tarf el jurf,” stood in ancient
times a temple of Venus, the hospitable goddess of the navigator. Here
on my former journey I crossed with my horses over from the main to the
Island of Jirbi, while from the water I had now a better opportunity
of observing the picturesque character of the rugged promontory.
After traversing the shallow basin or widening, we crossed the second
narrowing, where the castles which defended the bridge or “kantara,” the
“pons Zitha” of the Romans, now lie in ruins on the main as well as on
the island, and greatly obstruct the passage, the difficulty of which
has obtained celebrity from contests between Islam and Christianity in
comparatively modern times.
Having passed safely through this difficult channel, we kept steadily
on through the open sea; and doubling Rás Mʿamúra, near to which our
captain had a little date-grove and was cheerfully saluted by his family
and friends, we at length entered the harbour of Zarzís, late in the
afternoon of Sunday, and with some trouble got all our luggage carried
into the village, which is situated at some distance. For although we had
the worst part of the land journey now before us, the border-district of
the two regencies, with the unsafe state of which I was well acquainted
from my former journey, and although we were insufficiently armed, we
were disposed to endure anything rather than the imprisonment to which we
were doomed in such a vessel as our Mohammed’s gáreb. I think, however,
that this nine days’ sail between Sfákes and Zarzís, a distance of less
than a hundred and twenty miles, was on the whole a very fair trial in
the beginning of an undertaking the success of which was mainly dependent
upon patience and resolute endurance. We were rather fortunate in not
only soon obtaining tolerable quarters, but also in arranging without
delay our departure for the following day, by hiring two horses and three
camels.
Zarzís consists of five separate villages—Kasr Bú ʿAli, Kasr Mwanza,
Kasr Welád Mohammed, Kasr Welád Sʿaid, and Kasr Zawíya; the Bedouin in
the neighbourhood belong to the tribe of the Akára. The plantation also
is formed into separate date-groves. The houses are in tolerable repair
and neatly whitewashed; but the character of order and well-being is
neutralised by a good many houses in decay. Near the place there are
also some Roman ruins, especially a cistern of very great length; and
at some distance is the site of Medinet Ziyán, of which I have given a
description in the narrative of my former journey.
Besides the eight men attached to our five animals, we were joined
here by four pilgrims and three Tripolitan traders; we thus made up
a numerous body, armed with eight muskets, three blunderbusses, and
fourteen pistols, besides several straight swords, and could venture
upon the rather unsafe road to the south of the Lake of Bibán, though
it would have been far more agreeable to have a few trustworthy people
to rely on instead of these turbulent companions. Entering soon, behind
the plantation of Zarzís, a long narrow sebkha, we were struck by the
sterile and desolate character of the country, which was only interrupted
by a few small depressed localities, where a little corn was cultivated.
Keeping along this tract of country, we reached the north-western corner
of the Lake of Bibán, or Bahéret el Bibán, after a little more than
eight miles. This corner has even at the present day the common name of
Khashm el kelb (the Dog’s Nose), while the former classical name of the
whole lake, Sebákh el keláb, was only known to Tayyef, the more learned
of my guides, who, without being questioned by me, observed that in
former times towns and rich cornfields had been where the lake now is,
but had been swallowed up by a sinking of the ground. The real basin has
certainly nothing in common with a sebkha, which means a shallow hollow,
incrusted with salt, which at times is dry and at others forms a pool;
for it is a deep gulf or fiord of the sea, with which it is connected
only by a narrow channel called Wád mtʿa el Bibán. The nature of a sebkha
belongs at present only to its shores, chiefly to the locality called
Makháda, which, indenting the country to a great distance, is sometimes
very difficult to pass, and must be turned by a wide circuitous path,
which is greatly feared on account of the neighbourhood of the Udérna,
a tribe famous for its highway robberies. Having traversed the Makháda
(which at present was dry) without any difficulty, we entered upon good
arable soil, and encamped, after sunset, at about half a mile distance
from a Bedouin encampment.
Starting from here the following day, we soon became aware that the
country was not so thinly inhabited as we had thought; for numerous herds
covered the rich pasture-grounds, while droves of gazelles, now and then,
attested that the industry of man did not encroach here upon the freedom
of the various orders of creation. Leaving the path near the ruins of a
small building situated upon a hill, I went with Tayyef and the Khalífa
to visit the ruins of a Roman station on the border of the Bahéra, which,
under the name of el Medaina, has a great fame amongst the neighbouring
tribes, but which, with a single exception, are of small extent and bad
workmanship. This exception is the quay, which is not only of interest
in itself, formed as it is of regularly hewn stones, in good repair,
but of importance as an evident proof that the lake was much deeper in
ancient times than it is now. Traversing from this spot the sebkha, which
our companions had gone round, we soon overtook them, and kept over
fine pasture-grounds called el Fehén, and further on, Súllub, passing,
a little after noon, a group of ruins near the shore, called Kitfi el
hamár. At two o’clock in the afternoon, we had directly on our right a
slight slope which, according to the unanimous statement of our guides
and companions, forms the frontier between the two regencies; and keeping
along it we encamped an hour afterwards between the slope and the shore,
which a little further on forms the deep gulf called Mirsá Buréka.
Starting at an early hour, we reached after a march of ten miles the
ruins of a castle on the sea-shore, called Búrj el Melha, to which those
of a small village, likewise built of hewn stone, are joined, while a
long and imposing mole called el Míná juts out into the gulf. Four and
a half miles further on we reached the conspicuous hill on the top of
which is the chapel of the saint Sidi Sʿaid ben Salah, sometimes called
Sidi Gházi, and venerated by such of the natives as are not attached to
the Puritan sect of el Mádani, of which I shall speak hereafter. All our
companions went there to say a short prayer. Here we left the shore, and,
having watered our animals near a well and passed the chapel of Sidi
Sʿaid, close to which there are some ruins, we passed with expedition
over fine meadows till we approached the plantation of Zowára, when,
leaving Mr. Overweg and my people behind, I rode on with the Khalífa, in
order to procure quarters from my former friend Sʿaid bu Semmín, who, as
I had heard to my great satisfaction, had been restored to the government
of that place. He had just on that very day returned from a visit of
some length in the capital, and was delighted to see me again; but he
was rather astonished when he heard that I was about to undertake a far
more difficult and dangerous journey than my former one along the coast,
in which he well knew that I had had a very narrow escape. However, he
confided in my enterprising spirit and in the mercy of the Almighty, and
thought if anybody was likely to do it, I was the man.
We had now behind us the most dreary part of our route, having entered a
district which in ancient times numbered large and wealthy cities, among
which Sabratha stands foremost, and which even in the present miserable
state of the country is dotted with pleasant little date-groves,
interrupted by fine pasture-grounds. In the westernmost part of this
tract, however, with the exception of the plantation of Zowára, all the
date-groves, as those of Rikdalíye, Jemíl, el Meshíah, and Jenán ben Síl,
lie at a considerable distance from the coast, while the country near the
sea is full of sebkhas, and very monotonous, till the traveller reaches
a slight ridge of sand-hills about sixteen miles east from Zowára, which
is the border between the dreary province of that government and a more
favoured tract belonging to the government of Bú-ʿAjíla, and which lies a
little distance inland. Most charming was the little plantation, of Kasr
álaiga, which exhibited traces of industry and improvement. Unfortunately
our horses were too weak and too much fatigued to allow us to visit
the sites either of Sabratha or Pontes. The ruins of Sabratha are
properly called Kasr álaiga, but the name has been applied to the whole
neighbourhood; to the ancient Pontes seem to belong the ruins of Zowára
eʾ sherkíyeh, which are considerable. Between them lies the pretty grove
of Om el hallúf.
About four o’clock in the afternoon we traversed the charming little
valley called Wady bú-harída, where we watered our horses; and then
following the camels, and passing Asermán with its little plantation,
which is bordered by a long and deep sebkha, we took up our quarters
for the night in an Arab encampment, which was situated in the midst of
the date-grove of ʿUkbah, and presented a most picturesque appearance,
the large fires throwing a magic light upon the date-trees. But there
are no roses without thorns: we were unfortunately persuaded to make
ourselves comfortable in an Arab tent, as we had no tent of our own; and
the enormous swarms of fleas not only disturbed our night’s rest, but
followed us to Tripoli.
We had a long stretch the following day to reach the capital, which we
were most anxious to accomplish, as we expected Mr. Richardson would have
arrived before us in consequence of our own tedious journey; and having
sent the Khalífa in advance to keep the gate open for us, we succeeded
in reaching the town after an uninterrupted march of thirteen hours
and a half, and were most kindly received by Mr. Crowe, Her Majesty’s
consul-general, and the vice-consul Mr. Reade, with whom I was already
acquainted. We were surprised to find that Mr. Richardson had not even
yet been heard of, as we expected he would come direct by way of Malta.
But he did not arrive till twelve days after. With the assistance of
Mr. Reade, we had already finished a great deal of our preparations,
and would have gladly gone on at once; but neither the boat, nor the
instruments, nor the arms or tents had as yet arrived, and a great deal
of patience was required. However, being lodged in the neat house of
the former Austrian consul, close to the harbour, and which commands a
charming prospect, our time passed rapidly by.
On the 25th of January Mr. Reade presented Mr. Overweg and me to Yezíd
Bashá, the present governor, who received us with great kindness and
good feeling. On the 29th we had a pleasant meeting with Mr. Frederic
Warrington on his return from Ghadámes, whither he had accompanied Mr.
Charles Dickson, who on the 1st of January had made his entry into that
place as the first European agent and resident. Mr. F. Warrington is
perhaps the most amiable possible specimen of an Arabianized European. To
this gentleman, whose zeal in the objects of the expedition was beyond
all praise, I must be allowed to pay my tribute as a friend. On setting
out in 1850, he accompanied me as far as the Ghurián; and on my joyful
return in 1855 he received me in Murzuk. By the charm of friendship he
certainly contributed his share to my success.
CHAPTER II.
TRIPOLI.—THE PLAIN AND THE MOUNTAIN-SLOPE; THE ARAB AND THE BERBER.
As soon as it became apparent that the preparations for our final
departure for the interior would require at least a month, Mr. Overweg
and I resolved to employ the interval in making a preliminary excursion
through the mountainous region that encompasses Tripoli in a radius of
from sixty to eighty miles. With this view, we hired two camels, with a
driver each, and four donkeys, with a couple of men, for ourselves and
our two servants, Mohammed Belál, the son of a liberated Háusa slave, and
Ibrahim, a liberated Bagirmi slave, whom we had been fortunate enough to
engage here; and through the Consul’s influence we procured a shoush, or
officer, to accompany us the whole way. Neither the instruments provided
by Her Majesty’s Government, nor the tents and arms, had as yet arrived.
But Mr. Overweg had a good sextant, and I a good chronometer, and we were
both of us provided with tolerably good compasses, thermometers, and an
aneroid barometer. Mr. Frederic Warrington, too, was good enough to lend
us a tent.
We had determined to start in the afternoon of the 4th of February, 1850,
so as to pass the first night in Ghargásh; but meeting with delays,
we did not leave the town till after sunset. We preferred encamping,
therefore, in the Meshíah, a little beyond the mosque, under the
palm-trees, little knowing at the time what an opportunity we had lost of
spending a very cheerful evening. Soon after starting, we emerged from
the palm-groves which constitute the charm of Tripoli, and continued our
march over the rocky ground. Being a little in advance with the shoush,
I halted to wait for the rest, when a very peculiar cry, that issued
from the old Roman building on the roadside, called “Kasr el Jahalíyeh,”
perplexed us for a moment. But we soon learnt, to our great surprise, not
unmixed with regret, that it was our kind friend Frederic Warrington,
who had been waiting for us here the whole night. From the top of the
ruin, which stands on an isolated rock left purposely in the midst of a
quarry, there is a widely extensive view. It appears that, before the
Arabs built the castle, this site was occupied by Roman sepulchres. A
little further on we passed the stone of Sidi ʿArífa. This stone had
fallen upon the head of a workman who was digging a well. The workman, so
runs the legend, escaped unhurt; and at Sidi ʿArífa’s word the stone once
more sprung to the surface. Further on, near the sea-shore, we passed the
chapel of Sidi Salah, who is said to have drawn by magic to his feet,
from the bottom of the sea, a quantity of fish ready dressed.
From this point our kind friend Mr. Frederic Warrington returned with his
followers to the town, and we were left to ourselves. We then turned off
from the road, and entered the fine date-plantation of Zenzúr, celebrated
in the fourteenth century, as one of the finest districts of Barbary,
by the Sheikh eʾ Tijáni, passing by a great magazine of corn, and a
mouldering clay-built castle, in which were quartered a body of horsemen
of the Urshefána. Fine olive-trees pleasingly alternated with the
palm-grove, while the borders of the broad sandy paths were neatly fenced
with the _Cactus opuntia_. Having passed our former place of encampment
in Sayáda, we were agreeably surprised to see at the western end of the
plantation a few new gardens in course of formation; for there is a tax,
levied not on the produce of the tree, but on the tree itself, which
naturally stands in the way of new plantations. Having halted for a short
time at noon near the little oasis of Sidi Ghár, where the ground was
beautifully adorned with a profusion of lilies; and having passed Jedaim,
we encamped towards evening in the wide courtyard of the Kasr Gamúda,
where we were kindly received by the Kaimakám Mustapha Bey, whom I was
providentially destined to meet twice again, viz. on my outset from, and
on my final return to, Fezzan. The whole plantation of Zawíya, of which
Gamúda forms a part, is said to contain a hundred and thirty thousand
palm-trees.
Ibrahim gave me an interesting account to-day of Negroland. Though
a native of Bagirmi, he had rambled much about Mandara, and spoke
enthusiastically of the large and strong mountain-town Karawa, his report
of which I afterwards found quite true; of the town of Mendif, situated
at the foot of the great mountain of the same name; and of Mora, which he
represented as very unsafe on account of bands of robbers,—a report which
has been entirely confirmed by Mr. Vogel. Our chief interest at that
time was concentrated upon Mandara, which was then supposed to be the
beginning of the mountainous zone of Central Africa.
While the camels were pursuing the direct track, we ourselves, leaving
our former road, which was parallel to the sea-coast, and turning
gradually towards the south, made a circuit through the plantation, in
order to procure a supply of dates and corn, as we were about to enter
on the zone of nomadic existence. The morning was very fine, and the
ride pleasant. But we had hardly left the plantation, when we exchanged
the firm turf for deep sand-hills which were broken further on by a
more favoured soil, where melons were cultivated in great plenty; and
again, about four miles beyond the plantation, the country once more
assumed a genial aspect. I heard that many of the inhabitants of Zawíya
habitually exchange every summer their more solid town residences for
lighter dwellings here in the open air. A little before noon we obtained
a fine view over the diversified outlines of the mountains before us.
In the plain there are many favoured spots bearing corn, particularly
the country at the foot of Mount Mʿamúra, which forms a very conspicuous
object from every side. As we advanced further, the country became well
inhabited, and everywhere, at some distance from the path, were seen
encampments of the tribe of the Belása who occupy all the grounds between
the Urshefána and the BuʿAjíla, while the Urjímma, a tribe quite distinct
from the Urghámma, have their settlements south-west, between the Nuwayíl
and the BuʿAjíla. All these Arabs hereabouts provide themselves with
water from the well Núr eʾ dín, which we left at some distance on our
left.
The encampment near which we pitched our tent in the evening belonged
to the chief of the Belása, and consisted of seven tents, close to the
slope of a small hilly chain. We had scarcely pitched our tent when rain
set in, accompanied by a chilly current of air which made the encampment
rather uncomfortable. The chief, Mohammed Chélebi, brought us, in the
evening, some bazín, the common dish of the Arab of Tripoli. We wanted to
regale him with coffee, but, being afraid of touching the hot drink, and
perhaps suspicious of poison, he ran away.
Continuing our march southward through the fine and slightly undulating
district of el Habl, where water is found in several wells, at the
depth of from fifteen to sixteen fathoms, we gradually approached the
mountain-chain. The strong wind, which filled the whole air with sand,
prevented us from obtaining a very interesting view from a considerable
eminence called el Ghunna, the terminating and culminating point of a
small chain of hills, which we ascended. For the same reason, when I and
Ibrahim, after lingering some time on this interesting spot, started
after our camels, we lost our way entirely, the tracks of our little
caravan being totally effaced, and no path traceable over the undulating
sandy ground. At length we reached firmer grassy soil, and, falling in
with the path, overtook our people at the “Bir el Ghánem.”
Hence we went straight towards the slope of the mountains, and after
little more than an hour’s march reached the first advanced hill of the
chain, and began to enter on it by going up one of the wadys which open
from its flanks. It takes its name from the ethel (_Tamarix orientalis_),
which here and there breaks the monotony of the scene, and gradually
widens to a considerable plain bounded by majestic ridges. From this
plain we descended into the deep and rugged ravine of the large Wady
Sheikh, the abrupt cliffs of which presented to view beautiful layers
of red and white sandstone, with a lower horizontal layer of limestone,
and we looked out for a well-sheltered place, as the cold wind was very
disagreeable. The wady has its name from its vicinity to the chapel, or
zawíya, of the Merábet Bu-Máti, to which is attached a large school.
On setting out from this hollow we ascended the other side, and soon
obtained an interesting view of the varied outlines of the mountains
before us, with several half-deserted castles of the Arab middle ages
on the summits of the hills. The castle of the Welád Merabetín, used by
the neighbouring tribes chiefly as a granary, has been twice destroyed
by the Turks; but on the occasion of nuptial festivities, the Arabs, in
conformity with ancient usage, still fire their muskets from above the
castle. The inhabitants of these mountains, who have a strong feeling of
liberty, cling to their ancient customs with great fondness.
We descended again into Wady Sheikh, which, winding round, crossed our
path once more. The regular layers of limestone, which present a good
many fossils, with here and there a layer of marl, form here, during
heavy rains, a pretty little cascade at the foot of the cliffs. We
lost much time by getting entangled in a branch of the wady, which
had no outlet, but exhibited the wild scenery of a glen, worn by the
torrents which occasionally rush down the abrupt rocky cliffs. Having
regained the direct road, we had to cross a third time the Wady Sheikh
at the point where it is joined by Wady Ginna, or Gilla, which also we
crossed a little further on. In the fertile zone along the coast, the
monotony of the palm-groves becomes almost fatiguing; but here we were
much gratified at the sight of the first group of date-trees, which was
succeeded by others, and even by a small orchard of fig-trees. Here, as
we began to ascend the elevated and abrupt eastern cliffs of the valley,
which at first offer only a few patches of cultivated plateau, succeeded
further on by olive-trees, a fine view opened before us, extending to
the south-east as far as the famous Roman monument called Enshéd eʾ
Sufét, which is very conspicuous. Having waited here for our camels, we
reached the first village, whose name, “Ta-smeraye,” bears, like that of
many others, indubitable proof that the inhabitants of these mountainous
districts belong originally to the Berber race, though at present only
a few of them speak their native tongue. These people had formerly a
pleasant and comfortable abode in this quarter, but having frequently
revolted against the Turks, they have been greatly reduced, and their
villages at present look like so many heaps of ruins.
Having passed some other hamlets in a similar state of decay, and
still going through a pleasant but rather arid country, we reached the
oppressor’s stronghold, the “Kasr il Jebel,” as it is generally called,
although this part of the mountains bears the special name of Yefren. It
lies on the very edge of the steep rocky cliffs, and affords an extensive
view over the plain. But though standing in a commanding position, it
is itself commanded by a small eminence a few hundred yards eastward,
where there was once a large quadrangular structure, now in ruins. The
castle, which at the time of our visit was the chief instrument in the
hands of the Turks for overawing the mountaineers, contained a garrison
of four hundred soldiers. It has only one bastion with three guns, at
the southern corner, and was found by Mr. Overweg to be 2,150 feet above
the level of the sea. The high cliffs inclosing the valley are most
beautifully and regularly stratified in layers of gypsum and limestone;
and a man may walk almost round the whole circumference of the ravine on
the same layer of the latter stone, which has been left bare,—the gypsum,
of frailer texture, having been carried away by the torrents of rain
which rush violently down the steep descent. From the little eminence
above mentioned, there is a commanding view over the valleys and the high
plain towards the south.
After our tent had been pitched, we received a visit from Haj Rashíd, the
Kaimakám or governor, who is reckoned the second person in the Bashalík,
and has the whole district from Zwára as far as Ghadámes towards the
south-west and the Tarhóna towards the south-east, under his military
command. His salary is 4,600 mahhbúbs annually, or about 720_l._ He had
previously been Basha of Adana, in Cilicia; and we indulged, to our
mutual gratification, in reminiscences of Asia Minor.
Early in the morning I walked to a higher eminence at some distance
eastward from the castle, which had attracted my attention the day
before. This conspicuous hill also was formerly crowned with a tower or
small castle; but nothing but a solitary rustic dwelling now enlivens
the solitude. The view was very extensive, but the strong wind did not
allow of exact compass observations. While my companion remained near the
castle, engaged in his geological researches, I agreed with our shoush
and a Zintáni lad whom I accidentally met here, and who on our journey to
Fezzan proved very useful, to undertake a longer excursion towards the
west, in order to see something more of this interesting and diversified
slope of the plateau.
I was anxious to visit a place called Ta-gherbúst, situated on the north
side of the castle, along the slope of a ravine which runs westward
into the valley; accordingly, on leaving the site of our encampment,
we deviated at first a little northwards. Ta-gherbúst is said to have
been a rich and important place in former times. Some of its inhabitants
possessed as many as ten slaves; but at present it is a heap of ruins,
with scarcely twenty-five inhabited houses. From hence, turning
southward, we descended gradually along the steep slope, while above our
heads the cliffs rose in picturesque majesty, beautifully adorned by
scattered date-trees, which, at every level spot, sprung forth from the
rocky ground, and gave to the whole scene a very charming character. A
fountain which gushed out from a cavern on a little terrace at the foot
of the precipice, and fed a handsome group of date-trees, was one of the
most beautiful objects that can be imagined.
The Turks, two years ago, made a small path leading directly down from
the castle to this fountain, which supplies them with water. After
sketching this beautiful spot while the animals were watering, we
followed a more gradual descent into the valley of el Ghasás, which here
with a rough level widens to a plain, while its upper or southern part,
called Wady Rumíye, forms a very narrow and picturesque ravine. We then
continued our march in a westerly direction, having on our right the
plain extending, with slight undulations, towards the sea, and on our
left the majestic offshoots of the plateau jutting into the plain like
vast promontories, with a general elevation of two thousand feet. This
grand feature is evidently due to the waters which, in ancient times,
must have rushed down the slope of the plateau in mighty streams. At
present, the chief character of the country is aridity. On asking my
guide whether great torrents are not still occasionally formed along
those ravines strong enough to reach the sea, he replied, that once
only—forty-four years ago—such a torrent was formed, which, passing by
Zenzúr, gave a red colour to the sea as far as the Island of Jirbi. He
also informed me that, in general, all the waters from the ridge joined
the Wady Haera.
On our left, in the valley Khalaifa, a group of date-trees, fed by
an abundant spring called Ain el Wuaníye, forms a conspicuous and
interesting object; while, in general, these valleys or ravines exhibit,
besides small brushwood, only trees of the siddre (_Rhamnus nabeca_),
jári, and batúm tribe. The batúm-tree (_Pistacia Atlantica_) produces the
fruit called gatúf, which is used by the Arabs for a great variety of
purposes. Small brushwood or gandul, also, and various sorts of herbage,
such as sebót, shedíde, and sháde, enliven the ground.
[Illustration]
As we advanced, we changed our direction gradually to the south-west, and
entered the mountainous region. On our right there extended far into the
plain a steep narrow promontory, which had served as a natural fortress
to the mountaineers in the last war with the Turks; but no water being
found near it, its occupants were soon reduced to extremities. Having
gone round the last promontory on our left, we entered the picturesque
valley “Welád ʿAli,” once adorned with orchards and groves of date-trees,
but at present reduced to a desolate wilderness, only a few neglected
fig-trees and scattered palms still remaining to prove how different the
condition of this spot might be. After we had commenced our ascent along
the side of the ravine, in order to return upon the level of the plateau,
we made a short halt near a cluster of about eighty date-trees. But the
ascent became extremely steep, especially near the middle of the slope,
where the water, rushing down in cascades, has laid bare the limestone
rock, and formed a sort of terrace. Here, on the east side of the
cascade, is a spring in a well, called ʿAin el Gatár mtʿa Welád ʿAli. On
both of the summits overlooking the slope are two villages of the Riaina,
the eastern one a little larger than the other, but at present not
containing more than about thirty stone-built cottages. In both we tried
in vain to buy a little barley for our cattle, as we knew not whether, at
our halting-place for the night, we might be able to obtain any; but we
got plenty of dried figs for ourselves. This slope, with its ravines and
valleys, might certainly produce a very considerable quantity of fruit;
and in this respect it resembles in character that of the so-called
Kabylia in Algiers. The rearing of fruit-trees seems to be a favourite
occupation of the Berber race, even in the more favoured spots of the
Great Desert.
Continuing our march on the summit of the plateau, we reached the
village Kasr Shellúf, which exhibited far greater opulence, as it had
escaped being ransacked by the Turks in the last war. Most probably in
consequence of this circumstance, its inhabitants are more hospitably
disposed than those of Riaina: but the cave or cellar in which they
wanted to lodge me, had nothing very attractive for a night’s quarters,
so that I urged my two companions onward. Having continued our
south-westerly direction for awhile, and passed another village, we
thought it safer to turn our steps eastwards, and took the direction of
the zawíya or convent situated on the summit of the promontory; but when
we reached it, just after dusk, the masters or teachers of the young men,
who are sent to this holy place for education, refused to admit us for
the night, so that we were obliged to go on and try to reach one of the
five villages of Khalaifa. At length, after a very difficult descent down
the steep rocky slope in the dark, we succeeded in reaching the principal
village, and, after some negotiation, occasioned by the absence of the
Kaid Bel Kasem, who is chief of the Khalaifa as well as of the Wuërje, we
at length obtained admission, and even something to eat, my companions
(rather against my will) representing me as a Turk.
Our route on leaving the village was very pleasant, winding round the
sloping sides of several ravines, among which that formed by the rivulet
Wuaniye, and adorned with date-trees, was the most beautiful. Ascending
gradually, we reached again the level of the plateau, and obtained an
extensive prospect, with the remarkable monument Enshéd eʾ Sufét as a
conspicuous and attractive landmark in the distance. The elevated level
had a slight undulation, and was clothed with halfa (_Cynosurus durus_)
and gedím. However, we did not long continue on it, but descended into
the well-irrigated valley Rumíye, which is extremely fertile, but also
extremely unhealthy, and notorious for its fevers. The beauty of the
scenery, enlivened as it is by a considerable torrent foaming along the
ravine, and feeding luxuriant clusters of palm, pomegranate, fig, and
apricot trees, surpassed my expectation.
Having kept awhile along this picturesque ravine, we ascended its eastern
side, and then followed the very edge of the steep, directly for the
castle; but before reaching our tent we were obliged to cross a deep
branch of the ravine. There was some little activity to-day about the
castle, it being the market-day; but the market was really miserable, and
the Turkish troops, exercising outside the castle, could ill supply the
want of national welfare and prosperity. If a just and humane treatment
were guaranteed to these tribes, even under a foreign rule, the country
might still enjoy plenty and happiness. Most of the tribes westward from
the Riaina—namely, the Zintán, who formerly were very powerful, and
even at present hold some possessions as far as Fezzan, the Rujbán, the
Fissátu, the Welád Shebel, the Selemát, the Arhebát, the Harába, the
Génafid, the Kabáw, and the Nalúd, belong to the Berber race.
After a friendly parting from the Kaimakám, we broke up our encampment
near the kasr, in the afternoon, in order to continue our tour eastward
along the varied border of the plateau, under the guidance of a faithful
black servant of the governor, whose name was Barka. Having passed
several smaller villages, we reached Um eʾ Zerzán, a considerable
village, situated on a round hill in the midst of a valley, ornamented
with fine olive-trees, and surrounded by fine orchards. Um eʾ Zerzán
is well known among the mountaineers as a centre of rebellion. The
neighbourhood is full of reminiscences of the late war, and about two
miles in the rear of the village are the remains of strong walls called
el Matarís, behind which the Arabs made some stand against the Turks.
Having passed a solitary rustic dwelling surrounded with a thriving
olive-plantation, we reached the ruins of a castle or village from which
the Roman sepulchre, known among the Arabs by the name Enshéd eʾ Sufét,
burst suddenly upon our view.
After an extremely cold night on this high rocky ground, the thermometer
in the morning indicating only 5° above freezing-point, with the dawn of
day I mounted the hill opposite to the monument, commanding an extensive
view.[4] It was a level tableland, uninterrupted by any higher eminence;
but the landscape seemed to me highly characteristic, and I made a sketch
of it.
Upon this hill there was formerly a castle built of hewn stone. The
foundation walls, which are still traceable, show that it faced the
east, the eastern and the western sides measuring each 57 ft. 8 in., the
northern and southern, not more than 54 ft. On the eastern side there was
a strong outwork protecting the gate, and measuring 16 ft. 11 in. on the
north and south sides, and 12 ft. 1 in. on the east side, where there was
a large gate 9 ft. 1 in. wide. This outwork juts off from the castle
at 17 ft. 6 in. from the south corner. It was evidently a Roman castle;
but after the dominion of the Romans and Byzantines had passed away, the
Berbers appear to have strengthened it by adding another outwork on the
west side, not, however, in the same grand style as the Romans, but with
small irregular stones, putting bastions to the corners, and surrounding
the whole castle with considerable outworks on the slope of the hill.
[Illustration]
The Roman castle has been swept away; but the Roman sepulchre is still
preserved, with almost all its architectural finery, and is still
regarded by the surrounding tribes with a certain awe and reverence.[5]
It was most probably the sepulchre of a Roman commander of the castle in
the time of the Antonines; hence, in my opinion, the name Sufét, by which
the natives have distinguished it. It is certainly not a Punic monument,
though it is well known that the Punic language was generally spoken in
several towns of this region much later than the second century after
Christ. The style of its architecture testifies that it belongs to the
second century; but no inscription remains to tell its story.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
This interesting monument is situated on an eminence a little less
elevated than that on which the castle is built, and south-westward from
it. Its whole height is about 36 ft. The base or pedestal measures 16 ft.
8¾ in. on the west and east, and 16 ft. north and south. Its elevation
varies greatly from east to west, on account of the sloping ground,
the eastern side measuring 3 ft. 2 in., the western 5 ft. 7 in. In the
interior of this base is the sepulchral chamber, measuring 7 ft. 1 in.
from north to south, and 6 ft. 6 in. from east to west, and remarkable
for the peculiar construction of the roof. Upon this lowest part of the
base rises a second one 15 ft. 9 in. west and east, 14 ft. 3¾ in. north
and south, and 2 ft. 1 in. high; and on this a third one, measuring 14
ft. 7½ in. west and east, 13 ft. 10¼ in. north and south, and 1 ft. 7 in.
in height. Upon this base rose the principal part of the monument, 13
ft. 7 in. high, and measuring at its foot 13 ft. 11½ in. west and east,
decorated at the corners with pilasters, the feet of which measure 1 ft.
1¾ in., and the shaft 9¾ in. The moulding is handsomely decorated. Upon
this principal body of the monument is constructed the upper story, about
10 ft. high, decorated with pilasters of the Corinthian order. On the
south and west sides the walls are plain; but on the east side they are
ornamented with a bow window enclosed with pilasters of the same order,
and on the north side with a plain window running up the whole height
of the body. Inside of this chamber stood, probably, the statue of the
person in whose honour the monument was erected. The upper compartment
has a plain moulding about four feet high, and surmounted by a cornice.
The material of this interesting monument is a very fine limestone, which
under the influence of the atmosphere has received a vivid brownish
colour, almost like that of travertine. It was taken from a quarry,
which extends all round the monument, and is full of caverns now used by
shepherds as resting-places when they tend their flocks hereabouts.
Our camels had already gone on some time before we parted from this
solitary memorial of Roman greatness; and after a little distance we
passed the ruins of another Roman fort called Hanshír Hámed. The country
hereabouts, forming a sort of bowl or hollow, and absorbing a great deal
of moisture, is very fertile, and is also tolerably well cultivated;
but after a while it becomes stony. Having here passed a village, we
reached a beautiful little valley, the head of the Wady Sheikh, which
is irrigated by two springs, that feed a splendid little orchard with
all sorts of fruit. Here lies Swédna, a considerable village spreading
over the whole eminence, and known on account of the murder of Mohammed
Efendi. As the valley divides into two branches, we followed the main
wady, and afterwards crossed it, where it formed a pretty brook of
running water. We then wound along a narrow valley overgrown with halfa
and sidr, and, changing our direction, took the road to Kikla. The valley
soon became decked with olives, which gradually formed a fine plantation.
This is the chief branch of industry of the inhabitants, the ground being
rather stony, and not so fit for grain. The district of Kikla contains
numerous villages, all of which suffered much from the last war, when a
great number of people were slaughtered, and their dwellings ransacked,
by the Turks. Several of these villages lay in small hollows, or on
the slope of ravines, and exhibited rather a melancholy appearance.
After some delay, we resumed our easterly direction towards Rabda, and
soon came to the spot where the elevated ground descends abruptly into
the deep and broad valley called Wady Rabda, over which we obtained an
interesting view. To the left the slope broke into a variety of cones and
small mounts, among which the Tarhóna—“the mill,” so called from a mill
that stood formerly on its summit—is remarkable for its handsome shape;
while in front of us rose an almost perpendicular cliff of limestone, on
a turn of which, in a very commanding position, lies the village Jáfet,
enclosed, and naturally defended, on every side by a deep ravine. Here
we commenced our descent, which took us a whole hour; on the middle of
the slope we passed a kiln for preparing gypsum. At length we reached the
side valley, which joins the main wady on the west. It was ornamented
with a few solitary date-trees, and the beautifully shaped slopes and
cones of the Tarhóna were just illuminated by a striking variety of light
and shade. The soil, a fertile marl, remained uncultivated. Gradually we
entered the main valley, a grand chasm of about four miles and a half in
width, which has been formed by the mighty rushing of the waters down
the slope of the plateau. In its upper part it is called Wady Kérdemín,
in its lower part Wady Sert. The industry of man might convert it into
a beautiful spot; but at present it is a desolate waste, the monotonous
halfa being the only clothing of the ground.
The eastern border presents a perpendicular rocky cliff about 1,500 feet
high, on the brink of which lies the village Misga. The western border
consists of a cluster of detached mounts and rocks. Among these a black
cone, which attracted Mr. Overweg’s attention, was found on examination
to be pure basalt, with certain indications of former volcanic action.
From beyond this remarkable cone, a mount was visible crowned with a
castle. As we proceeded, the valley became enlivened by two small Arab
encampments. Here we gradually obtained a view of the date-grove of
Rabda, which, from the foot of the steep eastern cliffs, slopes down
into the bottom of the valley, and is overtopped, in the distance, by
the handsome bifurcated Mount Manterús. But Rabda was too far off to be
reached before sunset; and we encamped in the wady, near a group of five
tents inhabited by Lasába or el Asába Arabs, whose chief paid us a visit
and treated us with bazín, but declined tasting our coffee, probably
thinking with his fellow-chief the other day, that we were in the service
of the Turks, and wanted to poison him. All the people of these regions
regard strangers with suspicion.
Soon after we had started we entered upon cultivated ground,—the first
trace of industry we had seen in this spacious valley. The eastern cliffs
formed here a wide chasm, through which a lateral valley joined the Wady
Sert. On the southern shore of this valley lies the Kasr Lasába, from
which a torrent that came forth from it, and crossed our route, presented
a refreshing spectacle. Emerging gradually from the valley, we obtained
an extensive view over the plain called el Gatís. Westward, as far as the
well called Bír el Ghánem, little was to be seen which could gladden the
eye of the husbandman. Towards the north-east the level is interrupted
by a small range of hills, the culminating points of which, called el
Guleát and Mʿanmúra, rise to a great elevation. Beyond this range the
plain is called Shefána, the country of the Ur-shefána. At nine o’clock
we reached the fine date-grove of the westernmost village of Rabda. It
is fed by a copious spring, which arrested our attention. Following it
up to trace its source, we were greatly surprised to find, in the heart
of some date-trees, a basin fifty feet in length, and about thirty in
breadth, in which the water was continually bubbling up and sending
forth a considerable stream to spread life and cheerfulness around. The
water gushed up at a temperature of 72° Fahr., while that of the air
was only 52°. Besides dates, a large quantity of onions is produced in
this fertile spot. The village itself was in former times the residence
of Hamíd, a powerful Arab chieftain, who at one time ruled the whole
mountainous district, but was obliged to yield to the Turks, and lives at
present about Beni-Ulíd, where I had to deal with him on my home-journey
in 1855.
The groves of the two villages of Rabda are not far apart. On the
north-eastern side of the village are seven holy chapels called el
Hararát. The eastern village lies upon a hill, over a hollow, in which
spreads a date-grove, likewise fed by a spring called ʿAin Rabda eʾ
sherkíyeh. On crossing a brook we obtained a view of the Jebel Shehésh,
which, attached to the Tarhóna, stretches a long way westward, and even
el Gunna was seen faintly in the distance. Thus we approached gradually
the interesting bicorn of the dark-coloured Jebel Manterús, which we were
bent on ascending. Alighting at the foot of the mount, near the border of
a deep channel, we sent the camels on, but kept the shoush and our guide
back to wait for us. It took me twenty-five minutes to reach the eastern
and higher summit, on which there is the tomb of a merábet, a holy
shepherd called Sidi Bu-Mʿaza; but I was disappointed in my expectation
of obtaining a great extent of view, the cone of Mount Tekút and other
mountains intervening. Towards the south only, a peep into the Wady el
Ugla, bordered by high cliffs, slightly rewarded me for my trouble;
and the mount itself is interesting, as it exhibits evident traces of
volcanic action.
I had reached the western lower cone in descending, when I met my
companion in his ascent, and, being anxious to overtake the camels, I
started in advance of him, accompanied by the guide, along the Wady
el Ugla. But my companions did not seem to agree as to the path to be
pursued; and my guide, overlooking on the rocky ground the footsteps of
the camels, which had taken the direct path to the Kasr Ghurián, wanted
to take me by the wady, and, instead of ascending the eastern cliffs of
the ravine, kept along it, where, from being narrow and rocky—the mere
bed of a torrent,—it widens to a pleasant, cultivated, open valley, with
rich marly soil, and adorned with an olive-grove. On a hill in the centre
lies the first village of the district Ghurián.
We had begun to leave the principal valley by a lateral opening, when
the shoush, overtaking us, led us back to the more northern and more
difficult but shorter path which our camels had taken. The ascent was
very steep indeed; and the path then wound along the mountain-side and
across ravines, till at length we reached the olive-grove which surrounds
the Kasr Ghurián; but in the dark we had some difficulty in reaching
it, and still more in finding our companions, who at length, however,
rejoined the party. In order to obtain something to eat, we were obliged
to pay our respects to the governor; but the Turks in the castle were so
suspicious that they would scarcely admit us. When at last they allowed
us to slip through the gate in single file, they searched us for arms;
but the governor having assured himself that we had no hostile intention,
and that we were furnished with a letter from the basha, sent a servant
to procure us a lodging in the homestead or housh of a man called
Ibrahim, where we pitched our tent. It was then nine o’clock; and we felt
quite disposed to enjoy some food and repose.
We paid a visit to the governor, who, as well as the aghá, received
us with the civility usual with Turks, and, in order to do us honour,
ordered the garrison, consisting of two hundred men, to pass in review
before us. They were good-looking men and well conditioned, though
generally rather young. He then showed us the magazines, which are always
kept in good order, for fear of a revolt, but will be of no avail so
long as the command rests with ignorant and unprincipled men. It is built
on a spur of the tableland, commanding on the south and south-west side
the Wady Rummána and the highroad into the interior. Towards the north
the lower hilly ground intervenes between it and Mount Tekút.
Having returned to our quarters, we started on foot a little after
mid-day, on an excursion to Mount Tekút, which, from its elevation and
its shape, appeared to us well worth a visit. Descending the slope by
the “trík tobbi,” a road made by the Turks, we reached the eastern foot
of the mountain, after an hour and a half’s expeditious march through
the village Gwásem, and olive-groves, and over a number of subterranean
dwellings. My companion went round to the south side in search of an
easier ascent. I chose the cliff just above us, which, though steep,
indeed, and difficult on account of scattered blocks and stones, was
not very high. Having once climbed it, I had easier work, keeping along
the crest, which, winding upwards in a semicircle, gradually led to
the highest point of the mountain, on the north side, with an absolute
elevation of about 2,800 feet. On the top are the ruins of a chapel of
Si Ramadán, which, I think, is very rarely visited. The crest, which has
fallen in on the south-east side, encloses a perfectly circular little
plain, resembling an amphitheatre, and called Shʿabet Tekút. The mount
appears evidently to have been an active volcano in former times, yet
my companion declared the rock not to be pure basalt. The view was very
extensive, and I was able to take the angles of several conspicuous
points. After we had satisfied our curiosity, we descended along the
northern slope, which is much more gradual, being even practicable for
horses, and left the “Shʿabet” by the natural opening. Thence we returned
along the path called Um eʾ Nekhél, which passes by the Roman sepulchre
described by Lyon in general terms, and situated in a very conspicuous
position.
Accompanied by the shoush, I made an excursion in a south-westerly
direction. The villages, at least those above the ground, are generally
in a wretched condition and half deserted; still the country is in a
tolerable state of cultivation, saffron and olive-trees being the two
staple articles of industry. Passing the little subterranean village of
Shuedeya, we reached the Kasr Teghrínna, originally a Berber settlement,
as its name testifies, with a strong position on a perfectly detached
hill. At present the kasr, or the village on the hill-top, is little more
than a heap of ruins, inhabited only by a few families. At the northern
foot of the hill a small village has recently been formed, called Menzel
Teghrínna. On the west and east sides the hill is encompassed by a
valley with a fine olive-grove, beyond which the Wady el Arbʿa stretches
westwards; and it was by this roundabout way that my guide had intended
to take me from Wady el Ugla to Kasr Ghurián. Protected by the walls, I
was able to take a few angles; but the strong wind which prevailed soon
made me desist.
From this spot I went to the villages called Ksúr Gamúdi. These once
formed likewise a strong place, but were entirely destroyed in the last
war, since which a new village has arisen at the foot of the rocky
eminence. A few date-trees grow at the north foot of the hill, while it
is well known, that the palm is rare in the Ghurián. As I was taking
angles from the top of the hill, the inhabitants of the village joined
me, and manifested a friendly disposition, furnishing me readily with any
information, but giving full vent to their hatred of the Turks. As the
most remarkable ruins of the time of the Jahalíyeh—or the pagans, as the
occupants of the country before the time of Mohammed are called,—they
mentioned to me, besides Ghirze, a tower or sepulchre called Metuïje,
about two days’ journey south-east; Beluwár, another tower-like monument
at less distance; and in a south-west direction ʿAmúd, a round edifice
which has not yet been visited by any European.
The valley at the foot of the Ksúr Gamúdi is watered by several
abundant springs, which once supplied nourishment for a great variety
of vegetables; but the kitchen-gardens and orchards are at present
neglected, and corn alone is now cultivated as the most necessary want.
The uppermost of these springs, which are stated to be six in number,
is called Sma Rhʿain—not an Arabic name. Beyond, towards the south, is
Jehésha, further eastward Usáden, mentioned by Lyon, with a chapel, Geba
with a chapel, and, going round towards the north, Shetán, and further on
Mésufín. The country beyond Kuléba, a village forming the southern border
of the Ghurián, is called Ghadáma, a name evidently connected with that
of Ghadámes, though we know the latter to be at least of two thousand
years’ standing.
Continuing our march through the valley north-east, and passing the
village Bu-Mát and the ruined old places called Hanshír Metelíli and
Hanshír Jamúm, we reached the ruins of another old place called Hanshír
Settára, in the centre of the olive-grove. The houses, which in general
are built of small irregular stones, present a remarkable contrast
to a pair of immense slabs, above ten feet long and regularly hewn,
standing upright, which I at first supposed to be remnants of a large
building; but having since had a better opportunity of studying this
subject, I concluded that they were erected, like the cromlechs, for some
religious purpose. On the road back to our encampment, the inhabitants of
Gamúdi, who were unwilling to part company with me, gave vent to their
hatred against the Turks in a singular way. While passing a number of
saffron-plantations, which I said proved the productiveness of their
country, they maintained that the present production of saffron is as
nothing compared to what it was before it came into the impious hands
of the Osmanlis. In former times, they said, several stems usually
shot forth from the same root, whereas now scarcely a single sample
can be found with more than one stalk,—a natural consequence of the
contamination or pollution (nejes) of the Turks, whose predominance had
caused even the laws of nature to deteriorate. In order to prove the
truth of this, they went about the fields and succeeded in finding only a
single specimen with several stems issuing from the same root.
[Illustration: KASR GHURIAN.]
Passing the subterranean villages of Suayeh and Ushen, and further on
that called Housh el Yehúd, which, as its name indicates, is entirely
inhabited by Jews, we reached our encampment in the housh of Ibrahím.
The subterranean dwellings which have been described by Captain Lyon,
seem to me to have originated principally with the Jews, who from time
immemorial had become intimately connected with the Berbers, many of the
Berber tribes having adopted the Jewish creed; and just in the same way
as they are found mingling with the Berbers in these regions—for the
original inhabitants of the Ghurián belong entirely to the Berber race—on
friendly terms, so are they found also in the recesses of the Atlas in
Morocco.
I then went to see the market, which is held every Thursday on the open
ground at the east side of the castle, close to the northern edge of
the ridge. Though much better supplied than that near Kasr Jebel, it
was yet extremely poor; only a single camel was offered for sale. This
results from the mistrust of the inhabitants, who, in bringing their
produce to the great market at Tripoli, are less exposed to vexations
than here. When taking leave of the Kaimakám, we found the whole castle
beset by litigants. I saw in the company of the governor the chief of
the Haj caravan, the Sheikh el Rakeb, of whose grand entrance into the
town I had been witness. The aghá, wanting to show us their little
paradise, accompanied us into the Wady Rummána, which, in a direction
from south-east to north-west, winds along the southern foot of the
ridge on which the castle is situated. Though it looks rather wild and
neglected, it is a charming retreat for the leisure hours of a governor
of a place like this. It is irrigated by a very powerful spring issuing
from the limestone rock in a channel widened by art, and then dividing
into several little rills, which are directed over the terraces of the
slope. These, of course, have been raised by art, and are laid out in
orchards, which, besides the pomegranates which have given their name to
the valley, produce sferéj (sfarájel)—the Malum Cydonium—of an excellent
quality, figs, grapes, and almonds. A path, practicable even for horses,
leads down from the castle to the spring. Before I left this charming
spot, I made a sketch of the valley, with the castle on the cliffs.
CHAPTER III.
FERTILE MOUNTAIN REGION RICH IN ANCIENT REMAINS.
It was past three in the afternoon of Thursday, February 14th, when we
started from the dwelling of our host, in order to pursue our route
in a south-easterly direction. We were agreeably surprised to see
fine vineyards at the village called Jelíli; but the cultivation of
olive-trees seemed almost to cease here, while the country became quite
open, and afforded an unbounded prospect towards the distant southern
range, with its peaks, depressions, and steep slopes. But the fine
olive-groves of Sgáif proved that we had not yet reached the limit of
this useful tree. We were just about to descend the slope into the broad
valley called Wady Rán, when, seeing darkness approaching, and frightened
by the black clouds rising from the valley, together with a very
chilly stream of air, we began to look seriously about for some secure
shelter for the night. To our right we had a pleasant little hollow with
olive-trees; but that would not suffice in such weather as was apparently
approaching, and we therefore descended a little along the cliffs on
our left, where our shoush knew that there were caverns called Merwán.
Scarcely had we pitched our tent on the little terrace in front of these,
when the rain began to pour down, and, accompanied with snow, continued
the whole night.
When we arose next morning, the whole country was covered with snow about
an inch deep, and its natural features were no longer recognisable.
Placed on the very brink of a bank partly consisting of rocky ground,
with many holes, partly of marly soil and accordingly very slippery, we
could not think of starting. At half-past six, the thermometer stood at
34° Fahr. Fortunately our tent, which had been fitted by Mr. Warrington
for every kind of weather, kept the wet out. The caverns were very
irregular excavations, used by the shepherds as temporary retreats, and
full of fleas. The snow did not melt till late in the afternoon, and the
rain fell without intermission the whole night.
In the morning the bad weather still continued, but the cold was not
quite so severe. Tired as we were of our involuntary delay in such
a place, we decided upon starting; but it was difficult to get our
half-frozen people to go to work. At length we set out, accompanied by
an old man, whom we hired as guide, on the deep descent into Wady Rán.
The soil was often so slippery that the camels could scarcely keep their
feet; and we were heartily glad when, after an hour and a quarter’s
descent, we at length reached stony ground, though still on the slope.
Here the valley spread out before us to right and left, with the village
Usíne, inhabited by the Merabetín Selahát, situated on the top of a
hill, and distinguished for the quality of its dates, which are of a
peculiar kind, short and thick with a very broad stone,—while at the
foot of the western heights another village was seen, and on the top of
them the castle Bústam. Here the great valley is joined by a smaller
ravine, called Wady Nkhal, with a small village of the same name. We
crossed two paths leading to Beni Ulíd, passing by Wady Rán, which went
parallel to our course on the right, and where there are two springs
and a date-grove, while to the left, we obtained a view of Sedi-úris,
situated on a cone overtowering the northern end of Wady Kominshát. We
then approached closely the steep glen of Wady Rán, and, after some
turnings, crossed the small rivulet which flows through it, and, a
little further on, recrossed it. Then, traversing the valley called Wady
Marníyeh, we entered a fine fertile plain surrounded on all sides by
heights, among which the Kelúba Naʿame was conspicuous on our right. But
the camels found the marly soil, fully saturated as it was with rain,
very difficult, especially after we had entered the “Shʿabet sóda.” For
this reason, also, we could not think of following the direct path, which
leads over the hills. At the western end of the shʿabet are the villages
Deb Beni ʿAbas and Suadíyeh, with olive-groves. All the waters of the
district are carried into Wady Rán, which joins the Wady Haera.
The country begins to exhibit decidedly a volcanic character, and from
all the heights rise bare basaltic cones, while the lower part is covered
with halfa. This character of the country seems to have been well
understood by the Arabs, when they gave to these basins, surrounded by
basaltic mounts, the name “Shʿabet,” which we have already seen given
to the crater of the Tekút. Here, at a short distance on our left, we
passed “another Shʿabet,” distinguished as “el Akhera.” At length we
found an opening through the hilly chain on our right, behind an indented
projection of the ridge called “Sennet el Osis,” and then suddenly
changed our course from north-east to south-east. As soon as we had made
the circuit of this mount, we obtained a view of the highest points of
the Tarhóna, and directed our course by one of them, Mount Bíbel, which
is said to be sometimes visible from Tripoli. Tales of deadly strife are
attached to some localities hereabouts; and, according to our guide, the
torrent which we crossed beyond Wady Ruéra poured down, some years ago,
a bloody stream. But at present the scene wants life, the Kasr Kuséba,
situated on the apex of a cone, being almost the only dwelling-place
which we had seen for five hours. Life has fled from these fertile and
pleasant regions; and the monotonous character which they at present
exhibit necessarily impresses itself on the narrative of the traveller.
At length, after having entered the gorges of the mountains, we reached
the encampment of the Merabetín Bu-ʿAáysha, and pitched our tent at a
short distance from it. These people have considerable herds of camels
and sheep; as for cattle, there are at present very few in the whole
regency of Tripoli, except in the neighbourhood of Ben-gházi. Their
chief, ʿAbdallah, who lives in Tripoli, is much respected. The valleys
and plains hereabouts, when well saturated with rain, produce a great
quantity of corn, but they are almost entirely destitute of trees. Having
been thoroughly drenched to-day by heavy showers, we were in a very
uncomfortable condition at its close.
About an hour before sunrise, when the thermometer stood at 41°, I set
out to ascend an eminence north from our tent, which afforded me an
excellent site whence to take the bearings of several prominent cones.
After my return to the tent, we started together in advance of the
camels, that we might have time to ascend the broad cone of Jebel Msíd,
which had arrested our attention. We soon passed a well, or rather
fountain, called Bir el ʿAr, which gives its name to some ancient
monument (“sanem,” or idol, as it is called by the Arabs) at a little
distance, and which the guide described as a kasr tawíl Beni Jehel, “a
high fortress of the Romans.” The country was varied and pleasant, and
enlivened, moreover, by flocks; but we saw no traces of agriculture till
we reached the well called Hasi el abiár, beyond which we entered upon
a volcanic formation. As we ascended along a small ravine, and entered
another irregular mountain-plain of confined dimensions, we found the
basalt in many places protruding from the surface. The more desolate
character of the country was interrupted in a pleasant way by the Wady
Nekhél, which has received its name from the number of palm-trees which
grow here in a very dwarfish state, though watered by a copious spring.
Following the windings of another small valley, we reached a plain at
the foot of Mount Msíd, while on the right a large ravine led down from
the heights. Here we commenced our ascent of the cone; and on the slope
of the mountain we met with large pillars similar to those which I had
seen in the ruins of Hanshír Settára. The pillars succeeded each other
at regular distances up the slope, apparently marking the track to be
followed by those ascending for religious purposes. The ascent was very
gradual for the first twelve minutes; and twelve minutes more brought us
to its summit, which was crowned with a castle of good Arabic masonry
of about the thirteenth century. Its ruined walls gave us a little
protection against the very strong blasts of wind; but we found it rather
difficult to take accurate angles, which was the more to be regretted
as a great many peaks were visible from this beautifully shaped and
conspicuous mount.
It was a little past noon when we pursued our journey from the western
foot of this once holy mount, and, turning its southern side, resumed
our north-easterly direction. We then soon came to the “Wady hammám,”
which forms here a wider basin for the brook running along it towards
Mejenín, so as to produce a pleasant and fresh green spot. Having watered
our animals, we entered a plain from which detached basaltic hillocks
started up; and some ruins of regularly hewn stones, scattered about,
bore testimony that the Romans had deemed the place worthy of fixed
settlements. A small limestone hill contrasts handsomely with these
black basaltic masses, among which the Leblú, the highest summit of a
larger group to our right, is particularly remarkable. At the foot of
the Jebel Jemmʿa was an encampment of the Welád ʿAli; but I cannot say
in what degree they are connected with the family which has given its
name to the valley in the Yefren. From this side in particular, the Jebel
Msíd presents the form of a beautiful dome, the most regular I remember
to have ever seen. It seems to rise with a proud air over its humbler
neighbours. Having then passed a continuous ridge of cones stretching
south-south-east, and cleared the basaltic region, we entered a wide
plain covered with halfa, and, cutting right across it, we reached
the fertile low plain Elkeb, where another encampment of the Welád
ʿAli excited the desire of our people to try their hospitality for our
night’s quarters; but some distance to the left two enormous pillars
were to be seen standing upright, and thither we repaired. Here I had an
opportunity of accurately investigating a very peculiar kind of ancient
remains, giving a clue, I hope, to the character of the religion of the
early inhabitants of these regions, though it seems impossible to give a
satisfactory explanation respecting all the details of their structure.
It consists of a pair of quadrangular pillars erected on a common basis,
which is fixed into the ground, and measures 3 ft. 1⁵⁄₁₂ in. in length,
and 2 ft. 10 in. in width. The two pillars, which measure 2 ft. on each
side, being 1 ft. 7²⁄₁₀ in. asunder, are 10 ft. high. The western pillar
has three quadrangular holes on the inside, while the corresponding holes
in the eastern pillar go quite through; the lowest hole is 1 ft. 8 in.
above the ground, and the second 1 ft. ½ in. higher up, and so the third
above the second. The holes are 6 in. square.
[Illustration]
Over these pillars, which at present lean to one side, is laid another
enormous stone about 6 ft. 6½ in. long, and of the same width as the
pillars, so that the whole structure bears a surprising resemblance to
the most conspicuous part of Stonehenge and other ruins in Malabar.
But besides these, there are other very curious stones of different
workmanship, and destined evidently for different purposes; some of them
are large, flat, and quadrangular, very peculiarly worked, and adapted,
probably, to sacrifices. One of them is 3 ft. in length and breadth,
but with a projection on one side, as is represented in the woodcut,
and 1 ft. 2 in. high. On the surface of this stone, and parallel to its
sides, is carved a channel 4⁸⁄₁₀ in. broad, forming a quadrangle; and
from this a small channel branches along the projecting part. Several
stones of similar workmanship lie about. There is also the remnant of an
enormous stone 3 ft. 7½ in. at the back and across, but rounded off at
the corners, looking like a solid throne, excepting that on the upper
side there is an excavation measuring 1 ft. 3²⁄₁₀ in. at the back, 9⁶⁄₁₀
in. on the front, and 1 ft. 1²⁄₁₀ in. across, and about 10 in. deep, with
a small opening. This stone looks very peculiar, and probably formed an
altar. These ruins are certainly very remarkable. Any one who looks at
them without prejudice or preconceived opinion, will be impressed with
the belief that they belonged to a place of worship; though how this
peculiar structure could be adapted to religious purposes, I will not
undertake to decide. I will only say that my distinct impression on the
spot was, that the structure was a rude kind of sundial, combining the
vertical with the horizontal principle. That it could not be intended
as a common doorway, even if it were connected with another building,
is evident from the narrowness of the passage; but it may have had the
purpose of serving as a sort of penitential or purgatory passage in
consecrating and preparing the worshippers, previous to their offering
sacrifices, by obliging them to squeeze themselves through this narrow
passage, the inconvenience of which was increased by the awful character
attributed to this cromlech. The religious character of the whole
structure can scarcely be doubtful, from the nature of the flat stone,
the channel in which was certainly intended to carry off the blood of the
victim.
It must strike the observer, in regarding these ruins, that while they
are so rude in principle, their style of execution evidently bears traces
of art; and I think it not improbable that the art may be ascribed to
Roman influence. We shall further on see another specimen of these
curious pillars combined with the ground-plan of an almost regular Roman
temple. But from whatever quarter this artistic influence may have
proceeded, there cannot be the least doubt that the character of the
structure is, on the whole, not Roman, but indicates quite another race;
and if we take into regard what I have just said about the influence of
art visible in this structure, and that such influence could scarcely
proceed from any other quarter than that of the Carthaginians or the
Romans, we must attribute these remains to the Berber race, who, during
the historical period, were the exclusive possessors of these inland
regions. Analogous structures have been found, however, not only in
England and Ireland on the one side, and in several parts of India,
principally in the Nilgherries, on the other, but also in Circassia,
Southern Russia, on the South Arabian coast, and in the Somali country.
These remarkable ruins are at a short distance from the foot of a
fortified hill, which is crowned with ancient fortifications of hewn
stone, to which are added later works of small stones. Other ruins of
cut-stone buildings lie about; and on an eminence at a little distance
eastward is a small castle belonging to the earlier times of the Arabs,
while on the highest top of the hilly chain behind the Arab encampment,
and which is called Gábes, are likewise ruins. The ruins of a whole
village, partly built of regularly cut stone, and even exhibiting the
ornament of a column, were found the next morning near our encampment,
which our people had placed on the slope of the hills bordering the plain
towards the north-east. All these ruins are evident proofs that the
fertile plain Elkeb, and the adjoining one, called Madher, were once well
cultivated and thickly inhabited. Their situation is very favourable, as
the direct road from Tripoli to Beni Ulíd and Sokna, by way of the valley
Melgha, passes close by. We had here descended to an average height of
about one thousand feet above the level of the sea.
During the night there was heavy rain, which lasted till morning, and
delayed our starting till rather late. After about a mile and a half’s
march, we ascended a little from the plain to the undulating pastures
of the Dháhar Tarhóna, which soon became enlivened by the tents and
herds of the Megaigera, and where I was glad to see at length a few
cows. The ground, though scantily covered with herbage, was dotted with
lilies, which my companion called balúdt, though this name is generally
understood to signify the ash-tree. Our guide from Meruán informed
me here that the water of this district takes its course not towards
the north, as might be expected, but towards the south-east, running
from hence to Temásla, on this side of Beni Ulíd, thence into the Wady
Merdúm, and thence into Wady Sofejín, which, as is well known, descends
towards Tawárgha. A little further on we left, on a small eminence to
the left, another hanshír surrounded by cultivated ground. It had been
an inconsiderable place, built chiefly of small stones; but even here
two enormous pillars or slabs were to be seen standing in the midst of
the rubbish. There were two holes in each of these pillars, going quite
through, and widening on one side.
At half-past nine o’clock, when passing the Hanshír Bu-Trehébe, at a
distance of more than two miles on our left, we had a fine retrospective
view of the various peaks of the Ghurián range, while on our left a
lower range approached more and more, with two summits rising from
it to a greater elevation. About noon we passed another site, called
Hanshír Suán, where are the remains of a large castle, with an inner
and outer fortification, built of small stones, but in a very neat and
regular style. The country, chiefly owing to the murkiness of the sky,
had begun to assume a very sombre character, and was crossed by stripes
of red sand, which, however, affords the best soil for the growth of
the pumpkin; but in the afternoon it improved greatly, showing fine
pasture-ground and ample corn-fields and, among the ruins of ancient
times, the rare example of a well-proportioned and neatly worked Ionic
capital, which I found at the border of a ravine. Further on, upon a
detached low rock, which had been hewn into rectangular walls, and
surrounded with a ditch, were seen ruins of cut stone, very similar in
appearance to those of Kasr Jahalíyeh, near Gargash. We at length found
traces of living beings, in an Arab encampment situated in a green
hollow, where we learnt that the Kaïd or governor of Tarhóna, whose
residence we were in search of, was at present encamped near the spring
called ʿAin Shershára.
The country gradually assumes a more diversified aspect, agreeably
succeeding its former monotony. A considerable mountain-range, with
manifold crags, peaks, and ravines, approaches from the south-south-west
and, turning north-east, presents an insurmountable barrier to an advance
in that direction, while the plain sweeps nicely in a concave towards
its foot; but it is quite bare and desolate, and only now and then is
seen a poor remnant of the large olive-grove, consisting, according to
the statement of our shoush, of 10,000 trees, which Bey ʿAbd Allah, in
Masráta, my host on my former journey, had ventured to plant here five
years ago. My people maintained, whether correctly or not I cannot say,
that the strong gales which prevail in this plain did not allow the young
olive-tree to thrive. I think the failure is due rather to the character
of the inhabitants, who, unaccustomed to this branch of culture, have not
paid the necessary attention to the young trees.
Having passed a small wady, we came in sight of the encampment of the
governor, which stretched out in front of us in a well-chosen situation
at the southern foot of a small cone. A Turkish officer’s green tent,
pitched a little in advance, was surrounded by several smaller ones,
while another group of twelve Bedouin tents, in a higher position up the
slope of the mount, contained the household. The governor received us
in a very friendly but rather affected manner, which seemed peculiar to
him, and might even be thought becoming in a man who has assisted his
country’s foes in exterminating all the members of his family, formerly
one of the foremost in the country. His friends, who try to represent him
as an honest man, say that he was forced to the deed, after having once
entered into Turkish service. This man, Bel Kásem el Lohéshi Mahmúdi,
has since played a conspicuous part in the present revolution; for he it
was who led the Turkish force last year against Ghóma, his near relative
but most bitter enemy, who, having been a prisoner in Trebizond for many
years, suddenly made his escape from thence during the Russian war, and,
issuing from the Tunisian frontier, appeared in Jebel Yefren. El Lohéshi
was routed, and taken prisoner, and, according to the first report, slain
by the successful rebel. When we visited el Lohéshi, he had occupied
his new post only for the last year, having been before governor of the
Jebel. During all the period he had been in Tarhóna, he assured us he had
not moved his encampment from this place; which I can well understand, as
it is a very pleasant spot. His principal business, of course, consists
in collecting the tithes, in registering which he was busily employed.
He knew very little of the province under his government; and it was to
other men that I had to look for information.
Having pitched our tent near that of the governor, we proceeded to make
ourselves acquainted with the locality, and, a few paces north from our
encampment, stumbled upon the famous brook called ʿAin Shersher, or ʿAin
Shershára, which, proceeding from the junction of three springs, forms
here a cascade of about twenty-five feet over the firm calcareous rock.
Running west a short distance, it then turns north and, breaking through
the mountain-slope in a deep picturesque glen, takes the direction of the
Wady Ramle, which, however, it only reaches during great floods.
It seems as if this pleasant spot had already been a favourite residence
in the Roman times, as is amply shown by the fine ruins of a large
building of hewn stone, which the torrent has rent asunder and scattered
on both sides. From this place, ascending the side of a very wild ravine,
we reached the height which overlooks the Bedouin encampment, and on the
morning of the following day made a more distant excursion to the mount
called Bu-tauwíl, about three miles north, which was represented to us
as affording a very distant prospect, and the name of which seemed to
promise more than ordinary elevation.
As to the view we were rather disappointed; yet we were well repaid
for our trouble from the character of the country traversed, and the
unexpectedly pleasing aspect of the terrace spread out at the western
foot of the mountain, which must have formed a favourite retirement in
the times of the Romans, so literally strewn is it with the ruins of
buildings of hewn stone. In descending it, about three hundred feet below
the summit, we first came to a Roman tomb, 8 ft. 7 in. long, and 7 ft. 9
in. broad, rising in two stories, the lower being about 10 ft. high from
the base to the moulding, and ornamented with pilasters at the corners.
A little further on, to the west, was another tomb, just on the brink
of the slope into the valley below; but it has been destroyed, and at
present the chief interest attaches to a monumental stone, which most
probably stood upright on its top, and fell down when the monument went
to pieces, so that it now lies in a merely casual position on the floor
of the sepulchre, which has been repeatedly rifled by greedy hands. This
stone is 7 ft. 2 in. long, and has on one side, in high relief, the
figure of a man, of natural size, clothed in a toga. The workmanship is
good, and certainly not much later than the time of Severus. Close at
hand are other ruins lying about; and further west are several groups
of buildings. Three olive-trees and a palm-tree adorned this beautiful
retired spot.
Having returned to our encampment, I and my companion resolved to
separate for a few days, Overweg wishing to examine the neighbourhood of
the ʿAin Shershára for geological purposes, while I was rather bent upon
executing the original plan of our route all round the mountain-range.
We agreed to meet again at the castle called Kasr el Jefára in the plain
near the sea-shore. We borrowed another tent from the governor for Mr.
Overweg during his stay at this place, while I procured a horseman, with
whom, together with Ibrahím, our shoush, and one of the camel-drivers, I
was ready for starting an hour before noon; for the heat of the sun was
not much to be dreaded at this season of the year. Overweg accompanied me
as far as Kasr Dóga.
Winding along narrow ravines, after about one mile’s march we passed, on
an eminence to our right, another specimen of large pilasters with an
impost, and ruins of buildings of large square stones close by. After
much winding, we cleared the narrow channel ascending the hills, which
were covered with halfa; but here too there was not a single tree to be
seen, and my guide said that there were no olive-trees in the Tarhóna
except in Máta, a place situated between Mount Bu-tauwíl and Kasr Jefára,
from which the tribe Máta derives its name. I have noticed before, as
remarkable, the three olive-trees near Bu-tauwíl. It was about one
o’clock in the afternoon when we came in sight of the Roman monument
called Kasr Dóga; and its brown colour almost induced us to conclude that
it was of brick; but on approaching nearer, we found that it was built of
hewn stone. We were astonished at the grand dimensions of the monument,
as it appeared evident that it was originally a mere sepulchre, though
in after times blocked up by the Arabs, and converted into a castle.
[Illustration]
The front of the monument faces the south with ten degrees of deviation
towards the west. The whole body of the building, rising upon a base
of three steps, measures 47 ft. 6 in. in length, and 31 ft. 4 in. in
breadth. The entrance or portal, equidistant from both corners, was 12
ft. 6 in. wide; but it has been entirely blocked up with hewn stone,
so that it is now impossible to get into the interior of the monument
without great labour, and only a glimpse can be obtained of a kind
of entrance-hall of small dimensions. Of the interior arrangement,
therefore, nothing meets the view; but on the top of the solid mass of
building, rising to a height of 28 ft. 10 in., the ground-plan of the
third story, which has been demolished to obtain materials for closing
the entrance is distinctly visible. Here the vestibule measures 10 ft.
10 in., the wall of the interior chamber or cell being adorned with
two columns, which are no less than 3 ft. 10 in. apart: the inner room
itself measures 22 ft. 4 in. in length within the walls. The monument,
although more massive than beautiful, is a fair proof of the wealth of
this district in ancient times. Opposite to it, on a limestone hill of
considerable elevation, is another specimen of the cromlech kind in good
preservation, besides other ruins. In the hollow at the south-east side
of the sepulchre there are six deep and spacious wells sunk in the rock.
Here my companion left me, and I continued my route alone, passing
through a well-cultivated tract, till I reached an encampment of the
Welád Bu-Séllem, where we pitched our tent. Here I met a cousin of Haj
ʿAbd el Hádi el Meráyet, who had once been master of half the Tarhóna
district, but was made prisoner by the Turks, and sent to Constantinople.
This man also reappeared on the stage last year.
We set out early in the morning, the country continuing flat as far
as the chapel of Sidi ʿAli ben Salah, which, standing on a hill, is a
conspicuous object for many miles round. At a short distance from this
chapel, I observed the ruins of a castle built of large square stones
taken from older buildings; it measures 42 ft. in every direction, and
exhibits a few bad but curious sculptures, among others an ass in relief.
Around are the ruins of a small village, and flat stones of immense size,
similar in workmanship to those described above, but no upright pillars.
[Illustration]
Beyond the chapel of the saint the country became more hilly, and after
some time we entered a ravine joining the Wady Gedaera, which exhibited
the remains of three broad and firmly constructed dykes, crossing the
ravine at the distance of about eight hundred yards from each other.
They were built of small stones, and were evidently intended to exclude
the water from the lower part of the valley. Another eight hundred yards
below the innermost dyke, the ravine widens out into a fine verdant
hollow, stretching from west to east, and provided with several wells.
On a detached hill rising in the midst of this basin, is situated the
Kasr Dawán, built partly of older materials of hewn stone, partly of
small stones, and probably of the same age as the dykes. The whole floor
of the basin is strewn with ruins; and a considerable village seems to
have extended round the castle: where the ground was free from stones, it
was covered with ranunculuses. Altogether, this spot was interesting—the
stronghold of a chieftain who appears to have had energy and foresight,
but whose deeds are left without a record.
As soon as we emerged from this ravine the whole character of the country
changed, and through a pleasant valley we entered a wider plain, bordered
in the distance by a high range of mountains, among which the Jebel Msíd,
crowned with a zawíya or convent, is distinguished by its height and its
form.
The fine pasturage which this plain affords to the cows of the Mehaedi
enabled their masters to regale us with fine fresh sourmilk, which
interrupted our march very pleasantly. On the site of an ancient village,
near the margin of a small torrent, I found the above curious specimens
of upright pilasters, together with the impost, remarkable for their
height as well as for the rough sculpture of a dog, or some other
animal, which is seen on the higher part of one of them. About seven
hundred yards beyond the torrent called Ksaea, we had on our right a
large building of hewn stone about 140 yards square, besides six pairs
of pilasters together with their imposts; but some of them are lying at
present on the ground. These structures could never have been intended as
doors or passages; for the space between the upright stones is so narrow,
that a man of ordinary size could hardly squeeze his way through them.
Other ruins are on the left.
Here we entered the mountain-chain which forms the natural boundary
between the district of Tarhóna and that of Meselláta, and at the present
time separates scenes of nomadic life from fixed settlements. The highest
part of the chain round the Jebel Msíd remained on our left, while the
height on the right decreased in elevation. The chain has little breadth;
and we hardly reached its crest when the country that presented itself
to our view had quite a different appearance from that just left behind,
presenting among other objects the castle of Meselláta, surrounded by an
olive-grove. In this spot ancient sites and modern villages with stone
houses are intermixed, while thick olive-groves enliven the whole, and
constitute the wealth of the inhabitants.
Having passed a village called Fatír, lying in a ravine that runs
south-west, we soon descried, in a hollow at the southern foot of the
Kasr Sʿaade (a small ancient fortress), the first olive-plantation and
the first orchards belonging to Meselláta. From this place onward they
succeed each other at short intervals. Having passed a small eminence,
with a fine olive-grove in the hollow at its foot, we entered the
beautiful and well-inhabited plain of Meselláta. Here a great deal of
industry was evinced by the planting of young cuttings between the
venerable old olive-trees, or ghúrs Faraón as the Arabs call them.
My shoush affirmed that the inhabitants of Meselláta are the most
industrious and diligent people in the whole regency, taking good care
of their plantations, and watering them whenever they need it The whole
country has here a different character from that of Tarhóna, the naked
calcareous rock protruding everywhere, while in Tarhóna the plains
generally consist of a clayey soil. This district is only about one
thousand feet above the sea, while the average height of the Jebel
(Yefren) and the Ghurián is about two thousand feet. Here the olives had
been collected a month ago; in the former districts they remained still
on the tree.
Cheered by the spectacle of life and industry around us, we continued our
pleasant march, and having crossed an open space of rough rocky ground
filled with cisterns, we reached the castle of Meselláta, an edifice of
little merit, built with square stones from old ruins, and lying at the
northern end of the village Kúsabát, which properly means “the Castles.”
While my people were pitching my tent behind the castle, on the only spot
which would allow of the pegs being driven into the ground, I went to
pay a visit to Khalíl Aghá, who resided in the castle; but I found it to
be so desolate and comfortless that I left it immediately, taking with
me the sheikh Mesáud and a shoush named Ibrahím Tubbát, in order to view
the Kalʿa or Gellʿah, a very conspicuous object, visible even from the
sea. Keeping along the western side of the village, which consists of
from three hundred to four hundred cottages built of stone, and occupies
a gentle slope towards the south, the highest point of which, near the
mosque, is 1,250 feet above the level of the sea, we reached a pleasant
little hollow adorned with gardens, which being fenced with hedges of
the Indian fig-tree, rendered the spot extremely picturesque. From hence
we ascended the naked calcareous eminence, from the top of which the
fortress overlooks a great extent of country. Going round its demolished
walls, from east to west, I was able to descry and to take the bearings
of a great number of villages belonging to the district of Meselláta,
some of them peeping out of olive-groves, others distinguishable only by
the smoke rising up from them.
The fortress itself is evidently a work not of Mohammedans, but of
Europeans, and was most probably constructed by the Spaniards in the
first half of the sixteenth century. It is built in the form of a
triangle, one side of which, running north-west and south-east, measures
about 108 yards; another, running east-north-east and west-south-west,
measures 78½ yards, and the third, S. 5 W. and N. 5 E., 106½ yards. At
the corner between the first and the second wall, is a polygonal bastion;
between the second and third a round bastion, and a small one also
between the third and the first wall. Descending from the fortress, I
went with Mesáud through the village, the dwellings of which are built in
a much better style than is usual in the regency. It is also stated that,
in comparison with the rest of the country, its inhabitants enjoy some
degree of wealth, and that the market is well supplied.
I rose at an early hour, in order to continue my route, and entered a
very pleasant country, rendered more agreeable in appearance by the
fineness of the morning. Winding along through hilly slopes covered
with luxuriant corn-fields and wide-spreading olive-trees, we reached
at half-past eight o’clock an interesting group of ruins consisting of
immense blocks, and amongst them one like the flat quadrangular stones
represented above, but having on its surface, besides the little channel,
a large hole; also a block of extraordinary dimensions, representing a
double altar of the curious massive sort described above. Close to these
remarkable ruins, in a fine corn-field, is a small castle, situated upon
a natural base of rock, in which subterranean vaults have been excavated
in a very regular way. Towards the south, at the distance of about half
an hour’s march, the large castle of Amámre rises into view. We then
reached the fine plantation of Rumíyeh, while on a hill to the left lie
other scattered ruins.
We met a good many people going to the Thursday market at Kúsabát.
Further on, near another little grove, we found a small encampment of
the Jehawát, a tribe which claims the possession of this whole district.
We then passed a castle irregularly built of large square stones about
twelve yards square. Having crossed a hollow, we obtained a good view
over the country, in which the “Merkeb Sʿaid n ʿAli” (the most advanced
spur of this chain towards the coast) formed a distinguished point,
while we had already reached the last low breaks of the mountain-country
towards the east. Meanwhile the greater dimensions of the ruins remind
the traveller that he is approaching the famous remains of Leptis. I
found here, a little to the right of our path, near a Bedouin encampment,
the ruins of a temple of large proportions, called Sanem ben Hamedán,
and of rather curious arrangement, the front, which faces the north
and recedes several feet from the side-walls, being formed by double
ranges of enormous stones standing upright—they can scarcely be called
pilasters,—while the inner part is ornamented with columns of the Ionic
order. The whole building is about forty paces long, and thirty-six
broad; but the architectural merit of its details is not sufficient
to repay the trouble of exact measurements. About a thousand yards
further on, to the east, are the ruins of another still larger monument,
measuring about seventy-seven paces in every direction, and called by
the Arabs Kasr Kérker. It has several compartments in the interior—three
chambers lying opposite to the entrance, and two other larger ones on the
east side. Nearly in the middle of the whole building, there is a large
square stone like those mentioned above, but having on one of its narrow
sides a curious sculpture in relief.
[Illustration]
The camels having been allowed to go on, I hastened after them with my
shoush as fast as my donkey could trot, and passed several sites of
ancient villages or castles, and numerous fine hollows with luxuriant
olive-trees. I scarcely ever remember to have seen such beautiful trees.
The country continues undulating, with fertile hollows or depressions. We
reached the camels at Wady Lebda, which I found perfectly dry.
Close to our left we had cultivated ground and ruins. Near the sea-shore,
the spacious and pleasant site of Leptis spread out on the meadow-land,
while a little further, on rose a small ridge, on the top of which is
situated the village Khurbet Hammám. After we had passed a pleasant
little hollow, the plain became for a while overgrown with thick
clusters of bushes; but on reaching the plantation of Swail, an almost
uninterrupted line of villages stretched along the sahel (sea-shore) amid
corn-fields and groves of olive and date-trees. According to my shoush, a
great deal of corn is cultivated also in the valleys behind this plain;
and numerous well-trodden paths were seen leading from the sahel into
the hilly country on its southern side. After plentiful rains, this
part of the plain is inundated by the waters of the Wady Bondári, which
is called after the general name of the low range bordering the plain.
Having passed several little villages of the sahel, and paid my due
tribute of veneration to “el Dekhaele” (the oldest and tallest palm-tree
in the whole district), a little before five o’clock in the afternoon I
reached the village called Zawíya Ferjáni, where we pitched our tent in
the stubble-field near a date-grove, and rested from our pleasant day’s
march, experiencing hospitable treatment from our hosts.
The country hereabouts is regarded as tolerably healthy, but ʿAbd eʾ
Saʿade, a village a little further eastward, has suffered greatly from
malignant fevers, which are attributed to the unwholesomeness of the
waters of the Wady Kʿaám, as I noticed on my former journey; hence the
population has become rather thin, and industry has declined. At some
distance from the wady, cultivation ceases entirely, and, instead of
groves and gardens, a wide and wild field of disorder and destruction
meets the eye. This rivulet, which is identical with the Cinyps, was
in great vogue with the ancients, who knew how to control and regulate
its occasional impetuosity. Immense walls, which they constructed as
barriers against destructive inundations, remain to testify to their
activity and energy. Of these one group, forming a whole system of dykes,
some transverse, some built in the form of a semi-circle, is seen near
the spot, where a beautiful subterranean aqueduct which supplied Leptis
issues from the wady; another enormous wall, 650 yards long, and from 4
to 4½ yards thick, stands about three quarters of a mile higher up the
valley.
Having started in the afternoon from the mouth of the wady, I re-entered
Zawíya ʿAbd el Ferjáni from the rear, but finding that my people had
gone on to Leptis, I followed them, after a little delay, by the way of
Wady Súk, where every Thursday a market is held (“Súk el khamís,” a name
applied by Captain, now Rear-Admiral, Smyth to the neighbouring village),
and then over the open meadow-plain, having the blue sea on my right, and
came up with my people just as they were about to pitch my tent at the
foot of an enormous staircase leading to some undefined monument in the
eastern part of the ancient city of Leptis. During the forenoon I was
busily employed in a second investigation of some of the ruins of Leptis,
which have been so well described and illustrated by Admiral Smyth. Near
the small creek called Mirsá Legátah, and a little east of the chapel of
the Merábet ben Shehá, a small castle has been lately built by the Turks,
about a hundred paces square. It has quite a handsome look with its
pinnacles and small bastions.
Leaving the site of this celebrated city, we proceeded, early in the
afternoon, through a diversified hilly country, till we reached the high
hill or mount of Mérkeb Sʿaid-n-ʿAli, which is visible from a great
distance. This I ascended in order to correct some of my positions,
particularly that of el Gellʿah in Meselláta, but found the wind too
violent. Passing an undulating country, overgrown with the freshest
green, and affording ample pastures to the herds of numerous Arab
encampments, I pitched my tent near a small dowar of the Beni Jéhem, who
treated us hospitably with sour milk and bazín.
The country continued varied, hill and dale succeeding each other; but
beyond Kasr Aláhum (an irregular building of a late age), it became more
rough and difficult, especially near the steep descent called Negási.
Soon after this we descended into the plain, not far from the sea-shore,
where we crossed several flat valleys. From the Wady Bú Jefára, where a
small caravan going from Zlíten to the town overtook us, a monotonous
plain, called Gwaea mtʿa Gummáta, extends to the very foot of the
slope of Meselláta. Having traversed the desolate zone called el Míta
mtʿa Terúggurt, whence may be descried the “úglah” near the shore, the
residence of my old friend the sheikh Khalífa bú-Ruffa, we reached the
broad and rock-bound valley Terúggurt itself, probably the most perfect
wady which this part of the coast exhibits. To my great satisfaction, I
met Overweg at the Kasr Jefára.
K. Jefára is also called Karabúli, from the name of a Mamlúk who, in the
time of Yusuf Basha, built here a sort of convent or chapel. It is rather
a “funduk,” or caravanserai, than a “kasr,” or castle, and the gates are
always left open; but its situation is important, and it is the residence
of a judge or kaíd. A battle between Ghóma and the Turks was fought in
1855 at no great distance from it. The country around is a monotonous
plain, enlivened only by three small clusters of palm-trees towards the
north. The following morning we proceeded, and encamped on the eastern
side of Wady Raml. On Tuesday we returned to Tripoli well satisfied with
our little excursion, and convinced that the Regency of Tripoli is not by
any means so poor and miserable as it is generally believed to be.
CHAPTER IV.
DEPARTURE FOR THE INTERIOR.—ARRIVAL AT MIZDA.—REMAINS OF A CHRISTIAN
CHURCH.
Meanwhile the instruments provided by Government had arrived, and proved
in general well adapted for their purposes.[6] But the tents and arms
had not yet reached us; and I thought it better to provide a strong,
spacious, and low tent, which, even after the Government tents arrived,
did not prove superfluous, although perhaps rather too heavy. All tents
intended for travellers in hot climates should be well lined, and not
high. Those which we received were quite unfit for the country whither we
were going, and while they were so light that they could hardly withstand
a strong blast of wind, they scarcely excluded the sun, particularly
after a little wear and tear. All the tents ought also to have top-ropes,
which can alone secure them in a tornado such as are common in those
climates. Mr. Richardson was soon obliged to provide himself with another
tent, so that in the course of our journey we had altogether five tents,
but generally pitched only two, or, where we encamped for a greater
length of time, four.
Mr. Overweg and I sustained a heavy loss in the secession of our black
servant Ibrahím, who might have proved of great service to us in the
interior, as he spoke the Bórnu and Bagrímma languages, and had himself
wandered about a good deal in those little-known districts between
Mándara and Bagírmi. But he declared that he could not remain in our
service along with our servant Mohammed ben Belál, the son of a liberated
Góber slave, who was a very clever but unscrupulous and haughty fellow,
and bore the character of a libertine. But another cause of detention
was the protest of his wives, who would not allow him to go unless he
divorced them. We tried every means of settling the matter, but without
success; so that we had only two servants, one of whom, Mohammed eʾ
Zintáni, the lad I have mentioned before, would certainly not go further
than Fezzán.
At length all was ready for our outset, except the boat, which caused Mr.
Richardson a great deal of trouble, as it had been divided in Malta into
two pieces instead of four. I proposed that we should pitch our tents
for some days at ʿAin Zára, in order that we might be duly seasoned for
our long journey. I would advise every traveller, who would calculate
upon all the means of ensuring success, to adopt a similar course. A few
days’ stay in his tent will familiarize him with the little store which
is henceforward to form his principal, if not his only resource, and will
enable him to bear the heat of the sun with ease.
It was late in the afternoon of the 24th of March, 1850, when Overweg
and I, seated in solemn state upon our camels, left the town with our
train, preceded by the consul, Mr. Crowe, in his carriage, by Mr. Reade,
and by Mr. Dickson and his family, of whom we took a hearty leave under
the olive-trees near Kasr el Haeni. We then continued our route, and
in fine moonlight pitched our tent on the border of ʿAin Zára. This
locality takes its name from a broad swampy hollow or depression to the
south, thickly overgrown with reeds and rushes. At present no one lives
in it; the wells are filled up with earth, and the date-trees, cared
for by nobody, are partly overwhelmed by the sand which has accumulated
in large mounds. Still it is an attractive spot, having just a little
of cultivation and a little of sandy waste. A few olive-trees spread
their fresh cool shade over a green meadow, forming a very pleasant
resting-place. It was at this very spot that, in August 1855, on my
joyful return, I again met Mr. Reade the vice-consul, and passed a night
there.
Here we remained encamped till Friday the 29th. In the afternoon of the
27th, Mr. Frederic Warrington, who wished to escort us for a few days,
came out, accompanied by the American consul Mr. Gaines, and brought us
the satisfactory news, that on the following Friday Mr. Richardson would
move from the town, and that we should meet him at Mejenín. I and my
countryman required eight camels for our luggage, besides the two which
we rode ourselves, and which were our own. I had been so fortunate as to
procure an excellent Arab camel of the renowned breed of the Bú-Saef,
which was my faithful companion as far as Kúkawa; and Mr. Warrington had
made me a present of a handsome Ghadamsi saddle or basúr, with pillows
and Stambúli carpet, so that I was comfortably mounted.
After a great deal of trouble (the camel-drivers and our men being as
yet unaccustomed to our unwieldy luggage), we at length succeeded in
making a start. After leaving the olive-trees and the little palm-grove
of ʿAin Zára, we very soon entered deep sand-hills, which sheltered
us from the strong wind; and after more than two hours we came upon
pasture-grounds, which furnished our camels with a variety of herbs and
gramineæ, such as the shʿade, the shedíde, and various others unknown to
me. The progress of an Arab caravan (where the camels march each after
its own inclination, straying to the right and to the left, nipping here
a straw, and there browsing on a bush) must be rather slow in districts
where the stubborn animal finds abundance of food. This way of proceeding
is extremely tedious and fatiguing to the rider; and to obviate it the
Tuarek, the Téb, and the people in the interior fasten all the camels
one behind the other. Owing to our slow progress, the sun was almost
setting when we overtook Mr. Warrington, who had pitched his tent on a
fine pasture-ground near Bir Sbaea. The last hour and a half’s ride from
the well Jenáwa lay along well-cultivated and flourishing corn-fields
extending along the narrow wady of Mejenín, and intermingled with a rich
profusion of flowers, principally the beautiful blue “khobbés.”
Having indulged for some hours in the quiet enjoyment of a fine morning
and an open green country, I went with the shoush to look after Mr.
Richardson’s party. After an hour’s ride through luxuriant corn-fields,
and pasture-grounds enlivened by the horses of the Turkish cavalry, we
found Mukni, the sailor, and all Mr. Richardson’s baggage; but he himself
had not yet come up. I could not persuade the people to remove to our
encampment; so I returned, after having paid a visit to the binbásha of
the cavalry, who had been stationed here for the last seventeen years. He
had contrived to procure himself a cool retreat from the sultry hours, by
forming a regular tank, about two feet and a half square, in the midst of
his tent, and keeping it always full of water. In the afternoon I made
a long excursion with my Zintáni through the plain, beyond the chapel
of Sidi Bargúb, in order to buy a sheep; but though the flocks were
numerous, none of the shepherds would sell, as pasturage was abundant and
every one had what he wanted.
Foggy weather indicated that rain was approaching; and just in time Mr.
Richardson with his party arrived, and pitched his enormous lazaretto
tent opposite our little encampment. Mr. Reade also had come from the
town, in order to settle, if possible, the misunderstanding with our
servant Mohammed, and see us off. It is an agreeable duty for me to
acknowledge the many services rendered us during our stay in Tripoli.
Our whole party was detained here the following day by the heavy
rains; and Overweg and I were happy to get hold of the black servant
of the ferocious pseudo-sheríf mentioned by Mr. Richardson, when that
troublesome fellow was sent back to town, as we were much in want of
another servant.
We fairly set out on our exhibition. The country became more diversified
as we approached the defile formed by the Bátes and Smaera, two advanced
posts of the mountain-chain, while the varied forms of the latter, in
high cones and deep abrupt valleys, formed an interesting background. But
the country hereabouts is cultivated with less care than Wady Mejenín;
and the ground being more stony, presents of course more obstacles than
the latter, while both districts are inhabited by the same tribes, viz.
the Urgáat and the Akára. Even here, however, in the circle formed by the
surrounding heights, was a fine extent of plain covered with corn-fields.
Just at the entrance of the pass there is a well, where the road divides;
and after a little consultation, we took the western branch, as our
people feared that on the eastern we should not find water before night.
Changing, therefore, our direction, we seemed awhile to keep off entirely
from the mountain-range till we reached the wide but very rugged and
rocky Wady Haera, which it was our object to reach at this spot, in order
to fill our water-skins from the pools formed by the rains. The wady,
indeed, looked as if it sometimes bore in its floods a powerful body of
water; and a considerable dyke had been constructed in the early times of
the Arabs, extending for two hundred paces from the wady eastward; but it
has fallen to ruin, and the path leads now through the breach.
Resuming our march, after a good deal of delay, we turned sharp off
towards the mountains, and at an early hour encamped on a very pleasant
spot adorned with numerous sidr-trees (_Rhamnus Nabeca_); but instead
of enjoying it in quiet, Overweg and I felt disposed to direct our
steps towards a hill called Fulíje, about half an hour’s walk eastward,
which promised to be a convenient point for obtaining correct angles of
the prominent features of the chain, and proved to be so in reality.
Having executed this task, therefore, we returned to our companions
well satisfied, and spent the evening in the comfortable tent of Mr.
Warrington. We had now reached the slope of the chain, where some of our
people supposed that the boat would cause difficulties; but it could
not well do so after being cut into quarters, which fitted to the sides
of the camels rather better than the large quadrangular boxes. The most
troublesome parts were the long oars and poles, which caused the camel
much exhaustion and fatigue, by constantly swaying backwards and forwards.
The ground, soon after we had started the next morning, became stony,
and, at three miles distance, very rugged and intersected by a number
of dry watercourses. The landscape was enlivened not only by our own
caravan, composed of so many heterogeneous elements, but also by some
other parties who happened to be coming down the slope: first the
Kaimakám of the Jebel, then a slave caravan, consisting of about sixty
of these poor creatures, of whom the younger, at least, seemed to take
a cheerful interest in the varied features of the country. The Wady
Bú Ghelán, where the ascent commences, is here and there adorned with
clusters of date-trees. In about an hour the first camels of our party
reached the terrace of Beni ʿAbbás; and till the whole had accomplished
the ascent, I had leisure to dismount from my tractable Bú-saefi, and to
sit down quietly under a fine olive-tree near the chapel of the Merábet
Sámes, watching them as they came up one by one, and cheered by the
conviction that the expedition was at length in full train. The country
was here hilly, and the path very often narrow and deeply cut in the
marly soil. Further on, Overweg and I, together with our shoush, turned
off a little to the right from the great caravan-road, and, passing
through fine corn-fields interspersed with flowers of different kinds,
reached the village Gwásem, lying at a short distance from the eastern
foot of Mount Tekút, where we were treated with sourmilk by a friend of
our companions. When we had overtaken our caravan, I found time to pay a
visit to the Roman sepulchre, and ascertained that the base measured 24
ft. in every direction, the principal body of the monument, containing
the sepulchral chamber, having fallen in entirely. From this point
we began to ascend the second terrace, and reached the level of the
plateau at two o’clock in the afternoon. The country had now a much more
interesting appearance than when I was here two months before, being at
present all covered with green corn. Having started in the direction of
the castle, we descended, a little before reaching it, along the shelving
grounds towards Wady Rummána, and encamped on the spot where the troops
usually bivouac.
Here we remained the following day, when, in order to settle formally the
demands of our camel-drivers, we had all our things accurately weighed
by the officials of the castle. The little market did not grow busy till
ten o’clock. The chief articles for sale were three head of cattle, one
camel, some sheep and goats, a few water-skins, some barley, a few eggs,
and sandals; but at noon it was moderately thronged. In the afternoon we
paid a visit to several subterranean dwellings, but were disappointed in
not getting access into an entirely new structure of this kind, formed
of a much harder sort of clay. Our cheerful friend Mr. Warrington, in
order to treat our party before he separated from it for a length of
time which nobody could foresee, got an immense bowl of kuskus prepared,
seasoned in the most savoury manner; and our whole party long indulged in
the remembrance of this delicate dish as a luxury beyond reach. The site
of our encampment was most pleasant: below us the wady, rich with varied
vegetation; while towards the north the Tekút, with its regularly shaped
crater towering proudly over the lower eminences around, formed a most
interesting object. Though busy at an early hour, we did not get off till
late; for many things were still to be settled here. We separated from
Mr. Warrington: and of the three travellers I was the only one whom he
was ever to see again.
Our path was at first very winding, as we had to turn round the deep
indentation of the Wady Rummána, after which it took a straighter course,
passing through several villages, with their respective olive-groves,
till we reached Bu Sriyán, where the cultivation of the olive-tree
ceased entirely for some distance, and the country became more open. Here
we made another considerable deviation from our southerly direction,
and followed a wide valley with much cultivated ground. Having reached
the village Sémsa, situated upon an eminence to our right, we turned
off eastward into a very pleasant ravine with an olive-grove, and then
began the steep ascent towards the height Kuléba, which forms the passage
over this southern crest of the plateau. While the camels in long rows
moved slowly onwards, with their heavy loads, on the narrow and steep
rocky path, I, allowing my camel to follow the rest, ascended directly
to the village, which is situated round the eastern slope, and is still
tolerably well inhabited, although many a house has fallen to ruin; for
it has a considerable extent of territory; and owing to its situation
as the southernmost point of Ghurián, the inhabitants are the natural
carriers and agents between the northern districts and the desert. On the
highest crest, commanding the village, there was formerly a castle; but
it has been destroyed by the Turks.
Having descended a little into the barren valley, we encamped, at two
o’clock in the afternoon, on the slope of the western hills, near
the last scanty olive-trees, and not far from the well, from which
we intended to take a sufficient supply of water to last us till we
reached Mizda. While our people, therefore, were busy watering the
camels and filling our water-skins, Overweg and I, accompanied by two
of the inhabitants of the village, who had followed us, ascended a
conspicuous mount, Jebel Toëshe, the highest in the neighbourhood, on
the top of which a village is said to have existed in former times. We
took several angles; but there is no very high point about Mizda which
could serve as a landmark in that direction. The country through which we
were marching, along irregular valleys, mostly of limestone formation,
exhibited scattered patches of corn for about the first three miles,
after which, almost every sign of cultivation suddenly ceased, and the
“Twél el Khamér,” stretching from north-west to south-east, about two
miles distant on the right, formed, as it were, the northern boundary
of the naked soil. On its slope a few trees of the kind called radúk by
the Arabs were seen from the distance. We then entered desolate stony
valleys, famous for the bloody skirmishes which are said to have once
taken place there between the Urfílla and the Welád Bu Séf, in the time
of ʿAbd el Jelíl. Refreshing, therefore, was the aspect of Wady Ranne,
which, extending from east to south-west, was overgrown with green
herbage, and had two wells.
A little beyond, near the hill, or rather slope, called Shʿabet el Kadím,
the latter part of which name seems, indeed, to have some reference to
antiquity, we found the first Roman milestone, with the inscription now
effaced: but further on, Mr. Overweg, who went on foot and was far behind
the main body of our caravan, succeeded in discovering some milestones
with inscriptions, which he regretted very much not being able to show
me. Hereabouts commences the region of the batúm-tree, which, with the
fresh green of its foliage, contributes a good deal to enliven and
adorn some favoured spots of this sterile, gravelly tract. To the left
of our path were some remarkable basaltic cones, starting up from the
calcareous ridge. The ground was strewn with numerous flint-stones. About
four o’clock P.M. I went to look at a curious quadrangular and regularly
hewn stone, three feet in breadth and length, but only eight inches
thick, which was standing upright at some distance from the caravan. It
was evidently meant to face the west; but no trace of an inscription
was to be seen. About a mile further on we encamped at the foot of the
western chain, which rose to a height of about three hundred feet, and
formed a narrow cleft with the eastern chain, which at this point closes
upon it. In this corner (which collects the humidity of two valleys),
besides several batúm-trees, a little corn had been sown. Panthers are
said to be numerous in this region.
The next day we directed our march towards the pass, crossing the dry
beds of several small torrents, and a broader channel bordered by plenty
of batúm-trees. After an hour’s march, we had reached the summit of the
pass, which now began to widen, the heights receding on each side, and a
more distant range bounding the view. We found in the holes of the rocky
bottom of Wady Mezummíta, which we crossed about half-past eight, several
pools of rain-water, affording us a most refreshing drink; but it was
quite an extra treat, owing to recent heavy rains which had fallen here,
for in general the traveller cannot rely on finding water in this place.
The ground becoming very stony and rugged, our progress was excessively
slow—not above half an English geographical mile in seventeen minutes.
The hills on our right displayed to the view regular layers of sandstone.
Another long defile followed, which at length brought us to a plain
called Wady Lilla, encompassed by hills, and offering several traces of
former cultivation, while other traces, further on, bore testimony to
the industry of the Romans. A small herd of goats, and the barking of a
dog, showed that even at present the country is not wholly deserted. In
our immediate neighbourhood it even became more than usually enlivened by
the passage of a slave-caravan, with twenty-five camels and about sixty
slaves, mostly females.
After having passed a small defile, we at length emerged into the
north-west branch of the valley of Mizda, called here Wady Udé-Sheráb,
the channel of which is lined with a considerable number of batúm-trees.
Crossing the stony bottom of this plain, after a stretch of three miles
more we reached the western end of the oasis of Mizda, which, though my
fancy had given it a greater extent, filled me with joy at the sight
of the fine fields of barley, now approaching maturity—the crop, owing
to the regular irrigation, being remarkably uniform—while the grove of
date-trees encompassed the whole picture with a striking and interesting
frame. So we proceeded, passing between the two entirely separated
quarters, or villages, distinguished as the upper, “el fók,” and the
lower, “el utah,” and encamped on the sandy open space a little beyond
the lower village, near a well which formerly had irrigated a garden.
People going to Tripoli encamp at the other end of the oasis, as was done
by a caravan of Ghadamsi people with slaves from Fezzán, on the following
day.
Mizda, most probably identical with the eastern “Musti kome” of Ptolemy,
appears to have been an ancient settlement of the indigenous inhabitants
of North Africa, the Berbers, and more particularly of a family or
tribe of them called “Kuntarár,” who even at present, though greatly
intermixed with Arabs, have not entirely forgotten their Berber idiom.
The oasis lies in the upper part of Wady Sofejín, or rather a branch of
it, stretching out from south-west to north-east, which has in some parts
a great breadth. The natural advantage, or productive principle, of the
locality seems to lie in the circumstance that the humidity carried down
by the Wady Sheráb is here arrested by a hill, and absorbed by the clayey
soil. This hill is of a lengthened form, and consists entirely of gypsum.
[Illustration]
The wells have little depth, and the water is drawn to the surface by
means of oxen; but there being at present only three specimens of this
precious animal in the place, the wells are far from being made use of
to the extent which is practicable and has been once practised, as may
be concluded from the pillars which extend to a considerable distance
on the plain. The town, as I said, consists of two distinct quarters
or villages, of which the western one, situated at the eastern foot of
the hill, is by far the larger; it is built exactly in the character of
the ksúr of the Algerian Sahara, with high round towers decreasing a
little in width towards the upper part, and furnished with several rows
of loopholes. The wall, purposely built with a great many salient and
retiring angles, is in a state of decay, and many of the houses are in
ruins; but the village can still boast a hundred full-grown men able to
bear arms. The chief of this village always resides in it, while that of
the other generally lives at some distance under tents. The circumference
of the village, together with the palm-grove attached to its eastern
side, and consisting of about two hundred trees, is 2,260 paces.
The lower or south-eastern village, the circumference of which is 600
paces, is separated from the former by an interval of about 400 paces,
and has at present no palm-grove, all the gardens having been destroyed
or ruined by neglect, and only twenty or thirty palm-trees now remaining
scattered about the place. About 100 paces further down the declivity
of the valley, is a group of three small gardens surrounded by a wall,
but in bad condition; and at about the same distance beyond, another
in the same state. The only advantage peculiar to this quarter is that
of a large “zawíya,” the principal articles in the inventory of which
are eight holy doves. But this also has now become but an imaginary
advantage, as, according to its learned keeper’s doleful complaints, it
is very rarely visited. In this as well as in the other quarter, all the
houses are built of gypsum. As Mizda is a very remarkable feature in the
country, I thought it worth while to make a particular sketch of the
oasis also from this side.
[Illustration]
This oasis is very diminutive; but two caravan-routes, one from Murzuk
and one from Ghadámes, join at this point. The inhabitants are of a
mild disposition, and enjoy the fame of strict honesty. Everything is
here considered as secure; and the camels which cannot find food in the
neighbourhood, are driven into the green valley at four or five minutes’
distance, and left there without a guardian. I make these statements
advisedly, as reflections of a different kind have been made on their
character. The people seem to suffer much from sore eyes. When we asked
them about the most remarkable features of the road before us, they spoke
of a high mount, Teránsa, which, however, we did not afterwards recognize.
[Illustration]
In the afternoon I made an excursion with Overweg to Jebel Durmán,
situated at the distance of a mile and a half south-east. It is rather
a spur of the plateau jutting out into the broad valley, and, with its
steep, precipitous, and washed walls, nearly detached and extremely
narrow as it is—a mere neck of rock—looks much like a castle. Upon the
middle of its steep side is a small zawíya belonging to the Zintán. The
prospect from this steep and almost insulated pile could not, of course,
be very extensive, as the mount itself is on the general level of the
plateau; but we obtained a fine view over the sea of heights surrounding
the broad valley and the several tributaries of which it is formed. Night
was setting in, and we returned to our tent.
[Illustration]
Having heard our Zintáni make frequent mention of an ancient castle
with numerous sculptures, and situated at no great distance, I resolved
to visit it, and set out tolerably early in the morning of the 9th of
April, accompanied by the Arab and one of our shoushes. We had first
to send for one of our camels, which was grazing at about three miles’
distance, in the sandy bottom of the wady south-east from our encampment.
It was only on this occasion that I became aware of the exact nature of
the valley of Mizda, and its relation to the Wady Sófejín; for we did not
reach this latter wady until we had traversed the whole breadth of the
sandy plain, and crossed a mountain-spur along a defile called Khurmet
bu Mátek, at the distance of at least eight miles from our encampment.
This is the famous valley mentioned, in the eleventh century, by the
celebrated Andalusian geographer El Bekri. Figs and olive-trees adorn its
upper part, which is said to stretch out as far as Erhebát, a district
one day and a half beyond Zintán; barley is cultivated in its middle
course, while wheat, from which the favourite dish ʿajín is made, is
grown chiefly in its lower part near Tawárgha. The valley seems worthy
of better fortune than that to which it is reduced at present; for when
we marched along it, where it ran S. 20 W. to N. 20 E., we passed ruins
of buildings and water-channels, while the soil exhibited evident traces
of former cultivation. I listened with interest to the Zintáni, who told
me that the valley produced an excellent kind of barley, and that the
Kuntarár, as well as the people of Zintán, his countrymen, and the Welád
Bu-Séf, vied with each other in cultivating it, and, in former times
at least, had often engaged in bloody contests for the proprietorship
of the ground. When I expressed my surprise at his joining the name of
his countrymen with those of the other tribes hereabouts, he gave me
the interesting information that the Zintán had been the first and most
powerful of all the tribes in this quarter before the time of the Turks,
and held all this country in a state of subjection. Since then their
political power and influence had been annihilated, but they had obtained
by other means right of possession in Mizda as well as in Gharíya, and
still further, in the very heart of Fezzán, by lending the people money
to buy corn, or else corn in kind, and had in this way obtained the
proprietorship of a great number of the date-trees, which were cultivated
and taken care of by the inhabitants for a share of the produce. Formerly
the people of Zintán were in possession of a large castle, where they
stored up their provisions; but since the time of the Turkish dominion,
their custom has been to bring home the fruits of their harvests only
as they want them. In Wady Sháti we were to meet a caravan of these
enterprising people.
[Illustration]
While engaged in this kind of conversation we entered a smaller lateral
valley of Wady Sófejín, and reached the foot of a projecting hill on
its western side, which is crowned with a castle. Here it was that I
was to find marvellous ancient sculptures and drawings; but I soon
perceived that it would be as well not to cherish any high expectations.
The castle, as it now stands, is evidently an Arab edifice of an early
period, built of common stones hewn with some regularity, and set in
horizontal layers, but not all of the same thickness. It forms almost a
regular square, and contains several vaulted rooms, all arranged with a
certain degree of symmetry and regularity. But while we pronounce the
main building to be Arab, the gateway appears to be evidently of Roman
workmanship, and must have belonged to some older edifice which the Arab
chieftain who built this castle probably found in the place,—a conjecture
which seems to be confirmed by several ornamental fragments lying about.
It is a pity that we know so little of the domestic history of these
countries during the period of the Arab dynasties, though a step in
advance has been made by the complete publication of Ebn Khaldún’s
history; else we should regard with more interest these relics of
their days of petty independence. This castle, as well as another, the
description of which I shall subjoin here, though it was visited some
days later, is called after a man named Khafáji ʿAámer, who is said to
have been a powerful chief of great authority in Tunis no less than in
Tarábolus (Tripoli).
[Illustration]
The other ruin, related to this one as well by name as by the style
of its workmanship—but in many respects more interesting, having been
evidently once a place of Christian worship—stands on a narrow and
detached neck of rock in the Shʿabet Um el Kharáb, and, from its whole
plan, appears to have been originally and principally a church about
forty-three feet square, sufficiently large for a small congregation,
and with more art and comfort than one can easily suppose a Christian
community in these quarters ever to have possessed. Hence greater
interest attaches to this building than it would otherwise deserve. It
closes with a plain apsis, in which there are two openings or doorways
leading into an open room stretching behind it and the side-naves, and is
divided into three naves, the middle one of which is eight paces, and the
lateral ones six and a half wide. The naves are divided from one another
by columns with differently ornamented capitals supporting arches, all in
the so-called round style of architecture. I made purposely a sketch of
two different capitals, in order to show their designs; and I think they
are very characteristic. But it is curious to observe that the walls also
appear to have been originally painted on stucco, though at present but a
small piece of it remains near the corner; hence I conclude that the date
of the painting was later than that of the erection of the church.
The front of the building has suffered in some degree from the
depredations of the Arabs, who are said to have carried away a great
many sculptures from this place—as much, indeed, a man from Mizda would
have made me believe, as fifty-five camel-loads. However exaggerated
this statement may be, it is evident that the whole layer over the
entrance was originally covered with ornamental slabs, while now only
two remain to the left of the doorway; and these, though in the same
style of sculpture as the capitals, would rather seem to have been
taken from another edifice. There are many debatable points involved
in the consideration of this building. The first fact clearly shown is
the existence of a Christian community or a monastery in these remote
valleys, as late as the twelfth century at least, under the protection
of a powerful chief; and this is not at all improbable, as we know that
Mohammed expressly ordered that zealous priests and monks should be
spared, and as we find so many monasteries in several other Mohammedan
countries. That it was not merely a church, but a monastery, seems
plainly indicated by the division into apartments or cells, which is
still clearly to be seen in the upper story. Attached to the north side
of the church was a wing containing several simple apartments, as the
ground-plan shows; and on the south corner of the narrow ridge is a small
separate tower with two compartments. Near this ruin there is another,
which I did not visit, called Ksaer Labayed mtʿa Derayer, while a third,
called Ksaer el Haemer, has been destroyed.
CHAPTER V.
SCULPTURES AND ROMAN REMAINS IN THE DESERT—GHARÍYA.
We lost the best part of the morning, our men not being able to find
their camels, which had roamed over the whole wady. Our road was almost
the same as that by which I had returned the previous day; and we
encamped in the Wady Sófejín, on a spot free from bushes. From this
place, accompanied by the Zintáni, I visited, the next morning, the
castle or convent in Shʿabet Um el kharáb, which I have described, and
thence struck across the stony plateau in order to overtake our caravan.
It was a desolate level, rarely adorned with humble herb or flower; and
we hastened our steps to reach our companions. Here I heard, from the
Zintáni, that his father came every year about this season, with his
flocks, to the valleys east of our road, and that he would certainly
be there this year also. He invited me to go thither with him, and to
indulge in milk to the extent of my wishes; as for myself, I declined,
but allowed him to go, on condition that he would return to us as soon as
possible.
Even after we had overtaken the caravan, the country continued in general
very bare; but we passed some valleys affording a good deal of herbage or
adorned with some fine batúm-trees. About five o’clock P.M. we encamped
in Wady Talha, not far from a Roman castle or tower on a hill to our
left. On visiting the ruin, I found it built of rough stones without
cement, being about twenty feet square in the interior, with rounded
corners, and with only one narrow gate, towards the east. But this was
not the only remnant of antiquity in the neighbourhood, for in front of
us, on the plateau, there appeared something like a tower of greater
elevation; and proceeding early the next morning, when our people had
only begun to load, to examine it, I found it to be a Roman sepulchre,
originally consisting apparently of three stories; but of these only the
base and the first story remain, while the stones belonging to the upper
one are now scattered on the ground, and show that it was ornamented
with small Corinthian columns at the corners. Even in the most desolate
spot, everything left by the Romans has a peculiar finish. The first
story, being all that at present remains, measures 5 ft. 4 in. on the
east and west, and 5 ft. 9 in. on the north and south sides. Not far from
this sepulchre are the ruins of another one, of which, however, nothing
but the base remains, if, indeed, it was ever completed. By the time my
drawing was finished, the caravan had come up.
[Illustration]
I then passed several detached cones, the steep precipitous sides of
which, formed by the breaking away of the strata, looked like so many
castles, and traversing Wady Marsíd, reached the camels. They marched
to-day at a very good rate, the quickest we had as yet observed in
ordinary travelling—namely, half a mile in twelve minutes, making a
little less than two and a half miles an hour; but we afterwards found
that this had now become our usual rate, whereas before reaching Mizda
we had scarcely ever exceeded two miles an hour. The load of the camels,
of course, had been heavier in the beginning; but this can hardly be the
only reason of the difference. The greater dreariness of the country,
and the impulse of our camel-drivers and their beasts to get to their
homes, must be taken into account. I must here observe that Overweg and
I measured our rate repeatedly, with a chain provided by Government,
although it was a very fatiguing labour, and injurious to our dignity in
the eyes of our people. Gradually the day grew very uncomfortable, a hot
west wind driving the sand into our faces, and totally obscuring the sky.
Keeping along the Wady Téroth, sometimes more than a mile wide, we had on
our left a broad mount, rising first with a gradual ascent, but in its
upper part forming a steep and lofty wall called el Khaddamíyeh. Here,
too, according to the information of my faithful Arab, there is said to
be a Roman sepulchre. Having passed a small defile, and crossed another
valley, we had other Roman ruins on our right, a castle as it seemed, and
near it something like a sepulchre; but the sand-storm hardly allowed us
to look, still less to go in that direction.
At three o’clock in the afternoon we turned off to the west into Wady
Tagíje, and encamped near the bed of a torrent eight feet deep, which
amply testifies that, at times, a considerable stream is formed here, a
fact confirmed by the fresh and luxuriant herbage springing up in many
parts of the valley among thick bushes and brushwood. Nor was it quite
desolate even now; for the flocks of the Welád Bu-Séf were seen, and
their tents were said to be not far off. The upper part of the valley is
called el Khúrub.
This hot day proved a _dies ater_ to my Arab, who had gone to visit his
family. Having brought his old father with him, together with a goat,
as a present, and a skin of milk, he unluckily arrived too late in the
morning at our last night’s encampment. He then sent his father back
with the goat, and began to follow us in the hope of soon overtaking the
caravan; but he was obliged to march the whole intensely hot day without
water, and he could not drink the milk in the skin, which became quite
hot, so that he suffered greatly, and arrived in a very exhausted state.
The fine herbage procured us a whole day’s rest, as the camel-drivers
were in no haste to bring up their camels. Not knowing this, but yet
convinced that we should not start at an early hour, as the well was at
some distance, and following the information received from the Zintáni,
who was himself too lame to accompany me, I had taken my gun and pistols
at an early hour in the morning, and gone in the direction of the valley
to look after a monument. After nearly two hours’ march I distinguished
something like a high pillar, and, proceeding straight towards it, found
it to be one of the richest specimens of this kind of monument bequeathed
to us by antiquity, and an indisputable proof that these regions, now
so poor, must have then supported a population sufficiently advanced in
taste and feeling to admire works of a refined character.
[Illustration]
The monument rises, upon a base of three steps and in three stories,
nearly to a height of forty-eight feet. The base contains a sepulchral
chamber 4 ft. 10⅓ in. long, and 4 ft. ⅛ in. broad, with three niches,
one on the north, and two on the east side. This side was the principal
face of the monument, forming its most ornamented part. The first story
measures at its base on the east and west sides 5 ft 5⅜ in., and on the
north and south sides 4 ft. 10⅛ in.: it consists of six layers of stones,
on the lowest of which is represented a pair of wild animals, probably
panthers, with their fore legs or paws resting upon a sepulchral urn, as
if they were watching it; on the next layer above is seen the handsome
bust of a young female; two layers intervene without sculpture; and the
fifth is ornamented on all the four sides with hunting-scenes. The frieze
on every side is formed by four rosettes; but that on the north side has
some additional decoration, the second rosette on that side, from the
east, exhibiting a group of centaurs, and the fourth a cock. Upon this
part of the frieze is a garland of clusters of grapes; then follows the
moulding.
In the second story the third layer forms the sill and lower part of a
false door very richly ornamented, and on the fifth layer a pair of genii
hold a coronal over the door of the sepulchre, a representation which
seems to intimate Christian ideas. Above it a niche contains the busts
of a man and his wife; but on the north side an elderly woman occupies
a niche with her bust, probably in her character as proprietress of the
single sepulchral niche of the tomb below. Above is an ornament with
two bunches of grapes; and then follows the frieze, of the common Ionic
order. The moulding is surmounted by a pyramidal roof about twelve feet
high, which has lost its summit; otherwise the whole monument, with the
exception of the sepulchral chamber, which has been broken up in search
of treasures, is in the best state of preservation, notwithstanding its
very slender proportions,—a circumstance very remarkable, after a lapse
of at least more than sixteen centuries. No wonder that the natives of
these regions now regard these tall sepulchral monuments, so strange
at present in this land of desolation, as pagan idols, and call them
“sanem;” for I myself, when alone in front of the monument in this wide,
solitary valley, and under the shadow of the deep, precipitous side of a
plateau adjoining the Khaddamíye on the east, felt impressed by it with a
certain degree of awe and veneration.
My sketch being finished, I was still attracted to a greater distance up
the valley by something which seemed at first to be another monument;
but it was only a mark fixed by the Arabs, and served but to lengthen
my march back, which was more slow, as the heat had set in. But I was
well satisfied with my morning’s work; and my companions were greatly
astonished when they saw the sketch. In the afternoon I made with Overweg
another excursion in the opposite direction, when after an hour’s march
we ascended a height and obtained a most interesting view over this
singular tract, which seems to be the fragmentary border of a plateau
torn and severed by ravines and precipices, so that only wall-like
cliffs, rising like so many islands out of a sea of desolation, indicate
its height. A high craggy ridge towards the west, with precipitous
pinnacled walls, looked like a castle of the demons. Just in a ravine on
the border of this wild scene of natural revolutions, my companion had
the good luck to find some very interesting fossils, particularly that
beautiful specimen which after him has been called Exogyra Overwegi; but
our zeal had carried us too far, and it grew dark as we commenced our
return, so that we had some difficulty in groping our way back to our
encampment, where we arrived weary and fatigued, after having caused our
people a good deal of apprehension.
We were roused from our refreshing sleep as early as two o’clock after
midnight; but this was a mere sham of our camel-drivers, who feigned
making up for the loss of yesterday, and after all we did not get off
early. Our road carried us from wady to wady, which were generally
separated from each other by a defile, occasionally presenting some
difficulty of passage. We left a castle of Roman workmanship, as it
seemed, in the distance to the left, and further on to the right a slight
stone wall called Hakl el Urínsa, dating from the petty wars between the
Arab tribes. We had already passed a few small ethel-bushes; but now we
came to a most venerable-looking old tree called Athelet Si Mohammed
fi Useát, spreading out its weather-beaten branches to a considerable
distance: under this I sat down quietly for a while, waiting for our
people, who were still behind. The caravan at length came up; and
continuing our march, we soon passed on our right hand the chapel of a
great Merábet of the Welád Bu-Séf, called Si Rashedán. The Welád Bu-Séf
in general enjoy great authority with the other tribes for their sanctity
of life and purity of manners; they allow no stranger to come near their
villages, but pitch a tent for him at a distance, and treat him well.
The Welád Bu-Séf are remarkable for the excellent breed of their camels,
which they treat almost as members of their families. It is curious that
this tribe, intent upon right and justice, has waged war incessantly
from ancient times with the Urfílla, the most warlike and violent of the
tribes of these regions. It is difficult to make out whether they are
related to the Welád Bu-Séf of the western part of the desert, who are
likewise distinguished by their peculiar manners, but who it seems would
scruple, on religious grounds, to call a man ʿAbd eʾ nebi (Slave of the
Prophet), which is the name of the ancestor of the Eastern Bu-Séf.
Emerging from a defile, upon high ground, early in the afternoon,
we obtained a view over Wady Zémzem, one of the most celebrated
valleys of this part of North Africa. It runs in general from west to
east-north-east, and is furnished with a great many wells, the most
famous of which are el Abiadh, Sméla, Nákhala, Urídden, Halk el Wady,
and, a little further down, Téder. In half an hour we encamped in the
valley, full of herbage and with a goodly variety of trees. A caravan
coming from the natron-lakes, and carrying their produce to Tripoli, was
here encamped. I could not withstand the temptation of ascending, in the
afternoon, a projecting eminence on the south side of the valley, which
was broken and rent into a great variety of precipices and ravines; but
its summit, being on a level with the plateau, did not afford me such a
distant view as I had expected. The cliff was formed of strata of marl
and gypsum, and contained many fossil shells.
As soon as we left the bottom of the valley, the path, which became
rugged and stony, led up the southern cliffs, went round the east side
of the conspicuous promontory, and then continued to wind along between
the slopes of the higher level of the plateau. A hill, distinguished
from among the surrounding heights by the peculiar shape of its cone,
has here received the significant name Shúsh el ʿabíd—the Slaves’ Cap.
A little further on, the roads separate, that to the left leading along
the principal branch of the valley to the little town Gharíya, while the
eastern goes to the well Taboníye. One might suppose that in a desolate
country like this, and just at the entrance into a desert tract of great
extent, the caravans would gladly avail themselves of those abodes
of life which still exist: but this is not the case; they avoid them
intentionally, as if a curse were attached to them, and those places,
of course, fall every day more and more into decay. After a little
consultation, the path by Taboníye was thought preferable, and we took
it. The rough and stony character of the country ceased, and we gradually
entered a fine valley, called Wady Tolágga, richly clothed with a
variety of trees and bushes, such as the sidr, the ethel, the ghurdok,
and several others. After meeting here with a caravan, we caught the
gladdening and rare sight of an Arab encampment, belonging to the Urínsa,
and obtained some milk. Without crossing any separation or defile, but
always keeping along the same valley, we approached the well Taboníye.
But near it the vegetation is less rich; the soil is intermixed with
salt, and covered with a peculiar kind of low tree called by the present
inhabitants of the country, frʿo,—a term which in pure Arabic would only
mean “a branch.”
[Illustration]
While our people were busily employed pitching the tents, I went at once
to examine a monument which, for the last hour of our march, had stood
as a landmark ahead of us. I reached it at the distance of a mile and a
quarter from our encampment, over very stony and rugged ground. It was
well worth the pains I had taken; for, though it is less magnificent than
the monument in West Tagíje, its workmanship would excite the interest
of travellers, even if it were situated in a fertile and well-inhabited
country, and not in a desolate wilderness like this, where a splendid
building is of course an object of far greater curiosity. It is a
sepulchre about twenty-five feet high, and rising in three stories of
less slender proportions than the monument above described, and is
probably of a later period. The sketch on the preceding page will suffice
to give an exact idea of it.
Near this is another sepulchre, occupying a more commanding situation,
and therefore probably of older date, but it is almost entirely
destroyed; and a third one in an equally ruinous state, but of larger
proportions than either, is seen further south-east. These monuments
serve to show that the dominion of the Romans in these regions was
not of momentary duration, but continued for a length of time, as the
different styles of the remains clearly proves. It may be presumed that
no common soldier could pretend to the honour of such a tomb; and it
is probable that these sepulchres were destined to contain the earthly
remains of some of the consecutive governors or officers stationed at the
neighbouring place, which I shall soon describe.
Like a solitary beacon of civilization, the monument rises over this
sea-like level of desolation, which, stretching out to an immense
distance south and west, appears not to have appalled the conquerors of
the ancient world, who even here have left behind them, in “lithographed
proof,” a reminiscence of a more elevated order of life than exists at
present in these regions. The flat valley below, with its green strip of
herbage, stretches far into the stony level; and beyond, north-eastwards,
the desolate waste extends towards Gharíya.
I returned to the encampment, which meanwhile had sprung up on the open
space round the well, and was anxious to quench my thirst with a draught
of the precious liquid; but the water was rather salt, and disagreed with
me so long as I continued to use it,—that is, for the next seven days.
That we might make good use of our leisure hours, all three of us went
the next day to Gharíya, or rather Gharíya el gharbíya—_i.e._, western,
to distinguish it from the more distant eastern place of the same name.
Cheerfully as we set forward, we were heartily glad when, after a three
hours’ march, we saw the northern tower of the place become visible over
the monotonous stony plain, the wide and unbounded expanse of which
seemed to indicate something above a single day’s excursion. After having
also descried the half-ruined dwellings of the village, we were eagerly
looking out for the palm-grove, when we suddenly reached the brink of a
deep ravine, in which, on our left, the fresh green plantation started
forth, while all around was naked and bare. We crossed the ravine,
leaving the grove on our left, and ascended the opposite cliffs towards
the ruined cluster of miserable cottages, when, having traversed the
desolate streets, we encamped outside the Roman gate, the massive and
regular architecture of which formed a remarkable contrast to the frail
and half-ruined structures of the village. We were greatly astonished to
find such a work here.
It has but little resemblance to the Roman castle or station at Bonjem,
such as it is seen in Captain Lyon’s drawing; for while the latter
represents a single gateway flanked by two quadrangular towers, the
building at Gharíya consists of three archways, flanked by towers with
receding walls. The two smaller gateways have been almost entirely
filled with rubbish; the upper layer likewise is gone, and only those
stones which form the arch itself are preserved, the centre stone above
the principal arch, bearing the inscription “PRO. AFR. ILL.” (provincia
Africæ illustris), encircled by a coronal, while that above the eastern
side-gate is ornamented with a large sculpture, the lower part of which
it is difficult to make out distinctly, except the trace of a chariot and
a person in curious attire following it, while the upper part represents
two eagles in a sitting posture, with half-extended wings, holding a
coronal, and at each end a female genius, in a flying posture, stretching
out a larger and a smaller coronal. Besides this, and a few Berber names,
there is no inscription now on the building; but an inscription found
in another place, which I shall soon mention, and which was probably
originally placed over the small archway on the right, seems to leave no
doubt that this fortification dates from the time of Marc. Aurel. Severus
Antoninus, and if not built in the years between 232 and 235 after
Christ, at least was then in existence.
[Illustration]
As the ground-plan, which is here subjoined, evidently shows, this is not
by itself a complete building, and could only afford quarters to a very
limited number of soldiers acting as a guard: in fact it can only be the
well-fortified entrance into the Roman station; but of the station itself
I was unable to discover any traces, though a great quantity of stones
from some building lie scattered about in the village. The only ancient
building which I was able to discover, besides the gate, was a cistern
at the north-west corner of the wall, near the slope into the wady, which
is here very precipitous. It was probably 60 ft. long, for at 30 ft.
there is an arch dividing it; but one half of it, except a space of about
8 ft., has been filled with rubbish: its breadth is 5 ft. 3½ in. Perhaps
the whole fortification was never finished; the inner edge of the stones
would seem to intimate that not even the gateway received its entire
ornament.
[Illustration]
While I was busy making a drawing of the ruins, Overweg, who, in order
to measure the elevation of the place by boiling water, had directed his
steps to a rising ground at some distance north of the village, which
was crowned with a tower, sent to inform me that on the tower was a
large Roman inscription, which he was unable to make out; and as soon
as I had finished my sketch I went thither. It is a round Arab tower,
only two large ancient stones having been made use of as jambs, while a
large slab, covered with an inscription, is used as an impost, owing to
which circumstance the inhabitants generally regard even the tower as a
Christian or Roman building. The inscription, which was evidently taken
from the fortified station, is 32⁷⁄₁₂ in. long, and 15¹⁰⁄₁₂ in. high, and
consists of nine lines. It has been read and interpreted by Mr. Hogg in
the following manner.
I(mperatori) Caes(ari) M. Aurelio Severo Alexandro P(atri)
P(atriæ) P(i)o Felici Aug(usto) Et pagus et senatus et
castr(um) [_or_ castrum munitum] et municipium ... d. d.; poni
curavit Severianæ P. Nero situs vexillationis leg(ioni)s IV.
S(cythicæ); [_or_ legionis XXI. Victricis Severianæ] dec(urio)
Maurorum e(t) solo (o)pere (e)andem vexillationem instituit.
“To the Emperor Cæsar M. Aurelius Severus, Father of his
Country, Pious, Happy, Augustus, the district, the senate,
the camp, and free town of ... dedicate (this).... P. Nero
Decurion of the Moors, caused the station of the Severian
regiment (horse) of the 21st Legion, Victorious, Severian,
to be established; and he instituted by his own act the same
regiment.”
As for the tower, or nadhúr, it was evidently erected in former times in
order to give timely notice when a band of freebooters—“el jaesh” (the
army), as they are called here—was hovering around the solitary village;
for this seems to have been the chief cause of its destruction, the
Urfílla being said to have been always watching and lying in ambush round
this lonely place, to attack and rob small parties coming from or going
to it; they are said even to have once captured the whole place. The
consequence is, that it has now scarcely thirty male inhabitants to bear
arms, and is avoided by the caravans as pestilent, the water, they say,
being very unwholesome. The small remnant of the inhabitants have a very
pale and ghastly appearance, but I think this is owing rather to the bad
quality of their food than to that of the water. In former times it is
said to have been celebrated on account of a merábet of the name of Sidi
Mʿadi.
As soon as I had sufficiently examined the ruins and the village, I
hastened to the bottom of the ravine. The contrast between the ruined
hovels of the village, perched on the naked rock, and the green, fresh
plantation, fed by a copious supply of water, is very great. Thick,
luxuriant, and shady clusters are here formed, principally around the
basin filled by the spring, which rushes forth from beneath a rock, and
gives life to the little oasis; its temperature I found, at half-past one
o’clock P.M., 70½° Fahr., while that of the air was 70°. The number of
the date-trees, though small, is nevertheless larger than in Mizda, and
may be nearer to 350 than to 300. The water of the ravine after a heavy
fall of rain joins the Wadi Zemzem, the principal valley of this whole
district, which together with Wady Sófejín and Wady Beï, carries all the
streams collected hereabouts to the sea.
According to our Zintáni, the path leading to Taboníye from the western
village first lies over the hammáda, then crosses a ravine called Wady
Khatab, leads again over the plateau, crosses another wady, and at
length, after about ten miles, as it seems, reaches the ravine of Gharíya
eʾ sherkíya, stretching from west to east, the grove, of about the same
extent as in the other oasis, being formed at the north and west bases of
the rocky height upon which the place stands. At the side of the village
there is, he said, a large Roman castle, far larger than that in the
western one, of about eight or ten feet elevation at present, but without
an arched gateway of that kind, and without inscriptions. On the east
side of the eminence are only a few palms, and on the south side none.
The village is distinguished by a merábet called Bu-Sbaeha. Neither from
the Zintáni nor from anybody else did I hear that the inhabitants of
these two solitary ksúr are called by the peculiar name Warínga; I learnt
it afterwards only from Mr. Richardson’s statement, and I have reason to
think that the name was intended for Urínsa.
We returned by a more northern path, which at first led us through
a rather difficult rocky passage, but afterwards joined our path of
yesterday. Overweg and I had no time to lose in preparing for our journey
over the hammáda, or plateau, while Mr. Richardson was obliged, by the
conduct of the ill-provided and ill-disciplined blacks who accompanied
him, to follow us by night. We therefore got up very early next morning,
but lost a good deal of time by the quarrels among our camel-drivers,
who were trying, most unjustly, to reserve all the heavy loads for the
camels of the inexperienced Tarki lad ʿAli Karámra, till they excited his
indignation, and a furious row ensued. This youth, though his behaviour
was sometimes awkward and absurd, excited my interest in several
respects. He belonged to a family of Tawárek, as they are called, settled
in Wady el Gharbi, and was sent by his father to Tripoli with three
camels, to try his chance of success, although members of that nation,
with the exception of the Tinylkum, rarely visit Tripoli. He was slender
and well-formed, of a glossy light-black complexion, and with a profile
truly Egyptian; his manners were reserved, and totally different from
those of his Fezzáni companions.
At length we were under way, and began gradually to ascend along the
strip of green which followed the shelving of the plateau into the
valley, leaving the Roman sepulchre at some distance to our right. The
flat Wady Labaerek, which is joined by Wady Shák, was still adorned with
gattúf and rétem. It was not till we had passed the little hill called
Lebaerek, and made another slight ascent, that we reached the real level
of the terrible Hammáda; the ascent, or shelving ground, from Taboníye
to this point being called el Mudhár mtà el Hammáda, and the spot
itself, where the real Hammáda begins, Bú-safár, a name arising from the
obligation which every pilgrim coming from the north, who has not before
traversed this dreaded district, lies under, to add a stone to the heaps
accumulated by former travellers.
But, notwithstanding all the importance attached to the dreary character
of this region, I found it far less naked and bare than I had imagined
it to be. To the right of our path lay a small green hollow, of cheerful
appearance, a branch of which is said, probably with some degree of
exaggeration, to extend as far as Ghadámes; but the whole extent of the
Hammáda is occasionally enlivened with small green patches of herbage,
to the great relief of the camel. And this, too, is the reason why the
traveller does not advance at a rate nearly so expeditious as he would
expect. In the latter part of our preceding journey we generally had
made almost as much as two and a half miles an hour; but we scarcely got
over two on this level open ground. Of course, the wider the space the
wider the dispersion of the straggling camels; and much time is lost by
unsteady direction. At the verdant hollow called Garra mtà eʾ Nejm the
eastern path, which is called Trík el mugítha (_via auxiliaris_), and
passes by the village of Gharíya, joined our path.
At Wady Màmúra I first observed the little green bird generally called
asfír, but sometimes mesísa, which lives entirely upon the caravans as
they pass along, by picking off the vermin from the feet of the camels.
In the afternoon we observed, to our great delight, in the green patch
called el Wueshkeh, a cluster of stunted palm-trees. Hereabouts the
camel-drivers killed a considerable number of the venomous lizard called
bu-keshásh; and the Tarki in particular was resolute in not allowing
any which he saw to escape alive. After a moderate march of little more
than ten hours and a half, we encamped in a small hollow called, from a
peculiar kind of green bush growing in it, el Jederíya. A strong cold
wind, accompanied by rain, began to blow soon after we encamped. The
tent, not being sufficiently secured, was blown down in the night; and we
had some trouble in pitching it again.
Continuing our march, we passed, about ten o’clock in the morning, a
poor solitary talha-tree bearing the appellation of el Duhéda. Further
on we found truffles, which in the evening afforded us a delicious
truffle-soup. Truffles are very common in many parts of the desert; and
the greatest of Mohammedan travellers (Ebn Batúta) did not forget them
in relating his journey from Sejelmása to Waláta, in the middle of the
fourteenth century. The sky was very dark and hazy; and the moon had an
extraordinary “dára,” or halo. We slept this night without a tent, and
felt the cold very sensibly.
The march of the following day was a little enlivened by our meeting with
two small caravans: the first, of five camels; the second, belonging
to Ghadámsi people, and laden with ivory, of fifteen. With the latter
was also a woman, sitting quite comfortably in her little cage. Shortly
after half-past one o’clock in the afternoon, we had reached the highest
elevation of the Hammáda, indicated by a heap of stones called, very
significantly, Rejm el erhá, 1,568 feet above the level of the sea.
We encamped soon after, when a very heavy gale began to blow from the
north-north-west driving the swallows, which had followed our caravan,
into the tent and the holes formed by the luggage; but the poor things
found no protection, for our tent, which was light and high-topped, was
blown down again during the night, while a heavy rain accompanied the
storm, and we as well as our little guests were left awhile without
shelter, in a very uncomfortable situation.
We started rather late the following morning, entering now upon the very
dreariest part of the Hammáda, called el Hómra. So far there had been
only one track over this stony plateau; but in the afternoon a path,
called Msér ben Wáfi, branched off towards the left. This path, which
leads to the eastern parts of Wady Sháti, formed formerly the common road
to Fezzán, the road by way of el Hasi being considered as too insecure,
on account of the robberies of the Urfílla. Hence the latter is still
called the new road, “Trík el jedíd.” Richardson, who had had enough of
the inconveniences of travelling by night, easily got in advance of us
this morning, after our short march of yesterday, and had advanced a
good way by daytime. We were therefore anxious to come up with him; and
on our way we encountered a heavy shower of rain before we pitched our
tent. The whole caravan being once more united, the increased variety of
our own party relieved a good deal of the feeling of monotony arising
from the desolate character of the country through which we travelled.
After marching about seven miles, we arrived at the greenest and largest
hollow of the Hammáda, called Wady el Alga, which we ought to have
reached yesterday, in order to be able to get this day as near the well
as possible.
As it was, when we encamped in the afternoon, we had still a long day’s
march before us, and therefore the next day, from general impulse, in
order to make sure of our arrival at the well, we started at an early
hour, keeping the caravan together by repeated shouting. After a march of
about twelve miles, we reached the first passage leading down from the
Hammáda and called Tníe Twennín; but it was too steep and precipitous
for our rather heavily laden caravan, and we had to continue till we
reached the Tníe el ʿArdha, a little after eleven o’clock, when we began
to descend from the plateau along a rough winding pass. The sandstone of
which it is formed presented to us a surface so completely blackened, not
only in the unbroken walls of the ravine, but also in the immense blocks
which had been detached from the cliffs, and were lying about in great
confusion, that at first sight anybody would have taken it for basalt;
but when the stones were broken, their real nature became apparent. Over
this broad layer of sandstone, which in some places covered a bed of clay
mixed with gypsum, there was a layer of marl, and over this, forming the
upper crust, limestone and flints.
After a winding course for an hour, the narrow ravine, shut in by steep,
gloomy-looking cliffs, began to widen, and our direction varied less;
but still the whole district retained a gloomy aspect, and the bottom of
the valley was strewn with masses of black sandstone, while the country
ahead of us lay concealed in a hazy atmosphere, which did not admit of an
extensive view. Eager to reach the well, the caravan being scattered over
a great extent of ground, we three travellers, with one of the shoushes,
pushed on in advance, the south wind driving the sand, which lay in
narrow strips along the pebbly ground, into our faces. We cherished
the hope of finding a cool little grove, or at least some shade, where
we might recline at ease after our fatiguing march; but, to our great
disappointment, the sand became deeper, and nothing was to be seen but
small stunted palm-bushes. But even these ceased near the well, which was
dug in the midst of the sandy waste, and had once been protected by an
oval-shaped building, of which nothing but crumbling ruins remained.
It was a cheerless encampment after so fatiguing a march; but there was
at least no more fear of scarcity of water, for the well had an abundant
supply. No name could be more appropriate to this place than el Hasi
(the well). There is no need of any discriminating surname; it is “the
Well”—the well where the traveller who has successfully crossed the
Hammáda may be sure to quench his own thirst and that of his animals. But
it is not a cheerful resting-place, though it is the great watering-place
on this desert road, as he has to cross the fearful “burning plain”
of the Hammáda before he reaches the spot. There are several wells
hereabouts, which might easily supply with water the largest caravan in
an hour’s time; for the water is always bubbling up, and keeps the same
level.
The well at the side of which we had encamped is rather narrow and
deep, and therefore inconvenient for a large party; but it is, though
slightly, protected by the ruins around against the wind, which is often
very troublesome, and was particularly so on the evening of our arrival.
Formerly there was here a sort of fortified khan, such as is very rarely
seen in these parts, built by the tribes of the Notmán and Swaíd, in
order to protect their caravans against the pillaging parties of the
Urfílla, originally a Berber tribe. This building consisted of simple
chambers, twenty, as it seems, in number, lying round an oval court which
has entrances from north and south. It is thirty paces long by sixteen
wide, the centre being occupied by the well, which, as it is dug in the
sandy soil, bears the general name Hasi. It has a depth of five fathoms;
and its temperature was found to be 71⅗° Fahr. The quality of the water,
in comparison with that of Taboníye, was very good. The elevation of this
place was found by Overweg to be 696 feet; so that we had descended from
the highest point of the Hammáda 742 feet.
As it was, we felt heartily glad when our steady and heavy Tripolitan
tent being at length pitched, we were able to stretch ourselves without
being covered with sand. All the people were greatly fatigued, and
required repose more than anything else. Out of regard to the men as well
as to the camels, we were obliged to stay here the following day, though
the place was comfortless in the extreme, and did not offer the smallest
bit of shade. Scarcely any of our places of encampment on the whole
journey seemed to me so bad and cheerless as this. If I had had an animal
to mount, I would have gone on to a cluster of three or four date-trees,
which are said to be at the distance of about three miles west from the
well, and belong to the people of Zintán, to enjoy a little shade; but
our camels were too much distressed.
CHAPTER VI.
WADY SHATI.—OLD JERMA.—ARRIVAL IN MÚRZUK.
There are three roads from el Hasi: the westernmost called Trík eʾ duésa,
after a small cluster of palm-trees; the second, called Trík eʾ safar,
stony and more desolate than the former, but half a day shorter; and
the third, or eastern, leading directly to Bírgen. When we at length
left our uncomfortable encampment at el Hasi, our camel-drivers chose
the middle road, which proved to be dismal and dreary. But the first
part of it was not quite so bad, the appearance of granite among the
rocks causing a little variety, while tamerán and shíʿah clothed the
bottoms of the valleys; and we had a single specimen of a beautiful and
luxuriant batúm-tree. When, however, we began to enter the region of the
sand-hills, intermixed with rocky ridges and cliffs, the character of the
country became desolate in the extreme.
We travellers, being in advance, chose our resting-place for the first
night near a high rocky mass called el Medál, against the wish of the
camel-drivers, who would rather have encamped in the Shʿabet eʾ talha,
further on. The summit of the rocky eminence afforded a very interesting
prospect over this singular district; and our younger shoush discovered,
lower down, some scrawled figures. He came running up to inform me of his
discovery; but it was of no interest, a cow and a sheep being the only
figures plainly recognizable. The Fezzáni people come hither in spring,
when the rain-water collects in the cavities of the rocks, and stay some
months, in order to allow the camels to graze on the young herbage, which
then shoots up here in profusion. Ben Sbaeda during such a stay here had
lost a son, near whose tomb the camel-drivers said a prayer, or zikr,
early the next morning.
Continuing our march, we soon came to the Shʿabet eʾ talha, the bottom of
which is clothed with the brushwood called arfísh, and with the rétem,
or broom. Further on, when we came upon the higher rocky ground, the
country grew more sterile, though we were so fortunate as to catch two
gazelles. Black masses of sandstone jutted out on all sides, and gave
a wild air to the desolate region through which we were passing. The
sterile character of the scene underwent no change till next morning,
when, on advancing about a mile and a half, we came to the Wady Siddre,
which was enlivened by a few talha-trees. A narrow defile led us from
this place to the Wady Boghár, whence we entered another defile. Mid-day
was past, when we obtained a distinct view of the date-grove in Wady
Sháti, and the high sand-hills which border the valley on the south.
Towards the north it was rather open, and we hastened on to escape from
the hot desert through which we were marching; but a good while elapsed
before we reached the border of the valley, which on this side abounded
in herbage. After a mile and a half we reached the first wild palm-trees,
thriving in separate and casually formed groups. Then followed a belt of
bare black ground, covered with a whitish crust of salt. The town, on
the top of a broad terraced rock, seemed as far off as ever. But I urged
on my Bu-Séfi along the winding path over the hard ground; Richardson
and Overweg followed close behind, while the camel-drivers had fallen
back to exchange their dirty costume for one more decent. At length we
reached the north-western foot of the picturesque hill, and chose our
camping-ground beyond the shallow bed of a torrent between the date-trees
and the corn-fields, near the largest fountain,—a very agreeable
resting-place, after the dreary desert which we had traversed.
We had felt tired so long as the place was yet ahead of us; but we had no
sooner reached it than all fatigue was gone, and Overweg and I, under the
guidance of a mʿallem, went forth to view the interesting features of the
locality. It is certainly a very rare spectacle in this quarter of the
world, to see a town on the top of a steep terraced hill in the midst of
a valley, and occupying an advantageous position which might be supposed
to have given the place great importance from very ancient times. Éderi
seems to have been a considerable place till fourteen years ago, when
the independent spirit of its inhabitants was broken by the despotism of
ʿAbd el Jelíl ben Séf eʾ Nasr, the famous chief of the Welád Slimán. The
old town on the top of the hill having been destroyed, and there being no
longer a necessity for a fortified residence, under the civilized though
exhausting government of the Turks, the new village was built at the
northern foot of the hill, on which side lies the chapel of the Merábet
Bu-Derbála, and another of less fame, a little east of the former, called
Sidi ʿAbd eʾ Salám.
The new village has two gates. Crossing it, we ascended the steep narrow
streets of the old town, which seems to have been densely inhabited, and
from the highest part, which is one hundred and ninety feet above the
bottom of the valley, obtained a very interesting view over a great part
of the wady, with its varied features,—here, black sandstone, which in
several places forms hills of considerable extent; there, green fields
of wheat and barley; then, again, a large grove of date-trees scattered
in long narrow strips behind the high sand-hills bordering the valley
on the south. The black ground, covered with a whitish crust, lay bare
and naked in many parts, while in others it was entirely overgrown with
herbage. Towards the south the slope of the rock on which, the town
stands is rather steep and precipitous. On this side lies the caverns
which have been already noticed by Oudney, and which are interesting only
on account of the oval-shaped form in which they have been excavated,
as they are neither remarkable for dimensions nor for regularity; their
general shape is this. A larger group of caverns has been made in a
detached rocky eminence, upon which at present the cemetery is situated;
but it is only seventy-two feet in length, and its ground-plan is far
from being regular.
[Illustration]
From this place I went through the adjoining grove, which, with a little
more care, might easily become a very beautiful plantation; for there are
a great many wells of very little depth, and the water is led through the
channels with slight trouble. Our encampment in the beautiful moonlight,
with not a breath of wind to disturb the tranquillity of the scene, was
pleasant in the extreme, and we all felt much delighted and greatly
restored.
Early on Sunday morning, after having finished my sketch of the village
on the hill, with our encampment in the foreground, I took a walk all
round the scattered groups of the plantation, which must have suffered
a great deal from ʿAbd el Jelíl, even though the number of six thousand
trees, which he is said to have cut down, be an exaggeration. Towards
the east side the salt crust is still thicker than on the west, and is
very unpleasant for walking. I found here that, in addition to wheat and
barley, much amára was cultivated in the garden-fields, besides a few
figs; but I saw no grapes. Several families were living here outside
in light huts or sheds made of palm-branches, and seemed to enjoy some
degree of happiness. At the south-east end of the plantation rose a
hill also formed of marl, and very similar to that on which the town is
situated. The names of the villages along the valley, proceeding from
west to east, are the following: after Éderi, Témesán; then Wuenzerík,
Berga (a couple of villages distinguished as B. el foka and B. el
utíyah), Gúta, Turut, El Ghurda, Meherága, Agár, Gógam, Kosaer Sellám,
Támezawa, Anerúya, Zeluáz, Abrák, Gíreh, Debdeb, and Ashkiddeh. The
valley has two kaíds, one of whom, ʿAbd el Rahmán, resides at present in
Temesán, while the residence of the other ʿAgha Hassan eʾ Rawi, is in
Támezawa. Meherága seems to be the most populous of the villages. Abrák
has the advantage of a school.
We left our picturesque encampment in order to commence the passage over
the sand-hills which separate the shallow “rent” of Wady Shiyáti from
the deeper valley the Wady el Gharbi, the great valley _par excellence_.
It is rather singular that even the higher ground, which is elevated
about fifty feet above the bottom of the valley, is entirely covered
with a crust of salt. Having traversed this, we began the ascent of the
sand-hills, which in several favoured spots presents small clusters of
palm-trees, which too have their proprietors. Mukni, the father of Yusuf,
Mr. Richardson’s interpreter, is said to have killed a great many Welád
Slimán hereabouts. The most considerable of the depressions or hollows
in the sand, which are decked with palm-trees, is the Wady Shiúkh, which
afforded in truth a very curious spectacle,—a narrow range of palm-trees
half-buried between high sand-hills, some of them standing on the tops of
hillocks, others in deep hollows, with the head alone visible. At length
after a good deal of fatigue, we encamped in Wady Góber, another shallow
cavity between sand-hills with brackish water and a few palm-trees. Here
our camel-drivers themselves possessed a few trees, and, of course, were
more interested in the inspection of their own property than in starting
at an early hour the next day.
When we resumed our march we found our work more difficult than before,
the sand-hills assuming a steepness most trying for the camels,
particularly at the brink of the slopes. We were several times obliged to
flatten away the edges with our hands, in order to facilitate the camel’s
ascent. I went generally a little in front, conducted by Mohammed ben
Sbaeda, one of our camel-drivers, who, from the moment we had entered
Fezzán, had exchanged the quarrelsome character by which he had made
himself disagreeable to us, for very obliging and pleasing manners, and
was anxious to give me every information. He told me that this belt of
sand extended in south-west and north-east direction from Dwésa as far as
Fukka, a place, according to him, five days’ march on this side of Sókna.
He added, that, however high and steep we might think these sand-hills,
they were nothing in comparison with those in the direction of the
natron-lakes; but, in making this remark, I think he wanted to excuse
himself and his companions for taking us this long way round by the west.
He knew that it was our desire to visit the natron-lakes, and that our
direct way to Murzuk led by those lakes, while their object was to take
us to their native village Ugréfe. Mohammed stated that each district in
Fezzán has its own peculiar dialect; and he contended that, while the
inhabitants of Wady Sháti speak a good sort of Arabic, similar to that
spoken in Mizda, the people of the great wady (Wady el Gharbi) make use
of a corrupt dialect.
Meanwhile the caravan remained very far behind, and we thought it prudent
to wait for them in Wady Tawíl, particularly as the path divided here. It
was so hot that my camel, when I let it loose to browse a little would
not touch anything. When the other camel-drivers at length came up, there
was a dispute as to the path to be followed; but the truth was, that
while there could be no doubt about the direct road to Múrzuk, some of
the camel-drivers wished to take us to Ubári. But at length the other
party, interested only in carrying us westward as far as Ugréfe, which
was a great deal out of our route, got the upper hand, and we left the
road to Ubári, which passes only two wadys, or hollows, called Tekúr and
Uglah, both with bad water, to the west, and followed the road to Ugréfe.
About four o’clock in the afternoon we encamped in the Wady Mukméda,
near the sand-hills bordering its southern side, under the shade of a
wild palm-bush. Close to it was very good water only two feet below
the surface; but as the hole had only just been made, it contained much
sulphuretted hydrogen. The following day we crossed several smaller
valleys with a few palm-trees (but a larger grove adorned the Wady
Jemál), all belonging to one of our camel-drivers of the name of Bu Bakr.
He also possessed here a magazine, built of bricks, and probably several
centuries old, but entirely covered with sand, where he had deposited
forty camel-loads of dates. They were of the kind called tefsirt, of very
large size and exquisite taste, and were eagerly devoured by our people.
After having refreshed ourselves for a moment, we went on, having just
before us the very steepest ascent that occurs on the whole road. I was
obliged to dismount from my beautiful Bu-Séfi in order to get him over
it. This ridge being once behind us, we were told that all the “wár” was
over; there were, however, still a few “difficult passes” before us. In
the Wady Gellah, which we next crossed, we found the footsteps of a flock
of sheep and of a single camel, which latter animal finds plenty of food
in this sandy district, and, at the shallow well in Wady Uglah, is able
to quench its thirst without the assistance of man. Thence we descended
into Wady Tigidéfa, where we encamped near a couple of palm-trees, the
only ones in the wady; a copious well of very good water was near them,
overshadowed by a thick cluster of palm-bushes. It was altogether a very
satisfactory camping-ground, except that it swarmed with camel-bugs, as
such places in the desert generally do.
With a general impulse of energy, we started this morning at a very early
hour,—twenty minutes past two o’clock in the morning—in order to get out
of the sands, and to arrive in “the Wady.” After seven hours’ constant
march, we at length got a fine view of the steep cliffs which enclose the
Wady on the south side, and which contrasted marvellously with the white
sand-hills in the foreground; for, stretching out in a horizontal dark
line which faded away at each end, they exhibited an illusive picture
of a lake spread out before us in the remote distance. The cool east
wind, which had blown in the morning, and promised a fine day, changed,
as is very common in these regions, towards noon into a hot south wind,
and made us very uncomfortable and susceptible of the fatigue of a long
march, particularly as the distance proved much greater than we had
expected. Indeed it was not till nearly two o’clock in the afternoon,
that Mr. Richardson and I, who were much in advance of the caravan,
reached the border of the Wady, and shortly afterwards the well Moghrás,
at the foot of two tall palm-trees, where we found a woman with two
neatly dressed children. They belonged to the Azkár-Tuarek, who, leaving
their miserable abodes, migrate to these more fertile districts, where
they build themselves light cottages of palm-branches, and indulge in a
patriarchal life, breeding camels and rearing sheep. Near almost every
village in the Wady, outside the palm-grove, in the bare naked bottom of
the valley, these poor people form a sort of suburb of frail huts; but
nevertheless they keep up family ties with their brethren near Chát, and
respect in some degree the authority of the chief Nakhnúkhen. That this
state of things might become very unfavourable to Fezzán in an outbreak
of hostilities between the Turks and the Tuarek, is obvious; I shall
have occasion to say more on this subject further on. A belt of saline
incrustation, of more than half a mile in breadth, runs through the
middle of the valley, forming a line of demarcation between the separate
palm-groups and the continuous grove.
On reaching this grove we soon caught sight of the famous village Ugréfe,
the residence of our camel-drivers, which was to them the grand point
of attraction, and in truth the only cause of our taking this westerly
route. It consisted of about thirty light and low dwellings made of clay
and palm-branches, and lay near an open space where we were desired to
encamp: but longing for shade, we went a little further on, and encamped
near two splendid ethel-trees (_Tamarix orientalis_), the largest I ever
saw before I reached Égeri. When the camels came up and the tents were
pitched, the encampment proved most agreeable.
[Illustration]
Early next morning I was again in motion, roving over the plantation,
and was very much pleased with its general character. The corn, which
was a fine crop, was just ripe and about to be harvested; and close to
our camping-ground two negro slaves were employed in cutting it, while
three or four negresses carried it away to the stores. The negroes were
powerful young fellows; the women were rather ugly, excepting one, who
had a very handsome figure, and by coquettish demeanour tried to make
herself more attractive. All of them accompanied their work with singing
and wanton movements, and gave distinct manifestations of the customs
of this district, which is notorious for the familiarity of its female
inhabitants with the large caravans of pilgrims who annually pass through
the Wady on their way to or from Mekka. The fields are watered from large
holes or wells, which are sunk through layers of variegated marl.
Being anxious to visit Old Jerma, and to convince myself of its identity
with the Garama of the Romans, I hired a miserable little donkey, and,
accompanied by the stupid young son of Sbaeda, set out on an exploring
expedition into the eastern part of the valley. Keeping in general
along the southern border of the plantation, and having on my right the
precipitous rocky cliff, of from 300 to 400 feet elevation, I went on
slowly till I reached the south-west corner of Jerma kadím, fortified
with a quadrangular tower built of clay, and exhibiting a very curious
arrangement in its interior. The whole circumference of the town, which
was deserted long ago, is about 5,000 paces. Here, near the town, there
are no Roman ruins whatever, but the remains of several large and
strong towers built of clay are to be seen a little further on; and
being unable to make out the sepulchre described by Dr. Oudney, I was
obliged to go to Tawásh, the village inhabited by the Merabetín. It is
divided into three distinct parts, a Tarki village, consisting of huts of
palm-branches, an outer suburb of scattered dwellings built of clay, and
a small quadrangular place of very regular shape, surrounded by earthen
walls, and furnished with two gates, one on the east, and the other on
the west side, and regular streets crossing at right angles. Having here
obtained a guide from Háj Mohammed Sʿaídi, a wealthy man and the owner
of almost all our camels, I started for the Roman monument, situated
in a wide opening of the southern recess. I found it in tolerably good
preservation, and without delay made a sketch of it, as it seemed to
me to be an object of special interest as the southernmost relic of
the Roman dominion. It is a remarkable fact, that several years before
the beginning of our era the Romans should have penetrated as far as
this place; and that their dominion here was not of a merely transitory
nature, this monument seems clearly to show. It is only one story high,
and seems never to have been loftier. This is evidently characteristic
of the age in which it was built; and I am persuaded that it is not
later than the time of Augustus. Those high steeple-tombs which I have
described above, seem not to have come into fashion before the middle of
the second century after Christ. The base measures 7 ft. 9½ in. on the
west and east sides, and at least 7 ft. 4 in. on the other two sides,
including a spacious sepulchral chamber or burial-room; but while the
base forms almost a quadrangle, the sides of the principal structure are
of very different dimensions, measuring not more than 5 ft. 8½ in. on the
north and south, and 7 ft. on the west and east sides. It is adorned with
pilasters of the Corinthian order. The whole monument is covered with
Tefínagh or Berber writing, which was not only intelligible to me, but
also to our young camel-driver ʿAli Carámra, whose family lives in this
part of the wady, in a homely little dwelling of palm-leaves. However,
as the writing was very careless, and my time was fully taken up with
sketching the more important subjects, I did not copy the inscriptions,
which indeed are only names; but of course even names might contribute
something towards elucidating the history of the country.
By a direct path I returned from this place to our encampment, and felt
rather fatigued, having been in motion during all the heat of the day.
The south wind still increased in the evening; and we could distinctly
see that it was raining towards the longed-for region whither we were
going, while we had nothing from it but clouds of sand. Overweg,
meanwhile, had ascended in the morning the highest cliff of the sandstone
rocks forming the southern border of the valley, and had found it to be
1,605 feet high or 413 feet above the ground at our encampment.
[Illustration]
Having heard, the day before, in the village of Merabetín, that Háj
Mohammed, the owner of our camels, ordered the boy who was with me to
tell Sbaeda, his father, that they should not start before this evening,
I was not surprised at our camel-drivers not bringing the camels in the
morning. It was almost four o’clock in the afternoon when Overweg and
I at length pushed on, entering the extensive grove of New Jerma,—a
miserable place, which being entirely shut in by the palm-grove, is
almost deserted. The grove, however, exhibited a very interesting aspect,
all the trees being furnished with a thick cluster of palm-bush at
their roots, while the old dry leaves were left hanging down underneath
the young fresh crown, and even lower down the stem, not being cut off
so short as is customary near the coast. But picturesque as the state
of the trees was, it did not argue much in favour of the industry of
the inhabitants; for it is well known to Eastern travellers that the
palm-tree is most picturesque in its wildest state. Beyond the town
the grove becomes thinner, and the ethel-tree predominates over the
palm-tree; but there is much palm-bush.
We entered another grove, which stretches far northward into the valley,
its produce being, according to our camel-drivers, entirely reserved for
the poor. Having passed Tawásh, with its little grove, we entered the
fine plantation of Brék, enlivened by the bleating of sheep and goats.
Here, in the small fields where corn is cultivated, the ground is thickly
encrusted with salt and soda. We at length encamped near the grove of
Tewíwa, close to the village of the same name, and to the north side of
the Merábet Sidi eʾ Salám.
The next morning, while the camels were loading, I visited the interior
of the village. The walls have given way in several places, and the whole
made the impression of a half-deserted place; but the little kasbah,
which is never wanting in any of these towns, was in tolerable condition.
One of the inhabitants, on being asked why the village was so much
decayed, told me that a torrent had destroyed a great portion of it nine
years ago, in consequence of which the greater part of its population had
dispersed abroad, only about twenty families now remaining. But this is
the condition of nearly all the places in Fezzán; and it can be partially
accounted for only by supposing that many of the male inhabitants
go off to Negroland, to avoid being made soldiers. A very extensive
grove belongs to Tewíwa; but the plain between the village and the
rocks is rather open, only a few patches of corn-field being scattered
thereabouts. Three vast and detached buttresses, which jut out from the
cliffs into the plain, give a very picturesque appearance to the groves
and villages which we passed on our route. We were just proceeding in the
best manner, when a halt was ordered, from very insufficient reasons, a
little south from the village Tekertíba, where we were to pass the heat.
Meanwhile I ascended a ridge of rocks which, a little further down,
crossed the valley from the southern border. The ridge was a narrow,
steep, wall-like cliff, which afforded a very interesting view of the
end, or rather beginning, of the fertile Wady, which was close at hand.
From the highest point of the ridge I descended northwards, crossing
a small defile, which is formed between the two rocky buttresses to
the north and south, the latter being the more considerable. Along it
runs a path, connecting the two valleys. Here I obtained a view of the
fresh green valley on the one side, and the destructive sand-hills on
the other, and directed my steps to the plantation, where young people
were busily engaged in drawing water from the large pond-like wells. The
beams, by means of which the water is drawn up, require to be strongly
constructed, the whole of the khattár having the height of from sixty to
eighty feet. These draw-wells are always placed in pairs; and a couple
of miserable asses, partners in suffering, do all the work. The young
male labourers all wore straw hats, and had an energetic appearance.
The northern border of the plantation is now menaced by the approach
of the sand-hills, which have already overwhelmed the last range of
palm-trees. There is a curious tradition in Tekertíba, that from the
highest peak of the cliffs bordering the valley on the south side, a
rivulet or brook, issuing from a spring, runs down into the valley
underground. There were, it is related, originally several canals or
stream-works leading down to this subterranean aqueduct; but they have
been all filled up. The village itself, on the south border of the
plantation, is tolerably large, but is inhabited by only forty families
at the utmost, though it is the most populous place in the valley next to
Ubári.
By the exertion of much energy, I at length succeeded in the afternoon in
getting our little caravan again under way; and we left the Great Wady
through the defile, which appears to have been once defended by walls,
and, having crossed some irregular depressed plains, encamped at seven
o’clock in the evening in a wady with a moderate supply of herbage.
Starting on the following morning, at an early hour, we soon emerged into
a more open level, beautifully adorned with fine talha-trees, and having
with difficulty dragged on our camel-drivers, who shortly afterwards
wanted to encamp in Wady Resán, we entered a dreary wilderness, from
which we did not emerge till we arrived at the plantation of Aghár, where
we encamped.
All the people were eager to reach to-day the first great station of our
journey; but owing to the straying of some of the camels, we were unable
to start quite as early as we wished. The country in general was very
sterile, presenting only a few small date-groves, which we passed at
greater or less distance, and at length, when we reached the plantation
of Múrzuk itself, we were far from finding in it that picturesque and
refreshing character which we had admired in the palm-groves of the Wady.
These had formed a dense beautiful shade and fine groups; while the
plantation of Múrzuk was scattered about in thin growth, so that it was
scarcely possible to determine exactly where it began or where it ended.
Thus we reached the wall of the town, built of a sort of clay glittering
with saline incrustations; and going round the whole western and northern
sides, which have no gate wide enough for a caravan, we halted on the
eastern side of the town, not far from the camp of the pilgrims who
were returning from Egypt to Marocco and Tawát, till Mr. Gagliuffi came
out of the town, and brought us in. Mr. Richardson had arrived about an
hour before us. I was lodged in a cool and airy room on the north-east
corner of Mr. Gagliuffi’s house, which had within the court a very
pleasant half-covered hall. Mr. Gagliuffi treated us with all possible
hospitality, and did all in his power to render our stay in the town
agreeable.
[Illustration: MURZUK.]
CHAPTER VII.
RESIDENCE IN MURZUK.
Unfortunately our stay in Múrzuk seemed likely to become a very long one,
as the chiefs from Ghát, who were to take us under their protection,
were not yet sent for; the courier with our letters, to which was added
a missive from the acting governor, promising perfect security to the
chiefs, did not set out till the 8th of May. No doubt, in order to visit
Aïr, a country never before trodden by European foot, with any degree of
safety, we wanted some powerful protection; but it was very questionable
whether any of the chiefs of Ghát could afford us such, while the sending
for them expressly to come to Múrzuk to fetch us would, of course, raise
their pretensions very high, and in the same degree those of other chiefs
whose territory we should enter hereafter. Be this as it may, this mode
of procedure having been once adopted, the question arose, whether all
three of us should proceed to Ghát; and it was decided, the very next
day after our arrival, that the director of the expedition alone (Mr.
Richardson) should touch at that place, in order to make, if possible,
a treaty with the chiefs in that quarter, while Mr. Overweg and I were
to proceed with the caravan by the southern route directly to the well
Arikím, and there to await Mr. Richardson.
Providentially, a man had been sent to act as mediator between us and
the countries to which we were about to direct our steps. He had been
recommended to us in the very strongest terms by Hassan Bashá, the former
governor of Fezzán, whom we had frequently seen in Tripoli, and who knew
something about the men of influence and authority in Negroland. This
man was Mohammed Bóro, who, with the title Serki-n-turáwa, “Lord of the
Whites,” resided generally in Ágades, but had also a house and many
connections in Sókoto, and at present was on his home-journey from a
pilgrimage to Mekka.
Mohammed Bóro called upon us on the 8th of May at Gagliuffi’s house. He
was an elderly, respectable-looking man, wearing a green bernús over
white under-clothes. He could speak but little Arabic, but received Mr.
Gagliuffi’s empty and rather ironical assurances, that the whole welfare
and success of the expedition were placed in his (Mohammed Bóro’s) hands,
with a continual strain of “el hamdu lilláhi”s. In his company were his
eldest son and another man of Asben. He afterwards sent us some gúro, or
kola-nuts, of which he seemed to have a great stock, and which he also
sold in the market. Gagliuffi sent him, as an acknowledgment, a very
lean sheep, which, with a small loaf of sugar, was all he got from us in
Múrzuk. Instead of gaining his friendship, this treatment served only to
irritate him, and was productive of some very bad consequences for us.
This interesting person will appear in his true character and importance
in the course of this narrative.
The appearance of Múrzuk is rather picturesque; but its extreme aridity
is felt at once; and this feeling grows stronger on a prolonged
residence. Even in the plantation which surrounds it there are only a
few favoured spots where, under the protection of a deeper shade of the
date-trees, a few fruit-trees can be cultivated, such as pomegranates,
figs, and peaches. Culinary vegetables, including onions, are extremely
scarce; milk, except a little from the goats, is of course quite out of
the question.
The town lies in a flat hollow, “Hófrah,” which is the appropriate native
name of the district, but nevertheless at the considerable elevation
of 1,495 ft., surrounded by ridges of sand; and in this hollow lies
scattered the plantation, without the least symmetry of arrangement or
mark of order. In some places it forms a long narrow strip extending to a
great distance, in others a detached grove, while on the south-east side
of the town the desert approaches close to the walls in a deep inlet.
Towards the east a little grove apart forms as it were an advanced post.
The densest and finest part of the grove is towards the north, where also
are the greatest number of gardens and fields in which wheat, barley,
gédheb (or rather kédheb), and a few vegetables, are cultivated with much
labour. In the same quarter also the greatest number of cottages are to
be found, including huts (large and small) made of palm-branches,—the
former consisting of several apartments and a small courtyard, the latter
having generally only one room of very narrow dimensions.
In the midst of this plantation lies Múrzuk. It is situated so as not
to face the cardinal points, but with a deviation from them of thirty
degrees, the north side running N. 30° E., S. 30° W., and so on: it is
less than two miles in circumference. The walls, built of clay with round
and pointed bastions, but partly in bad repair, have, two gates, the
largest on the east, and the other on the west side. There is only a very
small gate on the north side, and there is none towards the south. This
quarter of the town has been greatly contracted by ʿAbd el Jelíl, as the
remains of the old wall of the time of Mukni clearly show; but the town
is still much too large for its scanty population, which is said now to
amount to 2,800, and the greatest part of it, especially in the quarters
most distant from the bazar, is thinly inhabited and half in ruins. The
characteristic feature of the town, which shows that it has more points
of relation with Negroland than with the lands of the Arabs, is the
spacious road or “dendal” stretching out from the eastern gate as far as
the castle, and making the principal part of the town more airy, but also
infinitely more exposed to the heat.
The bazar, of course, is the most frequented part of the town. It lies
nearly halfway between the east and west gates, but a little nearer to
the former, and affords, with its halls of palm-stems, a very comfortable
place for the sellers and buyers. The watch-house at the east end of the
bazar, and almost opposite Mr. Gagliuffi’s house (from the terrace of
which a view was taken), is ornamented with a portico of six columns;
which adds to the neat appearance of this quarter of the town. The kásbah
is the same as in Captain Lyon’s time, with its immense walls and small
apartments; but the outer court has been much improved by the building
of a barrack or kishlah, which now forms its northern portion. It is a
large quadrangular building, with a spacious esplanade in the interior,
around which are arranged the principal apartments. The building is said
to be capable of containing two thousand men, though at present there are
but four hundred in the garrison, who are well lodged and fed.
The accompanying sketch of a ground-plan will give a tolerably exact idea
of the whole character of the town.
[Illustration: 1, Custom-house; 2, Guard-house; 3, Watch-house; 4, Mr.
Gagluiuffi’s house; 5, Garden; 6, House of the agent of Bórnu; 7, Mosque;
8, First courtyard of kásbah; 9, Kishlah; 10, Staircase leading to the
upper apartments.]
With regard to commerce, the condition of Múrzuk is very different from
that of Ghadámes. The latter is the residence of wealthy merchants, who
embark all their capital in commercial enterprises, and bring home their
own merchandise. But Múrzuk is rather the thoroughfare than the seat of
a considerable commerce, the whole annual value of imports and exports
amounting, in a round sum, to 100,000 Spanish dollars; and the place,
therefore, is usually in great want of money, the foreign merchants, when
they have sold their merchandise, carrying away its price in specie,—the
Mejábera to Jálo, the Tébu to Bílma and Bórnu, the people of Tawát and
Ghadámes to their respective homes. Few of the principal merchants of
Múrzuk are natives of the place. The western or Sudán route is more
favourable to commerce than the route to Bórnu. On the latter the Tuarek
are always ready to furnish any number of camels to carry merchandise,
and to guarantee their safety, while the road to Bórnu, which is the
nearest for Múrzuk, is in such a precarious state, that the merchant
who selects it must convey his merchandise on his own camels and at his
own risk. As for the routes through Fezzán, the Hotmán, the Zwáya, and
the Megésha are the general carriers of the merchandise; while, on the
route to Sudán, the conveyance at present is wholly in the hands of the
Tinýlkum.
As soon as Gagliuffi learned distinctly the plan of our expedition,
he made an agreement with these people to take our things as far as
Selúfiet; and they were anxious to be off. After much procrastination,
they fixed upon the 6th of June for taking away the merchandise with
which we had been provided here. We were to follow on the 12th; but the
luggage not being ready at an early hour, our final departure was fixed
for the 13th.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE DESERT.—TASÁWA.—EXACTIONS OF THE ESCORT.—DELAY AT ELÁWEN.
Accompanied by Mr. Gagliuffi, the Greek doctor, and the Bin-básha, we
left Múrzuk by the western gate. My parting from Mr. Gagliuffi was
cordial. He had received us and treated us hospitably, and had shown an
earnest desire to further our proceedings, and to secure if possible the
success of our expedition; and, if in his commercial transactions with
the mission he did not neglect his own advantage, we could not complain,
though it would have been infinitely better for us if we had been
provided with a more useful sort of merchandise.
In leaving the town we kept, in general, along the same path by which
we had first entered it, and encamped during the hot hours of the day
in the scanty shade afforded by the trees of Zerghán, the well close
by affording us delicious draughts of cool water, not at all of that
brackish insipid taste which is common to the water of Fezzán. We had
started in the belief that we should find our luggage in Óm el hammám;
but in this place we learned from the poor ragged people who come
occasionally hither to take care of the trees, that it was gone on to
Tigger-urtín. Not knowing, however, the road to the latter place, we
took the path to Óm el hammám, and encamped about seven o’clock in the
afternoon a little north of it.
Om el hammám is a half-decayed and deserted village, built of clay,
which is strongly incrusted with salt, the inhabitants at present
living entirely in huts made of palm-branches. The plantation being
intermixed with a large number of ethel-trees (_Tamarix orientalis_),
and interspersed with gardens, exhibited a more varied aspect than is
generally the case with these groves; and having pitched our tent near a
large ethel-bush, we felt very comfortable, especially as we had the good
luck to obtain a few eggs, which, fried with plenty of onions, made a
very palatable supper.
Next morning we directed our course to Tigger-urtín, making almost a
right angle towards the north, and crossing a desolate plain incrusted
with salt, after we had left the fine plantation of Óm el hammám. Having
reached the village of our camel-drivers, which consists entirely of huts
of palm-branches, we looked long in vain for a tolerable camping-ground,
as the strong wind filled the whole air with sand. At length we pitched
our tents a few paces south from the well. It was an extremely sultry and
oppressive day, and the wind anything but refreshing. In the afternoon we
went to pay our compliments to Mohammed Bóro, who had left Múrzuk several
days before us. He informed us that he had consumed all his provisions,
and that he would have left to-day for Tasáwa, in order to replenish his
stores, if he had not seen us coming. We consoled him with the intimation
that we hoped our whole party would be soon ready for starting, and sent
him a quantity of dates and corn. The next day I went roving through the
valley, which a little further to the north-west was much prettier, and
had several fine clusters of palm-trees; but the most picturesque object
was the old village, built of clay, now entirely in decay, but surrounded
by a dense group of fine date-trees. Subjoined is a sketch of it.
At the south-west end of the grove also is a little village, likewise
deserted. Here I met a Felláta or Pullo slave, a full-grown man, who,
when a young lad, had been carried away from his native home, somewhere
about Kazaure, and since then had been moiling and toiling here in this
half-deserted valley, which had become his second home. He told me that
fever had driven away the old inhabitants of the village long ago, after
which the Tinýlkum seem to have taken entire possession of it, though
it is remarkable that its name seems rather to belong to the Berber
language, its original form being Tigger-odén (ŏdē means the valley),
which has been changed into the more general form Tigger-urtín. The whole
valley, which makes a turn towards the south-west, is full of ethel-bush,
and affords shelter to a number of doves. Groups of palm-trees are
scattered about.
[Illustration]
In the morning I took a walk round the village of the Tinýlkum, which
exhibited some lively and interesting scenes. All the men were saying
their prayers together upon a sand-hill on the north side of the
principal cluster of cottages, while the women were busy in getting
ready the provisions for the long journey about to be undertaken by their
husbands, and the children were playing among them. About fifty or sixty
huts were lying hereabouts, most of them formed into groups; others more
detached. Some of them had pointed roofs, while others were flat-roofed;
but all of them had a neat and orderly appearance. Besides camels, which
constitute their principal wealth, as by means of them they are enabled
to undertake those long annual journeys to Sudán, they possess a good
many sheep. Two of our camel-drivers, Ibrahím and Slimán, whom I shall
have occasion to mention repeatedly, together with their mother and
sister, were in possession of a flock of about two hundred head, which
they were sending to the fine pasture-grounds of Terhén in Wady Berjúsh.
Besides the latter valley, the Tinýlkum also use the valley Táderart as
their chief pasture-grounds.
On the east-north-east side of the village rose a hill about one hundred
feet high, and affording a fine view over the valley-plain. From its
highest summit, where a niche for prayers has been laid out with stones
on the ground, it stretches from east to west, and forms a kind of
separation in the flat valley, limiting the ethel-tree to its western
part, all the sand-hills in the eastern prolongation being covered with
palm-bushes, which, from a distance, have the appearance of a thick
grove. Descending from this hill northwards, I came to the handsomely
decorated sepulchre of Háj Sálemi, the brother of the sheikh, who
resides in Múrzuk, and further on met a party of Tinýlkum _en route_
for the wady, where numbers of them are residing. Another division
dwells about Sebhha; but the whole body of the tribe comprises from
350 to 400 families, which are united by the closest bonds, and act as
one body—“like meal” (to use their own expression) “falling through
the numerous holes of a sieve into one pot.” About noon arrived the
pilgrim-caravan of the Tawáti, which had been long encamped near Múrzuk,
on their way home; it had been this year only 114 persons strong, with 70
muskets, while sometimes it musters as many as 500 persons. Their chief,
or sheikh el rákeb, was an intelligent person of the name of ʿAbd el
Káder, a native of Timímun, who had been leader of the caravan several
times. They encamped at no great distance from us on the open ground.
Being obliged to buy another camel for myself (in order to be able to
mount our servant Mohammed el Túnsi on a camel of our own, the Tinýlkum
being very particular about their beasts, and not liking to see a man
often mounting them), I bought, in the afternoon, a fine tall méheri
from Háj Mohammed, for 69 Fezzán riyals or 55 Spanish dollars. I made a
longer excursion along the eastern part of the wady, which here, where
it is lower and collects more humidity, is adorned with some beautiful
wild groups of palm-trees left quite to themselves; the valley extends
towards Wady Ghodwa, which it joins. Keeping on in that direction, I
came to a poor hamlet called Márhhaba inhabited by a few families, who
bitterly complained of their poverty. Here was formerly a village built
of clay, and a large spacious castle about sixty-five paces square. All
is now deserted; and only a small part of the available ground is under
culture, forming about six or seven small fields. The same picture is met
with all over Fezzán, where the only places exhibiting to the eye some
degree of life and prosperity are Sokna and Múrzuk. The population of
this wide expanse of country falls short of even sixty thousand souls.
The heat of the day had already set in, when I returned to the tents,
where I was extremely rejoiced to see the different members of our
caravan collecting at last, so as to afford a fair prospect of our
soon setting out for unknown and more interesting regions. There had
arrived Mohammed el Sfaksi, a man with whom Mr. Gagliuffi had entered
into a sort of partnership for a commercial journey to Negroland,
and whom he had supplied with a tolerable amount of merchandise; and
in the afternoon came the boat. The following day Yusuf Mukni, Mr.
Richardson’s interpreter, came with the rest of the luggage, so that
gradually everything fell into its right place, and nothing was now
wanting but the Tuarek chiefs to set our whole body in regular motion. We
therefore procured a load of dates from Aghár, and, getting everything
ready, roused our spirits for the contemplation of novelties and the
encountering of difficulties; for the latter could certainly not be
wanting where the former were at hand.
_June 19._—While the greater part of the caravan took the direct road
to the well Sháraba, Mr. Overweg and I, with the remainder, chose
the road to Tessáwa, or rather, more accurately, Tasáwa; but though
our party formed but a small body of people, yet it presented a very
animated spectacle. The lazy Arab mode of letting the camels go singly,
as they like, straggling about right and left, strains and fatigues the
traveller’s attention; but his mind is stimulated and nerved to the
contemplation of great distances to be traversed when he sees a long
line of camels attached one to the other, and led by a man at a steady
pace without any halt or interruption. As for myself, riding my own
méheri, I was quite at liberty to go before or fall behind, just as the
circumstances of the road called for observation, or presented something
worthy of attention.
Having passed some tolerably deep sand-hills accumulated in the wady,
we obtained a sight of an advanced spur of the plantation of Aghár to
our left, when the ground became firm, and the country more open. Then,
keeping along the southern border of the principal plantation, we passed
the village and our former camping-ground, and having left further on
some deserted villages and a few scattered huts of palm-leaves, still
inhabited, a little on one side, about noon we again entered a sandy
region with a few detached palm-groups. Here I observed a specimen
of a very rare sort of bifurcated or divided palm-tree (not the dúm,
which is generally so), with two distinct tufts hanging down on the
opposite sides: this is the only specimen I ever saw. We then passed
the village of Tasáwa, which, with its clay walls and towers, looks
much more considerable from afar than it appears when viewed from among
the deserted houses within it; still it is one of the more wealthy and
important places in the country. A little beyond it we encamped on the
open sandy ground, when, as our small tent had by mistake gone on in
advance, and our large tent was too bulky to be pitched for one night’s
rest, we contrived a very tolerable airy shade with our carpets.
We had scarcely made ourselves comfortable, when we received the joyful
news that Hatíta, with two sons of Sháfo, had just arrived from Ghát,
and were about to call on us. Their arrival of course had now become a
matter of the utmost importance, as Mr. Richardson had made his mind up
not to start without them, though it might have been clear, to every one
well acquainted with the state of things in the interior, that their
protection could not be the least guarantee for our favourable reception
and success in the country of Aïr or Asben, inhabited and governed by an
entirely distinct tribe. And, on the other hand, the arrival of these
chiefs made our relation to Mohammed Bóro extremely disagreeable, for,
after waiting so long for us, he now clearly saw that Mr. Gagliuffi, in
declaring that we relied entirely on him for our success, while we were
in fact placing ourselves wholly at the disposal of the chiefs of Ghát,
was only trifling with him. He therefore flew into a violent passion,
threatening openly before the people that he would take care that we
should be attacked on the road by his countrymen; and these were not
empty threats.
After a hot day followed a very fine evening, with a beautifully clear
moonlight; and cherishing the fervent hope that, with the assistance of
the Almighty, I should succeed in my dangerous undertaking, I lay down
in the open encampment, and listened with hearty sympathy to the fervent
prayers of the Tinýlkum, which in melodious cadence, and accompanied
with the sound há, há, sometimes in a voice of thunder, at others in a
melancholy unearthly plaint, were well adapted to make a deep impression
upon the mind, the tall palm-trees forming majestic groups, and giving a
fanciful character to the landscape in the calm moonlight.
It is a remarkable fact that, while the Mohammedan religion in general
is manifestly sinking to corruption along the coast, there are ascetic
sects rising up in the interior which unite its last zealous followers
by a religious band. The particular sect to which belong the Tinýlkum,
who in general are Máleki, has been founded by Mohammed el Médani, who
established a sort of convent or oratory (zawíya) near Masráta, and
endowed it with a certain extent of landed property, from the produce
of which he fed many pilgrims. The best feature of this creed is the
abolition of the veneration of dead saints, which has sullied in so high
a degree the purity of Islám. Mohammed el Médani is said to have died a
short time ago; but his son continues the pious establishment. It is a
sort of freemasonry, and promises to make a great many proselytes. In
Tasáwa also reside a few Tinýlkum, who, however, have been intimately
intermixed with the Arabs, while the others in general keep their blood
pure, and do not intermarry with the people of Fezzán.
Having assured ourselves that, owing to the arrival of the Tuarek chiefs,
we should have to make some stay here, we determined to pitch our large
tent early the next morning, while the chiefs had a long dispute with
Mohammed eʾ Sfaksi, the subject of which I must relate, as it throws
some light on the history and the present state of this country. The
northern Tuarek, when they occupied the country round Ghát, established
a sort of tribute, or gheráma, to be paid by merchants passing through
their territory, and on payment of which the trader should be no further
molested, but enjoy full protection. At that time the Masráta—a section
of a very powerful Berber tribe—had made, as we shall see, a colonial
settlement in Ágades, and, owing to their great power, commercial
activity, and near connection with the Tuarek, were considered wholly
exempt from any tribute, while the inhabitants of Tunis, who seem to have
exhibited the jealousy or hostility of the great lords of the desert,
were subjected to the highest personal exaction, viz. ten dollars a
head. Now Gagliuffi’s partner was a native of Sfákes; but having long
resided in Masráta, he insisted upon being free from tribute, like the
inhabitants of the latter place; but our friends were not to be cheated
out of their right, and made him pay as a Tunisian.
Having settled this little business, they came to us. There were Hatíta
Inek (the son of) Khóden of the Manghásatangh, Utaeti (the eldest son of
Sháfo), a younger son of the latter, and several more. The first, who
had enjoyed the friendship of Captain Lyon, behaved throughout like a
man well acquainted with Europeans; but Utaeti conducted himself like
a strict Tarki, neither showing his face nor speaking a single word.
Hatíta expressed the wish that we should not proceed until he returned
from Múrzuk, where he assured us he would remain but a very short time;
and we engaged to do our best to keep back the camel-drivers, who were
but little inclined to stay here long. In consequence of this state of
things, I determined to return to the town, in order to ascertain the
terms entered into between the parties; and accordingly, starting at
five in the evening, and resting a few hours after midnight in Zerghán,
I reached Múrzuk on Friday morning at seven o’clock. I found that Mr.
Gagliuffi had been very ill during the hot weather of the last few days;
but to-day he was fortunately a little better.
Having waited in vain for the chiefs the whole of Saturday, we received
a visit from them on Sunday, when they appeared in the finery with
which they had been dressed by Mustapha Bey, but would not come to any
terms; and it was not till Monday, when they took up their residence in
the house belonging formerly to Mukni, but now to the Wakíl of Borno,
that they concluded an arrangement. The sum which they then received
would have been moderate, had they undertaken to see us safe under
the protection of Annur, the chief of the Kél-owí. I urged, with Mr.
Gagliuffi, the necessity of having a written copy of the agreement; but
to this the chief would not listen, and thus confessed that there was
really no distinct contract, as we had been given to understand, to the
effect that Utaeti should not leave us till he had committed us to the
care of the chief, Annur.
This business being concluded, I was in great haste to return to Tasáwa,
and starting immediately afterwards, at one o’clock in the afternoon,
arrived at our tent a little before midnight. Our tent, indeed, was still
there; but all the Tinýlkum (Músa alone excepted), and all our things,
were gone on, and Overweg and I were obliged to follow the next day
without waiting for Mr. Richardson.
Accordingly, on the 25th of June we left Tasáwa, and after having crossed
some sand-hills, entered upon harder soil, with ethel-bushes crowning the
little hills,—the whole scene making the impression that a considerable
current of water had at one period flowed along here and carried away
the soil, which had once extended to the top of the hills. The whole
district, which is a narrow and very long strip of land, affording a
little herbage for cattle and sheep, bears the name of Wady Aberjúsh,
or Berjúsh, and soon exhibits a more pleasant character; the encircling
borders increase a little in height, while the sand ceases and a great
deal of herbage begins to cover the soil. But after about another hour’s
march, we entered upon pebbly ground like that of the Hammáda, and
continued descending through a bare country till we reached the well
Sháraba, where we encamped a little to the north, near a talha-bush. It
is an open well, only three feet below the surface of the ground, which
here forms a very remarkable hollow, almost six hundred feet below the
level of Múrzuk, but nevertheless contains water only for two or three
months in the year. It is, however, evident that in case of heavy rains a
large pond or lake must be temporarily formed here by the torrent, which,
sweeping along Wady Berjúsh, finds no outlet.
Towards evening the locality was enlivened for a short time by a small
slave-caravan, led by Mohammed Trumba, or ʿAkerút, an active, energetic
man, whom I met several times in the course of my travels, and incurred
some obligation towards him, as it was he who, on my setting out from
Zinder to Timbúktu in the beginning of 1853, brought me a supply of
one thousand dollars, without which I could scarcely have succeeded in
my undertaking. He had come in only sixty-five days from Zinder, and
thirty-three from Asben, having been obliged to pursue his journey as
fast as possible, because, owing to the expedition of the Kél-owí against
the Welád Slimán, provisions were very scarce in Asben. He estimated
the number of fighting men who had gone on that expedition at seven
thousand, and stated that the Tuarek were acting in concert with the
Dáza, a tribe of Tébu, whose real name is Búlgudá. He stated that eʾ Núr
(or Annur, as the name is pronounced), the chief of the Kél-owí, was at
present in Tasáwa (that is to say, the town of that name on the borders
of Negroland), but would soon return to Asben. He confirmed the report
of plenty of rain having fallen in the desert, in consequence of which
the wells were full; but he begged me to beware of the cold during the
nights, which he represented as very intense. He had twenty-three female
slaves with him and only five camels, and hastened on to Tasáwa, in order
to obtain dates for his famished people.
_June 26._—Owing to the camels having strayed, it was very late when we
left our encampment, and entered a sort of flat valley, from which we
ascended to a higher level. From this we obtained a distant glance,
towards the west-south-west, of the ruins of a fortress called Kasr
Sháraba, the history of which, as it is connected with the struggles
of yore between the Tébu and the inhabitants of Fezzán, would be full
of interest, if it could be made out distinctly. Towards noon the
country wore a more genial aspect, being adorned with several groups of
palm-trees. We had to go round a rather steep hill, about three hundred
and fifty feet high, from the summit of which I obtained an interesting
view over the desert. The whole country presented a very irregular
structure, and scarcely allowed the continuous line of the Wady Berjúsh
to be traced by the eye, hills of considerable height and black pebbly
tracts succeeding each other. Over such a desert we continued our march
until, late in the afternoon, we reached a spot where the sight of a true
wady, full of herbage and bordered by a strip of talha-trees, gladdened
our hearts, and we encamped. It was a pleasant open ground; and the night
being cool and refreshing, we felt very much invigorated when we rose the
next morning to continue our march.
The talha-trees continued; but the herbage was principally limited to
resú, an herb which has a very strong taste, and is not relished by
camels for any length of time. The green strip took an irregular, winding
course, sometimes approaching the sand-hills which we had always on our
left at a certain distance, sometimes keeping more to our right; and
Músa, our grave but cheerful camel-driver, dwelt in terms of the highest
praise on the great superiority of this wady, which he said is joined by
as many as a hundred smaller branches. It evidently forms the natural
high road between Fezzán and the western desert, and about a month ago
must have exhibited a more varied aspect, enlivened as it then was by a
considerable torrent sweeping along it. In the afternoon we saw several
spots where the eddying stream had formed itself a bed about five feet
deep, and had turned up the ground all around; the crust of mire which
covered the bed of the torrent had not yet dried. We encamped on a
pleasant spot called Hamáwa, without pitching our tent, so delighted
were we to enjoy the fresh air of the desert. Here we were joined by a
man from Tasáwa, who wanted to seize a debtor who had attached himself
to Bóro’s party in order to make his escape into Sudán—a practice very
common with the people of Fezzán. By repeated measuring with our chain,
we had found that, on tolerably even ground, our ordinary rate as the
Tawárek travel was half an English geographical mile in thirteen minutes.
It is the general custom of these people, who do not allow their camels
to feed on the march, to leave them the whole night on the pasture, and
not to fetch them till morning, for which reason they never start very
early, and often at a rather late hour.
_June 28._—About an hour after we had begun our march along the line of
green herbage, we came to a temporary well called Ahitsa, containing
very fine rain-water, but only for a period of about two months in the
year. Having filled two of our water-skins, we continued our march, and
soon, to our great joy, got sight of two white tents, belonging the one
to Mohammed Bóro, the other to Mohammed eʾ Sfaksi, and pointing out to
us the encampment of the caravan. It had been pitched on open ground,
in the midst of the strip of green herbage, and surrounded with a rich
border of talha-trees. The place offered good pasture for the camels; and
a small encampment of other Tinýlkum not belonging to our caravan, but
merely pasturing their camels and goats here, had been formed near the
trees. The whole presented an animated picture. Our camel-drivers are
said to possess, in the sand-hills bordering this valley on the south
side, considerable stores of dates and corn, and to have taken from
thence their supplies for the road. The whole character of this landscape
appeared to me so peculiar that, the following morning before we started,
I made a sketch of it from the elevated stony ground to the north of the
channel, which here exhibited evident traces of a small waterfall formed
by the heavy rains. Stones had been laid here in the form of a circle,
as a place of prayer. The whole valley was about four miles broad; the
locality is called Tesémmak.
[Illustration]
When we started next morning, we formed a tolerably large party, with
sixty-two camels, which were arranged in four strings, one of which
consisted of thirty-three animals, each fastened to the tail of the
preceding one. The valley was enlivened by a small herd of gazelles,
which Overweg and I tried for a moment to pursue. Having passed a well
called Tafiyúk, at a place where the sand-hills jut out into the valley,
we encamped about half an hour beyond, near another well containing
rain-water for a short time of the year, and called Em-éneza. Two
branches of the wady unite here, and distinct traces of the great force
of the last torrent remained in the broken condition of the ground.
Here we remained encamped for the two following days, in order to
allow Mr. Richardson and the Azkár chiefs to come up. I spent the time
sometimes writing and studying, at others roving about or musing while
seated on some elevated rocks at the border of the rising ground. Músa
was our constant visitor, and gave us all the information required,
though he was not very intelligent. There had been some small differences
between us and our camel-drivers, who, though in other respects not
uncouth or uncivil, had, from religious principles, sometimes assumed
a rather hostile position towards us. We now effected a general
reconciliation, and there was every reason to believe that we should go
on well with them.
_July 2._—Being informed that our companions were near, we moved on a
little, and at length got out of the eternal Wady Aberjúsh, with all its
little side-branches, which are divided from the main wady by a gently
rising ground covered with black pebbles. Then after a little we reached
the Wady Eláwen, forming a broad depression running from the north, where
it is joined by several branch channels descending from the plateau
towards the sand-hills on the south, and encamped on its western side,
between tall sebót shooting up from the sandy ground, and near some fine
talha-trees. We soon discovered, to our great delight, that only two
hundred paces above our encampment the floods, descending from the higher
ground in two large branches, and carrying down with them bushes and
brushwood in abundance, had formed a pond at present about 100 ft. long
and 50 ft. broad, which contributed greatly to enliven the district. All
the world was bathing and playing about the water; and flights of thirsty
birds, of the kinds _Numida_ and _Pterocles_, were hovering about,
watching a favourable moment to come in for their share. Everywhere
in the bottom of the valley there was water at a little depth; and we
obtained excellent potations from a well dug by our people close below
our tents.
About five o’clock in the afternoon we were at length joined by Mr.
Richardson and the chiefs of the Azkár; but the unsatisfactory way in
which the business had been concluded with these chiefs in Múrzuk led
to a break-up sooner even than I had suspected. The next evening Hatíta
summoned us to a divan, and declared distinctly that he required a
month’s time to make the necessary preparations for the journey to Aïr.
Hence it would be necessary for us to separate from the caravan, and,
taking our luggage with us to Ghát, to hire or buy other camels there.
In reply to this unjust and absurd demand, we declared that we had no
other choice but to follow the direct Sudán road in the company of the
caravan, and that it was our firm intention at any rate not to lose
more than seven days in Ghát. Hatíta having left us rather dissatisfied
at our decision, our servants, who would gladly have idled away one or
two months in Ghát as they had done in Múrzuk, insolently told us that
we were very much mistaken in thinking that the road to Aïr was in any
degree open to us, for it would first be necessary to send a courier to
ask the permission of the chiefs of that country to enter it, and we must
wait for the answer.
While remaining firm in our resolution, we of course consented to go to
Ghát, and tried at the same time to come to some final arrangement with
our camel-drivers, promising them a small allowance for every day they
should wait for us. They at length promised to spend ten days on the way
to Arikím, a well three days’ march south from Ghát, where they would
wait six days, and then go on directly to Aïr. Attacking the old chief,
therefore, on his weakest side, we sent him word the next morning that,
as we had but little money with us, he would not succeed in getting
anything of value from us, if he should try to keep us in Ghát for any
length of time; and I insisted, with Yusuf Mukni, upon the dishonesty
of the chief’s conduct, in trying to make an entirely new bargain after
he had got all he demanded. His answer was satisfactory; and with the
fervent hope that we should not be baffled in our attempt to discover new
regions and new tribes of men, we left the further development of the
affair to time.
While these disputes were going on, I employed my leisure hours in
roving about our encampment, in different directions, up and down the
valley. The eastern of the two branches, which by their junction form the
valley, was peculiarly rich in herbage, and commanded by a hill starting
up from the plateau, which afforded a very interesting view around,
though this was almost surpassed by the prospect from a mound a little
to the west-south-west of our tent. The lower part of the valley was
more diversified by numerous branches, which joined it on the south-east
side. One of these, which was bordered by high ridges of sandstone, was
evidently a favourite playground of the gazelles, the fresh footmarks of
which chequered its sandy bottom like a net. Pursuing this direction, I
approached the sand-hills which form the southern border of this whole
district. Fatigued by my long walk, I was the more able in the evening
to do full justice to our supper, which was diversified by a variety of
birds that had been shot in the course of the day near the pond.
CHAPTER IX.
SINGULAR SCULPTURES IN THE DESERT.—THE MOUNTAIN-PASS.
_July 5._—We had to separate from the Tinýlkum, and from our luggage,
without having any certainty as to where and when we might overtake them.
The chiefs of Ghát, too, had started in advance. The country had been
rising all the way from Wady Sháraba, which seems to form the lowest
point in this whole region, and we ascended to-day very considerably.
Pushing on in advance of our little troop, and passing a small caravan,
which was laden with provisions and merchandise belonging to the
pilgrim-caravan of the Tawáti, I soon came up with Hatíta and his
companions. They were civil and kind, but the old friend of the English,
who had an eye to a new marriage with some pretty Amóshagh girl some
forty or fifty years younger than himself, gave me sundry expressive
hints that I should spare him something of my outfit,—either a pair
of pistols, or a carpet, or a bernús, or any other little article. My
refusal in no wise rendered him uncivil. While he was riding by my side,
I took the opportunity of making a slight sketch of him,—his English
gun, the gift of some previous traveller, forming a striking contrast
to his large shield of antelope-hide, ornamented with a cross. Having
crossed another valley of some extent, we descended into Wady Elghom-udé
(the Valley of the Camel), which, richly clothed with herbage, forms an
inlet in the stony plateau from north to south, and has a very cheerful
aspect. The encampment, spread over a great extent of ground, formed
quite an ethnographical museum, comprising as it did six distinct small
caravan-troops from different parts of Africa, and even of Europe.
_July 6._—A splendid morning, cool and fresh. We were happy to meet a
small caravan coming from Sudán, which brought us some important pieces
of news: first, that they had come to Ghát in the company of five men
belonging to the family of Ánnur (the chief of the Kél-owí), who, after
a short stay, would return to their country; and secondly, that the
expedition of the Kél-owí had returned from Kánem, after having totally
annihilated the Welád Slimán. They brought with them seventeen slaves,
among whom were fifteen females, one with a very engaging countenance.
After less than three miles’ march, our companions looked about in the
Wady Telísaghé for a camping-ground. The valley proved of more than
ordinary interest. It was hemmed in by steep cliffs of rock, and adorned
with some fine talha-trees. With no great reluctance we followed the
Tuarek chiefs, who kept along its steep western border, and at length
chose the camping-ground at a spot where a western branch joins the
principal wady. Scarcely had we pitched our tents, when we became aware
that the valley contained some remarkable sculptures deserving our
particular attention.
[Illustration]
The spot where we had pitched our tents afforded a very favourable
locality for commemorating any interesting events, and the sandstone
blocks which studded it were covered with drawings representing various
subjects, more or less in a state of preservation. With no pretensions to
be regarded as finished sculptures, they are made with a firm and steady
hand, well accustomed to such work, and, being cut to a great depth, bore
a totally different character from what is generally met with in these
tracts. The most interesting sculpture represented the following subject,
the description of which I am unfortunately able at present to accompany
with only an imperfect woodcut.
The sculpture represents a group of three individuals of the following
character and arrangement:—
[Illustration]
To the left is seen a tall human figure, with the head of a peculiar
kind of bull, with long horns turned forward and broken at the point;
instead of the right arm, he has a peculiar organ terminating like an
oar, while in the left hand he carries an arrow and a bow—at least such
is the appearance, though it might be mistaken for a shield; between
his legs a long tail is seen hanging down from his slender body. The
posture of this figure is bent forward, and all its movements are well
represented. Opposite to this curious individual is another one of not
less remarkable character, but of smaller proportions, entirely human
as far up as the shoulders, while the head is that of an animal which
reminds us of the Egyptian ibis, without being identical with it. The
small pointed head is furnished with three ears, or with a pair of ears
and some other excrescence, and beyond with a sort of hood (which, more
than any other particular, recalls the idea of Egyptian art), but it is
not furrowed; over the fore part of the head is a round line representing
some ornament, or perhaps the basilisk. This figure likewise has a bow in
its right hand, but, as it would seem, no arrow, while the left hand is
turned away from the body.
Between these two half-human figures, which are in a hostile attitude, is
a bullock, small in proportion to the adjacent lineaments of the human
figure, but chiselled with the same care and the same skilful hand, with
the only exception that the feet are omitted, the legs terminating in
points, a defect which I shall have occasion to notice also in another
sculpture. There is another peculiarity about this figure, the upper
part of the bull, by some accident, having been hollowed out, while in
general all the inner part between the deeply chiselled outlines of these
sculptures is left in high relief. The animal is turned with its back
towards the figure on the right, whose bow it seems about to break. The
block on which it was sculptured was about four feet in breadth, and
three in height. It was lying loose on the top of the cliff.
[Illustration]
No barbarian could have graven the lines with such astonishing firmness,
and given to all the figures the light, natural shape which they exhibit.
The Romans, who had firmly established their dominion as far as Garama,
or Jerma, might easily have sent emissaries to this point, and even
further; but the sculptures have nothing in them of a Roman character.
Some few particulars call to mind the Egyptian sculptures. But on the
whole it seems to be a representation of a subject taken from the native
mythology, executed by some one who had been in intimate relation with
the more advanced people on the coast, perhaps with the Carthaginians. Be
this as it may, it is scarcely doubtful that the subject represents two
divinities disputing over a sacrifice, and that the figure at the left is
intended for the victor.
On the cliff itself there is another sculpture on a large block which,
now that the western end is broken off, is about twelve feet long and
five feet high. The surface of the block is quite smooth, protected
as it has been, in some degree, by the block above, which projects
considerably; nevertheless the sculpture has suffered a good deal. It
bears testimony to a state of life very different from that which we are
accustomed to see now in these regions, and illustrates and confirms St.
Augustine’s statement that the ancient kings of this country made use
of bulls for their conveyance. It represents a dense group of oxen in
a great variety of positions, but all moving towards the right, where
probably, on the end of the stone which is now broken off, the pond or
well was represented from which the beasts were to be watered. Some
of these bulls are admirably executed, and with a fidelity which can
scarcely be accounted for, unless we suppose that the artist had before
his eyes the animals which he chiselled. My sketch gives only a faint
idea of the design, which is really beautiful. The only defect, as I have
already remarked above, is in the feet, which, from some reason or other,
have been negligently treated.
If we consider that the sculpture described is close to a watering-place
on the high road to Central Africa, we are reduced to the conjecture that
at that time cattle were not only common in this region, but even that
they were the common beasts of burden instead of the camel, which we here
look for in vain. Not only has the camel no place among these sculptures,
but even among the rude outlines which at a much later period have been
made on the blocks around, representing buffaloes, ostriches, and another
kind of birds, there are no camels; and it is a well-known fact that the
camel was introduced into the western part of Northern Africa at a much
later period.
[Illustration]
There was a similar group on another block of this interesting cliff, but
too much effaced to allow the particulars to be distinguished; but the
figure of an ass among the oxen was quite clear, as well as that of a
horse, which was, however, ill-drawn. Not far off, Overweg found another
sculptured stone, representing, as the annexed sketch shows, an ox
jumping through or falling into a ring or hoop, which I should suppose to
have an allegorical meaning, or to represent a sacrifice, rather than, as
Mr. Richardson thought, to represent any games of the circus. There was
a circle regularly laid with large blocks of rock, at the south-western
slope of the cliff; these, I should suspect, belong to the same, period
as the sculptures before mentioned.
To a later period belong innumerable inscriptions in Tefínagh, with which
the cliffs on the other side of the valley and overhanging the waterpond
are covered. These are mere scribblings, and are interesting merely as
they serve to render evident, by contrast, the superior merit and age of
the adjacent sculptures. It appeared to me remarkable that on this side,
where the water now principally collects, not a single drawing should be
seen; and I formed the conclusion that in more ancient times the water
collected on the other side.
The valley is formed by the junction of two branches coming from the
north, of which the western is the more considerable, being joined by
some smaller wadys. Just at the place of our encampment it changed its
direction, and extended from west to east, having run in its upper
course from north-west to south-east. After the junction, the valley
runs from north to south, and loses for a moment almost the character
of a wady, while running over pebbly ground; but it soon becomes once
more well-bordered and adorned with fine groups of talha-trees, and in
some places exhibits a river-bed eight feet deep, and still wet. Near a
shepherd’s cave there was a very luxuriant tree, under whose shade I lay
down. Towards evening the pilgrim-caravan of Haj ʿAbd el Káder, which had
delayed so long in the wady, arrived. The whole valley resounded with the
cries of the men and their camels, who were all eagerly pressing towards
the pond at the foot of the steep cliffs. Fortunately we had already laid
in a supply of water, else we should not have been able to obtain any fit
to drink.
_July 7._—Owing to the camels having strayed to a great distance, we
started at a late hour, still leaving the Tuarek chiefs behind, who
wanted to settle some business with the Tawáti, and for this purpose had
changed their dirty travelling-dress for showy caftans and bernúses. We
ascended the higher level, and continued along it, crossing some small
beds of watercourses overgrown with herbage, till, after a little more
than four miles, we had to descend into a deep and wild ravine which
led us to a vale. Having again ascended, we then came to the wide and
regular valley called Erazar-n-Hágarné, bordered by steep cliffs from
150 to 200 feet high, and richly clothed with herbage. Following the
windings of this large wady, which evidently has received its name from
the circumstance that the Hogár or Hágara pasture their camels chiefly
hereabouts, we reached the point where it is joined by the valley called
Áman sémmedné, and encamped near a fine talha-tree in order to allow
Hatíta to come up. This valley has its name from the cold water which
at times descends from the plateau in floods, of which the deeply worn
channel bears evident traces; it is joined at this place by an important
branch valley and several smaller ravines.
When the heat of the sun began to decline, I took a walk through the
valley, and being attracted by a circle laid out very regularly with
large slabs like the opening of a well, I began to ascend the steep
cliffs opposite the mouth of the valley of Áman sémmedné, rising to
a height of about 500 feet, and which, as I clearly saw, had been
repeatedly ascended. The cliffs are here, as is usual in this formation,
broken into regular strata, and steep flat blocks standing upright give
them an imposing appearance. My search here, however, led only to the
discovery of the well-chiselled form of a single bullock, in exactly the
same style as that in Wady Telísaghé, though it had suffered a little
from its exposed situation; but the whole appearance of the locality
shows that in former times it contained more of this kind. On the plain
above the cliffs is another circle regularly laid out, and, like the
many circles seen in Cyrenaica and in other parts of Northern Africa,
evidently connected with the religious rites of the ancient inhabitants
of these regions. Quartz pebbles were scattered about this part of the
valley.
Our people meanwhile had been busy laying in provision of dry herbage for
the next marches, during which we were told our camels would scarcely
find anything to feed upon; and our Tuarek friends, when they at length
arrived for their supper, did the same.
The caravan of the Tawáti having passed by our encampment at an early
hour, we followed betimes, having an interesting day’s march before
us. For the first three miles we still kept along the large valley,
into which masses of sand had been driven down from the plateau by
the strong east winds; further on it became dry and bare. To this
succeeded an irregular knot of hollows and plains between the sides
of the plateau, which in some places formed imposing promontories and
detached buttresses, all on one and the same level. We then began to
ascend along a sort of broad valley, which gradually assumed a regular
shape, and bore the name of Tísi. The slope of the plateau was shaped
into regular strata, the uppermost of which form steep precipices like
the wall of a castle; the lower ones slope, down more gradually. Here we
discovered ahead of us, at the foot of the southern slope, the encampment
of the pilgrim-caravan, who were resting during the heat of the day.
We continued our march, always ascending, till a little after noon we
reached the edge of the pass, a perfect watershed, of more than 2,000
feet elevation, descending more gradually towards the east as far as the
well of Sháraba, while towards the west is formed a steep precipice,
passable only along a most interesting gully cut into it by the water
towards the Valley of Ghát. The higher level, which rises above the pass
about 300 feet, seems to be considerably depressed in this place, where
it collects large floods of water, such as could alone cut the remarkably
wild passage through the sandstone cliffs which we were about to descend:
it is called Rálle.
The first part of it was more rough than wild, and the cliffs of the
sandstone rather rugged and split than precipitous and grand; but after
half an hour’s descent it bore evident traces of the waters that descend
from the heights, and which being here collected into one mighty stream,
with enormous power, force their way down through a narrow channel. The
defile was here encompassed by rocky walls about a hundred feet high,
half of which consisted of sandstone, while the other half was formed by
a thick deposit of marl; and a little further down it was not more than
six feet wide, and the floor and the walls were as smooth as if they had
been cut by the hand of man; but the course of the defile was rather
winding and not at all in a straight line, forming altogether a pass
easily to be defended by a very small power, and affording the Tuarek
a stronghold against any designs of conquest on the side of the Turks,
although it does not form the frontier, but is regarded as entirely
belonging to Fezzán. At the narrowest point Tuarek as well as Arab
travellers had recorded their names.
Where the channel began to widen there were some curious narrow gaps or
crevices on both sides, the one to the right, with its smooth rounded
surface, bearing a great similarity to the famous Ear of Dionysius in
Syracuse. The walls contained strata of chalk and ironstone, and Overweg
found here some interesting petrifactions. The crevice to the left was
less deep, and rather resembled a cell or chamber.
Having here waited some time for the boat to come up, we started
together, but had still to get through two more narrow passes of the
wady, and at four o’clock in the afternoon entered another very narrow
defile, the steep cliffs forming it being covered with inscriptions.
At length, after a descent of altogether four hours, we emerged into
the open plain some 600 feet below, and had a wide view of the high
precipitous cliffs of the plateau, stretching out in several buttresses
into the plain, which is interrupted only by detached hills. Amongst
these was a rather remarkable one upon a terrace-like base, and opening
with three caverns towards the roadside. Ascending the terrace, I found
the westernmost of the caverns vaulted, as if by art, in the shape of
a large niche, but it was a little filled with sand; I found, however,
no inscriptions nor anything but four round holes, about nine inches in
diameter, hollowed out in a slab on the terrace in front of the cavern.
Beyond this hill, where Hatíta told us that he had once passed the heat
of the day with ʿAbd Allah (Clapperton) and the tabíb (Oudney), the
country is quite open towards the north. About sunset we encamped in the
deep Erazar-n-Tese; there were a few talha-trees and some herbage.
The following day our route lay over the dreary plain, where nothing
but the varied form of the rocky buttresses projecting from the plateau
into the plain interrupted the monotony of the prospect. Near the slope
the country seems a little less desolate, and the valley Támelelt, which
extends between two of the promontories, has even a great reputation
among the natives. In the afternoon we entered a sandy region, when we
began to ascend gradually till we reached the summit of the sand-hills.
We then continued on the higher level, where chalk protruded to the
surface. After a long march we encamped on stony ground, covered only
with a scanty growth of sebót.
On the 10th we descended a good deal from this higher ground. At first
the descent was gradual; but beyond the valley In-kássewa, which, running
through high rocky ground, is not so poor in herbage, we descended about
two hundred feet by steep terraces, having before us the peculiarly
serrated crest of the Akakús, and in front of it some lower offshoots
covered with sand. The bottom of the plain was a broad and entirely naked
level, with hard calcareous soil, surrounded by irregular half-decayed
hilly ridges. It forms the boundary between Fezzán and the country of the
Hogár. The character of the country underwent no change till we reached
the valley Telíga, where, at an early hour in the afternoon, we encamped
near a group of talha-trees, not far from the well, and remained for the
next two days at an elevation of 1,435 feet.
The valley is very shallow, now and then interrupted by some sand-hills
and adorned with some fine specimens of the ethel-tree, while broad
strips of herbage cover the more favoured spots. It runs north-west,
nearly parallel with the range of the Akakús, which remained at a
distance of three miles. It joins the valley Ilághlaghén, which again
unites with the Titábtarén; and this valley runs towards a favoured spot
called Sérdales, which we were unfortunately prevented from visiting, as
Hatíta thought we should be annoyed by the begging propensities of the
people. Copious springs, from which the whole locality takes the name
of el Awenát, irrigate and fertilize the soil, and support a village
of about the same size as Tigger-odé, inhabited by about a hundred
families, while in the gardens corn, melons, and ghédeb are produced in
tolerable quantity. The water of the springs is said to be warm. We saw
a party of Hágara from that place, who called on our friends; they were
fine men and neatly dressed.
The water of our well was not very good; from being at first discoloured,
it gradually acquired a taste like that of ink, and when boiled with
tea became entirely black. Late in the evening our best and most steady
servant, Mohammed from Gatrón, was wounded, but whether stung by a
scorpion or bitten by a snake he knew not, and was much alarmed. We
applied spirits of hartshorn to the wound; but he was very ill for the
next twenty-four hours, and totally disabled, so that we were obliged to
bind him on the camel during the next day’s march.
_July 13._—There had been much talk for some days to the effect that
we travellers, together with Hatíta, should take the nearer but more
difficult road to Ghát across the range, while our luggage should go by
the longer but smoother road round the mountains; but it was at length
decided that we should all go by the longer road, and none but the
Sfaksi, who was anxious to overtake the caravan as soon as possible,
took the more difficult path, which, for geological observations,
might have proved the more interesting. Going sometimes on pebbly, at
others on sandy ground, after five miles we reached the shallow valley,
Ilághlaghén, running from east to west, and handsomely overgrown with
bushes; and after another stretch of about the same length, we entered
the range of mountains, consisting of remarkably cragged and scarred
rocks, with many narrow defiles. Altogether it presented a very curious
spectacle.
When the rocks assumed a smoother appearance, we suddenly descended into
a deep ravine, which, at the first glance, appeared to be of a volcanic
nature; but, on closer inspection, all the black rocks composing these
dismal-looking cliffs, proved to consist of sandstone, blackened by
the influence of the atmosphere; further on it was disposed in regular
strata very much like slate. The western and highest part of the range
seems to consist of clay-slate. The valley changed its character in some
degree after its junction with a side-valley called Tipérkum, which bears
distinct marks of great floods occasionally descending along its channel
from the mountains. Here we collected some firewood, as we were told that
further on we should find none, and then entered a defile or glen with
an ascent of about a hundred feet above the bottom of the valley. Beyond
this the scene grew more open, and irregular plains, interrupted by steep
buttresses, succeeded each other.
At half-past four o’clock in the afternoon we had gradually begun to
change our direction from north-west by west to south. The valley was
bordered by a deep chasm and craggy mountain to the right, and a range
of grotesque promontories towards the left, the slope of which was
broken into a variety of terraces, with several cones rising from them.
At length, turning round the edge of the mountain range, we entered the
broad valley of Tánesof, having before us the isolated and castellated
crest of Mount Ídinen, or Kasr Jenún, and on our left the long range of
the Akakús, beautifully illuminated by the setting sun, and forming a
sort of relief in various colours, the highest precipitous crest, with
its castles and towers, being white, while the lower slope, which was
more gradual and rugged, disclosed regular strata of red marl. Towards
the west the valley, about five miles broad, was bordered by sand-hills,
whence the sand was carried by the wind over its whole surface. We
ourselves encamped at length on sandy soil without the least herbage,
while at the distance of about two miles a strip of green was seen
running along the valley.
[Illustration: SKETCH OF THE IDINEN.]
Starting at an early hour the next day, we kept along the broad barren
valley straight for the Enchanted Castle, which the fanciful reports
of our companions had invested with great interest. Notwithstanding,
or perhaps in consequence of, the warnings of the Tuarek not to risk
our lives in so irreligious and perilous an undertaking as a visit to
this dwelling of the demons, I made up my mind to visit it, convinced
as I was that it was an ancient place of worship, and that it might
probably contain some curious sculptures or inscriptions. Just at noon
the naked bottom of the valley began to be covered with a little herbage,
when, after another mile, beyond a depression in the ground which had
evidently at one time formed a considerable water-pond, talha-trees and
ethel-bushes broke the monotony of the landscape, while between the
sand-hills on our right a broad strip of green was seen, coming from
the westernmost corner of the Ídinen. Keeping still on for about five
miles, we encamped in the midst of a shallow concavity of circular shape,
surrounded by herbage, and near a large mound crowned by an ethel-tree.
At some distance south-east we had the well Táhala, the water of which
proved very good. As it was too late to visit the Ídinen to-day, I sat
down in the shade of a fine talha, and made the subjoined sketch of it.
In the evening we received a visit from two men belonging to a caravan
laden with merchandise of Ghadamsíyin (people of Ghadámes), which was
said to have come, by the direct road through the wady, in thirty days
from Tripoli.
_July 15._—This was a _dies ater_ for me. Overweg and I had determined to
start early in the morning for the remarkable mountain; but we had not
been able to obtain from the Tuarek a guide to conduct us from thence to
the next well, whither the caravan was to proceed by the direct road.
Hatíta and Utaeti having again resisted all our solicitations for a
guide, I at length, determined as I was to visit the mountain at any
cost, started off in the confidence of being able to make out the well
in the direction indicated to me. By ill-luck, our provision of zummíta
(a cool and refreshing paste on which we were accustomed to breakfast)
was exhausted the day before, so that I was obliged to take with me dry
biscuit and dates, the worst possible food in the desert when water is
scarce.
But as yet I needed no stimulus, and vigorously pushed my way through
the sand-hills, which afforded no very pleasant passage. I then entered
a wide, bare, desolate-looking plain, covered with black pebbles,
from which arose a few black mounds. Here I crossed the beginning of
a _fiumara_ richly overgrown with herbage, which wound along through
the sand-hills towards the large valley-plain. It was the abode of a
beautiful pair of maraiya (_Antelope Soemmeringii_), which, probably
anxious for their young ones, did not make off when roused by my
approach, but stopped at a short distance, gazing at me and wagging their
tails. Pursuing my way over the pebbly ground, which gradually rose till
it was broken up by a considerable ravine descending from the western
part of the mount, I disturbed another party of three antelopes, which
were quietly lying down under the cover of some large blocks. At last
I began to feel fatigued from walking over the sharp-pointed pebbles,
as the distance proved to be greater than I had originally imagined,
and I did not seem to have got much nearer to the foot of the Enchanted
Mountain. In fact it proved that the crest of the mount formed a sort of
horseshoe, so that its middle part, for which I had been steering all
the time, in order to gain a depression which seemed to afford an easy
ascent, was by far the remotest. I therefore changed my course and turned
more eastward, but only met with more annoyance, for, ascending the slope
which I hoped would soon convey me to the summit, I suddenly came to the
steep precipice of a deep ravine, which separated me from the crest.
Being already fatigued, the disappointment, of course, depressed my
spirits, and I had to summon all my resolution and energy in order to
descend into the ravine and climb the other side. It was now past ten
o’clock; the sun began to put forth its full power, and there was not
the slightest shade around me. In a state of the utmost exhaustion I at
length reached the narrow pinnacled crest, which was only a few feet
broad, and exhibited neither inscriptions nor sculptures. I had a fine
prospect towards the south-west and north-east, but I looked around in
vain for any traces of our caravan. Though exposed to the full rays
of the sun, I lay down on my high barbacan to seek repose; but my dry
biscuit or a date was quite unpalatable, and being anxious about my
little provision of water, I could only sip an insufficient draught from
my small water-skin. As the day advanced I feared that our little band,
thinking that I was already in advance, might continue their march in
the afternoon, and, in spite of my weakness, determined to try to reach
the encampment. I therefore descended the ravine, in order to follow its
course, which, according to Hatíta’s indications, would lead me in the
direction of the well. It was very hot, and being thirsty, I swallowed
at once the little water that remained. This was about noon, and I soon
found that the draught of mere water, taken upon an empty stomach, had
not at all restored my strength.
At length I reached the bottom of the valley. Hatíta had always talked
as if they were to encamp at no great distance from the mountain; yet,
as far as I could strain my view, no living being was to be seen. At
length I became puzzled as to my direction, and hurrying on as fast as
my failing strength would allow, I ascended a mound crowned with an
ethel-bush, and fired my pistols; but I waited in vain for an answer:
a strong east wind was blowing dead against me. Reflecting a moment
on my situation, I then crossed the small sand-hills, and, ascending
another mound, fired again. Convinced that there could be nobody in this
direction, at least at a moderate distance, I bethought myself that our
party might be still behind, and, very unluckily, I kept more directly
eastward.
The valley was here very richly overgrown with sebót, and to my great
delight I saw at a distance some small huts attached to branches of the
ethel-tree, covered on the top with sebót, and open in front. With joy
in my heart I hastened on towards them, but found them empty; and not a
living being was to be seen, nor was there a drop of water to be got. My
strength being now exhausted, I sat down on the naked plain, with a full
view before me of the whole breadth of the wady, and with some confidence
expected the caravan. I even thought, for a moment, that I beheld a
string of camels passing in the distance. But it was an illusion; and
when the sun was about to set, not being able to muster strength enough
to walk a few paces without sitting down, I had only to choose for my
night’s quarters between the deserted huts and an ethel-tree which I saw
at a little distance. I chose the latter, as being on a more elevated
spot, and therefore scrambled to the tree, which was of a respectable old
age, with thick tall branches, but almost leafless. It was my intention
to light a fire, which promised almost certain deliverance; but I could
not muster sufficient strength to gather a little wood. I was broken down
and in a feverish state.
Having lain down for an hour or two, after it became quite dark I arose
from the ground, and, looking around me, descried, to my great joy, a
large fire south-west down the valley, and, hoping that it might be that
of my companions, I fired a pistol, as the only means of communicating
with them, and listened as the sound rolled along, feeling sure that
it would reach their ears; but no answer was returned. All remained
silent. Still I saw the flame rising towards the sky, and telling where
deliverance was to be found, without my being able to avail myself of the
signal. Having waited long in vain, I fired a second time—yet no answer.
I lay down in resignation, committing my life to the care of the Merciful
One; but it was in vain that I tried to sleep, and, restless and in a
high fever, I tossed about on the ground, looking with anxiety and fear
for the dawn of the next day.
At length the long night wore away, and dawn was drawing nigh. All was
repose and silence, and I was sure I could not choose a better time for
trying to inform my friends, by signal, of my whereabouts. I therefore
collected all my strength, loaded my pistol with a heavy charge, and
fired—once—twice. I thought the sound ought to awaken the dead from their
tombs, so powerfully did it reverberate from the opposite range and roll
along the wady; yet no answer. I was at a loss to account for the great
distance apparently separating me from my companions, who seemed not to
have heard my firing.
The sun that I had half longed for, half looked forward to with terror,
at last rose. My condition, as the heat went on increasing, became more
dreadful; and I crawled around, changing every moment my position,
in order to enjoy the little shade afforded by the leafless branches
of the tree. About noon there was of course scarcely a spot of shade
left—only enough for my head—and I suffered greatly from the pangs of
thirst, although I sucked a little of my blood till I became senseless,
and fell into a sort of delirium, from which I only recovered when the
sun went down behind the mountains. I then regained some consciousness,
and crawled out of the shade of the tree, throwing a melancholy glance
over the plain, when suddenly I heard the cry of a camel. It was the
most delightful music I ever heard in my life; and raising myself a
little from the ground, I saw a mounted Tarki passing at some distance
from me, and looking eagerly around. He had found my footsteps in the
sandy ground, and losing them again on the pebbles, was anxiously
seeking traces of the direction I had taken. I opened my parched mouth,
and crying, as loud as my faint strength allowed, “Áman, áman” (Water,
water), I was rejoiced to get for answer “Íwah! íwah!” and in a few
moments he sat at my side, washing and sprinkling my head, while I broke
out involuntarily into an uninterrupted strain of “El hamdu lilláhi! el
hamdu lilláhi!”
Having thus first refreshed me, and then allowed me a draught, which,
however, I was not able to enjoy, my throat being so dry, and my fever
still continuing, my deliverer, whose name was Musa, placed me upon his
camel, mounted himself in front of me, and brought me to the tents. They
were a good way off. The joy of meeting again, after I had been already
despaired of, was great; and I had to express my sincere thanks to my
companions, who had given themselves so much trouble to find me. But I
could speak but little at first, and could scarcely eat anything for the
next three days, after which I gradually recovered my strength. It is,
indeed, very remarkable how quickly the strength of a European is broken
in these climes, if for a single day he be prevented from taking his
usual food. Nevertheless I was able to proceed the next day (the 17th),
when we kept more towards the slope of the Akakús, and here passed a
broad lateral valley, rich in herbage, called Ádar-n-jelkum, after which
we descended about a hundred feet, from the pebbly ground into sandy soil
forming a sort of valley called Ighelfannís, and full of ethel-trees and
sebót. In such a locality we encamped two hours after noon, near splendid
ethel-trees; but the strong north-easterly wind, enveloping ourselves and
baggage in thick clouds of sand, banished all enjoyment.
_July 18._—We continued our march with the sure expectation of soon
reaching Ghát, the second great station on our journey. The valley after
some time became free from ethel-trees, and opened a view of the little
town, situated at the north-western foot of a rocky eminence jutting
out into the valley, and girt by sand-hills on the west. Its plantation
extends in a long strip towards south-south-west, while another group,
formed by the plantation and by the noble-looking mansion of Háj Ahmed,
appears towards the west. Here we were joined by Mohammed Sheríf, a
nephew of Háj Ahmed, in a showy dress, and well mounted on a horse; and
we separated from Hatíta in order to take our way round the north side of
the hill, so as to avoid exciting the curiosity and importunity of the
townspeople. But a good many boys came out of the town, and exhibited
quite an interesting scene as they recognized Yakúb (Mr. Richardson),
who had visited this place on his former journey. Many people came out
to see us, some offering us their welcome, others remaining indifferent
spectators.
Thus we reached the new plantation of Háj Ahmed, the Governor, as he is
called, of Ghát, and found, at the entrance of the outbuilding, which had
been destined for our use, the principal men of the town, who received us
with great kindness and politeness. The most interesting among them was
Háj Ahmed himself, a man of grave and dignified manners, who, although
a stranger to the place, and a native of Tawát, has succeeded, through
his address and his mercantile prosperity, in obtaining for himself here
an almost princely position, and has founded in reality a new town,
with large and splendid improvements, by the side of the old city. His
situation as Governor of Ghát, in reference, and in some degree in
opposition, to the Tuarek chiefs, is a very peculiar one, and requires,
on his part, a good deal of address, patience, and forbearance. I am
convinced that when we first arrived he did not view us with displeasure,
but, on the contrary, was greatly pleased to receive under his roof
a mission of Her Britannic Majesty’s Government, with whose immense
influence and power, and the noble purpose of whose policy, he was not
entirely unacquainted; but his extraordinary and precarious situation
did not allow him to act freely, and besides I cannot say that he
received from us so warm an acknowledgment as his conduct in the first
instance seemed to deserve.
[Illustration]
Besides him, the chief parties in our first conversation were his nephew
Ahmed Mohammed Sheríf (the man who came to meet us), a clever but forward
lad, of pleasant manners—whom in the course of my travels I met several
times in Sudán—and Mohammed Káfa, a cheerful, good-humoured man. Our
quarters, of which the accompanying woodcut gives the ground-plan, were
certainly neither airy nor agreeable, but the hot sand wind which blew
without made them appear to us quite tolerable.
CHAPTER X.
THE INDIGENOUS BERBER POPULATION.
There can be no doubt that even Fezzán, in ancient times, had a
population entirely different from that dwelling near the coast; but
the original black inhabitants of that country have been swept away, or
mixed up entirely with the Arabs, who seem to have invaded this country
not earlier than the fifteenth century of our era, for in Makrizi’s
time Fezzán was still a Berber country. But few names now remain which
evidently bespeak a Central African origin, such as those terminating
in _awa_, as Tasáwa or Tessáwa (a town already mentioned by Edrísi),
Portukawa, and others. But in the country of Ghát, which we have now
entered, the case is very different; for here the former state of things
has not been so entirely altered as not to leave some unmistakable
testimonies behind it.
All the original population of North Africa appear to have been a race
of the Semitic stock, who, by intermarriage with tribes which came from
Egypt, or by way of it, had received a certain admixture. The consequence
was that several distinct tribes were produced, designated by the
ancients as Libyans, Moors, Numidians, Libyphœnicians, Getulians, and
others, and traced by the native historians to two different families,
the Beránes and the Abtar, who, however, diverge from one common source,
Mazigh or Madaghs. The native widespread African race, either from the
name of their supposed ancestor, Ber, which we recognize in the name
Afer, or in consequence of the Roman term _barbari_, has been generally
called Berber, and in some regions Shawi and Shelluh. The general
character and language of these people seem to have been the same, while
the complexion alone was the distinguishing point of difference.
How far southward the settlements of this North African race originally
extended, it is difficult to say; but it may be gathered, even from
ancient writers, that they did not extend to the very border of the naked
desert, and that they were bounded on the south by a region occupied by
Æthiopian races,—an observation which is confirmed by the present state
of things. Wárgela evidently belonged originally to the dominion of the
Blacks, as well as Tawát. The Berbers seem in general to have kept within
their borders till driven from their native seats by the Arabs; for they
had been mildly treated by the former conquerors of the country (the
Phœnicians, the Romans, Vandals, and Byzantines), and they appear even to
have partly embraced Christianity.
In the central part of Barbary the flight of the Berbers seems to have
been connected with that numerous immigration of Arab families into North
Africa which took place in the first half of the eleventh century, in the
time and at the instigation of Ahmed ben ʿAli el Jerjeráni, who died in
A.H. 436, or 1044-5 of our era. The fugitives pushed forward in several
great divisions, which it is not essential here to enumerate, as, with
a few exceptions, they have become extinct. It seems only necessary to
advert here to the fact that of all the reports handed down to us by
the ancient Arab historians and geographers respecting the different
Berber nations existing in the desert, the name of Tarki, or Tuarek,
by which they are at present generally designated, occurs only in Ebn
Khaldún, under the form Tarká or Táriká; and after him Leo Africanus is
the first who, in mentioning the five great tribes, names one of them
Terga. This name, which has been given to the Berber inhabitants of the
desert, and which Hodgson erroneously supposed to mean “tribe,” is quite
foreign to them. The truly indigenous name by which these people call
themselves is the same by which they were already known to the Greeks
and Romans, and which was given to their ancestors by Ebn Khaldún and
other Arabic writers, viz. Amázigh, Mázigh, Mazix, Masix, Mazys, Mazax,
and even Maxitanus in the singular form. The general form now used in
these regions is Amóshagh in the singular, Imóshagh in the plural, and
Temáshight in the neutral form. This is the native name by which the
so-called Tawárek designate their whole nation, which is divided into
several great families. And if the reader inquires who gave them the
other name, I answer, with full confidence, the Arabs; and the reason
why they called them so was probably from their having left or abandoned
their religion, from the verb “tereku dinihum;” for, from evidence which
I have collected elsewhere, it seems clear that a great part of the
Berbers of the desert were once Christians (they are still called by some
Arabs “the Christians of the desert”), and that they afterwards changed
their religion and adopted Islam; notwithstanding which they still call
God “Mesí,” and an angel “anyelús,” and have preserved many curious
customs which bear testimony to their ancient creed.
The tribe which now possesses the country, the Imóshagh or Tuarek of
Ghát, are generally called Azkár or Azgar; but they are named also Hogár
or Hágara, though the latter name is very often employed to denote
another tribe. Upon this point, also, we have received full and credible
information from Ebn Khaldún, who tells us that the name Hogár was formed
from that of Hauwára, and served to designate that section of the great
Berber tribe which had retired into the desert about Gógó; and it is very
remarkable that the Hogár were described just about the same time, in
those same regions, by the traveller Ebn Batúta. Hogár therefore seems
to be the more general name, while Azkár serves to designate a section
of this tribe. However, this name also appears to be an ancient one,
being mentioned already by Edrísi (A.H. 453) as the name of a tribe
evidently identical with that of which we are speaking, the settlements
of which he indicates as being distant twelve days’ journey from Tasáwa,
and eighteen from Ghadámes. It is mentioned about a century later by Ebn
Sáid as dwelling in the same place. The Tinýlkum Ibrahim was of opinion
that Azkár means that section of the Hogár who had remained (at some
period unknown to us) “faithful to the established authority.” But this
interpretation of the name, if we consider the early period at which it
occurs, does not seem quite probable, and I suspect that those may be
right who give to the name a more general meaning.
At present the Azkár form but a small part of the population of the
country which they rule, namely, the region enclosed between the desert
bordered by Wady Talíya in the east, the valleys Zerzúwa and Áfara in
the west, the well of Asïu towards the south, and Nijbertín towards the
north, and are not able to furnish more than about five hundred armed
men. In fact, they form a warlike aristocracy of five families, divided
into thirty divisions or fayas, each of which has an independent chief.
The names of the five families are Urághen, Ímanang, Ífogas, Hadánarang,
and Manghássatang. The Urághen or Aurághen, meaning the “Yellows,” or
“golden” (in colour), who seemed to have once formed a very powerful
family, and have given their name to one of the principal dialects of the
Tarkíye or Temáshight, are at present much dispersed, many of them living
among the Awelímmiden, on the northern shore of the Isa or Niger, where
I shall have more to say about them. Even among the Azkár they still
form the most important division, and count at least a hundred and fifty
full-grown men. A large body of them is settled in and about the valley
of Arikím, on the direct road from Múrzuk to Sudán, and about fifty
miles to the south of Ghát. Their original abode is said to have been
at a place called Asáwa, to the south of Irálghawen. But the tribe that
formerly possessed the greatest authority, and which on this account is
still called Amanókalen, or the Sultan tribe, is that of the Ímanang, who
are at present reduced to extreme poverty, and to a very small number,
said not even to reach ten families. But they have still a very large
number of Imghád under their command. Their women are celebrated for
their beauty. They are most of them settled in the valley of Díder. The
third division of the Azkár, to which Hatíta, the friend of the English,
belongs, are the Manghássatang, or Imaghássaten, whose leather tents are
generally pitched in the valley of Zerzúwa, on the road from Ghát to
Tawát, about six days’ journey from the former.
The three clans, or “Tiyúsi,” which I have mentioned, constitute at
present, strictly speaking, the family of the Azkár, the other two
divisions, viz. the Ífogas and the Hadánarang, having separated from the
rest, and broken in some way the national bond which formerly united them
with the others. One of them, the Ífogas, are scattered over the whole
desert, some having settled among the Kél-owí at a place called Tórit, on
the road to Damerghú; another section dwells in the more favoured valleys
to the east of Mabrúk; while a small portion of this tribe remains in
the territory of the Azkár, where they have their abode in the valley of
Áfara, about half-way between Ghát and Tawát. The second of these tribes,
viz. the Hadánarang, is settled in a place called Ádemar, not far from
the southern frontier of the territory of the Azkár, in the midst of the
Imghád. They are, to some extent at least, migratory freebooters; and to
them belonged those robbers who, soon after we had fortunately got out of
their clutches, murdered two Tébu merchants on the road from Aïr to Ghát,
carrying away their whole caravan, with no less than thirty-three slaves.
I was assured by Hatíta that there were not less than thirty subdivisions
of the larger clans, called “faya,” in Temáshight; but I could only
ascertain the names of four of them; viz. the Izóban and the Okéren,
living in the Wady Irárarén, and probably belonging to one and the same
family (I believe the Ímanang); the Degárrab, probably a section of the
Hadánarang, living in a place called Tárat, together with some Imghád;
and finally the Ihiyáwen or Ihéwan, a portion of whom dwell in Titarsén,
while another section has settled near Tasáwa in Fezzán, forming the
last link of the chain which connects the Imghád and the Azkár. Another
link is formed by the Makéresang, who, like the former, submit to the
authority of the chief Nakhnúkhen; then follows the Ifélelen, who
are settled in Tasíl with the Imghád. The least degenerate of these
half-caste tribes, who hold a middle place between the Imóshagh and the
Imghád, or between the free and the servile, is said to be the section
of the Mateghílelen, now settled in the Wady el Gharbi, in Fezzán, while
their kindred certainly belong to the Imghád. This is the best proof that
the name Ámghi does not express national descent, but social condition.
Another section or tribe loosely connected with the Azkár, but not
regarded as noble, although as strict ascetics they are much respected,
and are enabled to carry on almost undisturbed the commerce between
Fezzán and Negroland, are the Tinýlkum, of whom I have already had
occasion to speak repeatedly. At present they are settled partly in the
valley Tigger-odé, where their chief the Háj ʿAli resides, partly in Wady
el Gharbi and around Tasáwa; but their ancient seats were to the south
of Ghát, and even in the town of Ghát itself, they having been called in
to decide the quarrel between the former inhabitants of that place, the
Kél-tellek and the Makamúmmasen.
As I said above, the ruling class of the Azkár constitutes by far the
smaller part of the population of the country, while the great mass of
the population of these regions consists of a subject or degraded tribe
called Imghád, or, in the Arabic form, Merátha, or even Metáthra. This
I formerly considered to be a Gentile name; but I found afterwards that
it is a general epithet, used by all the different tribes of the Imóshagh
to denote degraded tribes. The singular form of the name is Ámghi, which
is the counterpart of Amóshagh, as it means “servile,” while the latter
means “free.” The Imghád of the Azkár differ a great deal from the ruling
tribe, particularly the women; for while the Imóshagh are tolerably
fair, a great many of the former are almost black, but nevertheless well
made, and not only without negro features, but generally with a very
regular physiognomy, while the women, at least in their forms, approach
more to the type of the negro races. But as for their language, I must
confess that I am not able to decide with confidence whether it sprang
originally from a Berber dialect or the Háusa language:[7] many of the
people, indeed, seem to be bilingual; but by far the greater part of the
men do not even understand the Háusa language. I am persuaded that they
were originally Berbers who have become degraded by intermixture with the
black natives.
The Imghád of the Azkár, who altogether form a numerous body, being
able to furnish about five thousand armed men, are divided into four
sections—the Batánatang or Ibétnaten, the Fárkana or Aférkenén,
Segígatang, and Wárwaren, which latter name, I think, very naturally
calls to mind the Latin “Barbari,” a name which, according to some
ancient authors, belonged to certain tribes of Northern Africa, and may
fairly explain the origin of the name Berber, though it is to be remarked
that “_war_,” a syllable with which a great number of Berber names begin,
seems to signify “man.” Of these four divisions the last three seem to
live principally in and around the small town of Bárakat, a few miles
south of Ghát, and in and around Jánet or Yánet, about thirty miles
south-south-west from Égeri. Neither the population of the town of Ghát
nor that of the town of Bárakat is at present formed by these Imghád;
but I should suppose that in former times they were also the privileged
inhabitants of Ghát itself, which at present is occupied by a very mixed
race, so well described by the late Mr. Richardson. These two favoured
spots of the desert seem to be left entirely to these people as tenants,
on condition that they take care of the plantations and of the gardens,
and gather the fruit, of which they are bound to give a portion to their
masters. Some of the noble Imóshagh, indeed, seem to have a great many
of these people at their disposal. The Batánatang or Ibétnaten reside
principally in a valley called Tesíli, while another section of them have
their abode amongst the Hogár, in a district called Tehellahóhet, on the
road from Asïu to Tawát. A portion of the last tribe (viz. the Fárkana
or Aférkenén) dwell in a valley called Tarát, about a day’s journey
north-west from Nghákeli.
Besides these four great divisions, there are many other sections of
the Imghád. The names of these, as far as they became known to me, are
as follows: the Dik-Surki, settled in the territory of the Azkár, in a
place called Édehi; the Kél-n-tunín, living in Aderár; the Amatghílelen,
who have their abode in the same spot; the Kél-áhenet, living in Hágara;
the Akeshemáden, in the valley called Atúl; the Íkelan, who have their
dwelling-places in Zerzer; the Kélghafsa, in Ífak; the Kél-ífis, in
Temághaset; and finally, the Ijrán.
The ruling race of the Imóshagh subsist entirely on the labour of this
depressed class, but still more upon the tribute or gheráma which,
as I mentioned above, they raise from the caravans—a custom already
mentioned by Leo Africanus. Without some such revenue they could not
trick themselves out so well as they do, though when at home in their
“tekábber” they live at a very little expense, particularly as they are
not polygamists. The Imghád are not allowed to carry an iron spear nor
to wear a sword, which is the distinction of the free man, nor any very
showy dress. Most of them may be regarded as settled, or as “Kél,” that
is to say as the constant, or at least as the ordinary, inhabitants of
a given place; and this indeed, it seems, is even to be said of a great
many of the Azkár themselves, who seem to hold a middle place between
the nomadic and the settled tribes. The consequence is that many of them
do not live in leather tents, or “éhe,” but in round conical huts called
tekábber, made of bushes and dry grass.
The town of Ghát (the favoured locality of which might be presumed to
have attracted a settlement at a very early age) is not mentioned by any
Arabic author except the traveller Ebn Batúta, in the fourteenth century,
and seems never to have been a large place. Even now it is a small town
of about two hundred and fifty houses, but nevertheless of considerable
commercial importance, which would become infinitely greater if the
jealousy of the Tawáti would allow the opening of the direct road from
Timbúktu, which seems to be under the special protection of the powerful
chief Gemáma.
The view from the rocky hill which reaches its greatest elevation just
over the town, and, together with a cistern, offers a few Berber and
Arabic inscriptions to the curious traveller, proved far less extensive
and picturesque than that from a sand-hill a little distance westward
from the house of Háj Ahmed. I ascended this little hill in the afternoon
of the 22nd, and, screened by an ethel-bush, sketched the whole oasis—the
separate strips of palm-trees, the wide desolate valley, bordered by
the steep slope of the Akakús-range, with its regular strata of marly
slate and its pinnacled crest of sandstone; the little town on the
left, at the foot of the rocky hill, contrasting with the few and frail
huts of palm-branches scattered about here and there; the noble and
spacious mansion of the industrious Háj Ahmed in the foreground, on
the northern side of which was the flat dwelling assigned to us. When
descending from this hill towards the south, I was greatly pleased with
the new improvements added by Háj Ahmed to his plantation. The example
of this man shows how much may be achieved by a little industry in these
favoured spots, where cultivation might be infinitely increased. In
the southernmost and most recent part of the plantation a large basin,
about 100 feet long and 60 feet broad, had been formed, receiving a full
supply of water from the northern side of the sand-hills, and irrigating
kitchen-gardens of considerable extent. Thus the wealthy Governor makes
some advance every year; but, unfortunately, he seems not to find many
imitators.
Our negotiation with the Tuarek chiefs might have been conducted with
more success if a letter written by Her Majesty’s Government to the
chief Jabúr had not been produced at the very moment when all the chiefs
present were ready to subscribe the treaty. But their attention was
entirely distracted from the object in view. This letter made direct
mention of the abolition of the slave-trade; hence it became a very
difficult and delicate matter, especially as Mr. Richardson’s supplies
of merchandise and presents at that moment were entirely in the hands of
the merchant Háj Ibrahim, who, even if liberal enough to abstain from
intrigue against admitting the competition of English merchants, would be
sure to do all in his power to prevent the abolition of the slave-trade.
It was a serious undertaking to enter into direct negotiation with these
Tuarek chiefs, the absolute masters of several of the most important
routes to Central Africa. It required great skill, entire confidence, and
no inconsiderable amount of means, of which we were extremely deficient.
To this vexation let there be added the petulant and indiscreet behaviour
of our servants, who were exasperated by the sufferings of the Rámadán
during the hottest season of the year, and were too well aware of the
insufficiency of our means to carry out the objects of our mission, and
the reader will easily understand that we were extremely glad when,
after repeated delays, we were at length able to leave this place in the
pursuance of our journey.
CHAPTER XI.
CROSSING A LARGE MOUNTAIN RIDGE, AND ENTERING ON THE OPEN GRAVELLY DESERT.
On the morning of the 26th of July I once more found myself on the back
of my camel, and from my elevated seat threw a last glance over the
pleasant picture of the oasis of Ghát. There is an advanced spur of the
plantation about two miles south from the town, called Timéggawé, with
a few scattered cottages at its southern end. Having left this behind
us, we came to the considerable plantation of Íberké, separated into two
groups, one on the west, and the other on the east side, and kept along
the border of the western group, which forms dense clusters, while that
to the east is rather thin and loosely scattered. The town of Bárakat,
lying at the foot of a sandy eminence stretching north and south, became
now and then visible on our right, glittering through the thinner parts
of the plantation.
Being prepared for a good day’s march, as not only the Tinýlkum were
reported to have left Arikim several days ago, but as even the little
caravan of Kél-owí, with whom we had made arrangements for protection and
company on the road, was a considerable way in advance, we were greatly
astonished when ordered to encamp near the scattered palm-trees at the
extreme eastern end of the plantation. Utaeti, who had accompanied us all
the way from Ghát on foot, chose the camping-ground. Mr. Richardson, who
had been behind, was not less astonished when he found us encamped at so
early an hour. But our camels, which seemed to have been worked during
our stay at Ghát, instead of being allowed to recover their strength by
rest and pasture, were in great want of some good feeding, and there
was much aghúl (_Hedysarum Alhajji_) about our encampment. Towards noon
we were visited by several Hogár, or rather Azkár, who proved a little
troublesome, but not so much so as the townspeople, who caused us a great
deal of annoyance, both during the evening and on the following morning,
and gave us some idea of what might await us further on.
Being annoyed at our delay here, I accompanied two of Mr. Richardson’s
people and the young son of Yusuf Mukni, who wished to go into the town
to buy a fowl. We were followed by two men from among the townspeople,
who wanted to extort a present from me, and one of whom, by bawling
out the characteristic phrase of his creed, made me fear lest he might
succeed in exciting all the people against me. The town was distant
from our encampment a mile and a quarter; and having once reached its
wall, I determined to enter it. The town, or ágherim, forms a tolerably
regular quadrangle, on an open piece of ground at the eastern foot
of the sandy eminence, and is enclosed by a wall (agadór), built of
clay, about five-and-twenty feet high, and provided with quadrangular
towers. We entered it by the eastern gate, which, being defended by a
tower, has its entrance from the side, and leads first to a small court
with a well, from which another arched passage leads into the streets.
Here several women, of good figure and decently dressed, were seated
tranquilly, as it seemed, enjoying the cool air of the afternoon, for
they had no occupation, nor were they selling anything. Although I was
dressed in a common blue Sudán shirt, and tolerably sunburnt, my fairer
complexion seemed to alarm them, and some of them withdrew into the
interior of the houses crying “Lá ilah.” Still I was not molested nor
insulted by the people passing by, and I was pleased that several of
them courteously answered my salute. They were apparently not of pure
Berber blood. It appeared that a good many of the inhabitants had gone
to their date-groves to look after the harvest, as the fruit was just
about to ripen; hence the place, though in good repair and very clean,
had a rather solitary appearance. There is no commerce in this place
as in Ghát, the whole wealth of the inhabitants consisting in their
plantations. Yet they are said to be better off than the population
of Ghát, who are exposed to great and continual extortions from the
Tuarek on account of their origin, while the people of Bárakat enjoy
certain privileges. The houses were all two or three storeys high, and
well built, the clay being nicely polished. A few palm-trees decorate
the interior of the town. It is of still more diminutive size than
Ghát, containing about two hundred houses; but it is built with great
regularity. Having stuck fast awhile in a lane which had no thoroughfare,
we at length got safely out of the little town of Bárakat by the south
gate. It has, I believe, four gates, like Ghát. On this side of the
town, inside of the walls, stands the mosque, a building of considerable
size for so small a place, neatly whitewashed, and provided with a lofty
minaret.
Leaving the town, we took a more southern and circuitous road than that
by which we had come, so that I saw a good deal of the plantation. The
soil is for the most part impregnated with salt, and the wells have
generally brackish water. There was much industry to be seen, and most of
the gardens were well kept; but the wells might easily be more numerous,
and only a small quantity of corn is cultivated. The great extent to
which dukhn, or Guinea corn (“éneli” in Temáshight), or _Pennisetum
typhoïdeum_, is cultivated here, as well as near Ghát, in proportion
to wheat or barley, seems to indicate the closer and more intimate
connection of this region with Negroland. Some culinary vegetables also
were cultivated, and some, but not many, of the gardens were carefully
fenced with the leaves of the palm-tree. The grove was animated by
numbers of wild pigeons and turtle-doves, bending the branches of the
palm-trees with their wanton play; and a good many asses were to be seen.
Cattle I did not observe.
But far more interesting were the scenes of human life that met my
eyes. Happiness seemed to reign, with every necessary comfort, in
this delightful little grove. There was a great number of cottages,
or tekábber, built of palm-branches and palm-leaves, most of them of
considerable size, and containing several apartments; all of them had
flat roofs. They are inhabited by the Imghád, or Merátha. A great many
of the men seemed at present to be busy elsewhere; but these lightly
built, straggling suburbs were full of children, and almost every woman
carried an infant at her back. They were all black, but well formed,
and infinitely superior to the mixed race of Fezzán. The men wore in
general blue shirts, and a black shawl round the face; the women were
only dressed in the túrkedi, or Sudán-cloth, wound round their body, and
leaving the upper part, including the breasts, uncovered. They understood
generally nothing but Temáshight, and only a few of them spoke the Háusa
language. The men were nearly all smoking.
Having returned to our tent from this pleasant ramble, I did not stay
long in it, but stealing off as secretly as possible, I walked to the
eastern side of the valley, which is here locked up by the steep slope
of the Akakús range. The plain on this side, being much interrupted by
hills crowned with ethel-trees, does not afford a distant prospect. In
this quarter, too, there are a few scattered gardens, with melons and
vegetables, but no palm-trees.
In the evening we were greatly annoyed by some Imghád, and between one of
them and our fiery and inconsiderate Tunisian shushán a violent dispute
arose, which threatened to assume a very serious character. We were on
the watch the whole night.
Having waited a long time for Utaeti, we at length started without him,
passing on our right a beautiful palm-grove, with as many as ten thousand
trees, while our left was bordered by scattered gardens, where the
people were busy, in the cool of the morning, irrigating the corn and
vegetables, with the assistance of Sudán oxen. They came out to see us
pass by, but without expressing any feeling, hostile or otherwise. After
a mile and a half the plantation ceased, at the bed of a torrent which
contained a pond of rain-water collected from the higher rocky ground,
which here terminates. Further on we passed another small channel,
overgrown with bushes, and remarkable for nothing but its name, which
seems plainly to indicate that this country originally belonged to the
Góber or Háusa nation, for it is still called Korámma, a word which in
the Háusa language denotes the bed of a torrent. To this watercourse
particularly the general designation was most probably assigned, because
in its further progress it widens very considerably, and in some degree
appears as the head of the green bottom of the Valley of Ghát.
But a more luxuriant valley, from three to four miles broad, begins
further on, rich in herbage, and full of ethel-trees, all crowning the
tops of small mounds. Here we encamped, near a pond of dirty rain-water,
frequented by great flocks of doves and waterfowl, and a well called
Ízayen, in order to wait for Utaeti. The well was only about three feet
deep, but the water brackish and disagreeable. Our friend came at length,
and it was then decided to march during the night, in order to reach the
Kél-owí; we therefore left our pleasant camping-ground about half-past
nine in the evening, favoured by splendid moonlight. So interesting was
the scene that, absorbed in my thoughts, I got considerably in advance
of the caravan, and, not observing a small path which turned off on the
right, I followed the larger one till I became conscious of my solitary
situation, and, dismounting, lay down in order to await my companions.
Our caravan, however, had taken the other path, and my fellow-travellers
grew rather anxious about me; but my camel, which was evidently aware of
the caravan ahead of us, would not give up this direction, which proved
to be the right one, and after I had joined the caravan we were obliged
to return to my former path.
Here we found the small Kél-owí caravan encamped in the midst of a valley
well covered with herbage, near the well Karáda. Our new companions
were perfect specimens of the mixed Berber and Sudán blood, and,
notwithstanding all their faults, most useful as guides. It was two hours
after midnight when we arrived, and after a short repose we started again
tolerably early the next morning. For the first hour we kept along the
valley, when we began to ascend a narrow path winding round the slope of
a steep promontory of the plateau. The ruins of a castle at the bottom
of the valley formed an object of attraction. The ascent took us almost
an hour, when the defile opened to a sort of plateau, with higher ground
and cones to the left. After another ascent four miles further on, over
a rocky slope about 180 feet high and covered with sand, we encamped at
an early hour, as the heat was beginning to be felt, in a valley with
sidr-trees and grass, called Erázar-n-Ákeru.
A large basin of water, formed by the rains in a small rocky lateral
glen joining the large valley on the west side, afforded a delightful
resting-place to the weary traveller. The basin, in which the negro
slaves of our Kél-owí swam about with immense delight, was about 200
feet long and 120 feet broad, and very deep, having been hollowed out in
the rocks by the violent floods descending occasionally from the heights
above. But on a terrace about 200 feet higher up the cliffs I discovered
another basin, of not more than about half the diameter of the former,
but likewise of great depth. All along the rocky slope between these two
basins, cascades are formed during heavy rains, which must render this a
delightfully refreshing spot.
We soon emerged from the valley, and entered a district of very irregular
character, but affording herbage enough for temporary settlements or
encampments of the Imghád, whose asses and goats testified that the
country was not quite uninhabited. Some people of our caravan saw the
guardians of these animals—negroes, clad in leather aprons. Against the
lower part of the cliffs, which rise abruptly on all sides, large masses
of sand have accumulated, which, as in the case of the upper valley of
the Nile, might induce the observer to believe that all the higher level
was covered with sand, which from thence had been driven down; but this
is not by any means the case.
I had a long conversation this morning with the Tawáti ʿAbd el Káder,
who had come with the pilgrim-caravan as far as Ghát, and, together with
another companion, had attached himself to the Kél-owí, in order to
go to Ágades. He was a smart fellow, of light complexion and handsome
countenance, but had lost one eye in a quarrel. He was armed with a long
gun with a good English lock, of which he was very proud. He had, when
young, seen the Raïs (Major Laing) at Tawát, and knew something about
Europeans, and chiefly Englishmen. Smart and active as this fellow was,
he was so ungallant as to oblige his young female slave, who was at once
his mistress, cook, and servant, to walk the whole day on foot, while he
generally rode. A little after noon we encamped in the corner of a valley
rich in sebót, and adorned with some talha-trees, at the foot of cliffs
of considerable height, which were to be ascended the following day.
We began our task early in the morning. The path, winding along through
loose blocks on a precipitous ascent, proved very difficult. Several
loads were thrown off the camels, and the boat several times came into
collision with the rocks, which, but for its excellent material, might
have damaged it considerably. The whole of the cliffs consisted of
red sandstone, which was now and then interrupted by clay slate, of
a greenish colour. The ascent took us almost two hours, and from the
level of the plateau we obtained a view of the ridge stretching towards
Arikím, the passage of which was said to be still more difficult.
Having successively ascended and descended a little, we then entered a
tolerably regular valley, and followed its windings till about noon,
when we once more emerged upon the rugged rocky level, where Amankay,
the well-travelled búzu or mulatto of Tasáwa, brought us a draught of
deliciously cool water, which he had found in a hollow in the rocks. Here
our route meandered in a very remarkable way, so that I could not lay
aside my compass for a moment; and the path was sometimes reduced to a
narrow crevice between curiously terraced buttresses of rocks.
The ground having at length become more open, we encamped about a quarter
past three o’clock, in a small ravine with a little sprinkling of herbage.
[Illustration]
Here we had reached an elevation of not less than four thousand feet
above the sea, the greatest elevation of the desert to be passed, or
rather of that part of Africa over which our travels extended. The rugged
and bristling nature of this elevated tract prevented our obtaining any
extensive views. This region, if it were not the wildest and most rugged
of the whole desert, limiting vegetation to only a few narrow crevices
and valleys, would be a very healthy and agreeable abode for man; but it
can only support a few nomadic stragglers. This, I am convinced, is the
famous mountain Tántanah, the abode of the Azkár mentioned by the early
Arabic geographers, although, instead of placing it to the south-west of
Fezzán, they generally give it a southerly direction. I am not aware that
a general name is now given to this region.
But this highest part of the tableland rather forms a narrow “col” or
crest, from which, on the following morning, after a winding march of a
little more than three miles, we began to descend by a most picturesque
passage into a deeper region. At first we saw nothing but high cones
towering over a hollow in the ground; but as we advanced along a lateral
wady of the valley which we had entered, the scenery assumed a grander
aspect, exhibiting features of such variety as we had not expected to
find in this desert country. While our camels began slowly to descend,
one by one, the difficult passage, I sat down and made the accompanying
sketch of it, which will convey a better idea of this abrupt cessation
of the high sandstone level, with the sloping strata of marl where it
is succeeded by another formation, that of granite, than any verbal
description would do.
[Illustration]
The descent took us two hours, when we reached the bottom of a narrow
ravine about sixty feet broad, which at first was strewn with large
blocks carried down by occasional floods, but a little further on had
a floor of fine sand and gravel. Here the valley is joined by a branch
wady, or another ravine, coming from the north. Near the junction
it is tolerably wide; but a few hundred yards further on it narrows
between steep precipitous cliffs, looking almost like walls erected by
the hand of man, and more than a thousand feet high, and forms there
a pond of rain-water. While I was sketching this remarkable place, I
lost the opportunity of climbing up the wild ravine. The locality was
so interesting that I reluctantly took leave of it, fully intending
to return the following day, with the camels, when they were to be
watered; but, unfortunately, the alarming news which reached us at our
camping-ground prevented my doing so. I will only observe that this
valley, which is generally called Égeri, is identical with the celebrated
valley Amaïs or Maïs, the name of which became known in Europe many years
ago.
A little beyond the junction of the branch ravine the valley widens to
about one hundred and fifty feet, and becomes overgrown with herbage,
and ornamented with a few talha-trees, and after being joined by another
ravine, exhibits also colocynths, and low but widespreading ethel-bushes,
and, what was more interesting to us, the áshur (or, as the Háusa people
call it, “tunfáfia,” the Kanori “krunka,” the Tuarek “tursha”), the
celebrated, widespread, and most important _Asclepias gigantea_, which
had here truly gigantic proportions, reaching to the height of twenty
feet; and being just then in flower, with its white and violet colours
it contributed much to the interest of the scene. Besides, there was
the jadaríyeh, well known to us from the Hammáda, and the shiʿa or
_Artemisia odoratissima_, and a blue crucifera identical, I think, with
the damankádda, of which I shall have to speak repeatedly. Having gone on
a little more than three miles from the watering-place, we encamped; and
the whole expedition found ample room under the widespreading branches
of a single ethel-tree, the largest we had yet seen. Here the valley was
about half a mile broad, and altogether had a very pleasant character.
I was greatly mortified on reflecting that the uncertainty of our
relations in the country, and the precarious protection we enjoyed, would
not allow me to visit Jánet, the most favoured spot in this mountainous
region; but a great danger was suddenly announced to us, which threatened
even to drive us from that attractive spot. An expedition had been
prepared against us by the mighty chieftain Sídi Jáfel ínek (son of)
Sakertáf, to whom a great number of the Imghád settled thereabouts are
subject as bondmen or serfs.
Upon the circumstances of this announcement and its consequences I shall
not dwell, but will only observe that this transaction made us better
acquainted with the character of each of our new friends. There were
three principal men in the Kél-owí caravan with which we had associated
our fortunes—Ánnur (or properly Eʾ Núr), Dídi, and Fárreji. Ánnur was a
relative of the powerful Kél-owí chief of the same name, and, in order to
distinguish him from the latter, was generally called Ánnur karamí, or
the little Ánnur. He was of agreeable, prepossessing countenance, and of
pleasing manners, but without much energy, and anything but warlike. Dídi
and Fárreji were both liberated slaves, but of very different appearance
and character. The former was slim, with marked features, indicating a
good deal of cunning; the latter was a tolerably large man, with broad,
coarse features, which well expressed his character, the distinguishing
trait of which was undisguised malice. When a new demand was to be put
forth Fárreji took the lead, and, with an impudent air, plainly state
the case; Dídi kept back, assisting his companion underhand; and Ánnur
was anxious to give to the whole a better appearance and to soothe our
indignation.
The whole affair having been arranged, and the stipulation being made
that in case the direct road should become impracticable our Kél-owí
were to lead us by a more eastern one, where we should not meet with any
one, we started in good spirits on the morning of the 1st of August, and
soon emerged from the valley by a southern branch, while the surrounding
cliffs gradually became much lower and flatter. Here we observed that
granite had superseded the sandstone, appearing first in low, bristled
ridges, crossing the bottom of the valley in parallel lines running from
west-north-west to east-south-east, and gradually accompanying the whole
district, while the sand, which before formed the general substance of
the lower ground, was succeeded by gravel. Our path now wound through
irregular defiles and small plains, enclosed by low ridges of granite
blocks, generally bare, but in some places adorned with talha-trees of
fine fresh foliage. The whole country assumed quite a different aspect.
[Illustration]
Our day’s journey was pleasantly varied by our meeting with the van of a
large caravan belonging to the wealthy Fezzáni merchant Khweldi, which
had separated in Aïr on account of the high prices of provisions there.
They carried with them from forty to fifty slaves, most of them females,
the greater part tolerably well made. Each of our Kél-owí produced from
his provision-bags a measure of dates, and threw them into a cloth,
which the leader of the caravan, a man of grave and honest countenance,
had spread on the ground. A little before noon, we encamped in a sort
of wide but shallow valley called Ejénjer, where, owing to the junction
of several smaller branch vales collecting the moisture of a large
district, a little sprinkling of herbage was produced, and a necessary
halting-place formed for the caravans coming from the north, before they
enter upon the naked desert, which stretches out towards the south-west
for several days’ journey. The camels were left grazing the whole night,
in order to pick up as large a provision as possible from the scanty
pasture.
_August 2._—We entered upon the first regular day’s march since we left
Ghát. After a stretch of nine miles, an interesting peak called Mount
Tiska, rising to an elevation of about six hundred feet, and surrounded
by some smaller cones, formed the conspicuous limit of the rocky ridges.
The country became entirely flat and level, but with a gradual ascent,
the whole ground being formed of coarse gravel; and there was nothing to
interrupt the monotonous plain but a steep ridge, called Mariaw, at the
distance of about five miles to the east.
The nature of this desert region is well understood by the nomadic
Tuarek or Imóshagh, who regard the Mariaw as the landmark of the open,
uninterrupted desert plain, the “ténere;” and a remarkable song of
theirs, which often raised the enthusiasm of our companions, begins thus:
“Mariaw da ténere nís” (We have reached Mariaw and the desert plain). The
aspect of this uninterrupted plain seemed to inspire our companions, and
with renewed energy we pursued our dreary path till after sunset, when we
encamped upon this bare gravelly plain, entirely destitute of herbage,
and without the smallest fragment of wood for fuel; and I was glad to get
a cup of tea with my cold supper of zummíta. Even in these hot regions
the European requires some warm food or beverage.
The next morning, all the people being eager to get away from this dreary
spot, every small party started as it got ready, without waiting for the
rest, in order to reach as soon as possible the region of the sand-hills,
which we saw before us at the distance of a little more than five miles,
and which promised to the famished camels at least a slight repast.
Herbage was scattered in bunches all about the sides of the sand-hills,
and a number of butter- and dragon-flies greatly relieved the dreary
scene. After a while the sand-hills ranged themselves more on both sides,
while our road led over harder sandy soil, till the highest range crossed
our path, and we began to ascend it, winding along its lower parts.
Granite, lying a few feet under the surface, in several spots chequered
the sand, tinged with a pretty blue.
A little after mid-day we emerged from the sand-hills, and entered a
plain from two to three miles wide, bounded on both sides by sand-hills,
and were here gratified with the view of shifting lakes which the mirage
set before our eyes. Then followed another narrow range of sand-hills,
succeeded by a barren open plain, and then another very considerable bank
of sand, leaning on a granite ridge. After a steep ascent of forty-five
minutes, we reached the highest crest, and obtained an extensive prospect
over the country before us—a desert plain, interspersed by smaller
sand-hills and naked ledges of rock, and speckled with ethel-bushes half
overwhelmed by sand, at the foot of a higher range of sand-hills. For
sand-hills are the landmark of Afalésselez, and the verse of the desert
song celebrating Mariaw as the landmark of the open gravelly desert
plain is succeeded by another, celebrating the arrival at Afalésselez
and its sand-hills: “In-Afalésselez da jéde nís.” Having long looked
down from this barbacan of sand, to see whether all was safe near that
important place whence we were to take our supply for the next stretch of
dry desert land, we descended along the south-western slope, and there
encamped.
After a march of little more than four miles the next morning, we reached
the well Falésselez, or Afalésselez. This camping-ground had not a bit of
shade, for the few ethel-bushes, all of them starting forth from mounds
of not less than forty feet elevation, were very low, and almost covered
with sand. Besides, the gravelly ground was covered with camels’ dung
and impurities of a more disagreeable nature, and there was not a bit
of herbage in the neighbourhood, so that the camels, after having been
watered, had to be driven to a distance of more than eight miles, where
they remained during the night and the following day till noon, and
whence they brought back a supply of herbage for the next night.
But, notwithstanding its extraordinary dreariness, this place is of the
greatest importance for the caravan trade, on account of the well, which
affords a good supply of very tolerable water. At first it was very dirty
and discoloured, but it gradually became clearer and had but little
after-taste. The well was five fathoms deep, and not more than a foot
and a half wide at the top, while lower down it widened considerably. It
is formed of the wood of the ethel-tree. The temperature of the water,
giving very nearly the mean temperature of the atmosphere in this region,
was 77°.
After the camels had gone, our encampment became very lonely and
desolate, and nothing was heard but the sound of ghussub-pounding. The
Kél-owí had encamped at some distance, on the slope of the sand-hills.
It was a very sultry day, the hottest day in this first part of our
journey, the thermometer, in the very best shade which we were able to
obtain, showing 111·2° heat, which, combined with the dreary monotony of
the place, was quite exhausting. There was not a breath of air in the
morning; nevertheless it was just here that we remarked the first signs
of our approaching the tropical regions, for in the afternoon the sky
became so thickly overcast with clouds that we entertained the hope of
being refreshed by a few drops of rain. In the night a heavy gale blew
from the east.
Next day came Utaeti. On his fine méheri, enveloped as he was in his blue
Sudán-cloth, he made a good figure. The reply which he made, when Mr.
Richardson asked him how his father had received the present of the sword
which H.B.M.’s Government had sent him, was characteristic: the sword,
he said, was a small present, and his father had expected to receive a
considerable sum of money into the bargain. He informed us also that, by
our not coming to Arikím, we had greatly disappointed the Tuarek settled
thereabouts.
_Tuesday, August 6._—The sand-hills which we ascended after starting
were not very high, but after a while we had to make another ascent.
Sometimes small ridges of quartzose sandstone, setting right across our
path, at others ethel-bushes, gave a little variety to the waste, and
at the distance of about eight miles from the well singularly shaped
conical mounts began to rise. The eastern road, which is a little more
circuitous, is but a few hours’ distance from this; it leads through
a valley at the foot of a high conical mount, with temporary ponds of
rain-water, and herbage called Shambakésa, which about noon we passed
at some distance on our left. In the afternoon we came in sight of a
continuous range of heights ahead of us. The whole region exhibited an
interesting intermixture of granite and sandstone formation, white and
red sandstone protruding in several places, and the ground being strewn
with fragments of granite and gneiss. Passing at one time over gravel,
at another over rocky ground strewn with pebbles, we encamped at length
in a sort of shallow valley called Taghárebén, on the north side of
a very remarkable mass of curiously shaped sandstone blocks, heaped
together in the most singular manner, and rising altogether to a height
of about one hundred and fifty feet. On inspecting it more closely, I
found that it consisted of four distinct buttresses, between which large
masses of loose sand had collected, the sandstone being of a beautiful
white colour, and in a state of the utmost disintegration.
After a weary day’s march, the camping-ground, adorned as it was with
some fine talha-trees, and surrounded with small ridges and detached
masses of rock, on which now depended the beauty of the scene, cheered
our minds, and fitted us for another long day’s work. Soon after we
started the ground became rugged and stony, and full of ridges of
sandstone, bristling with small points and peaks. In this wild and rugged
ground our people amused themselves and us with hunting down a lizard,
which tried to escape from the hands of its pursuers in the crevices of
the rocky buttresses. Then followed broad, shallow valleys, at times
overgrown with a little herbage, but generally very barren; winding along
them we turned round a larger cluster of heights which seemed to obstruct
our route. Bare and desolate as the country appears, it is covered, as
well as the whole centre of the desert, with large herds of wild oxen
(_Antilope bubalis_), which rove about at large, and, according as they
are more or less hunted, linger in favoured districts or change their
haunts. Our men tried to catch them, but were unsuccessful, the animal,
clumsy and sluggish as it appears, climbing the rocks with much more ease
than men unaccustomed to this sort of sport, and, owing to the ruggedness
of the ground, being soon lost sight of.
At five o’clock in the afternoon the heights on our left rose to a
greater elevation, as much as a thousand feet, bristling with cones, and
formed more picturesque masses. Resting on the spurs of the mountain
range was a peculiar knot of cliffs, ridges of rocks, and isolated
perpendicular pillars, through which our road led with a gradual
ascent till we reached the highest ground, and then descended into a
shallow valley furnished with a tolerable supply of herbage and a few
talha-trees, some of which, with their young leaves, soon attracted the
attention of the famished camels. The poor animals were left grazing all
night, which recruited their strength a little. These long stretches
were fatiguing both for man and beast, and they were the more trying for
the traveller as, instead of approaching by them in long strides the
wished-for regions to the south, there was scarcely any advance at all in
that direction, the whole route leading to the west.
_Thursday, August 8._—After a mile and a half’s march the country became
more open and free, and those ridges of granite rock which had been
characteristic of the region just passed over ceased; but ahead of us
considerable mountain masses were seen, the whole mountainous district,
in which the long range called Isétteti is conspicuous, being named
Ánahef. After a march of about ten miles, a path branched off from our
road towards the west, leading to a more favoured place, called Tádent,
where the moisture collected by the mountain masses around seems to
produce a richer vegetation, so that it is the constant residence of some
Azkár families; it is distant from this place about sixteen miles. Here
some advanced heights approach the path, and more talha-trees appear;
and further on the bottom of the fiumara was richly overgrown with bú
rékkebah (_Avena Forskalii_), grass very much liked by the camels, and
which we had not observed before on our route. The country ahead of us
formed a sort of defile, into which I thought we should soon enter, when
suddenly, behind the spur of a ridge projecting into the plain on our
left, we changed our direction, and entering a wide valley enclosed by
two picturesque ranges of rock, we there encamped.
The valley is called Nghákeli, and is remarkable as well on account of
its picturesque appearance as because it indicates the approach to a more
favoured region. Besides being richly overgrown with luxuriant herbage
of different species, as sebót, bú rékkebah, shiʿa, and adorned with
fine talha-trees, it exhibited the first specimens of the _Balanites
Ægyptiaca_ (or “hajilíj” as it is called by the Arabs, “áddwa” by the
Háusa people), the rope-like roots of which, loosened by the torrent
which at times sweeps along the valley, grew to an immense length over
the ground. I walked up the valley to a distance of two miles. Compared
with the arid country we had been travelling over latterly, it made upon
me just the same impression which the finest spots of Italy would produce
on a traveller visiting them from the north of Europe. The Kél-owí had
chosen the most shady talha-tree for a few hours’ repose, and I sat down
a moment in their company. They gave me a treat of their palatable fura,
or ghussub-water, the favourite (and in a great many cases the only) dish
of the Absenáwa.
In the evening Mr. Richardson bought from some sportsmen a quantity
of the meat of the wadán, or (as the Tuarek call it) aúdád (_Ovis
tragelaphos_), an animal very common in the mountainous districts of the
desert, and very often found in company with the wild ox. As for myself,
I kept my tent, filling up from my memorandum-book my last day’s journal,
and then, full of the expectation that we were now about to enter more
pleasant regions, lay down on my hard couch.
CHAPTER XII.
DANGEROUS APPROACH TO ASBEN.
_Friday, August 9._—There had been much talk about our starting at
midnight; but, fortunately, we did not get off before daylight, so that
I was able to continue my exact observations of the route, which was now
to cross the defile observed yesterday afternoon, which already began
to impart quite a characteristic aspect to the country. There were some
beautifully shaped cones rising around it, while beyond them an uneven
tract stretched out, crowded with small elevations, which gradually rose
to greater height; among them one peak, of very considerable elevation,
was distinguished by its graceful form, and seemed worthy of a sketch.
Attached to it was a lower rocky range, with a very marked horizontal
crest, while running parallel to our path were small ledges of gneiss.
After a march of seven miles and a half, we ascended a considerable
range of rugged eminences, from the crest of which we followed a steep
descent into an uneven rocky tract intersected by several shallow beds
of torrents; and then, just as the heat began, we reached the valley of
Arókam, where we encamped at about half an hour’s distance from the well,
and opposite to a branch wady through which lay our next day’s route. In
the afternoon I climbed the highest of the cones rising above the cliffs,
but without obtaining any distant prospect.
_Saturday, August 10._—The active buzu Amankay, who early in the morning
went once more to the well in order to fill a few water-skins, brought
the news that a considerable caravan, consisting chiefly of Aníslimen or
Merabetín from Tintaghodé, had arrived at the well the evening before,
on their road to Ghát, and that they protested against our visiting
their country, and still more against our approaching their town.
Notwithstanding the bad disposition of these people towards us, I managed
to induce one of them, who visited our encampment, to take charge of
letters addressed by me to Háj Ibrahim, in Ghát, which I am glad to say
arrived safely in Europe. Amankay reported to us that on his way to the
well he had observed a small palm-tree.
[Illustration]
We started rather late in the morning, entering the branch wady,
which proved to be far more considerable than it seemed, and rich in
talha-trees. In this way we kept winding along several valleys, till,
after a march of three miles, we ascended and crossed a very interesting
defile, or a slip in the line of elevation, bordered on both sides by a
terraced and indented slope, the highest peaks of the ridge rising to not
less than a thousand feet, while their general elevation was about six
hundred feet. Mr. Overweg recognized this as gneiss. Close beyond this
defile, at the foot of mounds of disintegrated granite, we encamped, to
our great astonishment, a little after eight o’clock in the morning; but
the reason of this short march was that our companions, on account of
the arrival of the caravan above mentioned, did not choose to stop at
our former encampment, else they would have rested there to-day. In the
afternoon a high wind arose, which upset our tent.
_Sunday, August 11._—After a march of little more than two miles over
an irregular tract of granite, in a state of great disintegration,
intersected by crests of gneiss, we obtained from a higher level an
interesting view over the whole region, and saw that beyond the hilly
ground of broken granite a large plain of firm gravelly soil spread out,
surrounded by a circle of higher mounts. Then followed a succession of
flat, shallow valleys, overgrown with sebót- and talha-trees, till the
ridges on the right and left (the latter rising to about eight hundred
feet) approached each other, forming a sort of wider passage or defile.
The spur of the range to the left, with its strongly marked and indented
crest, formed quite an interesting feature.
[Illustration]
Beyond this passage we entered a bare gravelly plain, from which rose
a few detached mounts, followed by more continuous ranges, forming
more or less regular valleys. The most remarkable of these is the
valley Aséttere, which in its upper course, where it is called Ákafa,
is supplied by the famous well Tajétterat; but as we were sufficiently
supplied with water from Arókam, and as the well Aïsalen was near, we
left it on one side.
We encamped at length in a valley joined by several branch vales, and
therefore affording a good supply of herbage, which the Kél-owí were
anxious to collect as a supply for the journey over the entirely bare
tract to Asïu. As for ourselves, one of our servants being utterly unfit
for work, we could not lay in a supply. We had been rather unfortunate
with this fellow; for having hired him in Múrzuk, he was laid up with the
guinea-worm from the very day that we left Ghát, and was scarcely of any
use at all. This disease is extremely frequent among people travelling
along this route; Amankay also was suffering from it, and at times became
quite a burden. It attacked James Bruce even after his return to Europe;
and I always dreaded it more than any other disease, during my travels in
Central Africa; but, fortunately, by getting a less serious one, which I
may call sore legs, I got rid of the causes which, I am sure, when acting
in a stronger degree, produce the vena.
About sunset I ascended the eastern cliffs, which are very considerable,
and from the highest peak, which rose to an elevation of more than twelve
hundred feet above the bottom of the valley, obtained an extensive view.
The whole formation consists of granite, and its kindred forms of mica,
quartz, and felspar. The bottom of the valley bore evident traces of
a small torrent which seems to refresh the soil occasionally, and the
same was the case with several small ravines which descend from the
south-eastern cliffs.
_Monday, August 12._—Our route followed the windings of the valley,
which, further on, exhibited more ethel- than talha-trees, besides
detached specimens of the _Asclepias_. After a march of four miles and
a half, we came to two wells about four feet deep, and took in a small
supply of water. The granite formation at the foot of the cliffs on
our left was most beautiful, looking very like syenite. While we were
taking in the water, flocks of wildfowl (_Pterocles_) were flying over
our heads, and expressed by repeated cries their dissatisfaction at our
disturbing their solitary retreat. The ethel, the talha, and the áddwa,
or abórak, enliven these secluded valleys.
[Illustration]
Delighted by the report of Amankay, who came to meet us, that he had
succeeded in detaining the caravan of the Tinýlkum at Aïsala, where they
were waiting for us, we cheerfully continued our march; but before we
reached the place the whole character of the country changed, the cliffs
being craggy and split into huge blocks heaped upon each other in a truly
Cyclopean style, such as only Nature can execute, while the entire hollow
was covered with granite masses, scarcely allowing a passage. Descending
these, we got sight of the encampment of the caravan, in a widening of
the hollow; and after paying our compliments to all the members of this
motley band, we encamped a little beyond, in a recess of the western
cliffs.
The Tinýlkum as well as Bóro Serki-n-turáwa were very scantily provided.
They had lost so much time on the road on our account that it was
necessary, as well as just, to leave them part of the provisions which
they were carrying for us. All our luggage we found in the best state.
Very much against their will, our companions had been supplied on the
road with the flesh of nine camels, which had succumbed to the fatigues
of the march; and some of them, and especially our energetic friend Háj
ʿOmar, had obtained a tolerable supply by hunting: besides wadáns, they
had killed also several gazelles, though we had scarcely seen any.
They had been lingering in this place four days, and were most anxious
to go on. But we had a great deal to do, for all our luggage was to be
repacked, all the water-skins to be filled, and herbage and wood to
be collected for the road. Besides Ibrahim, who was lame and useless,
Overweg and myself had only two servants, one of whom (Mohammed, the
liberated Tunisian slave) was at times a most insolent rascal.
Besides, we were pestered by the Kél-owí and by Utaeti, and I got into a
violent dispute with Fárreji, the shameless freed-slave of Lusu; still
I managed on the morning of the following day to rove about a little.
Just above the well rises a confused mass of large granite blocks, the
lowest range of which was covered with Tefínagh inscriptions, one of
which I copied. It was written with uncommon accuracy and neatness, and
if found near the coast would be generally taken for Punic. I was obliged
to be cautious, as there was a great deal of excitement and irritation in
the caravan, and from what had previously taken place all the way from
Múrzuk, everybody regarded us as the general purveyors, and cherished the
ardent hope that at last it would be his good fortune, individually, to
get possession of our property.
[Illustration]
In the afternoon the Tinýlkum started in advance, and we followed them,
the hollow gradually widening and becoming clothed with large knots of
low ethel-bushes. At the point where this valley joins another, and where
a large quantity of herbage bedecked the ground, we found our friends
encamped, and chose our ground a little beyond them, near a low cliff
of granite rocks. All the people were busily employed cutting herbage
for the journey, while Mr. Richardson at length succeeded in satisfying
Utaeti, who was to return. He had been begging most importunately from
me, and by way of acknowledging my obligations to him I presented him,
on parting, with a piece of white muslin and a red sash, together with
something for Hatíta.
These parties were scarcely quieted when others took their place, urging
their pretensions to our acknowledgments; and we had just started the
next day when Bóro Serki-n-turáwa despatched, underhand, my smart friend
the Tawáti ʿAbd el Káder, with full instructions to give me a lecture
on his boundless power and influence in the country which we were fast
approaching. I was aware of this before, and knew that, in our situation
as unprotected travellers in a new country, we ought to have secured his
friendly disposition from the beginning; but the means of our expedition
being rather limited, Mr. Richardson had made it a principle never to
give till compelled by the utmost necessity, when the friendly obligation
connected with the present was, if not destroyed, at least greatly
diminished.
The structure of the valley soon became irregular, and the character of
the country more desolate, a circumstance which seems to be expressed
by its name, Ikadémmelrang. All was granite, in a state of the utmost
disintegration, and partly reduced to gravel, while detached cones were
rising in all directions. Marching along over this dreary and desolate
country, we reached, at half-past two in the afternoon, after a gradual
and almost imperceptible ascent, the highest level of the desert plain,
from whence the isolated rocky cones and ridges look like so many islands
rising from the sea. A sketch which I made of one of these mounts will
give an idea of their character.
After a march of twelve hours and a half, which I would have gladly
doubled, provided our steps had been directed in a straight line towards
the longed-for regions of Negroland, we encamped on hard ground, so
that we had great difficulty in fixing the pegs of our tents. The sky
was overcast with thick clouds, but our hopes in a refreshing rain were
disappointed.
_Thursday, August 15._—The character of the country continued the same,
though the weather was so foggy that the heights at some distance
were quite enveloped, and became entirely invisible. This was a sure
indication of our approaching tropical climes. After a march of three
miles and a half, the ground became more rugged for a short time, but was
soon succeeded by a gravelly plain. The sky had become thickly clouded,
and in the afternoon a high wind arose, succeeded, about two o’clock, by
heavy rain, and by distant thunder, while the atmosphere was exceedingly
heavy, and made us all feel drowsy.
[Illustration]
It was three o’clock when we arrived at the Marárraba, the “halfway”
between Ghát and Aïr, a place regarded with a kind of religious awe
by the natives, who in passing place each a stone upon the mighty
granite blocks which mark the spot. To our left we had irregular rocky
ground, with a few elevations rising to greater height, and ahead a
very remarkable granite crest, sometimes rising, at others descending,
with its slopes enveloped in sand up to the very top. This ridge, which
is called Giféngwetáng, and which looks very much like an artificial
wall erected between the dry desert and the more favoured region of
the tropics, we crossed further on through an opening like a saddle,
and among sand-hills where the slaves of our companions ran about to
pick up and collect the few tufts of herbage that were scattered over
the surface, in order to furnish a fresh mouthful to the poor wearied
animals. At four o’clock the sand-hills ceased, and were succeeded by a
wide pebbly plain, on which, after six miles travelling, we encamped.
Our encampment was by no means a quiet one, and to any one who paid
due attention to the character and disposition of the people serious
indications of a storm, which was gathering over us, became visible.
Mohammed Bóro, who had so often given vent to his feelings of revenge
for the neglect with which he had been treated, was all fire and fury,
and stirring up the whole encampment, he summoned all the people to a
council, having, as he said, received intelligence that a large party of
Hogár were coming to Asïu. Not having paid much attention to the report
about Sídi Jáfel’s expedition, I became anxious when made aware of the
man’s fury, for I knew the motives which actuated him.
_Friday, August 16._—We started early. Gravelly and pebbly grounds
succeeded each other, the principal formation being granite; but when,
after a march of about thirteen miles, we passed the narrow sandy spur
of a considerable ridge approaching our left, a fine species of white
marble became visible. We then passed a rugged district, of peculiar and
desolate appearance, called Ibéllakang, and crossed a ridge of gneiss
covered with gravel. Here, while a thunder-storm was rising in the
east, our caravan, to our great regret, divided, the Tinylkum turning
off towards the east, in order, as we were told, to look for a little
herbage among the sand-hills. Meanwhile thick, heavy clouds, which had
been discharging a great quantity of rain towards the east, broke over
us at a quarter past four o’clock in the afternoon, when we were just in
the act of crossing another rocky crest covered with gravel. A violent
sand-storm, followed by heavy rain, which was driven along by a furious
gale, soon threw the caravan into the utmost confusion, and made all
observation impossible; but fortunately it did not last long. It was on
descending from this crest, while the weather cleared up, that the Háusa
slaves, with a feeling of pride and joy, pointed out in the far distance
“dútsi-n-Absen” (Mount Absen). Here the granite formation had been
gradually succeeded by sandstone and slate. This district, indeed, seems
to be the line of demarcation between two different zones.
At twenty minutes past six o’clock we at length encamped, but were again
in the saddle at eleven o’clock at night, and in pale moonlight, sleepy
and worn out as we were, began a dreadful night’s march. But altogether
it proved to be a wise measure taken by the Kél-owí, who had reason to be
afraid lest the Hogár, of whom they appeared to have trustworthy news,
might overtake us before we reached the wells of Asïu, and then treat us
as they pleased. Our companions, who were of course themselves not quite
insensible to fatigue, as night advanced, became very uncertain in their
direction, and kept much too far to the south. When day dawned our road
lay over a flat, rocky, sandstone surface, while we passed on our left a
locality remarkable for nothing but its name, Efínagha. We then descended
from the rocky ground into the extremely shallow valley of Asïu,
overgrown with scanty herbage of a kind not much liked by the camels.
Here we encamped, near a group of four wells, which still belong to the
Azkár, while a little further on there are others which the Kél-owí
regard as their own property. How it was that we did not encamp near the
latter I cannot say. But the people were glad to have got so far. The
wells, or at least two of them, afforded an abundant supply of water;
but it was not of a good quality, and had a peculiar taste, I think on
account of the iron ore with which it was impregnated.
This, then, was Asïu, a place important for the caravan trade at all
times, on account of the routes from Ghadámes and from Tawát joining
here, and which did so even as far back as the time when the famous
traveller Ebn Batúta returned from his enterprising journey to Sudán
homewards by way of Tawát (in the year 1353-4). Desolate and melancholy
as it appeared, it was also an important station to us, as we thought
that we had now left the most difficult part of the journey behind us.
For though I myself had some forebodings of a danger threatening us,
we had no idea that the difficulties which we should have to encounter
were incomparably greater than those which we had passed through. Mr.
Richardson supposed that because we had reached the imaginary frontier
of the territories of the Azkár and Kél-owí, we were beyond the reach
of any attack from the north. With the utmost obstinacy he reprobated
as absurd any supposition that such a frontier might be easily crossed
by nomadic roving tribes, asserting that these frontiers in the desert
were respected much more scrupulously than any frontier of Austria,
notwithstanding the innumerable host of its land-waiters. But he was soon
to be undeceived on all the points of his desert diplomacy, at his own
expense and that of us all.
There was very little attraction for roving about in this broad gravelly
plain. Now and then a group of granite blocks interrupted the monotonous
level, bordered on the north by a gradually ascending rocky ground, while
the southern border rose to a somewhat higher elevation.
Desolate as the spot was, and gloomy as were our prospects, the arrival
of the Tinýlkum in the course of the afternoon afforded a very cheerful
sight, and inspired some confidence, as we felt that our little party
had once more resumed its strength. All the people, however, displayed
an outward show of tranquillity and security, with the exception
of Serki-n-turáwa, who was bustling about in a state of the utmost
excitement. Watering the camels and filling the water-skins employed the
whole day.
_Sunday, August 18._—After a two hours’ march we began to ascend, first
gradually, then more steeply, all the rocks hereabouts, consisting of
slate, greatly split and rent, and covered with sand. In twenty-five
minutes we reached the higher level, which consisted of pebbly ground,
with a ridge running, at the distance of about four miles, to the west.
While we were quietly pursuing our road, with the Kél-owí in the van, the
Tinýlkum marching in the rear, suddenly Mohammed the Sfaksi came running
behind us, swinging his musket over his head, and crying lustily, “He
awelád, awelád bú, ʿadúna já!” (“Lads, lads, our enemy has come!”), and
spreading the utmost alarm through the whole of the caravan. Everybody
seized his arms, whether musket, spear, sword, or bow, and whosoever
was riding jumped down from his camel. Some time elapsed before it was
possible, amid the noise and uproar, to learn the cause of the alarm. At
length it transpired. A man named Mohammed, belonging to the caravan,
having remained a little behind at the well, had observed three Tuarek,
mounted on mehára, approaching at a rapid rate; and while he himself
followed the caravan, he left his slave behind to see whether others
were in the rear. The slave, after a while, overtook him, with the news
that several more camels had become visible in the distance; and then
Mohammed and his slave hurried on to bring us the intelligence. Even Mr.
Richardson, who, being rather hard of hearing, judged of our situation
only from the alarm, descended from his slender little she-camel and
cocked his pistols. A warlike spirit seemed to have taken possession of
the whole caravan, and I am persuaded that had we been attacked at this
moment, all would have fought valiantly. But such is not the custom of
freebooting parties; they will cling artfully to a caravan, and first
introduce themselves in a tranquil and peaceable way, till they have
succeeded in disturbing the little unity which exists in such a troop,
composed as it is of the most different elements; they then gradually
throw off the mask, and in general attain their object.
When at length a little tranquillity had been restored, and plenty of
powder and shot had been distributed among those armed with firelocks,
the opinion began to prevail that, even if the whole of the report should
be true, it was not probable that we should be attacked by daylight. We
therefore continued our march with a greater feeling of security, while a
body of archers was despatched to learn the news of a small caravan which
was coming from Sudán, and marching at some distance from us, behind a
low ridge of rocks. They were a few Tébu, with ten camels and between
thirty and forty slaves, unconsciously going to meet a terrible fate;
for we afterwards learned that the Imghád of the Hogár, or rather the
Hadánara, disappointed at our having passed through their country without
their getting anything from us, had attacked this little troop, murdering
the Tébu, and carrying off their camels and slaves.
While the caravan was going slowly on, I was enabled to allow my méheri
a little feeding on the nesí (_Panicum grossularium_, much liked by
camels), in a spot called Tahasása. At noon we began to ascend on rocky
ground, and, after a very gradual ascent of three miles, reached the
higher level, strewn with pebbles, but exhibiting further on a rugged
slaty soil, till we reached the valley Fénorang. This valley, which is
a little less than a mile in breadth and two in length, is famous for
its rich supply of herbage, principally of the kind called bú rékkebah,
and the far-famed el hád (the camel’s dainty), and is on this account an
important halting-place for the caravans coming from the north, after
having traversed that naked part of the desert, which produces scarcely
any food for the camel. Notwithstanding, therefore, the danger which
threatened us, it was determined to remain here not only this, but also
the following day.
As soon as the loads were taken off their backs, the half-starved camels
fell to devouring eagerly the fine herbage offered them. Meanwhile we
encamped as close together as possible, preparing ourselves for the
worst, and looking anxiously around in every direction. But nobody was
to be seen till the evening, when the three men on their mehára made
their appearance, and, being allowed to approach the caravan, made no
secret of the fact that a greater number were behind them.
Aware of what might happen, our small troop had all their arms ready,
in order to repulse any attack; but the Kél-owí and the few Azkár who
were in our caravan kept us back, and, after a little talk, allowed
the visitors to lie down for the night near our encampment, and even
solicited our hospitality in their behalf. Nevertheless, all of them
well knew that the strangers were freebooters, who could not but have
bad designs against us; and the experienced old Awed el Khér, the sheikh
of the Káfila, came expressly to us, warning and begging us to be on
our guard, while Bóro Serki-n-turáwa began to play a conspicuous part,
addressing the Kél-owí and Tinýlkum in a formal speech, and exhorting
them to stand by us. Everybody was crying for powder, and nobody could
get enough. Our clever but occasionally very troublesome servant Mohammed
conceived a strategical plan, placing on the north side of the two tents
the four pieces of the boat, behind each of which one of us had to take
his station in case of an attack.
Having had some experience of freebooters’ practices in my former
wanderings, I knew that all this was mere farce and mockery, and that the
only way of ensuring our safety would have been to prevent these scouts
from approaching us at all. We kept watch the whole night; and of course
the strangers, seeing us well on our guard, and the whole caravan still
in high spirits and in unity, ventured upon nothing.
_Monday, August 19._—In the morning our three guests (who, as I made
out, did not belong to the Azkár, but were Kél-fadé from the northern
districts of Aïr) went slowly away, but only to join their companions,
who had kept at some distance beyond the rocky ridge which bordered or,
rather, interrupted the valley to the westward. There some individuals
of the caravan, who went to cut herbage, found the fresh traces of nine
camels. In spite of outward tranquillity, there was much matter for
anxiety and much restlessness in the caravan, and suddenly an alarm was
given that the camels had been stolen, but fortunately it proved to be
unfounded. ʿAbd el Káder, the Tawáti of whom I have spoken above, trying
to take advantage of this state of things, came to Mr. Overweg, and
urgently pressed him to deposit everything of value with Awed el Khér,
the Kél-owí, and something, “of course,” with him also. This was truly
very disinterested advice; for if anything had happened to us, they
would of course have become our heirs. In the evening we had again three
guests, not, however, the same as before, but some of their companions,
who belonged to the Hadánara, one of the divisions of the Azkár.
_Tuesday, August 20._—At an early hour we started, with an uneasy
feeling. With the first dawn the true believers had been called together
to prayer, and the bond which united the Mohammedan members of the
caravan with the Christian travellers had been loosened in a very
conspicuous manner. Then the encampment broke up, and we set out—not,
however, as we had been accustomed to go latterly, every little party
starting off as soon as they were ready, but all waiting till the whole
caravan had loaded their camels, when we began our march in close order,
first along the valley, then entering upon higher ground, sometimes
gravelly, at others rocky. The range to our right, here a little more
than a mile distant, bears different names, corresponding to the more
prominent parts into which it is separated by hollows or saddles,
the last cone towards the south being called Timázkaren, a name most
probably connected with that of the Azkár tribe, while another is named
Tin-dúrdu-rang. The Tarki or Amóshagh is very expressive in names; and
whenever the meaning of all these appellations shall be brought to light,
I am sure we shall find many interesting significations. Though I paid
a good deal of attention to their language, the Tarkíyeh or Temáshight,
I had not leisure enough to become master of the more difficult and
obsolete terms; and, of course, very few even among themselves can at
present tell the exact meaning of a name derived from ancient times.
At length we had left behind us that remarkable ridge, and entering
another shallow valley full of young herbage, followed its windings, the
whole presenting a very irregular structure, when suddenly four men were
seen ahead of us on an eminence, and instantly a troop of lightly armed
people, amongst them three archers, were despatched, as it seemed, in
order to reconnoitre, marching in regular order straight for the eminence.
Being in the first line of our caravan, and not feeling so sure on the
camel as on foot, I dismounted, and marched forward, leading my méheri
by the nose-cord, and with my eyes fixed upon the scene before us. But
how much was I surprised when I saw two of the four unknown individuals
executing a wild sort of armed dance together with the Kél-owí, while the
others were sitting quietly on the ground! Much perplexed, I continued
to move slowly on, when two of the men who had danced suddenly rushed
upon me, and grasping the rope of my camel, asked for tribute. Quite
unprepared for such a scene under such circumstances, I grasped my
pistol, when, just at the right time, I learnt the reason and character
of this curious proceeding.
The little eminence on the top of which we had observed the people, and
at the foot of which the armed dance was performed, is an important
locality in the modern history of the country which we had reached. For
here it was that when the Kél-owí (at that time an unmixed and pure
Berber tribe, as it seems) took possession of the country of Old Góber,
with its capital, Tin-shamán, a compromise or covenant was entered into
between the red conquerors and the black natives, that the latter should
not be destroyed, and that the principal chief of the Kel-owí should only
be allowed to marry a black woman. And as a memorial of this transaction,
the custom has been preserved that when caravans pass the spot where the
covenant was entered into, near the little rock Máket-n-ikelán, “the
slaves” shall be merry and be authorized to levy upon their masters a
small tribute. The black man who stopped me was the “serki-n-baï” (the
principal or chief of the slaves).
These poor, merry creatures, while the caravan was proceeding on its
march, executed another dance; and the whole would have been an incident
of the utmost interest, if our minds and those of all the well-disposed
members of the caravan had not been greatly oppressed and vexed with
sad forebodings of mishap. The fear was so great that the amiable and
sociable Slimán (one of the Tinýlkum, who at a later period manifested
his sympathy with us in our misfortunes) begged me most urgently to keep
more in the middle of the caravan, as he was afraid that one of those
ruffians might suddenly rush upon me, and pierce me with his spear.
The soil hereabouts consisted entirely of bare gravel; but farther on
it became more uneven, and broken by granite rocks, in the cavities
among which our people found some rain-water. The tract on our right was
called Tisgáwade, while the heights on our left bore the name Tin-ébbeke.
I here rode awhile by the side of Émeli, a Tarki of the tribe of the
Azkár, a gentleman both in his dress and manners, who never descended
from the back of his camel. Although he appeared not to be very hostile
to the robbers on our track, and was certainly aware of their intention,
I liked him on account of his distinguished manners, and, under more
favourable circumstances, should have been able to obtain a great deal
of information from him. But there was with him a rather disagreeable
and malicious fellow named Mohammed (or, as the Tuarek pronounce it,
Mokhammed), from Yánet or Jánet, who, in the course of the difficulties
which befell us, did us a great deal of mischief, and was fully disposed
to do us much more.
The country, which in the meantime had become more open, after a while
became bordered ahead by elevations in the form of a semicircle, while
we began to ascend. The weather had been extremely sultry and close the
whole day, and at last, about three o’clock in the afternoon, the storm
broke out, but with less violence than on the day before our arrival
at Asïu. We encamped at length on an open gravelly plain, surrounded
by ridges of rocks, without pitching our tents; for our unwished-for
guests had in the face of the Tinýlkum openly declared that their design
was to kill us, but that they wanted first to get more assistance.
Notwithstanding this, Mr. Richardson even to-night was obliged to feed
these ruffians; such is the weakness of a caravan—although in our case
the difference of religion, and consequent want of unity, could not but
greatly contribute to paralyze its strength. I here heard that some of
the party were Imghád, from Tádomat. Under such circumstances, and in
such a state of feeling, it was impossible to enjoy the sport and frolics
of the slaves (that is, of the domestic slaves) of the Kél-owí, who with
wild gestures and cries were running about the encampment to exact from
all the free individuals of the caravan their little Máket-n-ikelán
tribute, receiving from one a small quantity of dates, from another a
piece of muslin or a knife, from another a shirt. Everybody was obliged
to give something, however small. Notwithstanding our long day’s march,
Overweg and I found it necessary to be on the watch the whole night.
_Wednesday, August 21._—Starting at an early hour, we ascended very
rugged ground, the rocky ridges on both sides often meeting together
and forming irregular defiles. After a march of five miles and a half,
we reached the highest elevation, and obtained a view over the whole
district, which, being sprinkled, as it were, with small granitic
mounds, had a very desolate appearance; but in the distance to our left
an interesting mountain group was to be seen, of which the accompanying
sketch will give some idea.
Having crossed several small valleys, we reached, a little before ten
o’clock, one of considerable breadth, richly overgrown with herbage, and
exhibiting evident traces of a violent torrent which had swept over it
the day before, while with us but little rain had fallen. It is called
Jínninau, and improved as we advanced, our path sometimes keeping along
it, sometimes receding to a little distance; in some places the growth of
the trees, principally the _Balanites_ or abórak, was indeed splendid and
luxuriant. Unfortunately we had not sufficient leisure and mental ease to
collect all the information which, under more favourable circumstances,
would have been within our reach. Thus, I learnt that magnetic ironstone
was found in the mountains to our left. After noon the valley divided
into three branches, the easternmost of which is the finest and richest
in vegetation, while the western one, called Tiyút, has likewise a fine
supply of trees and herbage; we took the middle one, and a little further
on, where it grew narrower, encamped.
[Illustration]
It was a very pretty and picturesque camping-ground. At the foot of our
tents was a rocky bed of a deep and winding torrent, bordered by most
luxuriant talha- and abórak-trees (_Balanites Ægyptiaca_), and forming
a small pond where the water, rushing down from the rocks behind, had
collected; the fresh green of the trees, enlivened by recent rains,
formed a beautiful contrast with the dark-yellowish colour of the rocks
behind. Notwithstanding our perilous situation, I could not help straying
about, and found, on the blocks over the tebki or pond, some coarse
rock-sculptures representing oxen, asses, and a very tall animal which,
according to the Kél-owí, was intended to represent the giraffe.
While I was enjoying the scenery of the place, Dídi stepped suddenly
behind me, and tried to throw me down, but not succeeding, laid his hands
from behind upon the pistols which I wore in my belt, trying, by way of
experiment, whether I was able to use them notwithstanding his grasp; but
turning sharply round, I freed myself from his hold, and told him that
no effeminate person like himself should take me. He was a cunning and
insidious fellow, and I trusted him the least of our Kél-owí friends.
Ánnur warned us that the freebooters intended to carry off the camels
that we ourselves were riding, in the night; and it was fortunate that we
had provided for the emergency, and were able to fasten them to strong
iron rings.
While keeping the first watch during the night, I was enabled by the
splendid moonlight to address a few lines in pencil to my friends at home.
_Thursday, August 22._—The Kél-owí having had some difficulty in
finding their camels, we did not move at an early hour. To our great
astonishment, we crossed the rocky bed of the torrent, and entered an
irregular defile, where a little further on we passed another pond of
rain-water. When at length we emerged from the rocks, we reached a very
high level, whence we had a clear prospect over the country before us.
Four considerable ranges of mountains were clearly distinguishable in the
distance, forming an _ensemble_ of which the accompanying sketch will
give an idea. We then entered valleys clothed with a fine fresh verdure
sprinkled with flowers, and with a luxuriant vegetation such as we had
not seen before. The senna-plant (_Cassia senna_) appeared in tolerable
quantity. Mountains and peaks were seen all around, in a great variety of
forms; and at twenty minutes past nine we had a larger mountain mass on
one side, from which a dry watercourse, marked by a broad line of herbage
issued and crossed our route.
[Illustration]
Having here allowed our camels a little feeding, we entered upon gravelly
soil with projecting blocks of granite, and then went on ascending
through a succession of small plains and valleys, till we reached
Erazar-n-Gébi, among the splendid vegetation of which we first observed
the abísga, or _Capparis sodata_, called siwák or lirák by the Arabs,
an important bush, the currant-like fruit of which is not only eaten
fresh, but also dried, and laid up in store, while the root affords that
excellent remedy for the teeth which the Mohammedans, in imitation of
their prophet, use to a great extent. The root, moreover, at least on the
shores of the Tsád, by the process of burning, affords a substitute for
salt. It is the most characteristic bush or tree of the whole region of
transition between the desert and the fertile regions of Central Africa,
between the twentieth and the fifteenth degree of northern latitude;
and in the course of my travels I saw it nowhere of such size as on the
northern bank of the Isa or Niger, between Timbúktu and Gágho, the whole
ground which this once splendid and rich capital of the Songhay Empire
occupied being at present covered and marked out by this celebrated
bush. As for the camels, they like very well to feed for a short time
upon its fresh leaves, if they have some other herb to mix with it; but
eaten alone it soon becomes too bitter for them. In this valley the
little berries were not yet ripe; but further on they were ripening, and
afforded a slight but refreshing addition to our food.
Leaving the pleasant valley of Gébi by a small opening bordered with
large blocks of granite, while peaks of considerable elevation were
seen towering over the nearer cliffs, we entered another large valley,
called Tághajít, but not quite so rich in vegetation, and encamped here,
on an open space, a little after noon. The valley is important as being
the first in the frontier region of Aïr or Asben where there is a fixed
settlement—a small village of leathern tents, inhabited by people of the
tribe of Fade-ang, who preserve a certain independence of the Kél-owí,
while they acknowledge the supremacy of the Sultan of Ágades, a state of
things of which I shall have occasion to say more in another place.
CHAPTER XIII.
INHABITED BUT DANGEROUS FRONTIER REGION.
The sensations of our guides and camel-drivers had been uneasy from the
very moment of our encamping; and Mr. Richardson, at the suggestion of
Ánnur, had on the preceding day sent Émeli and Mohammed in advance, in
order to bring to us the chief of Fade-ang. This person was represented
to us as a man of great authority in this lawless country, and able to
protect us against freebooting parties, which our guests of the other
day, who had gone on in advance, were sure to collect against us. But
Mohammed, as I have observed above, was a great rascal himself, who would
do all in his power to increase our difficulties, in order to profit
by the confusion. The chief was accordingly reported as being absent,
and a man who was said to be his brother was to take his place. This
person made his appearance, accompanied by some people from the village;
but it became immediately apparent that he had no authority whatever,
and one of the Imghád of Tádomat, who had stuck to us for the last two
days, in order to show us what respect he had for this man, struck him
repeatedly with his spear upon the shoulder. Among the companions of
our new protector was a Taleb of the name of Buhéda, distinguished by
his talkativeness and a certain degree of arrogance, who made himself
ridiculous by trying to convince us of his immense learning. What an
enormous difference there was between these mean-looking and degraded
half-castes and our martial pursuers, who stood close by! Though I knew
the latter could and would do us much more harm than the former, I liked
them much better.
Overweg and I had sat down in the shade of a talha-tree at a little
distance from our tent, and had soon a whole circle of visitors around
us, who in the beginning behaved with some modesty and discretion, but
gradually became rather troublesome. I gave them some small presents,
such as scissors, knives, mirrors, and needles, with which they expressed
themselves well pleased. Presently came also several women, one with the
characteristic features called in Temáshight “tebúllodén,” which may be
translated by the words of Leo, “Le parti di dietro pienissime e grasse,”
and another younger one, mounted upon a donkey. The whole character of
these people appeared very degraded. They were totally devoid of the
noble and manly appearance which the most careless observer cannot fail
to admire even in a common Tarki freebooter, and the relations between
the sexes appeared in a worse light than one would expect in such a
situation as this. However, we have ample testimony in ancient Arabian
writers that licentious manners have always prevailed among the Berber
tribes on the frontier of the desert; and we found the same habits
existing among the tribe of the Tagáma, while not only Ágades, but even
the little village of Tintéllust was not without its courtesans. This
is a very disheartening phenomenon to observe in so small a community,
and in a locality where nature would seem peculiarly favourable to
purity and simplicity of manners. The names of some of these Tághajít
beauties—Telíttifók, Tatináta, and Temétilé—are interesting for the
character of the language.
We were anxious to buy some of the famous Aïr cheese, for which we had
been longing the whole way over the dreary desert, and had kept up our
spirits with the prospect of soon indulging in this luxury; but we were
not able to procure a single one, and our endeavours to buy a sheep or a
goat were equally fruitless. Instead of the plenty which we had been led
to expect in this country, we found nothing but misery. But I was rather
surprised to find here a very fine and strong race of asses. We were
tolerably composed, and reclining at our ease (though our weapons were
always at hand), when we were a little alarmed by a demand of six riyals
for the use of the pond in Jínninau. Our amiable but unenergetic friend
Ánnur seconded the demand, by way of satisfying in some way the intruders
upon our caravan. These claims were scarcely settled when a dreadful
alarm was raised, by the report that a body of from fifty to sixty Mehára
were about to attack us. Though no good authority could be named for this
intelligence, the whole caravan was carried away by excitement, and all
called out for powder and shot. Bóro Serki-n-turáwa once more delivered
eloquent speeches, and exhorted the people to be courageous; but many
of the Tinylkum, very naturally, had a great objection to come to open
hostilities with the Tuarek, which might end in their being unable to
travel any longer along this route.
In this moment of extreme excitement Khweldi arrived, the chief merchant
of Múrzuk, whom we had not expected to see, though we knew that he was
on his way from Sudán to the north. We were in a situation wherein he
was able to render us the most material service, both by his influence
upon the individuals of whom our caravan was composed, and by his
knowledge of the country whose frontier territories we had just entered.
But unfortunately, though a very experienced merchant, he was not a
practical, sharp-sighted man; and instead of giving us clear information
as to the probable amount of truth in the reports, and what sort of
difficulties we might really have to encounter, and how by paying a
sort of passage-money to the chiefs we might get over them, he denied
in private the existence of any danger at all, while openly he went
round the whole caravan extolling our importance as a mission sent by
a powerful government, and encouraging the people to defend us if we
should be in danger. In consequence of his exhortations, the Tinýlkum
took courage, but had the imprudence and absurdity to supply also the
three intruders with powder and shot, who, though protesting to be now
our most sincere friends, of course made no other use of the present than
to supply their band with this material, which alone gave us a degree of
superiority and constituted our security.
Any one accustomed to look closely at things could not be at all
satisfied with the spirit of our caravan, notwithstanding its noise and
waste of powder, and with its entire want of union; but the scene which
followed in the bright moonlight evening, and lasted throughout the
night, was animating and interesting in the extreme. The whole caravan
was drawn up in line of battle, the left wing being formed by ourselves
and the detachment of the Kél-owí who had left their own camping-ground
and posted themselves in front of our tent, while the Tinýlkum and the
Sfaksi formed the centre, and the rest of the Kél-owí with Bóro, the
right wing, leaning upon the cliffs, our exposed left being defended by
the four pieces of the boat. About ten o’clock a small troop of Mehára
appeared, when a heavy fusillade was kept up over their heads, and firing
and shouting were continued the whole night.
Our situation remained the same the whole of the following day; and it
became very tedious, as it prevented us from making excursions, and
becoming acquainted with the features of the new country which we had
entered. Another alarm having been raised in vain, the leaders of the
expedition which was collecting against us came out, with the promise
that they would not further molest the caravan if the Christians were
given up to them. This demand having been at once rejected, we were left
in tolerable tranquillity for a while, as the freebooters now saw that in
order to obtain their object, which was plunder, they should be obliged
to bring really into the field the whole force they had so long boasted
of. Khweldi paid us another visit in the afternoon; and as he wanted
to make us believe that there was really no danger in this country, so
he did not fail to represent the state of things in Sudán as the most
favourable we could have wished for. He also sought to sweeten over any
remnant of anxiety which we might have, by a dish of very delicious dates
which he had received from his friend Háj Beshír, in Iferwán, and which
gave us a favourable idea of what the country before us was able to
produce. Altogether Khweldi endeavoured to be agreeable to everybody; and
on a later occasion, in 1854, when I was for some time without means, he
behaved towards me in a very gentlemanlike manner. In his company was a
brother of our quiet and faithful servant Mohammed, from Gatrón, who was
now returning home with his earnings.
Not being able to refrain wholly from excursions, I undertook in the
afternoon to visit the watering-place situated up a little lateral nook
of the valley, adorned with very luxuriant talha-trees, and winding in a
half-circle by south-east to north-east. First, at the distance of about
a mile, I came to a hole where some of the Tinýlkum were scooping water;
and ascending the rocky bed of the occasional torrent, I found a small
pond where the camels were drinking; but our faithful friend Músa, who
was not at all pleased with my having ventured so far, told me that the
water obtained here did not keep long, but that higher up good water was
to be found in the principal valley. I had from the beginning attentively
observed the character and proceedings of Bóro Serki-n-turáwa, and
feared nothing so much as his intrigues; and at my urgent request, Mr.
Richardson to-night made him a satisfactory present as an acknowledgment
of the courage which he had lately shown in defending our cause. Of
course the present came rather late; but it was better to give it now,
in order to avert the consequences of his intrigues as much as possible,
than not at all. Had it been given two months ago, it might have saved us
an immense deal of difficulty, danger, and heavy loss.
_Saturday, August 24._—We left at length our camping-ground in Tághajít,
and soon passed Khweldi’s encampment, which was just about to break up.
Rocky ground, overtopped by higher mountain-masses or by detached peaks,
and hollows overgrown with rich vegetation, and preserving for a longer
or shorter time the regular form of valleys, succeed by turns, and
constitute the predominant feature of the country of Asben. But instead
of the fresh green pasture which had delighted and cheered us in some of
the northern valleys, the herbage in some of those which we passed to-day
was quite dry.
Early in the afternoon we encamped in the valley Imenán, a little outside
the line of herbage and trees, on an open spot at the southern foot
of a low rocky eminence. The valley, overgrown as it was with large
talha-trees and the oat-grass called bú rékkebah, of tall, luxuriant
growth, was pleasant, and invited us to repose. But before sunset our
tranquillity was greatly disturbed by the appearance of five of our
well-known marauding companions, mounted on camels, and leading six
others. They dismounted within less than a pistol-shot from our tents,
and with wild ferocious laughter were discussing their projects with the
Azkár in our caravan.
I could scarcely suppress a laugh when several of the Tinýlkum came and
brought us the ironical assurance that there was now perfect security,
and that we might indulge in sound sleep. Others came with the less
agreeable but truer warning that we ought not to sleep that night. The
greatest alarm and excitement soon spread through the caravan. Later in
the evening, while our benevolent guests were devouring their supper,
Mohammed el Túnsi called me and Overweg aside, and informed us that we
were threatened with great danger indeed, these Hogár, as he called
them, having brought a letter from Nakhnúkhen, authorizing them to
collect people in the territory of the Kél-owí, and there to despatch us
in such a way that not even a trace of us should be found, but not to
touch us so long as we were within the confines of the Azkár.
I was convinced that this account, so far as it regarded Nakhnúkhen, was
an absurd fiction of our persecutors; and I tried to persuade our servant
to this effect. When he returned from us to the caravan, a council of war
was held, and a resolution passed, that if a number of from twenty to
thirty people came to attack us they would undertake to defend us, but if
we should be threatened by a more numerous host they would try to make
a compromise by yielding up a part of our goods. In consequence of this
resolution, all possible warlike preparations were made once more, and
Bóro delivered another speech; but it seemed rather irreconcilable with
such a state of things that while we, as well as the Tinýlkum, brought
all our camels close to our tents at an early hour, the Kél-owí left
theirs out the whole night. Perhaps, being natives of the country, they
did not expect that the freebooters would seize their animals.
Be this as it may, great anxiety arose when early in the morning it was
found that the camels were gone; and when day broke our guests of last
night, who had stolen away before midnight, were seen riding down from
the rocky ridge on the south, and with a commanding air calling the
principal men of the caravan to a council. Then followed the scenes which
Mr. Richardson has so graphically described.
I will only mention that Bóro Serki-n-turáwa, sword in hand, led us
on with great energy. He called me to keep close to him; and I think
that now (when we had atoned for the neglect with which he had been
treated by us, by assuring him that we were convinced of his high
position and influence in the country) he had the honest intention to
protect us. Of the Tinýlkum only our faithful Músa and the amiable young
Slimán adhered to us and of the other people, the Tawáti and Mohammed
eʾ Sfaksi, although the latter trembled with fear and was as pale as
death, Yusuf Mukni remained behind. Fárreji on this occasion behaved
with great courage, and bravely challenged the enemy. What frightened
the latter most were the bayonets on our guns, as they saw that, after
having received our fire, they would not yet have done with us, but
would still have a weapon to encounter at least as formidable as their
own spears. As soon as the enemy had protested that he was only come
against us as Christians, all sympathy for us ceased in the caravan. All
expected that we would become Moslemín without great difficulty; and our
servant Mohammed, when we rejected this condition as an impossibility,
immediately relapsed into his ordinary impudence, laughing in our faces
because, forsooth, we were so absurd as still to think of some other
expedient. This clever but spoiled youngster was a _protégé_ of the
British consulate in Tunis.
At length all seemed to be settled. The whole host of the enemy, besides
its rich booty, had been treated with an enormous quantity of mohamsa,
and we had repeatedly been assured that now we might be certain of
reaching the chief Ánnur’s residence without any further disturbance,
when the little Ánnur, a man of honest but mild character, came to beg
us most earnestly to be on our guard, lest behind the rocks and ridges
there might still be some persons in ambush. At length we left this
inhospitable place; but we were far from being at ease, for it was clear
that there was still a cloud on the horizon, which might easily gather to
another storm. After a short march, we encamped in a small valley without
pitching our tents. The Merábet who had accompanied and sanctioned the
expedition against us was now in our company, and that was thought to
be the best means of preventing any further molestation. This man, as
I made out afterwards, was no other than Ibrahím Aghá-batúre (the son
of Háj Beshír, a well-known and influential person settled in Ferwán,
or Iferwán), who, in consequence of these proceedings, was afterwards
punished severely by the Sultan of Ágades. With Aghá-batúre himself I met
accidentally at a later period, in 1853, near Zinder, when he was greatly
astonished to see me still alive, notwithstanding all the hardships I had
gone through. Bóro, who passed the evening with him in reading the Kurán,
treated him hospitably—with Mr. Richardson’s mohamsa.
_Monday, August 26._—After a march of three miles and a half, having
ascended a little, we obtained a clear view of the great mountain mass
which, lying between Tídik, on the north and Tintagh-odé on the west,
seems not to be marked with a collective proper name, although it is
very often called by the people Mount Absen. But I cannot say whether
this name, which is the old Góber name for the whole country called the
Berbers Aïr, belonged originally only to these mountains, or whether it
is now given to them merely on account of their being the conspicuous
elevation of the country so named, to people coming from the north;
for this, according to the unanimous statement of the Kél-owí, is the
frontier of Sudán, to which neither Tághajít nor even Tídik belongs. The
Tuarek, it would seem, have no indigenous proper name for Sudán (properly
Beled eʾ sudán) or Negroland; most of them call it Agús (the south).
Nevertheless Tekrúr seems to be an ancient Libyan name for Negroland.
A remarkable peak called Téngik or Tímge towers over this mountain mass,
being, according to the intelligent old chief Ánnur (who ought to be well
acquainted with his own country), the most elevated point in the whole
country of Aïr. Unfortunately our situation in the country was such that
we could not think of exploring this very interesting northern barrier,
which must be supposed to possess many beautiful glens and valleys. But
we were still at some distance from these picturesque mountains, and had
to cross a very rugged and dreary waste, where, however, we caught sight
of the first ostrich as yet seen on our journey. We encamped at length in
a shallow valley devoid of any interesting features.
During the night, while I was on the first watch, walking round the
encampment of the caravan, it struck me that at one end of it, beyond
the Kél-owí, a small party was separately encamped. When I went there
the first time all was quiet; but a little after eleven o’clock (for
in general, on such a journey, every one lies down at an early hour),
hearing a noise on that side, and turning thither, I saw two armed Tuarek
saddle their mehára, and make off in the gloom of night. From this
circumstance I concluded that something was still going on against us;
but as it appeared useless to make an alarm, I only took the precaution
to put Overweg, who succeeded me on the watch, upon his guard.
_Tuesday, August 27._—We started at a very early hour; but fortunately
the moonlight was so clear and beautiful that I was not interrupted for
a moment in marking down all the features of the country—at least along
our route, for our situation was now too precarious to allow of our
observing angles to fix the exact position of mountains lying at some
distance from us. The road in general continued rugged for the first six
miles, and formed at times very difficult passes; but, notwithstanding
these obstacles, the whole caravan kept as close together as possible,
and so frustrated the plans of our persecutors, who, as we concluded from
the appearance of several Mehára in the distance, intended to attack us
on the road, if occasion offered. There are two roads, the easternmost
of which passes further on through a remarkable gorge in the mountains,
which we had for a long time ahead of us. Here, where we turned off with
a westerly deviation, beautiful white marble, but slightly weatherworn
on the surface, appeared between the nodules of granite and gneiss,
while on our right we had a rocky ridge called Itsa, the crest of which
was indented in a most remarkable way. Further on, where for a while
we entered on a gravelly soil, the whole ground was covered with fresh
footsteps of camels and men, and there was not the least doubt that
another host was gathering against us.
[Illustration]
Mount Kadamméllet, with its tapering double peak, at a greater distance
in the west, formed an interesting object, while the country was
gradually improving. While turning round the lower offshoots of the
large mountain mass which we had now approached, we entered a rather
narrow but very rich valley, adorned with most luxuriant talha-trees
completely enwrapped and bound together by creepers, while the ground was
richly clothed with herbage. This is the valley of Tídik; the village
of that name, which is situated in a recess of the mountains on our
left, remained invisible. It is said to consist of huts formed of a kind
of long dry grass, and therefore makes some approach to the fashion
of Sudán; these huts are called tághamt, or táramt, by the Southern
Imóshagh. But at present the village was desolate, all the inhabitants,
the Kél-tídik (people of Tídik), having gone for a while to the fine
valleys in the west, which appear to be richer than those to the east.
Further on we crossed the bed of a considerable torrent, the valley
terminating in a narrow passage, which, though generally considered as
the very entrance into the region of Sudán, led us once more into a
desolate rocky district, at times widening to dry hollows. Here Mount
Kadamméllet, of which only the double peak had been previously visible,
exhibited to us its ample flanks. The country became so extremely
rugged that we advanced but slowly; and having here received distinct
information which fully confirmed our apprehension of another predatory
expedition against us, we marched in order of battle. Thus we reached a
pond of rain-water in the narrow rugged hollow Tároï, where we filled our
water-bags. We found here several donkeys of a remarkably fine breed,
belonging to the men who had brought us the news. The country beyond this
place became more interesting and even picturesque at times, several
fine glens descending one after the other from the beautifully indented
mountains on our left, which now rose into full view, as the offshoots
had gradually receded.
[Illustration]
We were only about eight miles from Selúfiet, where we might expect to
be tolerably safe; and we had not the least doubt that we were to sleep
there, when suddenly, before noon, our old Azkár mádogu Awed el Khér
turned off the road to the right, and chose the camping-ground at the
border of a broad valley richly overgrown with herbage. As if moved by
supernatural agency, and in ominous silence, the whole caravan followed;
not a word was spoken. It was then evident that we were to pass through
another ordeal, which, according to all appearance, would be of a more
serious kind than that we had already undergone. How this plot was laid
is rather mysterious; and it can be explained only by supposing that a
diabolical conspiracy was entered into by the various individuals of
our caravan. Some certainly were in the secret; but Ánnur, not less
certainly, was sincere in our interest, and wished us to get through,
safely. But the turbulent state of the country did not allow this weak,
unenergetic man to attain his object. Blackmail had been levied upon us
by the frontier tribes; here was another strong party to be satisfied,
that of the Merábetín or Aníslimen, who, enjoying great influence in the
country, were in a certain degree opposed to the paramount authority of
the old chief Ánnur in Tintéllust; and this man, who alone had power to
check the turbulent spirit of these wild and lawless tribes, was laid
up with sickness. In Agades there was no Sultan, and several parties
still stood in opposition to each other, while by the great expedition
against the Welád Slimán all the warlike passions of the people had been
awakened, and their cupidity and greediness for booty and rapine excited
to the utmost pitch. All these circumstances must be borne in mind in
order to form a right view of the manner in which we were sacrificed.
The whole affair had a very solemn appearance from the beginning, and
it was apparent that this time there were really other motives in view
besides that of robbing us. Some of our companions evidently thought
that here, at such a distance from our homes and our brethren in faith,
we might yield to a more serious attack upon our religion, and so far
were sincerely interested in the success of the proceeding; but whether
they had any accurate idea of the fate that awaited us, whether we
should retain our property and be allowed to proceed, I cannot say. But
it is probable that the fanatics thought little of our future destiny;
and it is absurd to imagine that, if we had changed our religion as we
would a suit of clothes, we should have thereby escaped absolute ruin.
Our people, who well knew what was going on, desired us to pitch only
a single tent for all three of us, and not to leave it, even though a
great many people should collect about us. The excitement and anxiety
of our friend Ánnur had reached the highest pitch, and Bóro was writing
letter after letter. Though a great number of Merábetín had collected
at an early hour, and a host of other people arrived before sunset, the
storm did not break out; but as soon as all the people of our caravan,
arranged in a long line close to our tent, under the guidance of the most
respected of the Merábetín as Imám, had finished their Mughreb prayers,
the calm was at an end, and the scene which followed was awful.
Our own people were so firmly convinced that, as we stoutly refused to
change our religion, though only for a day or two, we should immediately
suffer death, that our servant Mohammed, as well as Mukni, requested us
most urgently to testify, in writing, that they were innocent of our
blood. Mr. Richardson himself was far from being sure that the sheikhs
did not mean exactly what they said. Our servants, and the chiefs of the
caravan, had left us with the plain declaration that nothing less than
certain death awaited us; and we were sitting silently in the tent, with
the inspiring consciousness of going to our fate in a manner worthy alike
of our religion and of the nation in whose name we were travelling among
these barbarous tribes, when Mr. Richardson interrupted the silence which
prevailed, with these words: “Let us talk a little. We must die; what
is the use of sitting so mute?” For some minutes death seemed really
to hover over our heads, but the awful moment passed by. We had been
discussing Mr. Richardson’s last propositions for an attempt to escape
with our lives, when, as a forerunner of the official messenger, the
benevolent and kind-hearted Slimán rushed into our tent, and with the
most sincere sympathy stammered out the few words, “You are not to die.”
The amount of the spoil taken from us was regulated by the sum which
we had paid to our Kél-owí escort, the party concerned presuming that
they had just the same demands upon us as our companions. The principal,
if not the only, actors in this affair were the Merábetín; and Ánnur,
the chief of Tin-téllust, afterwards stated to us that it was to them
we had to attribute all our losses and mishaps. There was also just
at this period a young sheríf from Medína at Tintagh-odé, with whom we
afterwards came into intimate relations, and who confessed to us that he
had contributed his part to excite the hatred of the people against the
Christian intruders. Experienced travellers have very truly remarked that
this sort of sherífs are at the bottom of every intrigue. To the honour
of Bóro Serki-n-turáwa, I have to state that he was ashamed of the whole
affair, and tried to protect us to the best of his power, although in
the beginning he had certainly done all that he could to bring us into
difficulties.
It was one of the defects of the expedition that our merchandise, instead
of comprising a few valuable things, was for the most part composed of
worthless bulky objects, and that it made the people believe that we were
carrying with us enormous wealth, while the whole value of our things
scarcely amounted to two hundred pounds. We had besides about ten large
iron cases filled with dry biscuit, but which all the ignorant people
believed to be crammed with money. The consequence was that the next
morning, when all the claims had at length been settled, and we wanted
to move on, there was still great danger that the rabble, which had not
yet dispersed, would fall upon the rest of our luggage; and we were
greatly obliged to the Sfaksi, who not only passed some of our luggage as
his own, but also dashed to pieces one of the iron cases, when, to the
astonishment of the simple people, instead of heaps of dollars, a dry and
tasteless sort of bread came forth from the strong enclosure.
Meanwhile the persecuted Christians had made off, accompanied by some
of the Kél-owí; and at length the whole caravan collected together. The
valley was here very beautiful, and having crossed some smaller hollows,
we reached the fine valley of Selúfiet, rich in trees and bushes, but
without herbage; while at the distance of less than a mile on our left
the high peak of the Tímge stood erect. Towards the west the valley
forms a deep gap behind a projecting mass of granite blocks, and it was
here that I met again my old acquaintance from the Sáid and Nubia, the
dúm-tree or _Cucifera Thebaïca_, here called gáriba, after the Háusa name
góreba. From the Kél-owí I could not learn the proper Berber name of this
tree, but the Western Imóshagh call it akóf. Even the _Capparis sodata_
seems to be called, by the Berber conquerors of this country, only by
the Háusa name abísga, while their western brethren call it téshak.
Besides the _Cucifera_, or fan-palm, there were here also a few isolated
specimens of the date-palm.
The village of Selúfiet itself, consisting of sixty or seventy grass huts
of peculiar shape, lies on the southern side of a broad valley running
here from east to west, and richly overgrown with górebas, abísgas,
and talha-trees, but without any grass, for which the ground seems too
elevated and stony. Our camping-ground also was of this bare character,
and not at all pleasing; it was protected in the rear by large buttresses
of rock. We had not yet enjoyed much tranquillity and security, and we
here felt its want the more keenly as, our camel-drivers having been
hired only as far as this place, we had henceforth to take charge of all
our things ourselves. A large mob of lawless people came about us in the
course of the night, howling like hungry jackals, and we were obliged
to assure them, by frequent firing, that we were on the watch. We had
been obliged to leave our camels to the care of the Kél-owí; but the
freebooters having succeeded in dispersing the camels in every direction,
our friends were unable in the evening to collect either their own
animals or ours, and in the night they were all driven away, as we were
told, by the Merábetín themselves, who so repeatedly assured us of their
protection.
In the letters which we sent to Europe during our next day’s halt in
this place, by a caravan of Arabs and Kél-owí, the largest part of which
was already in advance, we were unable to give a perfectly satisfactory
account of our progress; nevertheless we had made a great step in
advance, and were justified in hoping that we should be able to overcome
whatever difficulties might still await us, and the more so as we were
now able to place ourselves in direct communication with the chief of
Tin-téllust, from whom we might soon expect to receive an escort.
[Illustration]
_Thursday, August 29._—Some of the stolen camels having been recovered,
though fifteen were still wanting, we were enabled to move from this
uncomfortable place the next day, leaving behind us, however, the boat
and some other things, which were valueless to any but ourselves.
Pleased as we were with our onward movement, we were still more cheered
when we observed in the fine valley, which here seems to bear the name
Érasa, or rather Érazar, some small fields with a fresh green crop of
negro millet—a delicious sight to travellers from the desert, and the
best assurance that we had entered cultivable regions. The fields or
gardens were watered by means of a kind of khattára of very simple
construction, a simple pole, with a longer cross pole, to which the
bucket is fastened. A little further on the whole valley was clothed
with fine widespreading bushes of the abísga or _Capparis_; but it
soon narrowed, while we marched straight upon the high pointed peak
overtowering Tintagh-odé, which forms an interesting object. The valley
of Selúfiet seems to have no connection with that of the latter place;
at least, the principal branch, along which our route lay, was entirely
separated from it by rocky ground. Here a broad gap dividing the mountain
mass allows a peep into the glens formed by the several ridges of which
it consists, and which seem to rise to greater elevation as they recede.
The slope is rather precipitous, and the general elevation of this
mountain mass seems scarcely less than 3,300 feet above the bottom of the
valley, or about 5,000 feet above the level of the sea.
We soon descended again from the rocky ground into a hollow plain richly
clothed with vegetation, where, besides the abísga, the tunfáfia or
_Asclepias gigantea_, which we had entirely lost sight of since leaving
Égeri, appeared in great abundance. Here also was a new plant which we
had not seen before—the “állwot,” with large succulent leaves and a
pretty violet flower. The camels devoured it most eagerly, and, in the
whole district of Aïr, preferred it to any other kind of food. It has a
great resemblance to the poisonous damankádda, which in Sudán is often
the cause of dangerous disease, and even of death, to the camel. After
marching along this valley for two miles, we encamped on an open space
encircled with the green spreading bushes of the abísga, a little beyond
Tintagh-odé, the village of the Merábetín or Aníslimen, which is spread
in a long line over the low offshoots of the mountain range, and contains
about a hundred light huts, almost all of them being made of grass and
the leaves of the dúm-palm, a few only being built of stones. Small as
this village is, it is of very great importance for the intercourse
between Central Africa and the northern region beyond the desert; for
under the authority of these learned and devout men, commerce is carried
on with a security which is really surprising, if regard be had to the
wild and predatory habits of the people around. As these Aníslimen belong
to a tribe of the Kél-owí, we may infer that their settlement here was
contemporaneous with the conquest of the country by the latter tribe, a
conclusion favoured by the narrative of Ebn Batúta, who does not appear
to have found any settlements in this quarter.
The Aníslimen, however, though they style themselves “devout men,”
have not therefore relinquished all concern about the things of this
world, but, on the contrary, by their ambition, intrigues, and warlike
proceedings, exercise a great influence upon the whole affairs of the
country, and have placed themselves, as I have already mentioned, in
a sort of opposition to the powerful chief of Tin-téllust. Recently,
however, a great calamity had befallen them, the Awelímmiden (the “Surka”
of Mungo Park, the dreaded enemies of the Kél-owí) having by a sudden
inroad carried away all their camels; and it may have been partly the
desire to make use of the opportunity afforded them by the arrival of
some unprotected infidels, to repair their losses in some measure, which
made them deal so hostilely with us.
As we encamped, the boys of the village hovered around us in great
numbers; and while we kept a good look out to prevent their pilfering,
we could not but admire their tall, well-formed figures and their light
colour, the best proof that this little clan does not intermarry with
the black race. They wore nothing but a leather apron; and their hair
was shorn on the sides, leaving a crest in the middle. When we had made
ourselves somewhat comfortable we were desirous of entering into some
traffic with the people, in order to replace our provisions, which
were almost wholly exhausted; but we soon had reason to be convinced
how erroneous were the ideas which we had formed from reports as to
the cheapness of provisions in this country, and that we should have
very great difficulty in procuring even the little that was absolutely
necessary. Of butter and cheese we were unable to obtain the smallest
quantity, while only very small parcels of dukhn, or gero (millet
or _Pennisetum typhoïdeum_), were offered to us, and greatly to our
disadvantage, as the articles we had to barter with, such as bleached and
unbleached calico, razors, and other things, were estimated at a very
low rate. A common razor brought us here ten zekka of millet, worth,
according to the estimate of the country, one-third of a mithkál, equal
to 333 kurdi, or about sixpence-halfpenny. I learnt from Émeli that the
Sakomáren, a tribe of Imóshagh possessing large flocks of sheep and even
much cattle, bring almost every year a considerable supply of butter to
this country, a statement which was soon confirmed by my own experience.
The man just mentioned, who had something extremely noble and
prepossessing about him, was about to return to Ghát, and I confided to
him a letter for Europe. In all probability this is the letter which was
afterwards found in the desert, and was brought by Nakhnúkhen (the chief
of the Azkár) himself to Mr. Dickson, Her Majesty’s agent in Ghadámes,
who from its fate drew some sinister conclusions as to my own.
_Sunday, September 1._—Several other people having left us, we remained
in tolerable quiet and repose the whole day; but it was reported that
the next day, during which we should be obliged to stay here in order to
wait for the restitution of our camels, there would be a great concourse
of Mehára to celebrate a marriage in the village; but fortunately the
immense quantity of rain which fell in the whole of the neighbourhood,
and which on the 1st of September changed our valley into the broad
bed of a rapid river, placing all our property in the utmost danger,
prevented this design from being executed, and, while it seemed to
portend to us a new misfortune, most probably saved us from a much
greater mischief.
Having just escaped from the dangers arising from the fanaticism and the
rapacity of the people, it was a hard trial to have to contend again
against an element the power of which, in these border regions of the
desert, we had been far from appreciating and acknowledging. We had no
antecedents from which to conclude the possibility that in this region
a valley, more than half a mile wide, might be turned, in twenty-four
hours, into a stream violent enough to carry away the heaviest things,
not excepting even a strong, tall animal like the camel; and it was with
almost childish satisfaction that, in the afternoon of Saturday, we went
to look at the stream, which was just beginning to roll its floods along.
It was then a most pleasant and refreshing sight; the next day it became
a grand and awful picture of destruction, which gave us no faint idea of
a deluge. To the description of the flood itself, as it is given by Mr.
Richardson, I shall not add anything; but I have to mention the following
circumstances, which seem not to have been placed in their true light.
Half an hour after midday, the waters began to subside, and ceased
to endanger our little island, which, attacked on all sides by the
destructive fury of an impetuous mountain torrent swollen to the
dimensions of a considerable river, was fast crumbling to pieces, and
scarcely afforded any longer space enough to hold our party and our
things. Suddenly, on the western shore, a number of Mehára were seen; at
the same time the whole population of Tintagh-odé, in full battle-array,
came from the other side, and formed themselves in regular groups, partly
round our hill, and partly opposite to the Tinýlkum. While we looked with
distrust upon these preparations, most of our muskets having been wetted,
the mischievous Mohammed approached our hill and, addressing me with a
very significant and malevolent look, cried out, “Lots of people!” The
previous afternoon, when I had requested him, while squatting himself
insolently upon my carpet, to leave this only piece of comfort for my own
use, he threatened me in plain terms, and in the coolest manner, that the
following night I should lie on the bottom of the wady, and he upon my
carpet. Not put out by his malice, though I was myself rather doubtful
as to the friendly intentions of all these people, I told him that the
Mehára were our friends, sent by the chief Ánnur as an escort to conduct
us safely to Tin-téllust. With a threatening gesture he told me I should
be sadly disappointed, and went away. Fortunately, it turned out that the
people mounted on camels were really Annur’s escort; but at the same time
a large band of robbers had collected, in order to make a last effort to
take possession of our property before we should obtain the protection of
Ánnur, and only withdrew reluctantly when they saw that they should meet
with a strong opposition.
We were then justified in hoping that we had at length entered a
harbour affording us a certain degree of security, and with thankful
and gladdened hearts we looked forward to our further proceedings. Our
present situation, however, was far from being comfortable: almost all
our things were wet; our tents were lying in the mud at the bottom of the
stream; and our comfortable and strong, but heavy, Tripolitan tent was so
soaked with water and earth that a camel could scarcely carry it. Leaving
at length our ill-chosen camping-ground, Overweg and I were passing the
principal torrent (which was still very rapid), when the camels we rode,
weakened by the dreadful situation they had been in the whole day, were
unable to keep their feet, and, slipping on the muddy bottom, set us down
in the midst of the stream. Soaked and barefoot, having lost my shoes, I
was glad to reach in the dark the new encampment which had been chosen on
the elevated rocky ground a little beyond the border of the valley. Our
beds were in the most cheerless condition, and in an unhealthy climate
would certainly have been productive of bad consequences. Aír, however,
in every respect may be called the Switzerland of the desert.
_Monday, September 2._—Fortunately the weather on the following morning
cleared up, and, although the sun came forth only now and then, a fresh
wind was very favourable for drying; and it was pleasant to see one thing
after another resume a comfortable appearance. The whole encampment
seemed to be one large drying-ground.
Having recovered a little from the uncomfortable state in which we had
passed the night, we went to pay a visit to the principal men of our new
escort, who had seated themselves in a circle, spear in hand, with their
leader, Hámma (a son-in-law of the chief Ánnur) in the midst of them.
Entire strangers as both parties were to each other, and after the many
mishaps we had gone through, and the many false reports which must have
reached these men about our character, the meeting could not fail to be
somewhat cool. We expressed to the leader our sincere acknowledgment of
the service which the chief Ánnur had rendered us, and begged him to
name us to such of his companions as were related to the chief. On this
occasion Mohammed, the chief’s cousin, who afterwards became a great
friend of mine, made himself remarkable by his pretensions and arrogance.
They were all of them tolerably good-looking, but they were not at all
of the same make as the Azkár and the people living near the border of
Aïr. They were blacker, and not so tall, and, instead of the austere
and regular northern features, had a rounder and more cheerful, though
less handsome expression of countenance. Their dress also was more gay,
several of them wearing light blue, instead of the melancholy-looking
dark blue tobes.
At about ten o’clock we at length moved on, and chose the western of the
two roads, leading hence to Tin-téllust, by way of Fódet; the eastern
one passes through Tágo and Táni. Leaving the large green valley of
Tintagh-odé on our left, we kept on more uneven ground, passing some
smaller glens, till we reached the commencement of the fine broad valley
Fódet, and encamped near the cliffs bordering its eastern side. Here the
water, rushing down from the rocks in a sort of cascade, had formed a
pond, which, however, was not destined to remain long.
_Tuesday, September 3._—We made a very interesting march through a
country marked with bold features, and showing itself in more than one
respect capable of being the abode of man. Turning away from the eastern
border, we kept more along the middle of the valley, till we reached the
most picturesque spot, where it divided into two branches, the eastern
of which, bordered by several imposing mountain spurs, presented a very
interesting perspective, of which the accompanying sketch, drawn as it
was on the back of my camel, will give only a faint idea.
The whole bottom of the valley, where, the day before yesterday, a mighty
torrent had been foaming along, was now glittering with fragments of
minerals. We then passed the ruins of some houses carried away by the
floods, and met further on a little troop of asses laden with éneli. Our
whole caravan was in good spirits; and our escort, in order to give us
a specimen of their horsemanship, if I may so call it, got up a race,
which, as may be readily imagined, proved a very awkward affair. Two or
three of the riders were thrown off, and the sport soon came to an end.
The swift camel is excellent for trotting, but it can never excel in a
gallop. In our ascent we had reached very considerable mountain masses
on our right, when some of our old companions, who had come with us from
Ghát, separated from us, in order to go to their village, Túngadu. Among
these was Ákshi, a very modest and quiet man, who alone of all these
people had never begged from me even the merest trifle, though he gave
me some information, and I might have learnt much more from him if I had
seen him more frequently. But I had the good fortune to meet with him
again at a later period.
The country here became very mountainous, and the ascent steep, till we
reached a valley called by some of the Kél-owí the upper course of the
valley of Tin-téllust. Having reached the crest of the elevation, we
began to descend, first gradually along smaller valleys, afterwards more
steeply into a deep ravine, while in the distance towards the south-west,
above the lower hills, a ridge of considerable elevation became visible.
Gradually the ravine widened, and became clothed with fine herbage.
Here, to our great disappointment, the little Ánnur, Dídi, Fárreji, and
several of the Tinýlkum (among them the intelligent and active Ibrahím)
left us in order to reach their respective residences. Of course Ánnur
ought to have seen us safe to the chief’s residence; but being without
energy, he allowed our new companions, with whom we had not yet been able
to become acquainted, to extort from us what they could, as the Fade-ang
and the Aníslimen had done before. Keeping along some smaller valleys, we
reached, about noon, a considerable pond of rain-water, where I watered
my thirsty camel. Almost all the smaller valleys through which we passed
incline towards the west.
[Illustration]
Much against our wish, we encamped a little after three o’clock P.M.,
in a widening of the valley Afís, near the southern cliffs (which had
a remarkably shattered appearance), there being a well at some little
distance. We had scarcely encamped when a troublesome scene was enacted,
in the attempt to satisfy our escort, the men not being yet acquainted
with us, and making importunate demands. But there was more turmoil and
disturbance than real harm in it; and though half of the contents of a
bale of mine were successfully carried off by the turbulent Mohammed,
and a piece of scarlet cloth was cut into numberless small shreds in
the most wanton manner, yet there was not much to complain of, and it
was satisfactory to see Hámma (Ánnur’s son-in-law, and the chief of the
escort) display the greatest energy in his endeavours to restore what was
forcibly taken.
_Wednesday, September 4._—We were glad when day dawned; but with it
came very heavy rain, which had been portended last night by thickly
accumulated clouds and by lightning. Rain early in the morning seems to
be rather a rare phenomenon, as well in this country as all over Central
Africa, if it be not in continuation of the previous night’s rain; and
it was probably so on this occasion, rain having fallen during the whole
night in the country around us.
Having waited till the rain seemed to have a little abated, we started
at seven o’clock, in order to reach the residence of the powerful chief
Ánnur, in whose hands now lay the whole success of the expedition.
Though all that we had heard about him was calculated to inspire us
with confidence in his personal character, yet we could not but feel a
considerable degree of anxiety. Soon emerging from the valley of Afís,
we ascended rocky ground, over which we plodded, while the rain poured
down upon us with renewed violence, till we reached the commencement of
another valley, and a little further, on its northern side, the small
village Sárara, or Asárara, divided into two groups, between which we
passed. We then crossed low rocky ground intersected by many small beds
of torrents descending from the mountains on our left, which rise to a
considerable elevation. All these channels incline towards the south, and
are thickly clothed with bushes.
It was half-past nine o’clock, the weather having now cleared up, when
we entered the valley of Tin-téllust, forming a broad sandy channel,
bare of herbage, and only lined with bushes along its border. On the low
rocky projections on its eastern side lay a little village, scarcely
discernible from the rocks around; it was the long and anxiously
looked-for residence of the chief Eʾ Núr or Ánnur. Our servants saluted
it with a few rounds. Leaving the village on the eastern border of the
sandy bed, we went a little further to the south, keeping close to the
low rocky projection on our right, at the foot of which was the little
tebki or water-pond, and encamped on a sand-hill rising in a recess of
the rocky offshoots, and adorned at its foot with the beautiful green
and widely spreading bushes of the _Capparis sodata_, while behind was a
charming little hollow with luxuriant talha-trees. Over the lower rocky
ground rose Mount Tunán, while towards the south the majestic mountain
group of Búnday closed the view. As for the prospect over the valley
towards the village, and the beautiful mountain mass beyond, it is
represented in the annexed sketch, made at a later period, and for the
accuracy of which I can answer.
Altogether it was a most beautiful camping-ground, where in ease and
quiet we could establish our little residence, not troubled every moment
by the intrusion of the townspeople; but it was rather too retired a
spot, and too far from our protector, being at least eight hundred yards
from the village, in a country of lawless people not yet accustomed
to see among them men of another creed, of another complexion, and of
totally different usages and manners.
This spot being once selected, the tents were soon pitched; and in
a short time, on the summit of the sand-hill, there rose the little
encampment of the English expedition, consisting of four tents forming a
sort of semi-circle, opening towards the south, the point to which all
our arduous efforts were directed, Mr. Richardson’s tent towards the
west, Overweg’s and mine adjoining it towards the east, and each flanked
by a smaller tent for the servants. Doubtless this sand-hill will ever
be memorable in the annals of the Asbenáwa as the “English Hill,” or the
“Hill of the Christians.” But before I proceed to relate the incidents
of our daily life while we stayed here, it will be well to introduce the
reader to the country and the people with whom we have come in contact.
CHAPTER XIV.
ETHNOGRAPHICAL RELATIONS OF AÍR.
The name Aír, exactly as it is written and pronounced by the natives
at the present day, first occurs in the description of Leo, which was
written in 1526. The country Káher, mentioned by the traveller Ebn
Batúta on his home journey from Tekádda by way of the wells of Asïu, is
evidently somewhere hereabouts, but seems rather to denote the region
a few days’ journey west from Tin-téllust, and to be identical with
the “Ghir” of Leo, though this extended more to the south-west. The
name being written by the Arabs with an _h_ (Ahír), most historical
geographers have erroneously concluded that this is the true indigenous
form of the name.
Aïr, however, does not appear to be the original name of the country,
but seems to have been introduced by the Berber conquerors, the former
name being Asben or Absen, as it is still called by the black and the
mixed population. Asben was formerly the country of the Góberáwa, the
most considerable and noble portion of the Háusa nation, which does not
seem to belong to the pure Negro races, but to have originally had some
relationship with North Africa; and from this point of view the statement
of Sultan Bello cannot be regarded as absurd, when in the introduction
to his historical work on the conquests of the Fulbe, “Infák él misúri
fi fat hah el Tekrúri,” he calls the people of Góber Copts, though only
one family is generally considered by the learned men of the country as
of foreign origin. The capital of this kingdom of Asben, at least since
the sixteenth century, was Tin-shamán, at present a village a little to
the west of the road from Aúderas to Ágades, and about twenty miles from
the latter place. The name is evidently a Berber one; and the Berber
influence is still more evident from the fact that a portion, at least,
of the population of the town were Masúfa, a well-known Berber tribe
who in former times were the chief guides on the road from Sejilmésa
to Waláta. Be this as it may, several learned men, inhabitants of this
place, are mentioned by the native historians of Negroland, which shows
that there existed in it some degree of comparative civilization. In
the middle of the fourteenth century not only Tekádda, but even Káhír
was in the hands of the Berbers, as we see from Batúta’s narrative; and
this eminent traveller mentions a curious custom with regard to the
Berber prince, whom he styles el Gérgeri, or Tegérgeri, which even at
the present moment is in full operation in this country, viz. that the
succession went not to his own sons, but to his sister’s sons. This
remarkable fact is a certain proof that it was not a pure Berber state,
but rather a Berber dominion engrafted upon a Negro population, exactly
as was the case in his time in Waláta. Leo, who first calls the country
by its present Berber name Aïr, states also expressly that it was then
occupied by Tuarek, “Targa populo;” and we learn also from him that the
ruler of Ágades (a town first mentioned by him) was likewise a Berber; so
that it might seem as if the state of the country at that time was pretty
nearly the same as it is now; but such was not the case.
The name of the Kél-owí is not mentioned either by Leo or any other
writer before the time of Horneman, who, before he set out from Fezzán on
his journey to Bórnu, obtained some very perspicuous information about
these people, as well as about their country, Asben. At that time, before
the rise of the Fulbe under their reformer (el Jihádi), Othmán, the son
of Fódiye, it was a powerful kingdom, to which Góber was tributary. From
Horneman’s expression it would seem that the Kél-owí had conquered the
country only at a comparatively recent date; and this agrees perfectly
with the results of my inquiries, from which I conclude that it took
place about A.D. 1740. However, we have seen that four centuries before
that time the country was in the hands of the Berbers.
It appears that the Kél-owí are traceable from the north-west, and the
nobler part of them belong to the once very powerful and numerous tribe
of the Aurághen, whence their dialect is called Auraghíye even at the
present day. Their name signifies “the people settled in (the district
or valley of) Owí;” for “kél” is exactly identical with the Arabic word
áhel, and seems besides to be applied with especial propriety to indicate
the settled, in opposition to the nomadic tribes. For in general the
characteristic mark of the Kél-owí and their kinsmen is, that they live
in villages consisting of fixed and immovable huts, and not in tents made
of skins, like the other tribes, or in movable huts made of mats, like
the Tagáma and many of the Imghád of the Awelímmiden. With this prefix
kél may be formed the name of the inhabitants of any place or country:
Ferwán, Kél-ferwán; Bághzen, Kél-bághzen; Afélle (the north), Kél-afélle,
“the people of the north,” whom the Arabs in Timbúktu call Áhel eʾ
Sáhel; and no doubt a Targi, at least of the tribe of the Awelímmiden or
Kél-owí, would call the inhabitants of London Kél-london or Kél-londra,
just as he says Kél-ghadámes, Kél-tawát.
But there is something indeterminate in the name Kél-owí, which has both
a narrower and a wider sense, as is frequently the case with the names of
those tribes which, having become predominant, have grouped around them
and, to a certain extent, even incorporated with themselves many other
tribes which did not originally belong to them. In this wider sense the
name Kél-owí comprises a great many tribes, or rather sections, generally
named after their respective settlements.
I have already observed that the Berbers, in conquering this country from
the Negro, or I should rather say the sub-Libyan race (the Leucæthiopes
of the ancients), did not entirely destroy the latter, but rather mingled
with them by intermarriage with the females, thereby modifying the
original type of their race, and blending the severe and austere manners
and the fine figure of the Berber with the cheerful and playful character
and the darker colour of the African. The way in which they settled in
this country seems to have been very similar to that in which the ancient
Greeks settled in Lycia. For the women appear to have the superiority
over the male sex in the country of Asben, at least to a certain extent;
so that when a ba-Ásbenchi marries a woman of another village she does
not leave her dwelling-place to follow her husband, but he must come to
her in her own village. The same principle is shown in the regulation
that the chief of the Kél-owí must not marry a woman of the Targi blood,
but can rear children only from black women or female slaves.
With respect to the custom that the hereditary power does not descend
from the father to the son, but to the sister’s son—a custom well
known to be very prevalent not only in many parts of Negroland, but
also in India, at least in Malabar—it may be supposed to have belonged
originally to the Berber race; for the Azkár, who have preserved their
original manners tolerably pure, have the same custom, but they also
might have adopted it from those tribes (now their subjects—the Imghád)
who conquered the country from the black natives. It may therefore seem
doubtful whether, in the mixed empires of Ghánata, Melle, and Waláta,
this custom belonged to the black natives or was introduced by the
Berbers. Be this as it may, it is certain that the noble tribe of the
Awelímmiden deem the custom in question shameful, as exhibiting only
the man’s mistrust of his wife’s fidelity; for such is certainly its
foundation.
As for the male portion of the ancient population of Asben, I suppose it
to have been for the most part exterminated, while the rest was degraded
into the state of domestic slavery, with the distinct understanding that
neither they nor their children should ever be sold out of the country.
The consequence of this covenant has been an entire mixture between the
Berber conquerors and the female part of the former population, changing
the original Berber character entirely, as well in manners and language
as in features and complexion. Indeed, the Háusa language is as familiar
to these people as their Auraghíye, although the men, when speaking among
themselves, generally make use of the latter. The consequence is that the
Kél-owí are regarded with a sort of contempt by the purer Berber tribes,
who call them slaves (íkelán). But there is another class of people, not
so numerous, indeed, in Asben itself as in the districts bordering upon
it; these are the Búzawe, or Abogelíte, a mixed race, with generally more
marked Berber features than the Kél-owí, but of darker colour and lower
stature, while in manners they are generally debased, having lost almost
entirely the noble carriage which distinguishes even the most lawless
vagabond of pure Targi blood. These people, who infest all the regions
southwards and south-eastwards from Asben, are the offspring of Tuarek
females with black people, and may, belong either to the Háusa or to the
Sónghay race.
What I have here said sets forth the historical view of the state of
things in this country, and is well known to all the enlightened natives.
The vulgar account of the origin of the Kél-owí from the female slave
of a Tinýlkum who came to Asben, where she gave birth to a boy who was
the progenitor of the Kél-owí, is obviously nothing but a popular tale,
indicating, at the utmost, only some slight connection of this tribe with
the Tinýlkum.
Having thus preliminarily discussed the name of the tribe and the way
in which it settled in the country, I now proceed to give a list, as
complete as possible, of all the divisions or tiúsi (_sing._ tausit)
which compose the great community of the Kél-owí.
The most noble (that is to say, the most elevated, not by purity of
blood, but by authority and rank) of the subdivisions of this tribe at
the present time are the Irólangh, the Amanókalen or Sultan family, to
which belongs Ánnur, with no other title than that of Sheikh or Elder
(the original meaning of the word)—“sófo” in Háusa, “ámaghár” or “ámghár”
in Temáshight. The superiority of this section seems to date only from
the time of the present chiefs predecessor, the Kél-ferwán appearing to
have had the ascendency in earlier times. Though the head of this family
has no title but that of Sheikh, he has nevertheless far greater power
than the amanókal or titular Sultan of the Kél-owí, who resides in Ásodi,
and who is at present really nothing more than a prince in name. The next
in authority to Ánnur is Háj ʿAbdúwa, the son of Ánnur’s eldest sister,
and who resides in Táfidet.
The family or clan of the Irólangh, which, in the stricter sense of the
word, is called Kél-owí, is settled in ten or more villages lying to the
east and the south-east of Tin-téllust, the residence of Ánnur, and has
formed an alliance with two other influential and powerful families,
viz. the Kél-azanéres, or people of Azanéres, a village, as I shall have
occasion to explain further on, of great importance, on account of its
situation in connection with the salt lakes near Bilma, which constitute
the wealth and the vital principle of this community. On account of
this alliance, the section of the Kél-azanéres affected by it is called
Irólangh wuén Kél-azanéres; and to this section belongs the powerful
chief Lúsu, or, properly, el Úsu, who is in reality the second man in the
country on the score of influence.
On the other side, the Irólangh have formed alliance and relationship
with the powerful and numerous tribe of the Ikázkezan, or Ikéshkeshen,
who seem likewise to have sprung from the Aurághen; and on this account
the greater, or at least the more influential, part of the tribe,
including the powerful chief Mghás, is sometimes called Irólangh wuén
Ikázkezan, while, with regard to their dwelling-place, Támar, they bear
the name Kél-támar. But this is only one portion of the Ikázkezan.
Another very numerous section of them is partly scattered about Damerghú,
partly settled in a place called Elákwas (or, as it is generally
pronounced, Alákkos), a place between Damerghú and Múnio, together with a
mixed race called Kél-elákwas. The Ikázkezan of this latter section bear,
in their beautiful manly figure and fine complexion, much more evident
traces of the pure Berber blood than the Irólangh; but they lead a very
lawless life, and harass the districts on the borders of Háusa and Bórnu
with predatory incursions, especially those settled in Elákwas.
There are three tribes whose political relations give them greater
importance, namely, the Kél-táfidet, the Kél-n-Néggaru, and the
Kél-fares. The first of these three, to whom belongs the above-mentioned
Háj ʿAbdúwa, live in Táfidet, a group of three villages lying at the
foot of a considerable mountain chain thirty miles to the south-east
of Tin-téllust, and at the distance of only five good days’ march from
Bilma. The Kél-n-Néggaru form an important family originally settled in
Néggaru, a district to the north of Selúfiet; but at present they live
in Ásodi and in the village Eghellál, and some of them lead a nomadic
life in the valleys of Tin-téggana and Ásada. On account of the present
Sultan (who belongs to them) being called Astáfidet, they are now also
named Aushi-n-Astáfidet (the tribe of Astáfidet). The Kél-fares, to whom
belongs the great, mʿallem Azóri, who, on account of his learning, is
respected as a prince in the whole country, live in Tin-téyyat, a village
about thirty-five miles east-north-east from Tin-téllust.
The nominal chief of the Kél-owí is the amanókal residing in Asodi;
but there is now another greater association or confederation, formed
by the Kél-owí, the Kél-gerés, and the Itísan, and some other smaller
tribes combined together; and the head of this confederation is the
great amanókal residing in Ágades. This league, which at present hardly
subsists (the Kél-gerés and Itísan having been driven by the Kél-owí from
their original settlements, and being opposed to them almost constantly
in open hostility), was evidently in former times very strong and close.
But before speaking of the Kél-gerés and their intimate friends the
Itísan, I shall mention those small tribes which, though not regarded as
belonging to the body of the Kél-owí and placed under the special and
direct supremacy or government of the Sultan of Ágades, are nevertheless
more intimately related to them than to the other great tribes. These
are, besides the Ém-egédesen, or the inhabitants of Ágades or Agadez,
of whom I shall speak in the account of my journey to that interesting
place, the three tribes of the Kél-fadaye, the Kél-ferwán and the
Izeráren.
As for the Kél-fadaye they are the original and real inhabitants of the
district Fáde-ang, which lies round Tághajít; while the Éfadaye, who have
been called after the same district, are rather a mixture of vagabonds
flocking here from different quarters, and principally from that of the
Azkár. But the Kél-fadaye, who, as well as their neighbours the Éfadaye,
took part in the ghazzia against the expedition on the frontiers of Aïr,
are a very turbulent set of people, being regarded in this light by the
natives themselves, as appears from the letter of the Sultan of Ágades
to the chiefs Ánnur and Lúsu, of which I brought back a copy, wherein
they are called Mehárebín, or freebooters. Nevertheless they are of pure
and noble Berber blood, and renowned for their valour; and I was greatly
astonished to learn afterwards from my noble and intimate friend and
protector the sheikh Sídi Ahmed el Bakáy, that he had married one of
their daughters, and, had long resided amongst them. Even from the letter
of the Sultan of Ágades it appears that they have some relations with the
Awelímmiden. The name of their chief is Shúrwa.
The Kél-ferwán, though they are called after the fine and fertile place
Iferwán, in one of the valleys to the east of Tintágh-odé, where a
good deal of millet is sown, and where there are plenty of date-trees,
do not all reside there at present, a numerous portion of them having
settled in the neighbourhood of Ágades, whence they make continual
marauding expeditions, or “égehen,” upon the Timbúktu road, and against
the Awelímmiden. Nevertheless the Kél-ferwán, as the kinsmen of the
Aurághen, and the Amanókalen (that is to say the clan to which, before
the different tribes came to the decision of fetching their Sultan from
Sókoto, the family of the Sultan belonged) are of nobler and purer blood
than any of the rest. As an evidence of their former nobility, the custom
still remains that when the Sultan of Ágades leaves the town for any
length of time his deputy or lieutenant in the place is the chief of the
Kél-ferwán.
The third tribe of those who are under the direct authority of the Sultan
of Ágades, viz. the Izeráren, live between Ágades and Damerghú. But I did
not come into contact with them.
The Kél-gerés and Itísan seem to have been originally situated in the
fertile and partially beautiful districts round the Bághzen, or (as these
southern tribes pronounce the name in their dialect) Mághzem, where, on
our journey towards Damerghú, we found the well-built stone houses in
which they had formerly dwelt.
On being driven out of their original seats by the Kél-owí, about
twenty-five or thirty years ago, they settled towards the west and
south-west of Ágades, in a territory which was probably given them by the
Awelímmiden, with an intention hostile to the Kél-owí. From that time
they have been alternately in bloody feud or on amicable terms with the
Kél-owí; but a sanguinary war has recently (in 1854) broken out again
between these tribes, which seems to have consumed the very sources of
their strength, and cost the lives of many of my friends, and among them
that of Hámma, the son-in-law of Ánnur. The principal dwelling-place
of the Kél-gerés is Arar, while their chief market-place is said to be
Jóbeli, on the road from Ágades to Sókoto.
The Kél-gerés and the Itísan together are equal in effective strength to
the Kél-owí, though they are not so numerous, the latter being certainly
able to collect a force of at least ten thousand armed men, all mounted,
besides their slaves, while the former are scarcely able to furnish half
as many. But the Kél-gerés and Itísan have the advantage of greater
unity, while the interests of the various tribes of the Kél-owí are
continually clashing, and very rarely allow the whole body to collect
together, though exceptions occur, as in the expedition against the Welád
Slimán, when they drove away all the camels (according to report, not
less than fifty thousand), and took possession of the salt lakes near
Bilma.
Moreover, the Kél-gerés and Itísan, having preserved their Berber
character in a purer state, are much more warlike. Their force consists
for the greater part of well-mounted cavalry, while the Kél-owí, with the
exception of the Ikázkezan, can muster but few horses; and of course the
advantage of the horseman over the camel-driver is very great either in
open or close fight. The Kél-gerés have repeatedly fought with success
even against the Awelímmiden, by whom they are called Aráuwen. They have
even killed their last famous chief, Eʾ Nábegha. The Kél-gerés came under
the notice of Clapperton, on account of the unfortunate expedition which
they undertook against the territories of the Fulbe in the year 1823,
though it seems that the expedition consisted chiefly of Tagáma, and that
they were the principal sufferers in that wholesale destruction by Sultan
Bello.
Their arms in general are the same as those of the Kél-owí, even the men
on horseback bearing (besides the spear, the sword, and the dagger) the
immense shield of antelope-hide with which they very expertly protect
themselves and their horses; but some of them use bows and arrows even
on horseback, like many of the Fulbe, in the same way as the ancient
Assyrians. A few only have muskets, and those few keep them rather for
show than for actual use.
The Itísan (who seem to be the nobler tribe of the two, and, as far as I
was able to judge, are a very fine race of men, with expressive, sharply
cut features, and a very light complexion) have a chief or amanókal of
their own, whose position seems to resemble closely that of the Sultan
of the Kél-owí, while the real influence and authority rests with the
war-chiefs, támbelis, or támberis, the most powerful among whom were, in
1853, Wanagóda, who resides in Tswáji, near Góber, on the side of the
Kél-gerés, and Maíwa, or Mʿoáwiya, in Gulluntsúna, on the side of the
Itísan. The name of the present amanókal is Ghámbelu.
I must here state that, in political respects, another tribe at present
is closely related with the Kél-gerés, viz. that section of the
Awelímmiden (the “Surka” of Mungo Park) which is called Awelímmiden wuén
Bodhál; but as these belong rather to the Tuarek or Imóshagh of the west,
I shall treat of them in the narrative of my journey to Timbúktu. Other
tribes settled near Ágades, and more particularly the very remarkable
tribe of the Íghdalén, will, in consequence of the influence exerted on
them by the Sónghay race, be spoken of in my account of that place.
Many valleys of Aír or Asben might produce much more than they do at
present; but as almost the whole supply of provision is imported, as well
as all the clothing material, it is evident that the population could not
be so numerous as it is were it not sustained by the salt trade of Bilma,
which furnishes the people with the means of bartering advantageously
with Háusa. As far as I was able to learn from personal information, it
would seem that this trade did not take the road by way of Ásben till
about a century ago, consequently not before the country was occupied
by the Kél-owí. It is natural to suppose that so long as the Tébu, or
rather Tedá, retained political strength, they would not allow strangers
to reap the whole advantage of such natural wealth. At present the whole
authority of Ánnur as well as Lúsu seems to be based upon this trade, of
which they are the steady protectors, while many of their nation deem
this trade rather a degrading occupation, and incline much more to a
roving life. I now return to our encampment near Tin-téllust, reserving a
brief account of the general features of the country till the moment when
we are about to leave it.
CHAPTER XV.
RESIDENCE IN TIN-TÉLLUST.
_Thursday, September 5._—We saw the old chief on the day following our
arrival. He received us in a straightforward and kindly manner, observing
very simply that even, if as Christians, we had come to his country
stained with guilt, the many dangers and difficulties we had gone through
would have sufficed to wash us clean, and that we had nothing now to
fear but the climate and the thieves. The presents which were spread out
before him he received graciously, but without saying a single word. Of
hospitality he showed no sign. All this was characteristic.
We soon received further explanations. Some days afterwards he sent us
the simple and unmistakable message, that if we wished to proceed to
Sudán at our own risk, we might go in company with the caravan, and he
would place no obstacle in our way; but if we wanted him to go with us
and to protect us, we ought to pay him a considerable sum. In stating
these plain terms he made use of a very expressive simile, saying that
as the leffa (or snake) killed everything that she touched, so his
word, when it had once escaped his lips, had terminated the matter
in question—there was nothing more to be said. I do not think this
such an instance of shameful extortion as Mr. Richardson represents
it, considering how much we gave to others who did nothing for their
pay, and how much trouble we caused Ánnur. On the contrary, having
observed Ánnur’s dealings to the very last, and having arrived under his
protection safely at Kátsena, I must pronounce him a straightforward and
trustworthy man, who stated his terms plainly and drily, but stuck to
them with scrupulosity; and as he did not treat us, neither did he ask
anything from us, nor allow his people to do so. I shall never forgive
him for his niggardliness in not offering me so much as a drink of fura
or ghussub-water when I visited him, in the heat of the day, on his
little estate near Tasáwa; but I cannot withhold from him my esteem
both as a great politician in his curious little empire, and as a man
remarkable for singleness of word and purpose.
Having come into the country as hated intruders, pursued by all classes
of people, we could not expect to be received by him otherwise than
coldly; but his manner changed entirely when I was about to set out for
Ágades, in order to obtain the good-will of the Sultan of the country.
He came to our encampment to see me off, and from that day forth did
not omit to visit us every day, and to maintain the most familiar
intercourse with us. So it was with all the people; and I formed so
many friendships with them that the turbulent Mohammed, Ánnur’s cousin,
used often to point to them as a proof how impossible it was that he
could have been the instigator of the misdeeds perpetrated on the night
preceding our arrival in Tin-téllust, when we were treated with violence,
and our luggage was rifled. Still we had, of course, many disagreeable
experiences to make before we became naturalized in this new country.
_Monday, September 9._—It was the rainy season, and the rain, setting
in almost daily, caused us as much interest and delight (being a
certain proof that we had reached the new regions after which we had
so long been hankering) as served to counterbalance the trouble which
it occasioned. Sometimes it fell very heavily, and, coming on always
with a dreadful storm, was very difficult to be kept out from the tent,
so that our things often got wet. The heaviest rain we had was on the
9th of September, when an immense torrent was formed, not only in the
chief valley, but even in the small ravine behind our encampment. Yet
we liked the rain much better than the sand-storm. In a few days nature
all around assumed so fresh and luxuriant a character that so long as
we were left in repose we felt cheered to the utmost, and enjoyed our
pleasant encampment, which was surrounded by masses of granite blocks,
widespreading bushes of the abísga, and large luxuriant talha-trees, in
wild and most picturesque confusion. It was very pleasant and interesting
to observe, every day, the rapid growth of the little fresh leaves and
young offshoots, and the spreading of the shady foliage.
_Tuesday, September 17._—Monkeys now and then descended into the little
hollow beyond our tents to obtain a draught of water; and numbers of
jackals were heard every night roving about us, while the trees swarmed
with beautiful ringdoves, and hoopoes, and other smaller birds. The
climate of Aïr has been celebrated from the time of Leo, on account
“della bontá e temperanza dell’ aere.” But unfortunately our little
English suburb proved too distant from the protecting arm of the old
chief, and after the unfortunate attack in the night of the 17th of
September, which if made with vigour would inevitably have ended in our
destruction, we were obliged to remove our encampment, and, crossing the
broad valley, pitch it in the plain near the village.
But the circumstances connected with this attack were so curious that
I must relate them, in a few words. The rain, which had wetted all our
things, and made us anxious about our instruments and arms, seemed to
abate; and Overweg and I decided, the very day preceding the attack in
question, on cleaning our guns and pistols, which had been loaded for
some time; and having cleaned them, and wishing to dry them well, we did
not load them again immediately. In the afternoon we had a visit from two
well-dressed men, mounted on mehára; they did not beg for anything, but
inspected the tents very attentively, making the remark that our tent was
as strong as a house, while Mr. Richardson’s was light and open at the
bottom.
The moon shed a splendid light over the interesting wilderness, and our
black servants being uncommonly cheerful and gay that night, music and
dancing were going on in the village, and they continued playing till a
very late hour, when they fell asleep. Going the round of our encampment
before I went to lie down, I observed at a little distance a strange
camel, or rather méheri, kneeling quietly down with its head towards our
tents. I called my colleagues, and expressed my suspicion that all was
not right; but our light-hearted and frivolous servant Mohammed calmed my
uneasiness by pretending that he had seen the camel there before, though
that was not true. Still I had some sad foreboding, and, directing my
attention unluckily to the wrong point, caused our sheep to be tied close
to our tent.
Being uneasy, I did not sleep soundly, and a little after two o’clock I
thought I heard a very strange noise, just as if a troop of people were
marching with a steady step round our tents, and muttering in a jarring
voice. Listening anxiously for a moment, I felt sure that there were
people near the tent, and was about to rush out; but again, on hearing
the sound of music proceeding from the village, I persuaded myself that
the noise came from thence, and lay down to slumber, when suddenly I
heard a louder noise, as if several men were rushing up the hill, and,
grasping a sword and calling aloud for our people, I jumped out of the
tent; but there was nobody to be seen. Going then round the hill to Mr.
Richardson’s tent, I met him coming out half-dressed, and begging me to
pursue the robbers, who had carried away some of his things. Some of his
boxes were dragged out of the tent, but not emptied. None of his servants
were to be seen except Sʿaid, all the rest having run away without even
giving an alarm; so that all of us might have been murdered.
But immediately after this accident we received the distinct assurance
of protection both from the Sultan of Ágades and from the great mʿallem
Azóri; and I began to plan my excursion to Ágades more definitely, and
entered into communication with the chief on this point. Meanwhile I
collected a great deal of information about the country, partly from a
Tawáti of the name of ʿAbd el Káder (not the same who accompanied us on
the road from Ghát), and partly from some of the Tinýlkum, who, having
left us the day after our arrival in Tin-téllust, had dispersed all over
the country, some pasturing their camels in the most favoured localities,
others engaged in little trading speculations, and paying us a visit
every now and then. Small caravans came and went, and among them one from
Sudán, with its goods laden almost entirely on pack-oxen—a most cheerful
sight, filling our hearts with the utmost delight, as we were sure that
we had now passed those dreary deserts where nothing but the persevering
and abstemious camel can enable man to maintain communications. At
length, then, we were enabled to write to Government, and to our friends
in Europe, assuring them that we had now overcome, apparently, most of
the difficulties which appeared likely to oppose our progress, and that
we felt justified in believing that we had now fairly entered upon the
road which would lead directly to the attainment of the objects of the
expedition.
With regard to our provisions, Overweg and I were at first rather ill
off, while Mr. Richardson, although he had been obliged to supply food on
the road to troops both of friends and foes, had still a small remnant of
the considerable stores which he had laid in at Múrzuk. We had been led
to expect that we should find no difficulty in procuring all necessaries,
and even a few luxuries, in Asben (and carriage was so dear that we were
obliged to rely upon these promises); but we were now sadly disappointed.
After a few days, however, the inhabitants being informed that we were in
want of provisions, and were ready to buy, brought us small quantities
of Guinea corn, butter—the botta (or box made of rough hide, in the way
common over almost the whole of Central Africa) for two or two and a
half mithkáls—and even a little fresh cheese; we were also able to buy
two or three goats, and by sending Ibrahím, who had now recovered from
his guineaworm, to Ásodi, where provisions are always stored up in small
quantities, we obtained a tolerable camel-load of durra or sorghum.
But I could not relish this grain at all, and as I was not able to
introduce any variety into my diet, I suffered much; hence it was
fortunate for me that I went to Ágades, where my food was more varied,
and my health consequently improved. I afterwards became accustomed to
the various preparations of sorghum and _Pennisetum_, particularly the
asída or túvo, and found that no other food is so well adapted for a hot
climate; but it requires a great deal of labour to prepare it well, and
this of course is a difficult matter for a European traveller, who has no
female slave or partner to look after his meals. Our food during our stay
in Asben was so ill prepared (being generally quite bitter, owing to the
husk not being perfectly separated from the grain) that no native of the
country would taste it.
Meanwhile my negotiation with the chief, with regard to my going to
Ágades, which I managed as silently and secretly as possible, went on
prosperously; and on the 30th of September I took my leave of him, having
with me on the occasion a present for himself, worth about eighty riyáls,
or eleven pounds sterling, and the presents intended for the Sultan of
Ágades, in order that he might see what they were and express his opinion
upon them; and I was greatly pleased to find that he was satisfied with
both. He promised me perfect safety, although the undertaking looked a
little dangerous, and had a letter written to ʿAbd el Káder (or, in the
popular form, Kádiri—this was the name of the new Sultan), wherein he
recommended me to him in the strongest terms, and enumerated the presents
I meant to offer him.
But as soon as my intention transpired, all the people, uninvited as
well as invited, hastened to give me their best advice, and to dissuade
me from embarking in an undertaking which would certainly be my ruin.
Conspicuous among these motley counsellors was a son of Háj ʿAbdúwa, the
presumptive heir of Ánnur, who conjured me to abandon my design. These
people, indeed, succeeded in frightening Yusuf Mákni, Mr. Richardson’s
interpreter, whom the latter wished to send with me; but as for myself,
I knew what I was about, and had full confidence in the old chief’s
promise, and was rather glad to get rid of Mákni, whom I well knew to be
a clever but no less malicious and intriguing person. With difficulty I
persuaded Mohammed, our Tunisian shushán, to accompany me; and I also
succeeded in hiring Amánkay, Mr. Richardson’s active black Búzu servant,
who, however, on this trip proved utterly useless, as we had no sooner
set out than he began to suffer from his old complaint of guineaworm, and
was the whole time too lame for service.
I then arranged with Hámma, Ánnur’s son-in-law, under whose especial
protection I was to undertake my journey, but whom I had to pay
separately. I gave him the value of eleven mithkáls, or about one pound
sterling, for himself, and hired from him two camels, each for six
mithkáls. After various delays, which, however, enabled me to send off
two more of my journals, together with letters, to Múrzuk, by the hand
of a half-caste Kél-owí of the name of Báwa Amákita, our departure was
definitively fixed for the 4th of October.
CHAPTER XVI.
JOURNEY TO ÁGADES.
_Friday, October 4._—At length the day arrived when I was to set out on
my long-wished-for excursion to Ágades. For although at that time I was
not aware of the whole extent of interest attaching to that place, it had
nevertheless been to me a point of the strongest attraction. For what can
be more interesting than a considerable town, said to have been once as
large as Tunis, situated in the midst of lawless tribes, on the border
of the desert and of the fertile tracts of an almost unknown continent,
established there from ancient times, and protected as a place of
rendezvous and commerce between nations of the most different character,
and having the most various wants? It is by mere accident that this town
has not attracted as much interest in Europe as her sister town, Timbúktu.
It was a fine morning, with a healthy and refreshing light breeze,
invigorating both body and mind. The old chief, who had never before
visited our encampment, now came out to pay us his compliments,
assuring me once more that “my safety rested upon his head.” But his
heart was so gladdened at witnessing our efforts to befriend the other
great men of his country that his habitual niggardliness was overcome,
and with graceful hospitality he resigned one of his bullocks to our
party. The little caravan I was to accompany consisted of six camels,
five-and-thirty asses, and two bullocks, one of which was allotted to
me, till my protector Hámma should be able to hire a camel for me. But
although well accustomed to ride on horseback as well as on a camel, I
had never yet in my life tried to sit astride on the broad back of a
bullock; and the affair was the more difficult as there was no saddle,
nor anything to sit upon, except parcels of luggage not very tightly
fastened to the animal’s back and swinging from one side to the other.
After the first bullock had been rejected, as quite unfit, in its wild,
intractable mood, to carry me, or indeed anything else, and when it had
been allowed to return to the herd, the second was at length secured,
the luggage fastened somehow on his back, and I was bid to mount. I must
truly confess that I should have been better pleased with a horse, or
even an ass; but still, hoping to manage matters, I took my seat, and,
bidding my fellow-travellers farewell, followed my black companions up
the broad valley by which we had come from the north. But we soon left
it, and ascended the rocky ground, getting an interesting view of the
broad and massive Mount Eghellál before us. Having at first thought my
seat rather too insecure for making observations, I grew by degrees a
little more confident, and, taking out my compass, noted the direction
of the road, when suddenly the baggage threatened to fall over to the
right, whereupon I threw the whole weight of my body to the left, in
order to keep the balance; but I unluckily overdid it, and so all at once
down I came, with the whole baggage. The ground was rocky, and I should
inevitably have been hurt not a little if I had not fallen upon the
muzzle of my musket, which I was carrying on my shoulder, and which being
very strong, sustained the shock, and kept my head from the ground. Even
my compass, which I had open in my left hand, most fortunately escaped
uninjured, and I felt extremely glad that I had fallen so adroitly, but
vowed never again to mount a bullock.
I preferred marching on foot till we reached the valley Eghellúwa, where
plenty of water is found, in several wells. Here we halted a moment, and
I mounted behind Hámma on the lean back of his camel, holding on by his
saddle; but I could not much enjoy my seat, as I was greatly annoyed
by his gun sticking out on the right, and at every moment menacing my
face. I was therefore much pleased when we reached the little village
of Tiggeréresa, lying on the border of a broad valley well clothed with
talha-trees, and a little further on encamped in a pleasant recess
formed by projecting masses of granite blocks; for here I was told we
should surely find camels, and in fact Hámma hired two for me, for four
mithkáls each, to go to and return from Ágades. Here we also changed
our companions, the very intelligent Mohammed, a son of one of Ánnur’s
sisters, returning to Tin-téllust, while the turbulent Mohammed (I
called him by no other name than Mohammed bábo hánkali), our friend from
Afís, came to attend us, and with him Hámmeda, a cheerful and amiable
old man, who was a fair specimen of the improvement derivable from
the mixture of different blood and of different national qualities;
for while he possessed all the cheerfulness and vivacity of the Góber
nation, his demeanour was nevertheless moderated by the soberness and
gravity peculiar to the Berber race, and though, while always busy,
he was not effectively industrious, yet his character approached very
closely to the European standard. He was by trade a blacksmith, a more
comprehensive profession in these countries than in Europe, although in
general these famous blacksmiths have neither iron nor tools to work
with. All over the Tuarek country the “énhad” (smith) is much respected,
and the confraternity is most numerous. An “énhad” is generally the
prime minister of every little chief. The Arabs in Timbúktu call these
blacksmiths “mʿallem,” which may give an idea of their high rank and
respected character. Then there is also the “mʿallema,” the constant
female companion of the chiefs wife, expert above all in beautiful
leather work.
[Illustration]
In order to avoid, as much as possible, attracting the attention of the
natives, I had taken no tent with me, and sheltered myself at night under
the projecting roof of the granite blocks, my Kél-owí friends sleeping
around me.
_Saturday, October 5._—Hámma was so good as to give up to me his fine
tall méheri, while he placed his simple little saddle or “kíri” on the
back of the young and ill-trained camel hired here, a proceeding which
in the course of our journey almost cost him his ribs. In truth I had
no saddle, yet my seat was arranged comfortably by placing first two
leathern bags filled with soft articles across the back of the camel,
and then fastening two others over them lengthwise, and spreading my
carpet over all. Even for carrying their salt, the Kél-owí very rarely
employ saddles, or if they do, only of the lightest description, made of
straw, which have nothing in common with the heavy and hot “hawiya” of
the Arabs.
The country through which we travelled was a picturesque wilderness,
with rocky ground intersected at every moment by winding valleys and dry
watercourses richly overgrown with grasses and mimosas, while majestic
mountains and detached peaks towered over the landscape, the most
interesting object during the whole day being Mount Cheréka, with its
curious double peak, as it appeared from various sides, first looking
as if it were a single peak, only bifurcated at the top, then after a
while showing two peaks, separated almost to the very base, and rising
in picturesque forms nearly to the same elevation. Unfortunately our
road did not lead us near it, although I was as anxious to explore this
singular mountain as to visit the town of Ásodi, which some years ago
attracted attention in Europe. We had sent a present to Astáfidet, the
chief of the Kél-owí residing here, and probably I should have been well
received; but Hámma would not hear of our going there now, so we left the
town at no great distance to the right, and I must content myself with
here inserting the information obtained from other people who had been
there repeatedly.
[Illustration]
Ásodi, lying at no great distance from the foot of Mount Cheréka, which
forms the most characteristic feature of the surrounding landscape, was
once an important place, and a great resort for merchants, though as it
is not mentioned by any Arabic writer, not even by Leo, it would seem
to be of much later origin than Ágades. Above a thousand houses built
of clay and stone lie at present in ruins, while only about eighty are
still inhabited; this would testify that it was once a comparatively
considerable place, with from eight to ten thousand inhabitants. Such
an estimate of its magnitude is confirmed by the fact that there were
seven tamizgídas, or mosques, in the town, the largest of which was
ornamented with columns, the “mamber” alone being decorated with three,
while the naves were covered in partly with a double roof made of the
stems of the dúm-tree, and partly with cupolas. The town, however, seems
never to have been enclosed with a wall, and in this respect, as well
as in its size, was always inferior to Ágades. At present, although the
population is scattered about, the market of Ásodi is still well provided
with provisions, and even with the more common merchandise. The house of
the amanókal of the Kél-owí is said to stand on a little eminence in the
western part of the town, surrounded by about twenty cottages. There is
no well inside, all the water being fetched from a well which lies in a
valley stretching from north to south.
[Illustration]
Conversing with my companions about this place, which we left at a short
distance to our right, and having before us the interesting picture of
the mountain range of Búnday, with its neighbouring heights, forming
one continuous group with Mount Eghellál, we reached the fine valley
Chizólen, and rested in it during the hottest hours of the day, under
a beautiful talha-tree, while the various beasts composing our little
caravan found a rich pasturage all around.
Having taken here a sufficient supply of very good water from hollows
scooped in the sand, we continued our march over rocky ground thickly
covered with herbage, and surmounted on our right by the angular outlines
and isolated sugar-loaves of a craggy ridge, while on our left rose the
broad, majestic form of Mount Eghellál. As evening came on I was greatly
cheered at the sight of a herd of well-fed cattle returning from their
pasture-grounds to their night quarters near the village of Eghellál,
which lies at the foot of the mountain so named. They were fine, sturdy
bullocks, of moderate size, all with the hump, and of glossy dark-brown
colour. In the distance, as the Eghellál began to retire, there appeared
behind it, in faint outlines, Mount Bághzen, which of late years has
become so famous in Europe, and had filled my imagination with lofty
crests and other features of romantic scenery. But how disappointed was
I when, instead of all this, I saw it stretching along in one almost
unbroken line! I soon turned my eyes from it to Mount Eghellál, which now
disclosed to us a deep chasm or crevice (the channel of powerful floods),
separating a broad cone, and apparently dividing the whole mountain mass
into two distinct groups.
[Illustration]
At six o’clock in the evening we encamped in the shallow valley of
Eghellál, at some distance from the well, and were greatly delighted
at being soon joined by Háj ʿAbdúwa, the son of Fátima (Ánnur’s eldest
sister), and the chief’s presumptive heir, a man of about fifty years of
age, and of intelligent and agreeable character. I treated him with a
cup or two of coffee well sweetened, and conversed with him awhile about
the difference between Egypt, which he had visited on his pilgrimage,
and his own country. He was well aware of the immense superiority even
of that state of society; but on the other hand he had not failed to
observe the misery connected with great density of population, and he
told me, with a certain degree of pride, that there were few people in
Aïr so miserable as a large class of the inhabitants of Cairo. Being
attacked by severe fever, he returned the next morning to his village,
Táfidet, but afterwards accompanied the chief Astáfidet on his expedition
to Ágades, where I saw him again. I met him also in the course of my
travels twice in Kúkawa, whither he alone of all his tribe used to go in
order to maintain friendly relations with that court, which was too often
disturbed by the predatory habits of roving Kél-owí.
[Illustration]
_Sunday, October 6._—Starting early, we soon reached a more open country,
which to the eye seemed to lean towards Mount Bághzen; but this was
only an illusion, as appeared clearly from the direction of the dry
watercourses, which all ran from east to west-south-west. On our right we
had now Mount Ágata, which has given its name to the village mentioned
above as lying at its foot. Here the fertility of the soil seemed greatly
increased, the herbage becoming more fresh and abundant, while numerous
talhas and abísgas adorned the country. Near the foot of the extensive
mountain group of Bághzen, and close to another mountain called Ajúri,
there are even some very favoured spots, especially a valley called
Chímmia, ornamented with a fine date-grove, which produces fruit of
excellent quality. As we entered the meandering windings of a broad
watercourse we obtained an interesting view of Mount Belásega. The plain
now contracted, and, on entering a narrow defile of the ridges, we had to
cross a small pass, from the top of which a most charming prospect met
our eyes.
[Illustration]
A grand and beautifully shaped mountain rose on our right, leaving,
between its base and the craggy heights, the offshoots of which we were
crossing, a broad valley running almost east and west, while at the
eastern foot of the mountain a narrow but richly adorned valley wound
along through the lower rocky ground. This was Mount Abíla, or Bíla,
which is at once one of the most picturesque objects in the country of
Aír, and seems to bear an interesting testimony to a connection with that
great family of mankind which we call the Semitic; for the name of this
mountain, or rather of the moist and “green vale” at its foot (throughout
the desert, even in its most favoured parts, it is the valley which
generally gives its name to the mountain), is probably the same as that
of the well-known spot in Syria from which the province of Abilene has
been named.
[Illustration]
A little beyond the first dry watercourse, where water was to be scooped
out a few feet under the surface of the ground, we rested for the heat
of the day; but the vegetation around was far from being so rich here as
in the valley Tíggeda, at the eastern foot of the picturesque mountain,
where, after a short march in the afternoon, we encamped for the night.
This was the finest valley I had yet seen in the country. The broad
sandy bed of the torrent, at present dry, was bordered with the most
beautiful fresh grass, forming a fine turf, shaded by the richest and
densest foliage of several kinds of mimosa, the táborak or _Balanites_,
the tághmart, the abísga, and tunfáfia, while over all this mass of
verdure towered the beautiful peaks which on this side start forth from
the massive mountain, the whole tinged with the varied tints of the
setting sun. This delicious spectacle filled my heart with delight, and
having sat down a little while quietly to enjoy it, I made a sketch of
the beautiful forms of the mountain peaks. Just before encamping we had
passed a small chapel in ruins, surrounded by a cemetery. At that time I
thought this valley identical with the Tekádda (as the name is generally
spelt), mentioned by Ebn Khaldún and by Ebn Batúta as an independent
little Berber state between Gógo and Káhir, lying on the road of the
pilgrims; but I found afterwards that there is another place which has
better claims to this identification.
_Monday, October 7._—We began a most interesting day’s march, winding
first along the valley Tíggeda (which now, in the cool of the morning,
was enlivened by numerous flocks of wild pigeons), and then over
a short tract of rocky ground entering the still more picturesque
“Erázar-n-Ásada,” on the west only lined by low rocky ridges, but
bordered towards the east by the steep massive forms of the Dógem. Here,
indeed, a really tropical profusion of vegetation covered the whole
bottom of the valley, and scarcely left a narrow low passage for the
camels, the rider being obliged to stoop every moment to avoid being
swept off his seat. The principal tree here is the dúm-tree, or _Cucifera
Thebaïca_, which I had not seen since Selúfiet; but here it was in the
wild picturesque state into which it soon relapses if left to nature.
There was, besides, a great variety of the acacia tribe, all growing most
luxuriantly, and interwoven with creepers, which united the whole mass
of vegetation into one thick canopy. I regret that there was no leisure
for making a sketch, as this valley was far more picturesque even than
Aúderas, of which I have been able to give the reader a slight outline.
In this interesting valley we met two droll and jovial-looking musicians,
clad in a short and narrow blue shirt, well fastened round their loins,
and a small straw hat. Each of them carried a large drum, or tímbali,
with which they had been cheering the spirits of a wedding-party, and
were now proceeding to some other place on a similar errand. We then
met a large slave-caravan, consisting of about forty camels and sixty
slaves, winding along the narrow path, hemmed in by the rank vegetation,
and looking rather merry than sad, the poor blacks gladdened, doubtless,
by the picturesque landscape, and keeping up a lively song in their
native melody. In the train of this caravan, and probably interested
in its lawless merchandise, went Snúsi and Awed el Khér, two of the
camel-drivers with whom we had come from Múrzuk, and who probably had
laid out the money gained from the English mission in the very article
of trade which it is the desire of the English Government to prohibit.
This is a sinister result of well-meant commercial impulses, which will
probably subsist as long as the slave-trade itself exists on the north
coast of Africa.[8]
On emerging from the thick forest, we obtained the first sight of
the majestic cone of the Dógem, while a very narrow ravine or cleft
in the steep cliffs on our left led to the village, Ásada. We then
began to ascend, sometimes along narrow ravines, at others on sloping
rocky ground, all covered with herbage up to the summits of the lower
mountains. In this way we reached the highest point of the pass, about
2,500 feet, having the broad cone of the Dógem on our left, which I then
thought to be the most elevated point in Aír, though, as I mentioned
above, the old chief Ánnur maintained that the Tímge is higher. This
conspicuous mountain most probably consists of basalt; and, from what I
shall observe further on, it may be inferred that the whole group of the
Bághzen does so too. From this pass we descended into the pebbly plain of
Erázar-n-Déndemu, thickly overgrown with small talha-trees, and showing
along the path numerous footprints of the lion, which are extremely
common in these highland wildernesses, which, while affording sufficient
vegetation and water for a variety of animals, are but thinly inhabited,
and everywhere offer a safe retreat. However, from what I saw of him, he
is not a very ferocious animal here.
The weather meanwhile had become sultry; and when, after having left the
plain, we were winding through narrow glens, the storm, the last of the
rainy season, broke out; and through the mismanagement of the slaves,
not only our persons, but all our things were soaked with the rain.
Our march became rather cheerless, everything being wet, and the whole
ground covered with water, which along the watercourses formed powerful
torrents. At length we entered the gloomy, rugged valley of Tághist,
covered with basaltic stones, mostly of the size of a child’s head, and
bordered by sorry-looking rocky hills.
Tághist is remarkable as the place of prayer founded by the man who
introduced Islám into Central Negroland,[9] and thus gave the first
impulse to that continual struggle which, always extending further and
further, seems destined to overpower the nations at the very equator, if
Christianity does not presently step in to dispute the ground with it.
This man was the celebrated Mohammed ben ʿAbd el Kerím ben Maghíli, a
native of Búda, in Tawát,[10] and a contemporary and intimate friend of
the Sheikh eʾ Soyúti, that living encyclopædia and key-stone, if I may be
allowed the expression, of Mohammedan learning.
Living in the time when the great Sónghay empire began to decline from
that pitch of power which it had reached under the energetic sway of
Sónni ʿAli and Mohammed el Háj Áskia, and stung by the injustice of
Áskia Ismáil, who refused to punish the murderers of his son, he turned
his eyes on the country where successful resistance had first been
made against the all-absorbing power of the Asáki, and which, fresh and
youthful as it was, promised a new splendour, if enlightened by the
influence of a purer religion. Instigated by such motives, partly merely
personal, partly of a more elevated character, Mohammed ben ʿAbd el Kerím
turned his steps towards Kátsena, where we shall find him again; but on
his way thither he founded in this spot a place of prayer, to remain
a monument to the traveller of the path which the religion of the One
God took from the far east to the country of the blacks. The “msíd,” or
“mesálla,” at present is only marked by stones laid out in a regular way,
and enclosing a space from sixty to seventy feet long, and fifteen broad,
with a small mehhráb, which is adorned (accidentally or intentionally, I
cannot say) by a young talha-tree. This is the venerated and far-famed
“Makám eʾ Sheikh ben ʿAbd el Kerím,” where the traveller coming from the
north never omits to say his prayers; others call it Msíd Sídi Baghdádi,
the name Baghdádi being often given by the blacks to the Sheikh, who had
long resided in the east.
At length we descended from the rugged ground of Tághist into the
commencement of the celebrated valley of Aúderas, the fame of which
penetrated to Europe many years ago. Here we encamped, wet as we were, on
the slope of the rocky ground, in order to guard against the humidity of
the valley. Opposite to us, towards the south, on the top of a hill, lay
the little village Aërwen wan Tídrak. Another village, called Ífarghén,
is situated higher up the valley, on the road from Aúderas to Damerghú.
On our return I saw in this valley a barbarous mode of tillage, three
slaves being yoked to a sort of plough, and driven like oxen by their
master. This is probably the most southern place in Central Africa where
the plough is used; for all over Sudán the hoe or fertaña is the only
instrument used for preparing the ground.
[Illustration]
_Tuesday, October 8._—While the weather was clear and fine, the valley,
bordered on both sides by steep precipices, and adorned with a rich
grove of dúm-trees, and bush and herbage in great variety, displayed its
mingled beauties, chiefly about the well, where, on our return journey,
I made the accompanying sketch. This valley, as well as those succeeding
it, is able to produce not only millet, but even wheat, wine, and dates,
with almost every species of vegetable; and there are said to be fifty
garden fields (gónaki) near the village of Ífarghén. But too soon we left
this charming strip of cultivation, and ascended the rocky ground on our
right, above which again rose several detached hills, one of which had
so interesting and well-marked a shape that I sketched its outlines. The
road which we followed is not the common one. The latter, after crossing
very rugged ground for about fifteen miles, keeps along the fine deep
valley Télwa for about ten miles, and then ascending for about an hour,
reaches Ágades in three hours more. This latter road passes by Tímelén,
where at times a considerable market is said to be held. Having descended
again, we found the ground in the plain covered with a thin crust of
natron, and further on met people busy in collecting it; but it is not
of very good quality, nor at all comparable to that of Múnio or to that
of the shores of Lake Tsád. There are several places on the border
between the desert and the fertile districts of Negroland which produce
this mineral, which forms a most important article of commerce in Middle
Sudán. Another well-known natron district is in Zabérma; but in Western
Sudán natron is almost unknown, and it is only very rarely that a small
sample of it can be got in Timbúktu. Many of the Kél-owí have learnt
(most probably from the Tedá or Tébu) the disgusting custom of chewing
tobacco intermixed with natron, while only very few of them smoke.
The monotony of the country ceased when we entered the valley Búdde,
which, running in the direction of our path from south-south-west to
north-north-east, is adorned with a continuous strip of dúm-trees,
besides abísga and talha; but the latter were of rather poor growth in
the northern part of the valley. Having crossed at noon the broad sandy
watercourse, which winds through the rich carpet of vegetation, and where
there happened to be a tolerably large pond of water, we encamped in
the midst of the thicket. Here the mimosas attained such an exuberance
as I had scarcely observed even in the valley Ásada, and being closely
interwoven with “gráffeni” or climbing plants, they formed an almost
impenetrable thicket. From the midst of this thorny mass of vegetation
a beautiful ripe fruit, about an inch and a half long, of the size of a
date and of dark-red colour, awakened the desire of the traveller; but
having eaten a few, I found them, though sweet, rather mawkish.
Here too I first became acquainted with the troublesome nature of the
“karéngia,” or _Pennisetum distichum_, which, together with the ant,
is to the traveller in Central Africa his greatest and most constant
inconvenience. It was just ripe, and the little burr-like seeds attached
themselves to every part of my dress. It is quite necessary to be always
provided with small pincers, in order to draw out from the fingers the
little stings, which, if left in the skin, will cause sores. None even of
the wild roving natives is ever without such an instrument. But it is not
a useless plant; for, besides being the most nourishing food for cattle,
it furnishes even man with a rather slight, but by no means tasteless
food. Many of the Tuarek, from Bórnu as far as Timbúktu, subsist more
or less upon the seeds of the _Pennisetum distichum_, which they call
“úzak.” The drink made of it is certainly not bad, resembling in coolness
the fúra or ghussub-water.
From the circumstance that our Kél-owí were here cutting grass for the
camels, I concluded that the next part of our journey would lead through
an entirely sterile tract; but though the herbage was here exuberant, it
was not at all wanting further on. Having left the valley awhile to our
right, we soon re-entered it, and crossed several beautiful branches of
it very rich in vegetation. We then encamped on an open place beyond
the southernmost branch, close to a cemetery of the Imghád who inhabit
a small village to the east called Tawár Nwaijdúd, and further on some
other villages, called Téndau, Tintabórak, and Emélloli. While, with the
rest of our companions, we tried to make ourselves comfortable on the
hard ground and under the open canopy of heaven, Hámma and Mohammed took
up their quarters with the Imghád, and, according to their own statement
on their return the following morning, were very hospitably treated,
both by the male and female part of the inhabitants. As for the Imghád
who live in these fertile valleys round Ágades, they are divided into
numerous sections, of which I learnt the following names: the Ehér-heren,
the Kél-chísem, the Taranaiji, the Edárreban, the Yowúswosan, the
Efeléngeras, the Éheten, the Tariwáza, the Ihíngemángh, the Egemmén, the
Edellén, the Kél-tédele, and the Ikóhanén.
_Wednesday, October 9._—Our route led us over stony ground till we
reached another favoured valley, called Tefárrakad, where, owing to the
watercourse being divided into several branches, vegetation is spread
over a larger space. Here, while our Kél-owí hung a little behind, two
Imghád, mounted on camels, attached themselves to us and became rather
troublesome; but they looked so famished and thin that they awakened pity
rather than any other feeling, their dress and whole attire being of the
poorest description. Further on, when we had left the valley and ascended
rocky ground, we met a small caravan of the same mixed kind as our own
troop—camels, bullocks, asses, and men on foot; they were returning to
their village with provision of Negro millet, which they had bought in
Ágades.
We had scarcely advanced three miles when we descended again into another
long, beautiful hollow in the rocky ground, the valley Bóghel, which,
besides a fine grove of dúm-trees, exhibits one very large and remarkable
specimen of the tree called baure[11] in Háusa, a large ficus with ample
fleshy leaves of beautiful green. This specimen, so far to the north,
measured not less than twenty-six feet in circumference at the height of
eight feet from the ground, and was certainly eighty feet high, with a
full, widespreading crown. I scarcely remember afterwards to have seen in
all Sudán a larger baure than this. Here, for the first time, I heard the
Guinea-fowl (“táliat” or “tailelt” in Temashight, “zabó” in Háusa); for I
did not see it, the birds keeping to the thick and impenetrable underwood
which filled the intervals between the dúm-trees.
At noon the wood, which was rather more than half a mile in breadth,
formed one continued and unbroken cluster of thicket, in the most
picturesque state of wild luxuriance, while further on, where it became a
little clearer of underwood, the ground was covered with a sort of wild
melon; but my friend the blacksmith, who took up one of them and applied
his teeth to it, threw it away with such a grimace that I rather suspect
he mistook a colocynth, “jan-gunna,” for a melon, “gunna.” Numbers of
the _Asclepias gigantea_, which never grows on a spot incapable of
cultivation, bore testimony to the fertility of the soil, which was soon
more clearly demonstrated by a small corn-field still under cultivation.
Traces of former cultivation were evident on all sides. There can
scarcely be the least doubt that these valleys, which were expressly
left to the care of the degraded tribes or the Imghád, on condition of
their paying from the produce a certain tribute to their masters, once
presented a very different aspect; but when the power of the ruler of
Ágades dwindled away to a shadow, and when the Imghád, who received from
him their kaid or governor, “tágaza,” ceased to fear him, preferring
robbery and pillage to the cultivation of the ground, these fine valleys
were left to themselves, and relapsed into a wilderness.
We encamped at an early hour in the afternoon near the watercourse, but
did not succeed in obtaining water by digging, so that we could not even
cook a little supper. Further down the valley there had been a copious
supply of water; and we had passed there a numerous caravan of asses
near a large pool; but my companions, who were extremely negligent in
this respect, would not then lay in a supply. Several Tuarek, or rather
Imóshagh and Imghád, encamped around us for the night, and thus showed
that we were approaching a centre of intercourse.
_Thursday, October 10._—Owing to our want of water, we started at a
very early hour, and, ascending gradually, after a little more than
three miles, reached the height of the pebbly plateau on which the
town of Ágades has been built. After having received several accounts
of this naked “hammáda” or “ténere” stretching out to the distance of
several days, I was agreeably surprised to find that it was by no means
so dreary and monotonous as I had been led to expect, forming now and
then shallow depressions a few feet only lower than the pebbly surface,
and sometimes extending to a considerable distance, where plenty of
herbage and middle-sized acacia were growing. The road was now becoming
frequented, and my companions, with a certain feeling of pride, showed me
in the distance the high “Mesállaje,” or minaret, the glory of Ágades.
Having obtained a supply of water, and quenched our thirst, to my great
astonishment we proceeded to encamp at half-past seven in the morning in
one of these shallow hollows; and I learnt that we were to stay here the
whole day till near sunset, in order to enter the town in the dark.
We were here met by two horsemen from Ágades (the son of the kádhi and a
companion), who, I suppose, had come out on purpose to see us. They had a
very _chevaleresque_ look, and proved highly interesting to me, as they
were the first horsemen I had seen in the country. The son of the kádhi,
who was a fine, tall man, was well dressed in a tobe and trousers of silk
and cotton; he carried only an iron spear besides his sword and dagger,
but no shield. But for me the most interesting part of their attire was
their stirrups, which are almost European in shape, but made of copper.
Of this metal were made also the ornaments on the harness of their
horses; their saddles also were very unlike what I had yet seen in these
countries, and nearly the same as the old Arab saddle, which differs
little from the English.
While encamped here, I bought from Hámma a black Sudán tobe, which,
worn over another very large white tobe or shirt, and covered with a
white bernús, gave me an appearance more suited to the country, while
the stains of indigo soon made my complexion a few shades darker. This
exterior accommodation to the custom of the natives my friend Hámma
represented as essential for securing the success of my undertaking; and
it had, besides, the advantage that it gave rise to the rumour that the
Sultan of Ágades himself had presented me with this dress.
At length, when the sun was almost down, and when it was known that the
Kél-gerés and Itísan (who had come to Ágades in very great numbers, in
order to proceed on their journey to Bilma after the investiture of the
new Sultan) had retreated to their encampments at some distance from
the town, we started, and were soon met by several people, who came to
pay their compliments to my companions. On entering the town, we passed
through a half-deserted quarter, and at length reached the house of
Ánnur, where we were to take up our abode. But arriving in a new place
at night is never very pleasant, and must be still less so where there
are no lamps; it therefore took us some time to make ourselves tolerably
comfortable. But I was fortunate in receiving hospitable treatment from
our travelling companion ʿAbd el Káder, who, being lodged in a chamber
close to mine, sent me a well-prepared dish of kuskusu, made of Indian
corn. I could not relish the rice sent by one of Ánnur’s wives, who
resides here, owing to its not being seasoned with any salt, a practice
to which I became afterwards more accustomed, but which rather astonished
me in a country the entire trade of which consists in salt.
Having spread my mat and carpet on the floor, I slept well, in the
pleasing consciousness of having successfully reached this first object
of my desires, and dreaming of the new sphere of inquiry on which I had
entered.
CHAPTER XVII.
AGADES.
_Friday, October 11._—Early in the morning the whole body of people from
Tawát who were residing in the place, ʿAbd el Káder at their head, paid
me a visit. The Tawátíye are still, at the present time (like their
forefathers more than three hundred years ago), the chief merchants in
Ágades; and they are well adapted to the nature of this market, for,
having but small means, and being more like pedlars or retail dealers,
they sit quietly down with their little stock, and try to make the most
of it by buying negro millet when it is cheap, and retailing it when
it becomes dear. Speculation in grain is now the principal business
transacted in Ágades, since the branches of commerce of which I shall
speak further on, and which once made the place rich and important,
have been diverted into other channels. Here I will only remark that it
is rather curious that the inhabitants of Tawát, though enterprising
travellers, never become rich. Almost all the money with which they trade
belongs to the people of Ghadámes; and their profits only allow them to
dress and live well, of which they are very fond. Till recently, the
Kél-owí frequented the market of Tawát, while they were excluded from
those of Ghát and Múrzuk; but at present the contrary takes place, and,
while they are admitted in the two latter places, Tawát has been closed
against them.
Several of these Tawátíye were about to return to their native country,
and were anxiously seeking information as to the time when the caravan
of the Sakomáren, which had come to Tin-téllust, intended to start on
their return journey, as they wished to go in their company. Among them
was a man of the name of ʿAbdallah, with whom I became afterwards very
intimate, and obtained from him a great deal of information. He was well
acquainted with that quarter of the African continent which lies between
Tawát, Timbúktu, and Ágades, having been six times to Ágades and five
times to Timbúktu, and was less exacting than the mass of his countrymen.
The most interesting circumstance which I learnt from them to-day was the
identity of the Emgédesi language with that of Timbúktu, a fact of which
I had no previous idea, thinking that the Háusa language, as it was the
vulgar tongue of the whole of Asben, was the indigenous language of the
natives of Ágades. But about this most interesting fact I shall say more
afterwards.
When the Tawátíye were about to go away, Ámagay, or Mággi, as he is
generally called, the chief eunuch of the Sultan, came; and I was ordered
by my Kél-owí companions, who had put on all their finery, to make myself
ready to pay a visit to the Sultan. Throwing, therefore, my white heláli
bernús over my black tobe, and putting on my richly ornamented Ghadámsi
shoes, which formed my greatest finery, I took up the letters and the
treaty, and solicited the aid of my servant Mohammed to assist me in
getting it signed; but he refused to perform any such service, regarding
it as a very gracious act on his part that he went with me at all.
The streets and the market-places were still empty when we went through
them, which left upon me the impression of a deserted place of bygone
times; for even in the most important and central quarters of the town
most of the dwelling-houses were in ruins. Some meat was lying ready for
sale, and a bullock was tied to a stake, while numbers of large vultures,
distinguished by their long naked neck, of reddish colour, and their
dirty-greyish plumage, were sitting on the pinnacles of the crumbling
walls, ready to pounce upon any kind of offal. These natural scavengers I
afterwards found to be the constant inhabitants of all the market-places,
not only in this town, but in all places in the interior. Directing
our steps by the high watch-tower, which, although built only of clay
and wood, yet, on account of its contrast to the low dwelling-houses
around, forms a conspicuous object, we reached the gate which leads into
the palace or fáda, a small separate quarter, with a large, irregular
courtyard, and from twenty to twenty-five larger and smaller dwellings.
Even these were partly in ruins; and one or two wretched conical cottages
built of reeds and grass, in the midst of them, showed anything but a
regard to cleanliness. The house, however, in which the Sultan himself
dwelt proved to have been recently repaired, and had a neat and orderly
appearance; the wall was nicely polished, and the gate newly covered in
with boards made of the stem of the dúm-tree, and furnished with a door
of the same material.
We seated ourselves apart, on the right side of a vestibule, which, as is
the case of all the houses of this place, is separated from the rest of
the room by a low balustrade, about ten inches high, and in this shape:
[Illustration]
Meanwhile, Mággi had announced us to his Majesty, and, coming back,
conducted us into the adjoining room, where he had taken his seat. It
was separated from the vestibule by a very heavy wooden door, and was
far more decent than I had expected. It was about forty or fifty feet in
every direction, the rather low roof being supported by two short and
massive columns of clay, slightly decreasing in thickness towards the
top, and furnished with a simple abacus, over which one layer of large
boards was placed in the breadth, and two in the depth of the room,
sustaining the roof, formed of lighter boards. These are covered in with
branches, over which mats are spread, the whole being completed with a
layer of clay. At the lower end of the room, between the two columns, was
a heavy door giving access into the interior of the house, while a large
opening on either side admitted the light.
[Illustration]
ʿAbd el Káderi, the son of the Sultan el Bákiri, was seated between
the column to the right and the wall, and appeared to be a tolerably
stout man, with large, benevolent features, as far as the white shawl
wound around his face would allow us to perceive. The white colour of
the lithám, and that of his shirt, which was of grey hue, together
with his physiognomy, at once announced him as not belonging to the
Tuarek race. Having saluted him one after the other, we took our seats
at some distance opposite to him, when, after having asked Hámma some
complimentary questions with regard to the old chief, he called me to
come near to him, and in a very kind manner entered into conversation
with me, asking me about the English nation, of which, notwithstanding
all their power, he had, in his retired spot, never before heard, not
suspecting that “English powder” was derived from them.
After explaining to him how the English, although placed at such an
immense distance, wished to enter into friendly relations with all the
chiefs and great men on the earth, in order to establish peaceable and
legitimate intercourse with them, I delivered to him Ánnur’s and Mr.
Richardson’s letters, and begged him to forward another letter to ʿAlíyu,
the Sultan of Sókoto, wherein we apologized for our incapability, after
the heavy losses and the many extortions we had suffered, of paying him
at present a visit in his capital, expressing to ʿAbd el Káder, at the
same time, how unjustly we had been treated by tribes subject to his
dominion, who had deprived us of nearly all the presents we were bringing
with us for himself and the other princes of Sudán. While expressing his
indignation on this account, and regretting that I should not be able to
go on directly to Sókoto, whither he would have sent me with the greatest
safety, in company with the salt-caravan of the Kél-gerés, and at the
same time giving vent to his astonishment that, although young, I had
already performed journeys so extensive, he dismissed us, after we had
placed before him the parcel containing the presents destined for him.
The whole conversation, not only with me, but also with my companions,
was in the Háusa language. I should have liked to have broached to him
the treaty at once, but the moment was not favourable.
On the whole, I look upon ʿAbd el Káder as a man of great worth, though
devoid of energy. All the people assured me that he was the best of the
family to which the Sultan of Ágades belongs. He had been already Sultan
before, but, a few years ago, was deposed, in order to make way for Hámed
eʾ Rufäy, whom he again succeeded; but in 1853, while I was in Sókoto, he
was once more compelled to resign in favour of the former.
[Illustration]
While returning with my companions to our lodging, we met six of Bóro’s
sons, among whom our travelling companion Háj ʿAli was distinguished for
his elegance. They were going to the palace in order to perform their
office as “fadáwa-n-serkí” (royal courtiers), and were very complaisant
when they were informed that I had been graciously received by his
Majesty. Having heard from them that Bóro, since his return, had been ill
with fever, I took the opportunity to induce my followers to accompany
me on a visit to him. Mohammed Bóro has a nice little house for a town
like Ágades, situated on the small area called Erárar-n-sákan, or “the
Place of the Young Camels.” It is shown in the accompanying sketch. The
house itself consists of two storeys, and furnishes a good specimen of
the better houses of the town; its interior was nicely whitewashed. Bóro,
who was greatly pleased with our visit, received us in a very friendly
manner, and when we left accompanied us a long way down the street.
Though he holds no office at present, he is nevertheless a very important
personage, not only in Ágades, but even in Sókoto, where he is regarded
as the wealthiest merchant. He has a little republic of his own (like
the venerable patriarchs), of not less than about fifty sons, with their
families; but he still possesses such energy and enterprise that in 1854
he was about to undertake another pilgrimage to Mekka.
When I had returned to my quarters, Mággi brought me, as an
acknowledgment of my presents, a fat, large-sized ram from ʿAbd el Káder,
which was an excellent proof that good meat can be got here. There is
a place called Aghíllad, three or four days’ journey west from Ágades,
which is said to be very rich in cattle. On this occasion I gave to the
influential eunuch, for himself, an aliyáfu, or subéta, a white shawl
with a red border. In the afternoon I took another walk through the town,
first to the Erázar-n-sákan, which, though it had been quiet in the
morning, exhibited now a busy scene, about fifty camels being offered for
sale, most of them very young, and the older ones rather indifferent. But
while the character of the article for sale could not be estimated very
high, that of the men employed in the business of the market attracted my
full attention.
They were tall men, with broad, coarse features, very different from any
I had seen before, and with long hair hanging down upon their shoulders
and over their face, in a way which is an abomination to the Tuarek; but
upon inquiry I learnt that they belonged to the tribe of the Ighdalén,
or Éghedel, a very curious mixed tribe of Berber and Sónghay blood, and
speaking the Sónghay language. The mode of buying and selling, also,
was very peculiar; for the price was neither fixed in dollars, nor in
shells, but either in merchandise of various descriptions, such as
calico, shawls, tobes, or in Negro millet, which is the real standard
of the market of Ágades at the present time, while, during the period
of its prime, it was apparently the gold of Gágho. This way of buying
or selling is called “kárba.” There was a very animated scene between
two persons, and to settle the dispute it was necessary to apply to the
“serki-n-káswa,” who for every camel sold in the market receives three
“réjel.”
[Illustration]
From this place we went to the vegetable-market, or
“káswa-n-delélti,”[12] which was but poorly supplied, only cucumbers and
molukhia (or _Corchorus olitorius_) being procurable in considerable
plenty. Passing thence to the butchers’ market, we found it very well
supplied, and giving proof that the town was not yet quite deserted,
although some strangers were just gathering for the installation of
the Sultan, as well as for the celebration of the great holiday, the
ʿAid el kebír, or Salla-léja. I will only observe that this market
(from its name, “káswa-n-rákoma,” or “yóbu yoëwoëni”) seems evidently
to have been formerly the market where full-grown camels were sold. We
then went to the third market, called katánga, where, in a sort of hall
supported by the stems of the dúm-tree, about six or seven women were
exhibiting, on a sort of frame, a variety of small things, such as beads
and necklaces, sandals, small oblong tin boxes such as the Kél-owí wear
for carrying charms, small leather boxes of the shape here represented,
but of all possible sizes, from the diameter of an inch to as much as
six inches. They are very neatly made, in different colours, and are
used for tobacco, perfumes, and other purposes, and are called “botta.”
I saw here also a very nice plate of copper, which I wanted to buy the
next day, but found that it was sold. A donkey-saddle, “ákomar,” and
a camel-saddle, or “kíri,” were exposed for sale. The name “katánga”
serves, I think, to explain the name by which the former (now deserted)
capital of Yóruba is generally known; I mean Katúnga, which name is given
to it only by the Háusa and other neighbouring tribes.
I then went, with Mohammed “the Foolish” and another Kél-owí, to a
shoemaker who lived in the south-western quarter of the town, and I was
greatly surprised to find here Berbers as artisans; for even if the
shoemaker was an Ámghi, and not a free Amóshagh (though from his frank
and noble bearing I had reason to suspect the latter), at least he
understood scarcely a word of Háusa, and all the conversation was carried
on in Uraghíye. He and his assistants were busy in making neat sandals;
and a pair of very handsome ones, which indeed could not be surpassed,
either in neatness or in strength, by the best that are made in Kanó,
were just ready, and formed the object of a long and unsuccessful
bargaining. The following day, however, Mohammed succeeded in obtaining
them for a mithkál. My shoes formed a great object of curiosity for
these Emgédesi shoemakers, and they confessed their inability to produce
anything like them. On returning to our quarters we met several horsemen,
with whom I was obliged to enter into a longer conversation than I liked,
in the streets. I now observed that several of them were armed with the
bow and arrow instead of the spear. Almost all the horses are dressed
with the “karaúrawa” (strings of small bells attached to their heads),
which make a great noise, and sometimes create a belief that a great host
is advancing, when there are only a few of these horsemen. The horses
in general were in indifferent condition, though of tolerable size; of
course they are ill fed, in a place where grain is comparatively dear.
The rider places only his great toe in the stirrup, the rest of the foot
remaining outside.
The occurrences of the day were of so varied a nature, opening to me a
glance into an entirely new region of life, that I had ample material for
my evening’s meditation, when I lay stretched out on my mat before the
door of my dark and close room. Nor was my bodily comfort neglected, the
Sultan being so kind and attentive as to send me a very palatable dish
of “finkáso,” a sort of thick pancake made of wheat, and well buttered,
which, after the unpalatable food I had had in Tintéllust, appeared to me
the greatest luxury in the world.
_Saturday, October 12._—Having thus obtained a glance into the interior
of the town, I was anxious to get a view of the whole of it, and
ascending, the following morning, the terrace of our house, obtained my
object entirely, the whole town being spread out before my eyes, with
the exception of the eastern quarter. The town is built on a level,
which is only interrupted by small hills formed of rubbish heaped up
in the midst of it by the negligence of the people. Excepting these,
the line formed by the flat-terraced houses is interrupted only by the
mesállaje (which formed my basis for laying down the plan of the town),
besides about fifty or fifty-five dwellings raised to two storeys, and
by three dúm-trees and five or six talha-trees. Our house also had
been originally provided with an upper storey, or rather with a single
garret—for generally the upper storey consists of nothing else; but it
had yielded to time, and only served to furnish amusement to my foolish
friend Mohammed, who never failed, when he found me on the terrace, to
endeavour to throw me down the breach. Our old close-handed friend Ánnur
did not seem to care much for the appearance of his palace in the town,
and kept his wife here on rather short allowance. By-and-by, as I went
every day to enjoy this panorama, I was able to make a faithful view of
the western quarter of the town as seen from hence, which gives a more
exact idea of the place than any verbal description could do.
About noon the amanókal sent his musicians to honour me and my companions
with a performance; they were four or five in number, and were provided
with the instruments usual in Sudán, in imitation of the Arabs. More
interesting was the performance of a single “maimólo,” who visited us
after we had honourably rewarded the royal musicians, and accompanied his
play, on a three-stringed “mólo,” or guitar, with an extemporaneous song.
My companions then took me to the house of the kádhi, after having paid
a short visit to the camel-market. The kádhi, or here rather alkáli,
who lives a little south-west from the mosque, in a house entirely
detached on all sides, was sitting with the mufti in the vestibule of
his dwelling, where sentence is pronounced, and after a few compliments,
proceeded to hear the case of my companions, who had a law-suit against
a native of the town, named Wá-n-seres, and evidently of Berber origin.
Evidence was adduced to the effect that he had sold a she-camel which had
been stolen from the Kél-owí, while he (the defendant) on his part proved
that he had bought it from a man who swore that it was not a stolen
camel. The pleas of both parties having been heard, the judge decided in
favour of Wá-n-seres. The whole transaction was carried on in Temáshight,
or rather in Uraghíye. Then came another party, and while their case was
being heard we went out and sat down in front of the house, under the
shade of a sort of verandah consisting of mats supported by long stakes,
after which we took leave of the kádhi, who did not seem to relish my
presence, and afterwards showed no very friendly feelings towards me.
While my lazy companions wanted to go home, I fortunately persuaded
Mohammed, after much reluctance, to accompany me through the southern
part of the town, where, lonely and deserted as it seemed to be, it was
not prudent for me to go alone, as I might have easily got into some
difficulty. My servant Amánkay was still quite lame with the guineaworm;
and Mohammed, the Tunisian shushán, had reached such a pitch of insolence
when he saw me alone among a fanatical population that I had given him
up entirely. First, leaving the fáda to our right, we went out through
the “kófa-n-Alkáli;” for here the walls, which have been swept away
entirely on the east side of the town, have still preserved some degree
of elevation, though in many places one may easily climb over them. On
issuing from the gate I was struck with the desolate character of the
country on this side of the town, though it was enlivened by women and
slaves going to fetch water from the principal well (which is distant
about half a mile from the gate), all the water inside the town being
of bad quality for drinking. At some distance from the gate were the
ruins of an extensive suburb called Ben Gottára, half covered with sand,
and presenting a very sorry spectacle. It was my design to go round the
southern part of the town; but my companion either was, or pretended to
be, too much afraid of the Kél-gerés, whose encampment lay at no great
distance from the walls. So we re-entered it, and followed the northern
border of its deserted southern quarter, where only a few houses are
still inhabited. Here I found three considerable pools of stagnant water,
which had collected in deep hollows from whence, probably, the materials
for building had been taken, though their form was a tolerably regular
oval. They have each a separate name, the westernmost being called from
the Masráta, who have given their name to the whole western quarter, as
well as to a small gate still in existence; the next, southwards from
the kófa-n-Alkáli, is called (in Emgedesíye) “Masráta-hogú-me,” for the
three languages—the Temáshight or Tarkíye, the Góber or Háusa language,
and the Sónghay- or Sonrhay-kini—are very curiously mixed together in
the topography of this town, the natural consequence of the mixture of
these three different national elements. This mixture of languages was
well calculated to make the office of interpreter in this place very
important, and the class of such men a very numerous one.
In the Masráta pool, which is the largest of the three, two horses
were swimming, while women were busy washing clothes. The water has
a strong taste of salt, which is also the case with two of the three
wells still in use within the town. Keeping from the easternmost pool
(which is called, like the whole quarter around, Terjemáne, from the
interpreters whose dwellings were chiefly hereabout) a little more to
the south-east, I was greatly pleased at finding among the ruins in the
south-eastern quarter, between the quarters Akáfan árina and Imurdán,
some very well-built and neatly polished houses, the walls of which were
of so excellent workmanship that even after having been deprived of their
roofs, for many years, perhaps, they had sustained scarcely any injury.
One of them was furnished with ornamented niches, and by the remains of
pipes, and the whole arrangement bore evident traces of warm baths. Music
and song diverted us in the evening, while we rested on our mats in the
different corners of our courtyard.
_Sunday, October 13._—My Kél-owí companions regaled me with a string of
dates from Fáshi, the westernmost oasis of the Tébu, or, as the Tuarek
call them, Berauni. But instead of indulging myself in this luxury, I
laid it carefully aside as a treat for my visitors, to whom I had (so
small were my means at present) neither coffee nor sugar to offer. I
then accompanied my friends once more to the Alkáli; but the litigation
which was going on being tedious, I left them, and returned quite alone
through the town, sitting down a moment with the Tawatíye, who generally
met at the house of the Emgédesi Ídder, a sort of Tawáti agent and an
intelligent man.
[Illustration]
When I returned to our house I found there a very interesting young
man of the tribe of the Ighdalén, with a round face, very regular and
agreeable features, fine lively black eyes, and an olive complexion only
a few shades darker than that of an Italian peasant. His hair was black,
and about four inches long, standing upright, but cut away all round the
ears, which gave it a still more bristling appearance. I hoped to see
him again, but lost sight of him entirely. The Arabs call these people
Arab-Tuarek, indicating that they are a mixed race between the Arab and
Berber nation; and their complexion agrees well with this designation,
but it is remarkable that they speak a Sónghay dialect. They possess
scarcely anything except camels, and are regarded as a kind of Merábetín.
I afterwards went to call upon our old friend Ánnur Karamí, from Aghwau,
who had come to Ágades a day or two before us, and had accompanied me
also on my visit to the Sultan. He lived, together with my amiable young
friend the Tinýlkum Slimán, in the upper storey, or soro, of a house, and
when I called was very busy selling fine Egyptian sheep-leather called
kurna (which is in great request here, particularly that of a green
colour) to a number of lively females, who are the chief artisans in
leather-work. Some of them were of tolerably good appearance, with light
complexion and regular Arab features. When the women were gone Ánnur
treated me with fura or ghussub-water; and young Slimán, who felt some
little remorse for not having been able to withstand the charms of the
Emgédesíye coquettes, told me that he was about to marry a Ma-Ásbenchi
girl, and that the wedding would be celebrated in a few days. As to the
fura, people who eat or rather drink it together squat down round the
bowl, where a large spoon, the “lúdde,” sometimes very neatly worked,
goes round, everybody taking a spoonful and passing the spoon to his
neighbour. On the previous page is a drawing of this drinking-spoon, as
well as of the common spoon, both of ordinary workmanship.
The houses in Ágades do not possess all the conveniences which one would
expect to find in houses in the north of Europe; but here, as in many
Italian towns, the principle of the _da per tutto_, which astonished
Göethe so much at Rivoli, on the Lago di Garda, is in full force, being
greatly assisted by the many ruined houses which are to be found in every
quarter of the town. But the free nomadic inhabitant of the wilderness
does not like this custom, and rather chooses to retreat into the open
spots outside the town. The insecurity of the country and the feuds
generally raging oblige them still to congregate, even on such occasions.
When they reach some conspicuous tree the spears are all stuck into the
ground, and the party separates behind the bushes; after which they again
meet together under the tree, and return in solemn procession into the
town.
By making such little excursions I became acquainted with the shallow
depressions which surround Ágades, and which are not without importance
for the general relations of the town, while they afford fodder for any
caravan visiting the market, and also supply the inhabitants with very
good water. The name of the depression to the north is Tagúrast, that
to the south-west Mérmeru; towards the south-east Amelúli, with a few
kitchen-gardens; and another a little further on, south-south-east,
Tésak-n-tálle; while at a greater distance, to the west, is Tára-bére
(meaning “the wide area,” or plain, “babá-n-sarari”). Unfortunately, the
dread my companions had of the Kél-gerés did not allow me to visit the
valleys at a greater distance, the principal of which is that called el
Hakhsás, inhabited by Imghád, and famous for its vegetable productions,
with which the whole town is supplied.
Mohammed the Foolish succeeded in the evening in getting me into some
trouble, which gave him great delight; for seeing that I took more than
common interest in a national dance, accompanied with a song, which was
going on at some distance east-north-east from our house, he assured me
that Hámma was there, and had told him that I might go and join in their
amusement. Unfortunately, I was too easily induced; and hanging only a
cutlass over my shoulder, I went thither unaccompanied, sure of finding
my protector in the merry crowd. It was about ten o’clock at night, the
moon shining very brightly on the scene. Having first viewed it from some
distance, I approached very near, in order to observe the motions of the
dancers. Four young men, placed opposite to each other in pairs, were
dancing with warlike motions, and, stamping the ground violently with
the left foot, turned round in a circle, the motions being accompanied
by the energetic clapping of hands of a numerous ring of spectators. It
was a very interesting sight, and I should have liked to stay longer; but
finding that Hámma was not present, and that all the people were young,
and many of them buzawe, I followed the advice of ʿAbdu, one of Ánnur’s
slaves, who was among the crowd, to withdraw as soon as possible. I
had, however, retraced my steps but a short way when, with the war-cry
of Islam, and drawing their swords, all the young men rushed after me.
Being, however, a short distance in advance, and fortunately not meeting
with any one in the narrow street, I reached our house without being
obliged to make use of my weapon; but my friends the Kél-owí seeing me
in trouble, had thrown the chain over the door of our house, and, with a
malicious laugh, left me outside with my pursuers; so that I was obliged
to draw my cutlass in order to keep them at bay, though, if they had made
a serious attack, I should have fared ill enough with my short, blunt
European weapon, against their long, sharp swords. I was rather angry
with my barbarous companions, particularly with Mohammed, and when after
a little delay they opened the door, I loaded my pistols and threatened
to shoot the first man that troubled me. However, I soon felt convinced
that the chief fault was my own; and in order to obliterate the bad
impression which this little adventure was likely to make in the town,
particularly as the great Mohammedan feast was at hand, which of course
could not but strengthen greatly the prejudice against a Christian, I
resolved to stay at home the next few days. This I could do the more
easily as the terrace of our house allowed me to observe all that was
going on in the place.
I therefore applied myself entirely for a few days to the study of
the several routes which, with the assistance of ʿAbdallah, I had
been able to collect from different people, and which will be given
in the Appendix, and to the language of Ágades. For though I had left
all my books behind at Tin-téllust, except that volume of “Prichard’s
Researches” which treats of Africa, I had convinced myself, from the
specimens which he gives of the language of Timbúktu, that the statement
of my friends from Tawát with regard to the identity of the languages
of the two places was quite correct, only with this qualification, that
here this language had been greatly influenced by intercourse with the
Berbers, from whom sundry words were borrowed, while the Arabic seemed
to have had little influence beyond supplanting the numerals from 4
upwards. I was also most agreeably surprised and gratified to find this
identity confirmed by the fact that the people of Ágades give the Tuarek
in general the name under which that tribe of them which lives near
Timbúktu and along the Niger had become known to Mungo Park in those
quarters where the language of Timbúktu is spoken. This was indeed very
satisfactory, as the native name of that powerful tribe is entirely
different; for the Surka, as they are called by Mungo Park, are the same
as the Awelímmiden, of whom I had already heard so much in Asben (the
inhabitants of which country seemed to regard them with much dread), and
with whom I was afterwards to enter into the most intimate relations.
While residing in Ágades I was not yet aware of all the points of
information which I have been able to collect in the course of my
travels, and I was at a loss to account for the identity of language in
places so widely separated from each other by immense tracts of desert,
and by countries which seemed to have been occupied by different races.
But while endeavouring, in the further course of my journey, to discover
as far as possible the history of the nations with whom I had to deal, I
found the clue for explaining this apparently marvellous phenomenon, and
shall lay it before my readers in the following chapter. To the Tawáti
ʿAbdallah I was indebted for information on a variety of interesting
matters, which I found afterwards confirmed in every respect. In a few
points his statements were subject to correction, and still more to
improvement, but in no single case did I find that he had deviated from
the truth. I state this deliberately, in order to show that care must
be taken to distinguish between information collected systematically by
a native enjoying the entire confidence of his informant, and who, from
his knowledge of the language and the subject about which he inquires, is
able to control his informant’s statements, and that which is picked up
incidentally by one who scarcely knows what he asks.
But to return to my diary, the visits paid me by the other people of
Tawát became less frequent, as I had no coffee to treat them with; but
I was rather glad of this circumstance, as my time was too short for
labouring in that wide field of new information which opened before me,
and it was necessary to confine myself at present to narrower limits. In
this respect I was extremely fortunate in having obeyed my impulse to
visit this place, which, however desolate it may appear to the traveller
who first enters it, is still the centre of a large circle of commercial
intercourse, while Tin-téllust is nothing but a small village, important
merely from the character of the chief who resides in it, and where
even those people who know a little about the country are afraid to
communicate that very little. I would advise any traveller who should
hereafter visit this country to make a long stay in this place, if he
can manage to do so in comfort; for I am sure that there still remains
to be collected in Ágades a store of the most valuable and interesting
information.
In the afternoon of the 15th of October (the eve of the great holiday)
ten chiefs of the Kél-gerés, on horseback, entered the town, and towards
evening news was brought that Astáfidet, the chief of the Kél-owí
residing in Ásodi, was not far off, and would make his solemn entry early
in the morning. My companions, therefore, were extremely busy in getting
ready and cleaning their holiday dress, or “yadó,” and Hámma could not
procure tassels enough to adorn his high red cap, in order to give to
his short figure a little more height. Poor fellow! he was really a
good man, and one of the best of the Kél-owí; and the news of his being
killed, in the sanguinary battle which was fought between his tribe and
the Kél-gerés in 1854, grieved me not a little. In the evening there
were singing and dancing (“wargi” and “wása”) all over the town, and all
the people were merry except the followers of Mákita, or Ímkiten, “the
Pretender,” and the Sultan ʿAbd el Káder was obliged to imprison three
chiefs of the Itísan, who had come to urge Mákita’s claims.
It was on this occasion that I learnt that the mighty King of Ágades had
not only a common prison, “gida-n-damré,” wherein he might confine the
most haughty chiefs, but that he even exercised over them the power of
life and death, and that he dispensed the favours of a terrible dungeon,
bristling with swords and spears standing upright, upon which he was
authorized to throw any distinguished malefactor. This latter statement,
of the truth of which I had some doubt, was afterwards confirmed to me by
the old chief Ánnur. In any case, however, such a cruel punishment cannot
but be extremely rare.
_Wednesday, October 16._—The 10th of Dhú el kádhi, 1266, was the first
day of the great festival ʿAid el kebír, or Salla-léja (the feast of
the sacrifice of the sheep), which in these regions is the greatest
holiday of the Mohammedans, and was in this instance to have a peculiar
importance and solemnity for Agades, as the installation of ʿAbd el
Káder, who had not yet publicly assumed the government, was to take
place the same day. Early in the morning, before daylight, Hámma and
his companions left the house and mounted their camels, in order to pay
their compliments to Astáfidet, and join him in his procession; and about
sunrise the young chief entered and went directly to the “fáda,” at the
head of from two hundred to three hundred Mehára, having left the greater
number of his troop, which was said to amount to about two thousand men,
outside the town.
Then, without much ceremony or delay, the installation, or “sarauta”
of the new Sultan took place. The ceremonial was gone through inside
the fáda, but this was the procedure: First of all, ʿAbd el Káder was
conducted from his private apartments to the public hall. Then the chiefs
of the Itísan and Kél-gerés, who went in front, begged him to sit down
upon the “gadó,” a sort of couch or divan made of the leaves of the
palm-tree, or of the branches of other trees, similar to the angaríb
used in Egypt and the lands of the Upper Nile, and covered with mats
and a carpet. Upon this the new Sultan sat down, resting his feet on
the ground, not being allowed to put them upon the gadó, and recline in
the Oriental style, until the Kél-owí desired him to do so. Such is the
ceremony, symbolical of the combined participation of these different
tribes in the investiture of their Sultan.
This ceremony being concluded, the whole holiday procession left the
palace on its way to a chapel of a merábet called Sídi Hammáda, in
Tára-bére, outside the town, where, according to an old custom, the
prince was to say his prayers. This is a rule prevailing over the whole
of Mohammedan Africa, and one which I myself witnessed in some of
the most important of its capitals—in Ágades, in Kúkawa, in Más-eña,
in Sókoto, and in Timbúktu; everywhere the principle is the same.
Not deeming it prudent on such an occasion to mix with the people, I
witnessed the whole procession from the terrace of our house, though I
should have liked to have had a nearer view. The procession having taken
its course through the most important quarter of the town, and through
the market-places, turned round from the “káswa-n-delélti” to the oldest
quarter of the town, and then returned westward, till at last it reached
the above-mentioned chapel or tomb of Sídi Hammáda, where there is a
small cemetery. The prayers being finished, the procession returned
by the southern part of the town, and about ten o’clock the different
parties which had composed the _cortège_ separated.
In going as well as in returning the order of the procession was as
follows: In front of all, accompanied by the musicians, rode the Sultan,
on a very handsome horse of Tawáti breed, wearing, over his fine Sudán
robe of coloured cotton and silk, the blue bernús I had presented to
him, and wearing on his side a handsome scimitar with gold handle. Next
to him rode the two sáraki-n-turáwa—Bóro, the ex-serki, on his left,
and Ashu, who held the office at the time, on his right—followed by the
“fádawa-n-serki,” after whom came the chiefs of the Itísan and Kél-gerés,
all on horseback, in full dress and armour, with their swords, daggers,
long spears, and immense shields.
Then came the longer train of the Kél-owí, mostly on mehára, or swift
camels, with Sultan Astáfidet at their head; and last of all followed
the people of the town, a few on horseback, but most of them on foot,
and armed with swords and spears, and several with bows and arrows. The
people were all dressed in their greatest finery, and it would have
formed a good subject for an artist. It recalled the martial processions
of the Middle Ages, the more so as the high caps of the Tuarek,
surrounded by a profusion of tassels on every side, together with the
black “tesílgemist,” or lithám, which covers the whole face, leaving
nothing but the eyes visible, and the shawls wound over this and round
the cap, combine to imitate the shape of the helmet, while the black and
coloured tobes (over which on such occasions the principal people wear a
red bernús thrown across their shoulders) represent very well the heavier
dress of the knights of yore. I will only add that the fact of the Sultan
wearing on so important and solemn an occasion a robe which had been
presented to him by a stranger and a Christian had a powerful influence
on the tribes collected here, and spread a beneficial report far westward
over the desert.
Shortly after the procession was over, the friendly Haj ʿAbdúwa, who,
after he had parted from us in Eghellál, had attached himself to the
troop of Astáfidet, came to pay me a visit. He was now tolerably free
from fever, but begged for some Epsom salts, besides a little gunpowder.
He informed me that there was much sickness in the town, that from two
to three people died daily, and that even Astáfidet was suffering from
the prevalent disease. This was the small-pox, a very fatal disease in
Central Africa, against which, however, several of the native Pagan
tribes secure themselves by inoculation, a precaution from which
Mohammedans are withheld by religious prejudice. I then received a visit
from the sons of Bóro, in their official character as “fádawa-n-serki.”
They wished to inform themselves, apparently, with reference to my
adventure the other night, whether the townspeople behaved well towards
me; and I was prudent enough to tell them that I had nothing to complain
of, my alarm having been the consequence of my own imprudence. In fact
the people behaved remarkably well, considering that I was the first
Christian that ever visited the town; and the little explosions of
fanaticism into which the women and children sometimes broke out, when
they saw me on our terrace, rather amused me. During the first days
of my residence in Ágades they most probably took me for a Pagan or a
Polytheist, and cried after me the confessional words of Islam, laying
all the stress upon the word Allah, “the One God;” but after a few days,
when they had learnt that I likewise worshipped the Deity, they began to
emphasize the name of their Prophet.
There was held about sunset a grave and well-attended divan of all the
chiefs, to consult with respect to a “yáki,” or “égehen,” a ghazzia to
be undertaken against the Mehárebin or freebooters of the Awelímmiden.
While we were still in Tin-téllust the rumour had spread of an expedition
undertaken by the latter tribe against Aïr, and the people were all
greatly excited. For the poor Kél-owí, who have degenerated from their
original vigour and warlike spirit by their intermixture with the black
population and by their peaceable pursuits, are not less afraid of the
Awelímmiden than they are of the Kél-gerés; and old Ánnur himself used
to give me a dreadful description of that tribe, at which I afterwards
often laughed heartily with the very people whom he intended to depict to
me as monsters. By way of consoling us for the losses we had sustained,
and the ill-treatment we had experienced from the people of Aïr, he told
us that among the Awelímmiden we should have been exposed to far greater
hardships, as they would not have hesitated to cut the tent over our
heads into pieces, in order to make shirts of it. The old chief’s serious
speeches had afterwards the more comical effect upon me as the tent
alluded to, a common English marquee, mended as it was with cotton strips
of all the various fashions of Negroland, constantly formed a subject
of the most lively scientific dispute among those barbarians, who, not
having seen linen before, were at a loss to make out of what stuff it
was originally made. But, unluckily, I had not among the Kél-owí such a
steadfast protector and mediator and so sensible a friend as I had when,
three years later, I went among the Awelímmiden, who would certainly have
treated me in another way if I had fallen into their hands unprotected.
The old and lurking hostility amongst the Kél-owí and Kél-gerés, which
was at this very moment threatening an outbreak, had been smoothed
down by the influential and intelligent chief Sídi Ghalli el Háj Ánnur
(properly Eʾ Núr), one of the first men in Ágades; and those tribes had
sworn to forget their private animosities, in order to defend themselves
against, and revenge themselves upon, their common enemy the Awelímmiden.
Hámma was very anxious to get from me a good supply of powder for Sídi
Ghalli, who was to be the leader of the expedition; but I had scarcely
any with me. While I was reclining in the evening rather mournfully
upon my mat, not having been out of the house these last few days, the
old friendly blacksmith came up, and invited me to a promenade, and
with the greatest pleasure I acceded to the proposal. We left the town
by the eastern side, the moon shining brightly, and throwing her magic
light over the ruins of this once wealthy abode of commerce. Turning
then a little south, we wandered over the pebbly plain till the voices
heard from the encampment of the Kél-gerés frightened my companion, and
we turned more northwards to the wells in Amelúli; having rested here
awhile, we returned to our quarters.
_Thursday, October 17._—Ánnur karamí, our amiable and indolent
attendant, left this place for Tin-téllust with a note which I wrote to
my colleagues, informing them of my safe arrival, my gracious reception,
and the general character of the place. To-day the whole town was in
agitation in consequence of one of those characteristic events which, in
a place like Ágades, serve to mark the different periods of the year;
for here a man can do nothing singly, but all must act together. The
salt-caravan of the Itísan and Kél-gerés had collected, mustering, I was
told, not less than ten thousand camels, and had encamped in Mérmeru and
Tesak-n-tállem, ready to start for the salt-mines of Bilma, along a road
which will be indicated further on. However exaggerated the number of
the camels might be, it was certainly a very large caravan, and a great
many of the inhabitants went out to settle their little business with the
men, and take leave of their friends. Ghámbelu, the chief of the Itísan,
very often himself accompanies this expedition, in which also many of the
Tagáma take a part.
In the course of the day I had a rather curious conversation with a
man from Táfidet, the native place of Háj ʿAbdúwa. After exchanging
compliments with me, he asked me, abruptly, whether I always knew where
water was to be found; and when I told him that though I could not
exactly say in every case at what depth water was to be found, yet that,
from the configuration of the ground, I should be able to tell the spot
where it was most likely to be met with, he asked whether I had seen
rock inscriptions on the road from Ghát; and I answered him that I had,
and generally near watering-places. He then told me that I was quite
right, but that in Táfidet there were many inscriptions upon rocks at a
distance from water. I told him that perhaps at an earlier period water
might have been found there, or that the inscriptions might have been
made by shepherds; but this he thought very improbable, and persisted
in his opinion that these inscriptions indicated ancient sepulchres,
in which, probably, treasures were concealed. I was rather surprised
at the philosophical conclusions at which this barbarian had arrived,
and conjectured, as was really the case, that he had accompanied Háj
ʿAbdúwa on his pilgrimage and on his passage through Egypt, and had
there learned to make some archæological observations. He affected to
believe that I was able to read the inscriptions, and tell all about
the treasures; but I assured him that while he was partially right with
regard to the inscriptions, he was quite wrong so far as regarded the
treasures, as these rock inscriptions, so far as I was able to decipher
them, indicated only names. But I was rather sorry that I did not myself
see the inscriptions of which this man spoke, as I had heard many reports
about them which had excited my curiosity, and I had even sent the little
Fezzáni Fáki Makhlúk expressly to copy them, who, however, brought me
back only an illegible scrawl.
_Friday, October 18._—The last day of the Salla-léja was a merry day for
the lower class of the inhabitants, but a serious one for the men of
influence and authority; and many councils were held, one of them in my
room. I then received a visit from a sister’s son of the Sultan, whose
name was Alkáli, a tall, gentlemanlike man, who asked me why I did not
yet leave Ágades and return to Tin-téllust. It seemed that he suspected
me of waiting till the Sultan had made me a present in return for that
received by him; but I told him that, though I wished ʿAbd el Káder to
write me a letter for my Sultan, which would guarantee the safety of some
future traveller belonging to our tribe, I had no further business here,
but was only waiting for Hámma, who had not yet finished his bartering
for provisions. He had seen me sketching on the terrace, and was somewhat
inquisitive about what I had been doing there; but I succeeded in
directing his attention to the wonderful powers of the pencil, with which
he became so delighted that when I gave him one he begged another from
me, in order that they might suffice for his lifetime.
Interesting also was the visit of Háj Beshír, the wealthy man of Iferwán
whom I have already mentioned repeatedly, and who is an important
personage in the country of Aïr. Unfortunately, instead of using his
influence to facilitate our entrance into the country, his son had been
among the chief leaders of the expedition against us. Though not young,
he was lively and social, and asked me whether I should not like to marry
some nice Emgedesíye girl. When he was gone I took a long walk through
the town with Hámma, who was somewhat more communicative to-day than
usual; but his intelligence was not equal to his energy and personal
courage, which had been proved in many a battle. He had been often
wounded, and having in the last skirmish received a deep cut on his head,
he had made an enormous charm, which was generally believed to guarantee
him from any further wound; and in fact, if the charm were to receive the
blow, it would not be altogether useless, for it was a thick book. But
his destiny was written.
There was a rather amusing episode in the incidents of the day. The
ex-Sultan Hámed eʾ Rufäy, who had left many debts behind him, sent
ten camel-loads of provisions and merchandise to be divided among his
creditors; but a few Tuarek to whom he owed something seized the whole,
so that the other poor people never obtained a farthing. To-day the great
salt-caravan of the Kél-gerés and Itísan really started.
_Saturday, October 19._—Hámma and his companions were summoned to a
council which was to decide definitively in what quarter the arm of
justice, now raised in wrath, was to strike the first blow; and it
was resolved that the expedition should first punish the Imghád, the
Ikázkezan, and Fádë-ang. The officer who made the proclamation through
the town was provided with a very rude sort of drum, which was, in fact,
nothing but an old barrel covered with a skin.
_Sunday, October 20._—The most important event in the course of the day
was a visit which I received from Mohammed Bóro, our travelling companion
from Múrzuk, with his sons. It was the best proof of his noble character,
that before we separated perhaps never to meet again, he came to speak
with me, and to explain our mutual relations fairly. He certainly could
not deny that he had been extremely angry with us; and I could not
condemn him on this account, for he had been treated ignominiously. While
Mr. Gagliuffi told him that we were persuaded that the whole success of
our proceedings lay in his hands, he had been plainly given to understand
that we set very little value on his services. Besides, he had sustained
some heavy losses on the journey, and by waiting for us had consumed the
provisions which he had got ready for the march.
Although an old man, he was first going with the expedition, after which
he intended accompanying the caravan of the Kél-gerés to Sókoto with
his whole family; for Sókoto is his real home. The salt-caravan and the
company of this man offered a splendid opportunity for reaching that
place in safety and by the most direct road; but our means did not allow
of such a journey, and after all it was better, at least for myself, that
it was not undertaken, since, as matters went, it was reserved for me,
before I traced my steps towards the western regions, to discover the
upper navigable course of the eastern branch of the so-called Niger, and
make sundry other important discoveries. Nevertheless, Bóro expressed his
hope of seeing me again in Sókoto, and his wish might easily have been
accomplished. He certainly must have been, when in the vigour of life, a
man, in the full sense of the word, and well deserved the praise of the
Emgedesíye, who have a popular song beginning with the words, “Ágades
has no men but Bóro and Dahámmi.” I now also became aware why he had
many enemies in Múrzuk, who unfortunately succeeded in making Gagliuffi
believe that he had no authority whatever in his own country; for as
serki-n-turáwa he had to levy the tax of ten mithkáls on every camel-load
of merchandise, and this he is said to have done with some degree of
severity. After a long conversation on the steps of the terrace, we
parted, the best possible friends.
Not so pleasant to me, though not without interest, was the visit of
another great man—Belróji, the támberi or war-chieftain of the Ighólar
Im-esághlar. He was still in his prime, but my Kél-owí (who were always
wrangling like children) got up a desperate fight with him in my very
room, which was soon filled with clouds of dust; and the young Slimán
entered during the row, and joining in it, it became really frightful.
The Kél-owí were just like children; when they went out they never failed
to put on all their finery, which they threw off as soon as they came
within doors, resuming their old dirty clothes.
It was my custom in the afternoon, when the sun had set behind the
opposite buildings, to walk up and down in front of our house; and while
so doing to-day I had a long conversation with two chiefs of the Itísan
on horseback, who came to see me, and avowed their sincere friendship
and regard. They were fine, tall men, but rather slim, with a noble
expression of countenance and of light colour. Their dress was simple
but handsome, and arranged with great care. All the Tuarek, from Ghát as
far as Háusa, and from Alákkos to Timbúktu, are passionately fond of the
tobes and trousers called “tailelt” (the Guinea-fowl), or “filfil” (the
pepper), on account of their speckled colour. They are made of silk and
cotton interwoven, and look very neat. The lowest part of the trousers,
which forms a narrow band about two inches broad, closing rather tightly,
is embroidered in different colours. None of the Tuarek of pure blood
would, I think, degrade themselves by wearing on their head the red cap.
_Monday, October 21._—Early in the morning I went with Hámma to take
leave of the Sultan, who had been too busy for some days to favour me
with an audience; and I urged my friend to speak of the treaty though
I was myself fully aware of the great difficulty which so complicated
a paper, written in a form entirely unknown to the natives, and which
must naturally be expected to awaken their suspicion, would create,
and of the great improbability of its being signed while the Sultan
was pressed with a variety of business. On the way to the fáda we met
Áshu, the present serki-n-turáwa, a large-sized man, clad in an entirely
white dress, which may not improbably be a sign of his authority over
the white men (Turáwa). He is said to be a very wealthy man. He replied
to my compliments with much kindness, entered into conversation with me
about the difference of our country and theirs, and ordered one of his
companions to take me to a small garden which he had planted near his
house in the midst of the town, in order to see what plants we had in
common with them. Of course there was nothing like our plants; and my
cicerone conceived rather a poor idea of our country when he heard that
all the things which they had we had not—neither senna, nor bamia, nor
indigo, nor cotton, nor Guinea-corn, nor, in short, the most beautiful
of all trees of the creation, as he thought—the talha, or _Mimosa
ferruginea_; and he seemed rather incredulous when told that we had much
finer plants than they.
We then went to the fáda. The Sultan seemed quite ready for starting. He
was sitting in the courtyard of his palace, surrounded by a multitude
of people and camels, while the loud murmuring noise of a number of
schoolboys who were learning the Kurán proceeded from the opposite
corner, and prevented my hearing the conversation of the people. The
crowd and the open locality were, of course, not very favourable to my
last audience, and it was necessarily a cold one. Supported by Hámma, I
informed the Sultan that I expected still to receive a letter from him
to the Government under whose auspices I was travelling, expressive of
the pleasure and satisfaction he had felt in being honoured with a visit
from one of the mission, and that he would gladly grant protection to
any future traveller who should happen to visit his country. The Sultan
promised that such a letter should be written; however, the result proved
that either he had not quite understood what I meant, or, what is more
probable, that in his precarious situation he felt himself not justified
in writing to a Christian government, especially as he had received no
letter from it.
When I had returned to my quarters, Hámma brought me three letters, in
which ʿAbd el Káder recommended my person and my luggage to the care
of the Governors of Kanó, Kátsena, and Dáura, and which were written
in rather incorrect Arabic, and in nearly the same terms. They were as
follows:—
“In the name of God, etc.
“From the Emír of Ahír, ʿAbd el Káder, son of the Sultan
Mohammed el Bákeri, to the Emír of Dáura, son of the late Emír
of Dáura, Is-hhák. The mercy of God upon the eldest companions
of the Prophet, and His blessing upon the Khalífa; ‘Amín.’ The
most lasting blessing and the highest wellbeing to you without
end. I send this message to you with regard to a stranger, my
guest, of the name of ʿAbd el Kerím, who came to me, and is
going to the Emír el Mumenín [the Sultan of Sókoto], in order
that, when he proceeds to you, you may protect him and treat
him well, so that none of the freebooters and evil-doers may
hurt him or his property, but that he may reach the Emír el
Mumenín. Indeed, we wrote this on account of the freebooters,
in order that you may protect him against them in the most
efficacious manner. Farewell.”
These letters were all sealed with the seal of the Sultan.
Hámma showed me also another letter which he had received from the
Sultan, and which I think interesting enough to be here inserted, as
it is a faithful image of the turbulent state of the country at that
time, and as it contains the simple expression of the sincere and just
proceedings of the new Sultan. Its purport was as follows, though the
language in which it is written is so incorrect that several passages
admit of different interpretations:—
“In the name of God, etc.
“From the Commander, the faithful Minister of Justice, the
Sultan ʿAbd el Káder, son of the Sultan Mohammed el Bákeri, to
the chiefs of all the tribe of Eʾ Núr, and Hámed, and Sëis, and
all those among you who have large possessions, perfect peace
to you.
“Your eloquence, compliments, and information are deserving
of praise. We have seen the auxiliaries sent to us by your
tribe, and we have taken energetic measures with them against
the marauders, who obstruct the way of the caravans of devout
people, and the intercourse of those who travel, as well
as those who remain at home. On this account we desire to
receive aid from you against their incursions. The people of
the Kél-fadaye, they are the marauders. We should not have
prohibited their chiefs to exercise rule over them, except
for three things: first, because I am afraid they will betake
themselves from the Aníkel [the community of the people of Aír]
to the Awelímmiden; secondly, in order that they may not make
an alliance with them against us, for they are all marauders;
and thirdly, in order that you may approve of their paying us
the tribute. Come, then, to us quickly. You know that what
the hand holds it holds only with the aid of the fingers; for
without the fingers the hand can seize nothing.
“We therefore will expect your determination, that is to say
your coming, after the departure of the salt-caravan of the
Itísan, fixed among you for the fifteenth of the month. God!
God is merciful and answereth prayer! Come therefore to us, and
we will tuck up our sleeves, and drive away the marauders, and
fight valiantly against them as God (be He glorified!) hath
commanded.
“Lo, corruption hath multiplied on the face of the earth! May
the Lord not question us on account of the poor and needy,
orphans and widows, according to His word: ‘You are all
herdsmen, and ye shall all be questioned respecting your herds,
whether ye have indeed taken good care of them or dried them
up.’
“Delay not, therefore, but hasten to our residence, where
we are all assembled; for ‘zeal in the cause of religion is
the duty of all;’ or send thy messenger to us quickly with
a positive answer; send thy messenger as soon as possible.
Farewell!”
The whole population was in alarm, and everybody who was able to bear
arms prepared for the expedition. About sunset the “égehen” left the
town, numbering about four hundred men, partly on camels, partly on
horseback, besides the people on foot. Bóro as well as Áshu accompanied
the Sultan, who this time was himself mounted on a camel. They went to
take their encampment near that of Astáfidet, in Tagúrast, ʿAbd el Káder
pitching a tent of grey colour, and in size like that of a Turkish aghá,
in the midst of the Kél-gerés, the Kél-ferwán, and the Emgedesíye; while
Astáfidet, who had no tent, was surrounded by the Kél-owí. The Sultan was
kind and attentive enough not to forget me even now; and having heard
that I had not yet departed, Hámma not having finished his business in
the town, he sent me some wheat, a large botta with butter and vegetables
(chiefly melons and cucumbers), and the promise of another sheep.
In the evening the drummer again went his rounds through the town,
proclaiming the strict order of the Sultan that everybody should lay in a
large supply of provisions. Although the town in general had become very
silent when deserted by so many people, our house was kept in constant
bustle, and in the course of the night three mehára came from the camp,
with people who could get no supper there, and sought it with us. Bóro
sent a messenger to me early the next morning, urgently begging for
a little powder, as the “Mehárebín” of the Imghád had sent off their
camels and other property, and were determined to resist the army of the
Sultan. However, I could send him but very little. My amusing friend
Mohammed spent the whole day with us, when he went to join the ghazzia.
I afterwards learnt that he obtained four head of cattle as his share.
There must be considerable herds of cattle in the more favoured valleys
of Asben; for the expedition had nothing else to live upon, as Mohammed
afterwards informed me, and slaughtered an immense quantity of them.
Altogether, the expedition was successful, and the Fádë-ang and many
tribes of the Imghád lost almost all their property. Even the influential
Háj Beshír was punished, on account of his son having taken part in the
expedition against us. I received also the satisfactory information
that ʿAbd el Káder had taken nine camels from the man who retained my
méheri; but I gained nothing thereby, neither my own camel being returned
nor another given me in its stead. The case was the same with all our
things; but nevertheless the proceeding had a good effect, seeing that
people were punished expressly for having robbed Christians, and thus the
principle was established that it was not less illegal to rob Christians
than it was to rob Mohammedans, both creeds being placed, as far as
regards the obligations of peace and honesty, on equally favourable terms.
_Tuesday, October 22._—I spent the whole of Tuesday in my house,
principally in taking down information which I received from the
intelligent Ghadámsi merchant Mohammed, who, having left his native
town from fear of the Turks, had resided six years in Ágades, and was a
well-informed man.
_Wednesday, October 23._—My old friend the blacksmith Hámmeda, and
the tall Elíyas, went off this morning with several camels laden with
provisions, while Hámma still stayed behind to finish the purchases;
for on account of the expedition, and the insecure state of the road
to Damerghú, it had been difficult to procure provisions in sufficient
quantity. Our house therefore became almost as silent and desolate as
the rest of the town; but I found a great advantage in remaining a few
days longer, for my chivalrous friend and protector, who, as long as
the Sultan and the great men were present, had been very reserved and
cautious, had now no further scruple about taking me everywhere, and
showing me the town “within and without.”
[Illustration]
We first visited the house of Ídder, a broker, who lived at a short
distance to the south from our house, and had also lodged Háj ʿAbdúwa
during his stay here. It was a large, spacious dwelling, well arranged
with a view to comfort and privacy, according to the conception and
customs of the inhabitants, while our house (being a mere temporary
residence for Ánnur’s people occasionally visiting the town) was a dirty,
comfortless abode. We entered first a vestibule, about twenty-five
feet long and nine broad, having on each side a separate space marked
off by that low kind of balustrade mentioned in my description of the
Sultan’s house. This vestibule or ante-room was followed by a second
room of larger size and irregular arrangement; opposite the entrance
it opened into another apartment, which, with two doors, led into a
spacious inner courtyard, which was very irregularly circumscribed by
several rooms projecting into it, while to the left it was occupied by an
enormous bedstead (1). These bedsteads are a most characteristic article
of furniture in all the dwellings of the Sónghay. In Ágades they are
generally very solidly built of thick boards, and furnished with a strong
canopy resting upon four posts, covered with mats on the top and on three
sides, the remaining side being shut in with boards. Such a canopied bed
looks like a little house by itself. On the wall of the first chamber,
which on the right projected into the courtyard, several lines of large
pots had been arranged, one above the other (2), forming so many warm
nests for a number of turtle-doves which were playing all about the
courtyard; while on the left, in the half-decayed walls of two other
rooms (3), about a dozen goats were fastened each to a separate pole. The
background of the courtyard contained several rooms, and in front of it
a large shade (4) had been built of mats, forming a rather pleasant and
cool resting-place. Numbers of children were gambolling about, who gave
to the whole a very cheerful appearance. There is something very peculiar
in these houses, which are constructed evidently with a view to comfort
and quiet enjoyment.
We then went to visit a female friend of Hámma, who lived in the south
quarter of the town, in a house which likewise bespoke much comfort; but
here, on account of the number of inmates, the arrangement was different,
the second vestibule being furnished on each side with a large bedstead
instead of mats, though here also there was in the courtyard an immense
bedstead. The courtyard was comparatively small, and a long corridor on
the left of it led to an inner courtyard or “tsakangída,” which I was not
allowed to see. The mistress of the house was still a very comely person,
although she had borne several children. She had a fine figure, though
rather under the middle size, and a fair complexion. I may here remark
that many of the women of Ágades are not a shade darker than Arab women
in general. She wore a great quantity of silver ornaments, and was well
dressed in a gown of coloured cotton and silk. Hámma was very intimate
with her, and introduced me to her as his friend and _protégé_, whom she
ought to value as highly as himself. She was married, but her husband
was residing in Kátsena, and she did not seem to await his return in the
Penelopean style. The house had as many as twenty inmates, there being no
less than six children, I think, under five years of age, and among them
a very handsome little girl, the mother’s favourite; besides, there were
six or seven full-grown slaves. The children were all naked, but wore
ornaments of beads and silver.
After we had taken leave of this Emgedesíye lady, we followed the street
towards the south, where there were some very good houses, although
the quarter in general was in ruins; and here I saw the very best and
most comfortable-looking dwelling in the town. All the pinnacles were
ornamented with ostrich eggs. One will often find in an eastern town,
after the first impression of its desolate appearance is gone by, many
proofs that the period of its utter prostration is not yet come, but
that even in the midst of the ruins there is still a good deal of ease
and comfort. Among the ruins of the southern quarter are to be seen the
pinnacled walls of a building of immense circumference and considerable
elevation; but unfortunately I could not learn from Hámma for what
purpose it had been used; however, it was certainly a public building,
and probably a large khán rather than the residence of the chief. With
its high, towering walls, it still forms a sort of outwork on the south
side of the town, where in general the wall is entirely destroyed, and
the way is everywhere open. Hámma had a great prejudice against this
desolate quarter. Even the more intelligent Mohammedans are often afraid
to enter former dwelling-places of men, believing them to be haunted by
spirits; but he took me to some inhabited houses, which were all built
on the same principle as that described, but varying greatly in depth
and in the size of the courtyard; the staircases (abi-n-háwa) leading
to the upper story are in the courtyard, and are rather irregularly
built of stones and clay. In some of them young ostriches were running
about. The inhabitants of all the houses seemed to have the same cheerful
disposition, and I was glad to find scarcely a single instance of misery.
I give here the ground-plan of another house.
[Illustration]
The artisans who work in leather (an occupation left entirely to females)
seem to live in a quarter by themselves, which originally was quite
separated from the rest of the town by a sort of gate; but I did not
make a sufficient survey of this quarter to mark it distinctly on the
ground-plan of the town. We also visited some of the mat-makers.
Our maimólo of the other day, who had discovered that we had slaughtered
our sheep, paid us a visit in the evening, and for a piece of meat
entertained me with a clever performance on his instrument, accompanied
with a song. Hámma spent his evening with our friend the Emgedesíye lady,
and was kind enough to beg me to accompany him. This I declined, but gave
him a small present to take to her.
I had a fair sample of the state of morals in Ágades the following day,
when five or six girls and women came to pay me a visit in our house,
and with much simplicity invited me to make merry with them, there being
now, as they said, no longer reason for reserve, “as the Sultan was
gone.” It was indeed rather amusing to see what conclusions they drew
from the motto “Serki yátafi.” Two of them were tolerably pretty and
well-formed, with fine black hair hanging down in plaits or tresses,
lively eyes, and very fair complexion. Their dress was decent, and that
of one of them even elegant, consisting of an under-gown reaching from
the neck to the ankles, and an upper one drawn over the head, both of
white colour; but their demeanour was very free, and I too clearly
understood the caution requisite in a European who would pass through
these countries unharmed and respected by the natives, to allow myself to
be tempted by these wantons. It would be better for a traveller in these
regions, both for his own comfort and for the respect felt for him by the
natives, if he could take his wife with him; for these simple people do
not understand how a man can live without a partner. The Western Tuarek,
who in general are very rigorous in their manners, and quite unlike the
Kél-owí, had nothing to object against me except my being a bachelor.
But as it is difficult to find a female companion for such journeys,
and as by marrying a native he would expose himself to much trouble and
inconvenience on the score of religion, he will do best to maintain the
greatest austerity of manners with regard to the other sex, though he
may thereby expose himself to a good deal of derision from some of the
lighter-hearted natives. The ladies, however, became so troublesome
that I thought it best to remain at home for a few days, and was thus
enabled at the same time to note down the information which I had been
able to pick up. During these occupations I was greatly pleased with the
companionship of a diminutive species of finches which frequent all the
rooms in Ágades, and, as I may add from later experience, in Timbúktu
also; the male, with its red neck, in particular looks extremely pretty.
The poults were just about to fledge.
_Sunday, October 27._—There was one very characteristic building in the
town, which, though a most conspicuous object from the terrace of our
house, I had never yet investigated with sufficient accuracy. This was
the mesállaje, or high tower rising over the roof of the mosque. The
reason why this building in particular (the most famous and remarkable
one in the town) had been hitherto observed by me only from a distance,
and in passing by, must be obvious. Difference of religious creed
repelled me from it; and so long as the town was full of strangers,
some of them very fanatical, it was dangerous for me to approach it too
closely. I had often inquired whether it would not be possible to ascend
the tower without entering the mosque; but I had always received for
answer that the entrance was locked up. As soon, however, as the Sultan
was gone, and when the town became rather quiet, I urged Hámma to do his
best that I might ascend to the top of this curious building, which I
represented to him as a matter of the utmost importance to me, since it
would enable me not only to control my route by taking a few angles of
the principal elevations round the valley Aúderas, but also to obtain a
distant view over the country towards the west and south, which it was
not my good luck to visit myself. To-day Hámma promised me that he would
try what could be done.
[Illustration]
Having once more visited the lively house of Ídder, we took our way over
the market-places, which were now rather dull. The vultures looked out
with visible greediness and eagerness from the pinnacles of the ruined
walls around for their wonted food—their share of offal during these
days, when so many people were absent, being of course much reduced,
though some of them probably had followed their fellow-citizens on the
expedition. So few people being in the streets, the town had a more
ruined look than ever, and the large heap of rubbish accumulated on the
south side of the butchers’ market seemed to me more disgusting than
before. We kept along the principal street between Dígi and Arrafíya,
passing the deep well Shedwánka on our right, and on the other side a
school, which resounded with the shrill voices of about fifty little
boys repeating with energy and enthusiasm the verses of the Kurán, which
their master had written for them upon their little wooden tablets.
Having reached the open space in front of the mosque, and there being
nobody to disturb me, I could view at my leisure this simple but curious
building, which in the subsequent course of my journey became still more
interesting to me, as I saw plainly that it was built on exactly the
same principle as the tower which rises over the sepulchre of the famed
conqueror Háj Mohammed Áskiá (the “Ischia” of Leo).
The mesállaje starts up from the platform or terrace formed by the roof
of the mosque, which is extremely low, resting apparently, as we shall
see, in its interior, upon four massive pillars. It is square, and
measures at its base about thirty feet, having a small lean-to, on its
east side, on the terrace of the mosque, where most probably there was
formerly the entrance. From this the tower rises (decreasing in width,
and with a sort of swelling or entasis in the middle of its elevation,
something like the beautiful model adopted by nature in the deléb palm,
and imitated by architects in the columns of the Ionic and Corinthian
orders) to a height of from ninety to ninety-five feet. It measures
at its summit not more than about eight feet in width. The interior
is lighted by seven openings on each side. Like most of the houses in
Ágades, it is built entirely of clay; and in order to strengthen a
building so lofty and of so soft a material, its four walls are united by
thirteen layers of boards of the dúm-tree, crossing the whole tower in
its entire breadth and width, and coming out on each side from three to
four feet, while at the same time they afford the only means of getting
to the top. Its purpose is to serve as a watch-tower, or at least was so
at a former time, when the town, surrounded by a strong wall and supplied
with water, was well capable of making resistance, if warned in due time
of an approaching danger. But at present it seems rather to be kept in
repair only as a decoration of the town.
The mesállaje in its present state was only six years old at the time
of my visit (in 1850), and perhaps was not even quite finished in the
interior, as I was told that the layers of boards were originally
intended to support a staircase of clay. About fifty paces from the
south-western corner of the mosque, the ruins of an older tower are seen
still rising to a considerable height, though leaning much to one side,
more so than the celebrated Tower of Pisa, and most probably in a few
years it will give way to an attack of storm and rain. This more ancient
tower seems to have stood quite detached from the mosque.
Having sufficiently surveyed the exterior of the tower, and made a sketch
of it, I accompanied my impatient companion into the interior of the
mosque, into which he felt no scruple in conducting me. The lowness of
the structure had already surprised me from without; but I was still
more astonished when I entered the interior, and saw that it consisted
of low, narrow naves, divided by pillars of immense thickness, the
reason of which it is not possible at present to understand, as they
have nothing to support but a roof of dúm-tree boards, mats, and a layer
of clay; but I think it scarcely doubtful that originally these naves
were but the vaults or cellars of a grand superstructure, designed but
not executed; and this conjecture seems to be confirmed by all that at
present remains of the mosque. The gloomy halls were buried in a mournful
silence, interrupted only by the voice of a solitary man, seated on a
dirty mat at the western wall of the tower, and reading diligently the
torn leaves of a manuscript. Seeing that it was the kádhi, we went
up to him and saluted him most respectfully; but it was not in the
most cheerful and amiable way that he received our compliments—mine
in particular—continuing to read, and scarcely raising his eyes from
the sheets before him. Hámma then asked for permission to ascend the
tower, but received a plain and unmistakable refusal, the thing being
impossible, there being no entrance to the tower at present. It was shut
up, he said, on account of the Kél-gerés, who used to ascend the tower
in great numbers. Displeased with his uncourteous behaviour, and seeing
that he was determined not to permit me to climb the tower, were it ever
so feasible, we withdrew and called upon the imám, who lives in a house
attached to these vaults, and which looked a little neater from having
been whitewashed; however, he had no power to aid us in our purpose, but
rather confirmed the statement of the kádhi. This is the principal mosque
of the town, and seems to have been always so, although there are said to
have been formerly as many as seventy mosques, of which ten are still in
use. They deserve no mention, however, with the exception of three, the
Msíd Míli, Msíd Éheni, and Msíd el Mékki. I will only add here that the
Emgedesíye, so far as their very slender stock of theological learning
and doctrine entitles them to rank with any sect, are Malekíye, as well
as the Kél-owí.
Resigning myself to the disappointment of not being able to ascend the
tower, I persuaded my friend to take a longer walk with me round the
northern quarter of the town. But I forgot to mention that besides
Hámma, I had another companion of a very different character. This was
Zúmmuzuk, a reprobate of the worst description, and whose features bore
distinct impress of the vile and brutal passions which actuated him;
yet being a clever fellow, and (as the illegitimate son, or “dan néma,”
of an Emgédesi woman) fully master of the peculiar idiom of Ágades,
he was tolerated not only by the old chief Ánnur, who employed him as
interpreter, but even by me. How insolent the knave could be I shall soon
have occasion to mention. With this fellow, therefore, and with Hámma, I
continued my walk, passing the kófa-n-alkáli, and then, from the ruins of
the quarter Ben-Gottára, turning to the north. Here the wall of the town
is in a tolerable state of preservation, but very weak and insufficient,
though it is kept in repair, even to the pinnacles, on account of its
surrounding the palace of the Sultan. Not far from this is an open space
called Azarmádarangh, “the place of execution,” where occasionally the
head of a rebellious chieftain or a murderer is cut off by the “dóka;”
but as far as I could learn, such things happen very seldom. Even on the
north side, two gates are in a tolerable state of preservation.
Having entered the town from this side, we went to visit the quarter of
the leather-workers, which, as I stated before, seems to have formed
originally a regular ward; all this handicraft, with the exception of
saddle-work, is carried on by women, who work with great neatness. Very
beautiful provision-bags are made here, although those which I brought
back from Timbúktu are much handsomer. We saw also some fine specimens of
mats, woven of a very soft kind of grass, and dyed of various colours.
Unfortunately, I had but little with me wherewith to buy; and even if I
had been able to make purchases, the destination of our journey being so
distant, there was not much hope of carrying the things safely to Europe.
The blacksmiths’ work of Ágades is also interesting, although showy and
barbarous, and not unlike the work with which the Spaniards used to adorn
their long daggers.
_Monday, October 28._—During all this time I prosecuted inquiries with
regard to several subjects connected with the geography and ethnography
of this quarter of the world. I received several visits from Emgédesi
tradesmen, many of whom are established in the northern provinces of
Háusa, chiefly in Kátsena and Tasáwa, where living is infinitely cheaper
than in Ágades. All these I found to be intelligent men, having been
brought up in the centre of intercourse between a variety of tribes and
nations of the most different organization, and, through the web of
routes which join here, receiving information of distant regions. Several
of them had even made the pilgrimage, and thus come in contact with
the relatively high state of civilization in Egypt and near the coast;
and I shall not easily forget the enlightened view which the mʿallem
Háj Mohammed ʿOmár, who visited me several times, took of Islamism and
Christianity. The last day of my stay in Ágades, he reverted to the
subject of religion, and asked me, in a manner fully expressive of his
astonishment, how it came to pass that the Christians and Moslemín were
so fiercely opposed to one another, although their creeds, in essential
principles, approximated so closely. To this I replied by saying that I
thought the reason was that the great majority both of Christians and
Moslemín paid less regard to the dogmas of their creeds than to external
matters, which have very little or no reference to religion itself. I
also tried to explain to him that in the time of Mohammed Christianity
had entirely lost that purity which was its original character, and that
it had been mixed up with many idolatrous elements, from which it was not
entirely disengaged till a few centuries ago, while the Mohammedans had
scarcely any acquaintance with Christians except those of the old sects
of the Jacobites and Nestorians. Mutually pleased with our conversation,
we parted from each other with regret.
In the afternoon I was agreeably surprised by the arrival of the Tinýlkum
Ibrahim, for the purpose of supplying his brother’s house with what was
wanted; and being determined to make only one day’s stay in the town, he
had learned with pleasure that we were about to return by way of Áfasás,
the village whither he himself was going. I myself had cherished this
hope, as all the people had represented that place as one of the largest
in the country, and as pleasantly situated. Hámma had promised to take me
this way on our return to Tin-téllust; but having stayed so much longer
in the town than he had intended, and being afraid of arriving too late
for the salt-caravan of the Kél-owí on their way to Bilma, which he was
to supply with provisions, he changed his plan, and determined to return
by the shortest road. Meanwhile he informed me that the old chief would
certainly not go with us to Zínder till the salt-caravan had returned
from Bilma.
Fortunately, in the course of the 29th a small caravan with corn arrived
from Damerghú, and Hámma completed his purchases. He had, however, first
to settle a disagreeable affair; for our friend Zúmmuzuk had bought, in
Hámma’s name, several things for which payment was now demanded. Hámma
flew into a terrible rage, and nearly finished the rogue. My Arab and
Tawáti friends, who heard that we were to start the following day, though
they were rather busy buying corn, came to take leave of me, and I was
glad to part from all of them in friendship. But before bidding farewell
to this interesting place, I shall make a few general observations on its
history.
CHAPTER XVIII.
HISTORY OF ÁGADES
Previously to Mr. Cooley’s perspicuous inquiries into the Negroland of
the Arabs, this place was identified with Aúdaghost, merely on account
of a supposed similarity of name. But Ágades, or rather Égedesh, is
itself a pure Berber word, in no way connected with Aúdaghost. It is
of very frequent occurrence, particularly among the Awelímmiden, and
means “family,” and the name was well chosen for a town consisting of
mixed elements. Moreover, while we find Aúdaghost in the far west in the
twelfth century, we have the distinct statement of Marmol that Ágades
was founded a hundred and sixty years before the time when he wrote
(that is to say, in 1460), the truth of which statement, harmonizing as
it does with Leo’s more general account, that it was a modern town, we
have no reason to doubt. Neither of these authors tells us who built it;
but as we know that the great Sónghay conqueror Háj Mohammed Áskiá, who
conquered the town of Ágades in the year of the Hejra 921, or 1515 of
our era, expelled from it the five Berber tribes who, according to the
information collected by me during my stay in Ágades, and which I shall
soon lay before my readers, must have been long resident in the town, it
appears highly probable that these Berbers were its founders. And if this
be assumed, there will be no difficulty in explaining why the language of
the natives of the place at present is a dialect of the Sónghay language,
as it is most probable that this great and enlightened conqueror, after
he had driven out the old inhabitants, established in this important
place a new colony of his own people. In a similar way we find the
Sónghay nation, which seems not to have originally extended to a great
distance eastward of Gágho or Gógo, now extending into the very heart of
Kébbi, although we shall find other people speaking the same language in
the neighbourhood of Ágades, and perhaps may be able in the course of our
researches to trace some connection between the Sónghay and ancient Egypt.
It is therefore highly probable that those five Berber tribes formed
the settlement in question as an _entrepôt_ for their commerce with
Negroland, though the foundation of such a grand settlement on the
border of the desert presumes that they had at that time a preponderating
influence in all these regions; and the whole affair is so peculiar that
its history could not fail to gratify curiosity if more could be known of
it. From Bello’s account, it would appear that they, or at least one of
these tribes (the Aújila), conquered the whole of Aïr.
It is certainly remarkable to see people from five places, separated from
each other by immense tracts, and united only by the bond of commerce
and interest, founding a large colony far away from their homes and on
the very border of the desert. For, according to all that I could learn
by the most sedulous inquiries in Ágades, those tribes belonged to the
Gurára of Tawat, to the Tafimáta, to the Beni Wazít and the Tésko of
Ghadámes, to the once powerful and numerous tribe of the Masráta, and
finally to the Aújila; and as the names of almost all these different
tribes, and of their divisions, are still attached to localities of the
town, we can scarcely doubt the correctness of this information, and
must suppose that Sultan Bello was mistaken in referring the five tribes
(settled in Ágades) to Aújila alone.
Though nothing is related about the manner in which Háj Mohammed Áskiá
took possession of the town, except that it is stated distinctly that
he drove out the five tribes, it seems, from the traditions current in
Ágades, that a considerable number of the Berbers, with five hundred
“jákhfa” (cages mounted on camels, such as only wealthy people can afford
to keep for carrying their wives), left the town, but were all massacred.
But no one who regards with the least attention the character of the
present population of the town can doubt for a moment that a considerable
number of the Berber population remained behind, and in course of
time mixed with the Sónghay colonists; for, even if we set aside the
consideration of the language (which is greatly intermixed with Berber
words), there is evidently much Berber blood in the population even at
the present day, a fact which is more evident in the females than in the
males.
It is a pity that Leo says nothing about the language spoken in Ágades;
for he lived just at the very period during which the town, from a Berber
settlement, became a Negro town. His expression certainly implies that
he regarded it as a Negro town. But, while well-informed in general
respecting the great conquests of Mohammed Áskiá (or, as he calls him,
Ischia, whom he erroneously styles King of Timbúktu), he does not once
mention his expedition against Ágades, of which he might have heard as
easily as of those against Kátsena and Kanó, which preceded the former
only by two years. From his account it would seem that the town was
then in a very flourishing state, full of foreign merchants and slaves,
and that the king, though he paid a tribute of one hundred and fifty
thousand ducats to the King of Timbúktu (Gágho), enjoyed a great degree
of independence, at least from that quarter, and had even a military
force of his own. Besides, it is stated expressly that he belonged to
the Berber race. But it would almost seem as if Leo, in this passage,
represented the state of things as it was when he visited the town,
before Áskiá’s time, and not at the date when he wrote, though the
circumstance of the tribute payable to that king may have been learnt
from later information. In general, the great defect in Leo’s description
is that the reader has no exact dates to which to refer the several
statements, and that he cannot be sure how far the author speaks as an
eye-witness, and how far from information.
Of course it is possible that the Berbers found a Sónghay population,
if not in the place itself, which most probably did not exist before
the time of their arrival, yet in the district around it; and it would
seem that there existed in ancient times, in the celebrated Valley of
Ír-n-allem, a small town of which some vestiges are said to remain at the
present day, as well as two or three date-trees, the solitary remains
of a large plantation. From this town, tradition says, the present
inhabitants of Ágades were transplanted. But be this as it may, it is
certain that the same dialect of the Sónghay language which is spoken in
Ágades is also still spoken in a few places in the neighbourhood, by the
tribe of the Íghdalén, or Ighedálen, whose whole appearance, especially
their long hair, shows them to be a mixed race of Sónghay and Berbers,
and there is some reason to suppose that they belonged originally to the
Zenága or Senhája. These people live in and around Íngal, a small town
four days’ journey from Ágades, on the road to Sókoto, and in and around
Tegídda, a place three days’ journey from Íngal, and about five from
Ágades west-south-west. This latter place is of considerable interest,
being evidently identical with the town of the same name mentioned by Ebn
Khaldún and by Ebn Batúta as a wealthy place, lying eastward from Gógo,
on the road to Egypt, and in intimate connection and friendly intercourse
with the Mzáb and Wárgela. It was governed by a Berber chief, with the
title of Sultan. This place, too, was for some time subject to Gógo, or
rather to the empire of Méle or Málli, which then comprised Sónghay, in
the latter part of the fourteenth century; and the circumstance that
here too the Sónghay language is still spoken may be best explained by
referring it to colonization, since it is evident that Áskiá, when he
took possession of Ágades, must have occupied Tegídda also, which lay
on the road from Gógo to that place. However, I will not indulge in
conjectures, and will merely enter into historical questions so far as
they contribute to furnish a vivid and coherent picture of the tribes and
countries with which my journey brought me into contact. I will therefore
only add that this place, Tegídda or Tekádda, was famous, in the time of
Ebn Batúta, for its copper mines, the ores of which were exported as far
as Bórnu and Góber, while at present nothing is known of the existence
of copper hereabouts; but a very good species of salt of red colour
(já-n-gísherí), which is far superior to that of Bilma, is obtained here,
as well as in Íngal. But I recommend this point to the inquiry of future
travellers. I have mentioned above the presence of loadstone on the
border of Aír.
Having thus attempted to elucidate and illustrate the remarkable fact
that the language of Ágades is derived from and akin to the Sónghay—a
fact which of course appeared to me more surprising before I discovered,
in the course of 1853, that this language extends eastward far beyond
the so-called Niger—I return once more to the settlement of the Berbers
in Ágades. It is evident that this settlement, if it was of the
nature described above, was made for the purpose of serving as a great
commercial _entrepôt_ for the commerce with another country; and if
we duly consider the statements made by el Bekri, Ebn Batúta, Leo, Ca
da Mosto, and by the author of the “History of Sónghay,” with regard
to the importance of the market of Gógo, and if we pay due attention
to that circuitous route which led from Gógo by way of Tegídda, not
only to Egypt, but even to Tawát, there cannot be the least doubt that
Ágades was founded by those Berber tribes with the distinct purpose that
it might serve them as a secure abode and fortified magazine in their
commercial intercourse with that splendid capital of the Sónghay empire,
the principal article of which was gold, which formed also the chief
article in the former commerce of Ágades. For Ágades had its own standard
weight of this precious metal, the mithkál, which even at the present day
regulates the circulating medium. And this mithkál of Ágades is totally
different from the standard of the same name which is in use in Timbúktu,
the latter being, in regard to the value of the Spanish dollar, as 1⅓ to
1, and the former only as ⅖ to 1. But for wholesale business a greater
weight was in use, called “kárruwe,” the smaller kárruwe containing
thirty-three mithákel, or mithkáls, and a third, equal to two rottls and
a sixth, while the larger kárruwe contained a hundred mithkáls, and was
equal to six rottls and a half.
The importance of the trade of Ágades, and the wealth of the place in
general, appear very clearly from the large tribute, of a hundred and
fifty thousand ducats, which the King of Ágades was able to pay to that
of Sónghay, especially if we bear in mind that Leo, in order to give an
idea of the great expense which this same King of Sónghay had incurred
on his pilgrimage to Mekka, states in another passage that having spent
all he took with him, he contracted a debt amounting to that very sum.
As for the King of Ágades, his situation was at that time just what it
is now; and we cannot better describe his precarious position, entirely
dependent on the caprice and intrigues of the influential chiefs of the
Tuarek, than by using the very words of Leo, “Alle volte scacciano il re
e pongono qualche suo parente in luogo di lui, nè usano ammazzar alcuno;
e quel che più contenta gli abitatori del diserto è fatto re in Agadez.”
Unfortunately, we are not able to fix a date for that very peculiar
covenant between the different tribes with regard to the installation of
the Sultan of Ágades, and the establishing of the principle that he must
belong to a certain family, which is regarded as of sheríf nobility, and
lives not in Ágades, nor even in the country of Aír, but in a town of
Góber. I was once inclined to think that this was an arrangement made
in consequence of the power and influence which the Emír of Sókoto had
arrogated to himself; but I have now reason to doubt this, for even the
grandfather of ʿAbd el Káder was Sultan. Certainly even now, when the
power of the Fulfúlde or Féllani empire is fast crumbling to pieces, the
Emír of Sókoto has a certain influence upon the choice of the Sultan of
Ágades. Of this fact I myself became witness during my stay in Sókoto in
April, 1853, when Hámed eʾ Rufäy was once more sent out to succeed ʿAbd
el Káder. Indeed, Ittegáma, ʿAbd el Káder’s brother, who thought that I
enjoyed the favour and confidence of the Emír, called upon me (as I shall
relate in due time) expressly to entreat me most urgently to exert my
influence in order to restore my former host to his authority.
I have described already in what way the union of the tribes of the
Itísan, the Kél-gerés, and the Kél-owí is expressed in installing the
Sultan; but though without the presence and assent of the former the new
prince could never arrive at his place of residence, the final decision
seems to rest with the chief Ánnur, the inhabitants of the town having no
voice in the matter. The Sultan is rather a chief of the Tuarek tribes
residing in Ágades than the ruler of Ágades. How difficult and precarious
his position must be may be easily conceived if it be considered that
these tribes are generally at war with one another; the father of Hámed
eʾ Rufäy was even killed by the Kél-gerés. Nevertheless, if he be an
intelligent and energetic man, his influence in the midst of this wild
conflict and struggle of clashing interests and inclinations must be very
beneficial.
What the revenue of the Sultan may at present amount to it is difficult
to say. His means and income consist chiefly in the presents which
he receives on his accession to authority, in a contribution of one
bullock’s hide or kulábu (being about the value of half a Spanish dollar)
from each family, in a more considerable but rather uncertain tribute
levied upon the Imghád, in the tax of ten mithkáls or four Spanish
dollars which he levies on each camel-load of foreign merchandise which
enters the town of Ágades (articles of food being exempt from charge),
in a small tribute derived from the salt brought from Bilma, and in
the fines levied on lawless people and marauders, and often on whole
tribes. Thus it is very probable that the expedition which ʿAbd el Káder
undertook immediately after his accession, against the tribes who had
plundered us, enriched him considerably. As for the inhabitants of Ágades
themselves, I was assured that they do not pay him any tribute at all,
but are only obliged to accompany him on his expeditions. Of course
in earlier times, when the commerce of the town was far greater than
at present, and when the Imghád (who had to provide him with cattle,
corn, fruit, and vegetables) were strictly obedient, his income far
exceeded that of the present day. When taken altogether it is certainly
considerably under twenty thousand dollars. His title is Amanókal,
or Amanókal Imakóren, in Temáshight, Kókoy bére in the Emgédesi, and
Babá-n-Serkí in the Háusa language.
The person second in authority in the town, and in certain respects the
Vizier, is now, and apparently was also in ancient times, the “kókoy
gerégeré” (_i.e._ master of the courtyard or the interior of the palace).
This is his real indigenous character, while the foreigners, who regarded
him only in his relation to themselves, called him Sheikh el ʿArab, or,
in the Háusa language, Serkí-n-turáwa (the Chief of the Whites), and this
is the title by which he is generally known. For it was he who had to
levy the tax on the merchandise imported into the town, an office which
in former times, when a considerable trade was carried on, was of great
importance. But the chief duty of the “serkí-n-turáwa,” at the present
time, is to accompany annually the salt-caravan of the Kél-gerés, which
supplies the western part of Middle Sudán with the salt of Bilma, from
Ágades to Sókoto, and to protect it on the road as well as to secure it
against exorbitant exactions on the part of the Fúlbe of Sókoto. For this
trouble he receives one “kántu,” that is to say the eighth part (eight
kántu weighing three Turkish kantars or quintals) of a middle-sized
camel-load, a contribution which forms a considerable income in this
country, probably of from eight to ten thousand Spanish dollars, the
caravan consisting generally of some thousand camels, not all equally
laden, and the kántu of salt fetching in Sudán from five thousand to
seven and eight thousand kurdí or shells, which are worth from two to
three dollars. Under such circumstances those officers, who at the
same time trade on their own account, cannot but amass considerable
wealth. Mohammed Bóro as well as Áshu are very rich, considering the
circumstances of the country.
After having escorted the salt-caravan to Sókoto, and settled the
business with the Emír of this place, the serkí-n-turáwa in former times
had to go to Kanó, where he received a small portion of the six hundred
kurdí, the duty levied on each slave brought to the slave-market, after
which he returned to Ágades with the Kél-gerés that had frequented the
market of Kanó. I had full opportunity, in the further course of my
journey, to convince myself that such is not now the case; but I cannot
say what is the reason of this custom having been discontinued, though it
may be the dangerous state of the road between Sókoto and Kanó. Mohammed
Bóro, the former serkí-n-turáwa, has still residences as well in Kanó and
Zínder as in Sókoto and Ágades. From what I have said it is clear that at
present the serkí-n-turáwa has much more to do with the Tuarek and Fúlbe
than with the Arabs, and at the same time is a sort of mediator between
Agades and Sókoto. Of the other persons in connection with the Sultan,
the “kókoy kaina” or “bába-n-serkí” (the chief eunuch), at present
Ámagay, the fádawa-n-serkí (the aides-de-camp of the Sultan), as well as
the kádhi or alkáli, and the war-chief Sídi Ghalli, I have spoken in the
diary of my residence in the place.
I have already stated above that the southern part of the town, which at
present is almost entirely deserted, formed the oldest quarter, while
katánga, or “báki-n-bírni,” seems to have been its northern limit. Within
these limits the town was about two miles in circuit, and when thickly
peopled may have contained about thirty thousand inhabitants; but after
the northern quarter was added the whole town had a circuit of about
three miles and a half, and may easily have mustered as many as fifty
thousand inhabitants, or even more. The highest degree of power seems to
have been attained before the conquest of the town by Mohammed Áskiá in
the year 1515, though it is said to have been a considerable and wealthy
place till about sixty years ago (reckoned from 1850), when the greatest
part of the inhabitants emigrated to the neighbouring towns of Háusa,
chiefly Kátsena, Tasáwa, Marádi, and Kanó. The exact circumstances which
brought about this deplorable desertion and desolation of the place
I was not able to learn; and the date of the event cannot be made to
coincide with the period of the great revolution effected in Middle Sudán
by the rising of the Jihádi, “the Reformer,” ʿOthmán da-n-Fódiye, which
it preceded by more than fifteen years; but it coincides with or closely
follows upon an event which I shall have to dwell upon in the further
course of my proceedings. This is the conquest of Gáo, or Gógo (the
former capital of the Sónghay empire, and which since 1591 had become a
province of the empire of Morocco), by the Tuarek. As we have seen above
that Ágades had evidently been founded as an _entrepôt_ for the great
trade with this most flourishing commercial place on the Ísa, or Niger,
at that time the centre of the gold trade, of course the ransacking and
wholesale destruction of this town could not but affect in the most
serious manner the wellbeing of Agades, cutting away the very roots
through which it received life.
[Illustration: 1, House where I lodged; 2, Great Mosque, or Mesállaje; 3,
Palace, or Fáda; 4, Káswa-n-delélti, or Tama-n-lókoy; 5, Káswa-n-rákoma;
6, Katánga; 7, Erárar-n-zákan; 8, Mohammed Bóro’s house; 9, House
of the Kádhi; 10, Well Shedwánka; 11, Pools of Stagnant Water; 12,
Kófa-n-Alkáli; 13, Masráta Hogúme; 14, Suburb of Ben Gottára.]
At present I still think that I was not far wrong in estimating the
number of the inhabited houses at from six hundred to seven hundred, and
the population at about seven thousand, though it must be borne in mind
that, as the inhabitants have still preserved their trading character,
a great many of the male inhabitants are always absent from home, a
circumstance which reduces the armed force of the place to about six
hundred. A numerical element, capable of controlling the estimated amount
of the population, is offered by the number of from two hundred and
fifty to three hundred well-bred boys, who at the time of my visit were
learning a little reading and writing, in five or six schools scattered
over the town; for it is not every boy who is sent to school, but only
those belonging to families in easy circumstances, and they are all about
the same age, from eight to ten years old.
With regard to the names of the quarters of the town, which are
interesting from an historical point of view, I was not able to learn
exactly the application of each of the names; and I am sure very few even
of the inhabitants themselves can now tell the limits of the quarters,
on account of the desolate state of many of them. The principal names
which can be laid down with certainty in the plan are Masráta, Gobetáren,
Gáwa-Ngírsu, Dígi or Dégi, Katánga, Terjemán, and Arrafía, which comprise
the south-western quarter of the town. The names of the other quarters,
which I attempted to lay down on the plan sent to Government together
with my report, I now deem it prudent to withdraw, as I afterwards found
that there was some uncertainty about them. I therefore collect here, for
the information of future travellers, the names of the other quarters of
the place, besides those mentioned above and marked in the plan—Lárelóg,
Churúd, Hásena, Amaréwuël, Imurdán (which name, I was assured afterwards,
has nothing in common with the name of the tribe of the Imghád), Tafimáta
(the quarter where the tribe of the same name lived), Yobímme (“yobu-mé”
meaning the mouth of the market), Dégi-n-béne, or the Upper Dégi, and
Bosenrára. Kachíyu (not Kachín) seems to have been originally the name
of a pool, as I was assured that, besides the three ponds still visible,
there were formerly seven others, namely Kudúru, Kachíyu, Chikinéwan,
Lángusúgázará, Kurungúsu, and Rabafáda, this latter in the square of the
palace.
The whole ground upon which the town is built (being the edge of a
tableland which coincides with the transition from granite to sandstone)
seems to be greatly impregnated with salt at a certain depth, of which
not only the ponds, but even the wells bear evidence, two of the three
wells still in use having saltish water, and only that of Shedwánka
being, as to taste, free from salt, though it is still regarded as
unwholesome, and all the water used for drinking is brought from the
wells outside the walls. Formerly, it is said, there were nine wells
inside the town.
From what I have said above, it may be concluded that the commerce of
Ágades is now inconsiderable. Its characteristic feature is that no kind
of money whatever is current in the market—neither gold, nor silver, nor
kurdí, nor shells; while strips of cotton, or gábagá (the Kanúri, and not
the Háusa term being employed in this case, because the small quantity of
this stuff which is current is imported from the north-western province
of Bórnu), are very rare, and indeed form almost as merely nominal a
standard as the mithkál. Nevertheless the value of the mithkál is divided
into ten rijáls, or érjel, which measure means eight drʿa, or cubits,
of gábagá. The real standard of the market, I must repeat, is millet or
dukhn (“géro” in Háusa, “éneli” in Temáshight, _Pennisetum typhoïdeum_),
durra, or _Holcus sorghum_, being scarcely ever brought to market. And
it is very remarkable, that with this article a man may buy everything
at a much cheaper rate than with merchandise, which in general fetches
a low price in the place; at least it did so during my stay, when the
market had been well stocked with everything in demand, by the people
who had come along with us. English calico of very good quality was sold
by me at 20 per cent. less than it had been bought for at Múrzuk. Senna
in former times formed an article of export of some importance; but the
price which it fetches on the coast has so decreased that it scarcely
pays the carriage, the distance from the coast being so very great; and
it scarcely formed at all an article in request here, nor did we meet
on our whole journey a single camel laden with it, though it grows in
considerable quantities in the valleys hereabouts.
Ágades is in no respect a place of resort for wealthy merchants, not even
Arabs, while with regard to Europe its importance at present consists in
its lying on the most direct road to Sókoto and that part of Sudán. In my
opinion it would form for a European agent a very good and comparatively
healthy place from which to open relations with Central Africa. The
native merchants seem only to visit the markets of Kátsena, Tasáwa,
Marádi, Kanó, and Sókoto, and, as far as I was able to learn, never go
to the northern markets of Ghát or Múrzuk, unless on a journey to Mekka,
which several of them have made. Neither does there seem to exist any
intercourse at present with Gágho, or Gógo, or with Timbúktu; but the
Arabs of Azawád and those parts, when undertaking a pilgrimage, generally
go by way of Ágades.
I must here add, that I did not observe that the people of Ágades use
manna in their food, nor that it is collected in the neighbourhood of the
town; but I did not inquire about it on the spot, not having taken notice
of the passage of Leo relating to it.
My stay in Ágades was too short to justify my entering into detail about
the private life of the people, but all that I saw convinced me that,
although open to most serious censure on the part of the moralist, it
presented many striking features of cheerfulness and happiness, and
nothing like the misery which is often met with in towns which have
declined from their former glory. It still contains many active germs of
national life, which are most gratifying to the philosophic traveller.
The situation, on an elevated plateau, cannot but be healthy, as the few
waterpools, of small dimensions, are incapable of infecting the air. The
disease which I have mentioned in my diary as prevalent at the time of my
sojourn was epidemic. Besides, it must be borne in mind that the end of
the rainy season everywhere in the tropical regions is the most unhealthy
period of the year.
CHAPTER XIX.
DEPARTURE FROM ÁGADES.—STAY IN TIN-TÉGGANA.
_Wednesday, October 30._—We at length left Ágades. I felt as if I had
enjoyed a glimpse of a totally different world, a new region of life,
many relations of which were as yet obscure to me. Timbúktu, which was
in the background of this novel and living picture, seemed an almost
unattainable object. An acquaintance with it would not fail to throw
light upon this advanced post of Sónghay nationality, and its state
of civilization; but at that time I little expected that it would be
my destiny to dwell a year in that mysterious place, and I had even
reason to doubt the possibility of reaching it from this quarter. All my
thoughts were bent on the south; and although at present retracing my
steps towards the north, yet, as it carried me back to our headquarters,
whence I might soon expect to start for the southern regions, I regarded
it as a step in advance.
But the commencement of the journey was most abortive, and made me rather
regret that I had not spent the day in the town. Hámma was unable to find
some of the asses belonging to the caravan, for the simple reason that
our friend Zúmmuzuk had sold them; and the whole day was lost, so that
we encamped after a march of scarcely two miles and a half. Here we were
joined by Ibrahím and by a very amiable, intelligent Kél-owí of the name
of Rábbot, who informed me that to the east of the valley Tefárrakad
there were several other valleys not at all inferior to it in exuberance
and variety of vegetation. As the most important among them, he named to
me Ámdegra, Edob, Téwarni, Tíndawén, and Aságatay.
When at length, on Thursday morning, we fairly began our journey, we
followed entirely our old road, Hámma being anxious to get home; but
nevertheless, as the mountains and ridges which characterize this region
now met the eyes from the other side, the scenery was a good deal varied,
and I had frequent opportunities of completing my map of this part of the
country. Besides, we chose our encampments in new localities; and many
little incidents varied our journey, the most interesting of which was
the approach of a party of five lions in the valley Búdde, when Hámma
called us to arms. He, Rábbot, Mohammed, and I advanced to meet them, but
they soon turned their backs, leaping over the rocky ground towards their
mountain retreat. The lion of Aír does not seem to be a very ferocious
animal, and, like those of all this border-region of the desert, has no
mane—that is to say, as compared with other lions. The maneless lion of
Guzerat is well known, but a similar species seems also to occur in Sind
and Persia. The lion of Central Africa, at least of Bórnu and Logón, has
a beautiful mane; and the skin of a lion of that region, which I took
with me on my journey to Western Sudán, excited the admiration of all who
saw it.
The valley Tíggeda had now a very different aspect from that which it
wore when we were going to Ágades; for while at that time, beautiful as
it was, it was not enlivened by a single human being, now at its very
head we met a considerable caravan of Kél-owí, laden with salt, and
accompanied by a herd of young camels, to be bartered in the market of
Ágades for corn, and further on we found a herd of from sixty to seventy
head of cattle, and numerous flocks of goats, indulging in the rich
herbage which had previously excited my astonishment. Our minds likewise
were excited by the important news that the old chief of Tin-téllust
had started for Sudán, not only with my fellow-travellers, but with
the whole caravan; but while my fiery and frivolous Mohammed heaped
conjecture upon conjecture, meditating how we should be able to reach
them, Hámma, who knew his father-in-law better, and who was conscious of
his own importance and dignity, remained incredulous. We had some very
pretty mountain views from this side, especially when we approached Mount
Eghellál, behind which the Búnday and other mountains rose into view.
On the morning of the 5th of November, which was to be the day of our
arrival in Tin-téllust, it was so cold that we started rather late, Hámma
simply declaring that the cold did not allow him to go on—“Dári yahánna
fataúchi.” Having started at length, we made a long day’s march, and
after eleven hours and a half travelling reached the well-known sand-hill
opposite Tin-téllust, where our encampment had stayed so long, not by
the great road along the valley, but by “the Thief’s Passage,” in order
to observe before we were observed. But the residence of the great chief
Ánnur was buried in the deepest silence; the courtiers, the blacksmiths,
all the great men and ladies, had gone away. Hámma went to see if anybody
remained behind, while we cooked our rice, and prepared to make ourselves
comfortable for the night. That, however, was out of the question, for
when he returned he ordered us to decamp at once; and though nothing
is more dreadful than a night’s march, particularly when it succeeds
to a long day’s journey, yet in the enthusiasm awakened by the thought
of going southwards I with all my heart joined in the exclamation
“Sé fataúchi sé Kanó” (“No rest before Kanó”—properly, “Nothing but
travelling, nothing but Kanó”)!
It was ten o’clock in the evening when we started again along the broad
valley, taking leave for ever of “the English Hill;” but I soon began
to suffer from the consequences of fatigue. In order to avoid falling
from my camel in my drowsy state, I was obliged to drag myself along,
great part of the night, on foot, which was not at all agreeable, as the
ground was at times very rugged, and covered with long grass. Having
crossed a rocky flat, we entered, about four o’clock in the morning,
the wide plain of Tin-téggana, stumbling along through the thick cover
of bú rékkebah and other sorts of herbage, till dawn, coming on with
rather chilly air, revealed to our benumbed senses the encampment of
the caravan. Having therefore made repeated halts, to give the people
time to recognize us, in order not to occasion any alarm, as our leader
Hámma was not with us, but had lain down at the road-side to get a few
hours’ rest, we made straight for the two European tents which showed us
precisely the residence of my fellow-travellers. The old chief Ánnur was
up, and received me with great kindness—more kindly, I must say, than my
colleagues, who apparently felt some jealousy on account of the success
which had attended my proceedings. Having once more taken possession of
the well-known home of our little tent, I preferred looking about the
encampment to lying down; for sleeping after sunrise is not agreeable to
me.
The valley Tin-téggana, wherein Ánnur, with his people, was encamped, is
in this place about three miles broad, being bordered towards the east
by a low range of hills with the small cone of Ádode rising to a greater
elevation, towards the west by the Búnday and some smaller mountains;
towards the south, where the ground rises, it is lined by more detached
peaks; while on the north side an open view extends down the valley as
far as the large mountain mass which borders the valley of Tin-téllust
on the north. Altogether it was a fine, open landscape, embracing the
country which forms the nucleus, if I may say so, of the domain of the
old chief, whose camels pasture here the whole year round, while he
himself usually takes up his residence in this place about this season,
when nature is in its prime, and the weather becomes cool, in order to
enjoy the country air.
We ourselves had as yet no idea of making a long stay here, but indulged
in the hope of starting the next day, when all of a sudden about noon our
old friend declared solemnly that he was unable to go with us at present,
that he himself was obliged to wait for the salt caravan, while his
confidential slave Zinghína was now to go southwards. He said that, if we
chose, we might go on with the latter. He supposed, perhaps, that none of
us would dare to do so; but when I insisted upon it afterwards he as well
as Zinghína declared that the attempt was too dangerous, and it would
have been absurd to insist on accompanying the slave. For the moment such
a disappointment was very trying. However, I afterwards perceived that,
though we had lost more than a month of the finest season for travelling,
we had thereby acquired all possible security for safely attaining the
object of our journey; for now we were obliged to send off all our
luggage with Zinghína in advance, and might fully expect to travel with
infinitely more ease and less trouble, when no longer encumbered with
things which, though of little value, nevertheless attracted the cupidity
of the people. At the time, however, even this was not at all agreeable,
as Overweg and I had to part with almost all our things, and to send them
on to Kanó, to the care of a man of whose character we knew nothing.
_Friday, November 8._—Nearly all the Arabs and many of the Kél-owí
started, and it awakened some feeling of regret to see them go and to be
ourselves obliged to stay behind. Our friend Músa, who had been the most
faithful of our Tinýlkum camel-drivers, who had visited us almost daily
in our tent, and from whom we had obtained so much valuable information,
was the last to take leave of us. But as soon as the caravan was out of
sight I determined to make the best possible use of this involuntary
leisure, by sifting elaborately the varied information which I had been
able to collect in Ágades, and by sending a full report to Europe, in
order to engage the interest of the scientific public in our expedition,
and to justify Her Majesty’s Government in granting us new supplies,
without which, after our heavy losses, we should be obliged to return
directly, leaving the chief objects of the expedition unattained. Owing
to this resolution, our quiet life in Asben was not, I hope, without its
fruits.
[Illustration]
Our encampment, too, became more cheerful and agreeable when, on the
following day, we transferred it to the korámma Ofáyet, a beautiful
little branch wady of the spacious valley Tin-téggana, issuing from a
defile (a “kógo-n-dútsi”) formed by the Búnday and a lower mount to the
south, along which led the path to Ásodi. It was most densely wooded
with talha-trees, and overgrown with tall bú rékkebah and allwot, and
was thinned only very gradually, as immense branches and whole trees
were cut down daily to feed the fires during the night; for it was at
times extremely cold, and we felt most comfortable when in the evening we
stretched ourselves in front of our tents, round an enormous fire. The
tall herbage also was by degrees consumed, not only by the camels, but by
the construction of small conical huts; so that gradually a varied and
pleasant little village sprang up in this wild spot, which is represented
in the accompanying woodcut. The time which we were obliged to stay
here would indeed have passed by most pleasantly but for the trouble
occasioned to Overweg and myself by our impudent and dissolute Tunisian
half-caste servant, who had become quite insupportable. Unfortunately
we did not find an opportunity of sending him back; and I thought it
best to take him with me to Kanó, where I was sure to get rid of him.
Our other servant, Ibrahím, also, though much more prudent, was not at
all trustworthy, which was the more to be regretted as he had travelled
all over Háusa, and even as far as Gónja, and might have proved of
immense service. But fortunately I had another servant, a thin youth, of
most unattractive appearance, but who nevertheless was the most useful
attendant I ever had; and though young, he had roamed about a great deal
over the whole eastern half of the desert, and shared in many adventures
of the most serious kind. He possessed, too, a strong sense of honour,
and was perfectly to be relied upon. This was Mohammed el Gatróni, a
native of Gatrón, in the southern part of Fezzán, who, with a short
interruption (when I sent him to Múrzuk with the late Mr. Richardson’s
papers and effects), remained in my service till I returned to Fezzán in
1855.
The zeal with which I had commenced finishing my report was well
rewarded, for on the 14th the Ghadámsi merchant Abu Bakr el Wákhshi (an
old man whom I shall have occasion to mention repeatedly in the course of
my journey) came to Ánnur to complain of a robbery committed upon part of
his merchandise at Tasáwa. But for this circumstance he would not have
touched at this place, and his people, whom he was sending to Ghadámes,
would have travelled along the great road by Ásodi without our knowing
anything about them. Being assured by the trustworthy old man that the
parcel would reach Ghadámes in two months, I sent off the first part of
my report.
In the course of the 15th, while sitting quietly in my tent, I suddenly
heard my name, “ʿAbd el Kerím,” pronounced by a well-known voice, and
looking out, to my great astonishment saw the little sturdy figure of my
friend Hámma trotting along at a steady pace, his iron spear in his hand.
I thought he was gone to Bilma, as we had been told; but it appeared
that, having come up with the salt caravan at the commencement of the
Hammáda, he only supplied them with more corn, and having conferred with
them, had come back to assist his old father-in-law in the arduous task
of keeping the turbulent tribes in some state of quiet. The degree of
secrecy with which everything is done in this wild country is indeed
remarkable, and no doubt contributes in a great measure to the influence
and power of the sagacious chief of Tin-téllust.
Four days later came my other friend, the foolish Mohammed, who had
accompanied the expedition of the Sultan of Ágades, and who was full
of interesting details of this little campaign. Neither Astáedfit, the
Prince of the Kél-owí, nor ʿAbd el Káder, the Sultan residing in Ágades,
actually took part in the attack, or “súkkua,” but kept at a distance.
On asking my merry friend what was the result of the whole, and whether
the state of the country to the north was now settled, and the road
secure, he exclaimed, with a significant grimace, “Bábu dádi” (Not very
pleasant); and to what extent strength was sacrificed to euphony in
this expression we were soon to learn, for the next day the “makéria,”
the wife of the “mákeri” Elíyas, came to tell us that a ghazzia of
the Éfadaye had suddenly fallen upon Tintagh-odé, and had carried off
two large droves (gérki) of camels and all the movable property. Such
is the state of this country, where the chiefs, instead of punishing
systematically the rebels and marauders, regard such instances of crime
only as opportunities for enriching themselves with plunder. The Éfadaye
do not muster more than from two hundred to three hundred spears, but
they are generally assisted by the Ígammén and Édelén, two of the tribes
of the Imghád whom I mentioned above.
The next day the old chief, accompanied by Hámma and seven other trusty
companions, set out for Tintéyyat, in order to consult with the old
mʿallem Azóri, “the wise man of Aír,” about the means of preventing the
bad consequences likely to arise from the turbulent state into which the
country had fallen just when he was about to set out for Sudán.
The old chief, on his return from his important consultation, gave us
some interesting information about “the Lion of Tintéyyat” (Azóri).
Azóri, he said, had attained the highest degree of wisdom and learning,
comprehending all Divine and human things, without ever leaving the
country of Aír. He was now nearly blind, though younger in years than
himself. His father had likewise been a very wise man. Formerly,
according to our friend, there was another great mʿallem in the country,
named Hámi, a native of Tintagh-odé, and as long as he lived the
Aníslimen, his fellow-citizens, had been good people and followed the way
of justice, while at present their name, “Aníslim,” was become a mere
mockery, for they were the worst of the lawless, and had lost all fear
of God; indeed almost all the troubles into which the country had been
plunged might be ascribed to their agency and intrigues. Here the old
chief had touched on his favourite theme, and he gave vent to all his
anger and wrath against those holy men, who were evidently opposed to his
authority.
The old man was, in fact, on the most friendly terms with us, and instead
of being suspicious of our “writing down his country,” was anxious to
correct any erroneous idea which we might entertain respecting it. I
shall never forget with what pleasure he looked over my sketch of the
route from Tin-téllust to Ágades, while I explained to him the principal
features of it; and he felt a proud satisfaction in seeing a stranger
from a far distant country appreciate the peculiar charms of the glens
and mountains of his own native land. He was, in short, so pleased
with our manners and our whole demeanour that one day, after he had
been reposing in my tent and chatting with me, he sent for Yusuf, and
told him plainly that he apprehended that our religion was better than
theirs; whereupon the Arab explained to him that our manners indeed
were excellent, but that our religious creed had some great defects,
in violating the unity of the Almighty God, and elevating one of His
prophets from his real rank of servant of God to that of His Son. Ánnur,
rising a little from his couch, looked steadily into Yusuf’s face, and
said, “Hákkanánne?” (Is it so?) As for me, in order not to provoke a
disputation with Yusuf, who united in himself some of the most amiable
with some of the most hateful qualities, I kept silence as long as he was
present; but when he retired I explained to the chief that, as there was
a great variety of sects among the Mohammedans, so there was also among
the Christians, many of whom laid greater stress upon the unimpaired
unity of the Creator than even the Mohammedans. So much sufficed for
the justification of our religion; for the old man did not like to talk
much upon the subject, though he was strict in his prayers, as far as we
were able to observe. He was a man of business, who desired to maintain
some sort of order in a country where everything naturally inclines to
turbulence and disorder. In other respects he allowed every man to do
as he liked; and notwithstanding his practical severity, he was rather
of a mild disposition, for he thought Europeans dreadful barbarians for
slaughtering without pity such numbers of people in their battles, using
big guns instead of spears and swords, which were, as he thought, the
only manly and becoming weapons.
The 25th of November was a great market-day for our little settlement,
for on the preceding day the long-expected caravan with provisions
arrived from Damerghú, and all the people were buying their necessary
supply; but we had much difficulty in obtaining what we wanted, as all
our things, even the few dollars we had still left, were depreciated, and
estimated at more than 30 per cent. less than their real value. After
having recovered in Ágades a little from the weakness of my stomach,
by the aid of the princely dishes sent me by ʿAbd el Káder, I had,
notwithstanding the fine cool weather, once more to suffer from the
effects of our almost raw and bitter dishes of Guinea-corn, and the more
so as I had no tea left to wash down this unpalatable and indigestible
paste; and I felt more than common delight when we were regaled on the
27th by a fine strong soup made from the meat of the bullock which we
had bought from Ánnur for twelve thousand kurdí. It was a day of great
rejoicing, and a new epoch in our peaceful and dull existence, in
consequence of which I found my health greatly restored.
Our patience, indeed, was tried to the utmost, and I looked for some
moments with a sort of despair into Hámma’s face, when, on his return
from a mission to the Éfadaye, which seemed not to have been quite
successful, he told me on the 28th of November that we should still make
a stay here of twenty-five days. Fortunately he always chose to view
things on the worst side, and I was happy to be assured by the old chief
himself that our stay here would certainly not exceed fifteen days.
Nevertheless, as the first short days of our sham travelling afterwards
convinced me, the veracious Hámma, who had never deceived me, was in
reality quite right in his statement. My friend came to take leave of
me, as he was to absent himself for a few days, in order to visit an
elder sister of his, who lived in Telíshiet, further up the valley of
Tin-téggana; and of course I had to supply him with some handsome little
production of European manufacture.
We had full reason to admire the energy of the old chief, who on the
30th of November went to a “privy council” with Mʿallem Azóri and Sultan
Astáfidet, which was appointed to be held in some solitary glen, half-way
between Tin-téggana and Asodi, and, after he had returned late in the
evening of the 1st of December, was galloping along our encampment in the
morning of the 2nd, in order to visit the new watering-place lower down
in the principal valley, the former well beginning to dry up, or rather
requiring to be dug to a greater depth, as the moisture collected during
the rainy season was gradually receding. This was the first time we saw
our friend on horseback; and though he was seventy-six years of age,
he sat very well and upright in his saddle. Overweg went on one of the
following days to see the well (which was about four miles distant from
our encampment, in a west-north-west direction, beyond a little village
of the name of Óbrasen), but found it rather a basin formed between the
rocky cliffs, and fed, according to report, by a spring.
Meanwhile I was surprised to learn from Mohammed Byrji, Ánnur’s
grandson, and next claimant to the succession after Háj ʿAbdúwa, that
the last-named, together with el Usu or Lúsu, the influential chief of
Azanéres, and el Hossén, had started for the south six days previously,
in order to purchase provisions for the salt caravan. In this little
country something is always going on, and the people all appear to lead a
very restless life; what wonder, then, if most of them are the progeny of
wayfarers, begotten from fortuitous and short-lived matches? Perhaps in
no country is domestic life wanting to such a degree as among the Kél-owí
properly so called, but it would be wrong to include in this category the
tribes of purer blood living at some distance from this centre of the
salt trade.
At length, on the 5th of December, the first body of the salt caravan
arrived from Bilma, opening the prospect of a speedy departure from this
our African home; but although we were very eager to obtain a glance at
them, they did not become visible, but kept further to the west. The
following evening, however, several friends and partisans of the old
chief arrived, mounted on mehára, and were received by the women with
loud, shrill cries of welcome (“tirlelák” in Temáshight), very similar to
the “tehlíl” of the Arabs.
_Saturday, December 7._—Preparations were now gradually made for our
setting out; but previously it was necessary to provide a supply of
water, not only for the immediate use of the numerous salt caravan, but
for the constant one of those people who were to remain behind during the
absence of their chief and master. Accordingly, on the 7th of December
the old chief left our encampment, with all his people, in solemn
procession, in order to dig a new well; and after having long searched
with a spear for the most favourable spot, they set to work close to
the entrance of a small branch wady, joining the main valley from the
east side, not far from Ádode; and having obtained a sufficient supply
of water, they walled the well in with branches and stones, so that it
was capable of retaining water at least till the beginning of the next
rainy season, when, most probably, the floods would destroy it. There
are, indeed, in these countries very few undertakings of this kind the
existence of which is calculated upon for more than a year.
Meanwhile, during our long, lazy stay in this tranquil alpine retreat
of the wilderness, after I had finished my report on Ágades, I began
to study in a more comprehensive way the interesting language of that
place, and in order to effect that purpose had been obliged to make a
sort of treaty with that shameless profligate Zúmmuzuk, who for his
exploits in Ágades had received severe punishment from his master. The
chief conditions of our covenant were, that he was to receive every day
a certain allowance, but that during his presence in my tent he was
not to move from the place assigned him, the limits of which were very
accurately defined—of course at a respectful distance from my luggage;
and if he touched anything I was officially permitted by Ánnur to shoot
him on the spot. Notwithstanding the coolness and reserve which I was
obliged to adopt in my intercourse with this man, I was fully capable
of estimating his veracity, and in the course of my journey and my
researches I convinced myself that in no one instance did he deviate from
the truth.
Going on in this way, I had completed, by the 8th of the month, an exact
and full vocabulary of the Emgédesi language, and could with more leisure
indulge in a conversation with my friend Ámagay, the chief eunuch and
confidential servant of the Sultan of Ágades, who paid me a visit, and
brought me the most recent news from the capital. Affairs were all in the
best state, his business now being merely to arrange a few matters with
Ánnur before the latter set out for Sudán. He informed me that the salt
caravan of the Kél-gerés and Itísan had long ago returned from Bilma,
taking with them our letter to the Sultan of Sókoto, and accompanied by
Mohammed Bóro, who had taken all his children with him except those who
were still attending school. Ámagay had also brought with him the curious
letter from Mustapha, the Governor of Fezzán, which is spoken of by Mr.
Richardson. I treated him with some coffee (which was now with me a very
precious article, as I had but little left), and made him a small present.
CHAPTER XX.
FINAL DEPARTURE FOR SUDÁN.
_Thursday, December 12._—At length the day broke when we were to move
on and get nearer the longed-for object of our journey, though we were
aware that our first progress would be slow. But before we departed from
this region, which had become so familiar to us, I wished to take a
last glimpse down the valley towards Tin-téllust, and wandered towards
the offshoots of Mount Búnday, which afforded me a fine prospect over
the whole valley up to that beautiful mountain mass which forms so
characteristic a feature in the configuration of the whole country. The
hills which I ascended consisted of basalt, and formed a low ridge, which
was separated from the principal mountain mass by a hollow of sandstone
formation. Having bade farewell to the blue mountains of Tin-téllust, I
took leave of the charming little valley Ofáyet, which, having been a
few moments previously a busy scene of life, was now left to silence and
solitude.
Late in the morning we began to move, but very slowly, halting every now
and then. At length the old chief himself came up, walking like a young
man before his méheri, which he led by the nose-cord, and the varied
groups composing the caravan began to march more steadily. It was a whole
nation in motion, the men on camels or on foot, the women on bullocks
or on asses, with all the necessaries of the little household, as well
as the houses themselves, a herd of cattle, another of milk-goats,
and numbers of young camels running playfully alongside, and sometimes
getting between the regular lines of the laden animals. The ground was
very rocky and rugged, and looked bare and desolate in the extreme, the
plain being strewn for a while with loose basaltic stones, like the Plain
of Tághist.
Several high peaks characterize this volcanic region, and after having
left to our right the peak called Ebárrasa, we encamped, a little before
noon, at the north-eastern foot of a very conspicuous peak called
Teléshera, which had long attracted my attention. We had scarcely
chosen our ground when I set out on foot in order to ascend this high
mountain, from which I expected to obtain a view over the eastern side
of the picturesque mass of the Eghellál; but its ascent proved very
difficult, chiefly because I had not exerted my strength much during our
long stay in this country. The flanks of the peak, after I had ascended
the offshoots, which consisted of sandstones, were most precipitous and
abrupt, and covered with loose stones, which gave way under my feet, and
often carried me a long way down. The summit consisted of perpendicular
trachytic pillars, of quadrangular and almost regular form, 2½ ft. in
thickness, as if cut by the hand of man, some of them about one hundred
feet high, while others had been broken off at greater or less height.
It is at least fifteen hundred feet above the bottom of the valley. The
view was interesting, although the sky was not clear. I was able to
take several angles, but the western flank of the Eghellál, which I was
particularly anxious to obtain a sight of, was covered by other heights.
Beyond the branch wady which surrounds this mountain on the south side,
there is a ridge ranging to a greater length, and rising from the ground
with a very precipitous wall; this was examined by Mr. Overweg, and found
to consist likewise of trachyte interspersed with black basaltic stone
and crystals of glassy felspar. Having attained my purpose, I began
my retreat, but found the descent more troublesome than the ascent,
particularly as my boots were torn to pieces by the sharp stones; and
the fragments giving way under my feet, I fell repeatedly. I was quite
exhausted when I reached the tent, but a cup of strong coffee soon
restored me. However, I never afterwards on my whole journey felt strong
enough to ascend a mountain of moderate elevation.
_Friday, December 13._—Starting rather late, we continued through the
mountainous region, generally ascending, while a cold wind made our old
friend the chief shiver and regard with feelings of envy my thick black
bernús, although he had got bernúses enough from us not only to protect
him against cold, but us too against any envious feeling for the little
which was left us. Further on, in several places, the granite (which
at the bottom of the valley alternates with sandstone) was perfectly
disintegrated, and had become like meal. Here the passage narrowed for
about an hour, when we obtained a view of a long range stretching out
before us, with a considerable cone lying in front of it. Keeping now
over rocky ground, then along the bottom of a valley called Tánegat,
about half a mile broad, where we passed a well on our right, we at
length reached a mountain spur starting off from the ridge on our
right, and entered a beautiful broad plain, stretching out to the foot
of a considerable mountain group, which was capped by a remarkable
picturesquely indented cone called Mári. Here we saw the numerous camels
of the salt caravan grazing in the distance to our left; and after having
crossed a small rocky flat, we encamped in the very channel of the
torrent, being certain that at this season no such danger as overwhelmed
us in the valley Éghazar was to be feared. Ámagay, who was still with
us, paid me a visit in the afternoon, and had a cup of coffee; he also
came the next morning. Near our encampment were some fine acacia-trees of
the species called gáwo, which I shall have to mention repeatedly in my
travels.
_Saturday, December 14._—We started early, but encamped, after a short
march of about six miles, on uneven ground intersected by numbers of
small ridges. The reason of the halt was that the whole of the caravan
was to come up and to join together; and our old chief here put on his
official dress (a yellow bernús of good quality), to show his dignity as
leader of such a host of people.
Salt forms the only article conveyed by this caravan. The form of the
largest cake is very remarkable; but it must be borne in mind that the
salt in Bilma is in a fluid state, and is formed into this shape by
pouring it into a wooden mould. This pedestal or loaf of salt (kántu)
is equal to five of the smaller cakes, which are called áserím; and
each áserím equals four of the smallest cakes, which are called fótu.
The bags, made of the leaves of the dúm-palm (or the “kábba”), in which
these loaves are packed up, are called “tákrufa.” But the finest salt is
generally in loose grains, and this is the only palatable salt, while the
ordinary salt of Bilma is very bitter to the European palate, and spoils
everything; but the former is more than three times the value of the
latter. The price paid in Bilma is but two zékkas for three kántus.
In the evening there was “urgí,” or “éddil” (playing), and “ráwa,” or
“adéllul” (dancing), all over the large camp of the salt caravan, and
the drummers, or “masugánga,” were all vying with each other, when I
observed that our drummer, Hassan, who was proud of his talent, and used
to call for a little present, was quite outdone by the drummer of that
portion of the caravan which was nearest to us, who performed his work
with great skill, and caused general enthusiasm among the dancing people.
The many lively and merry scenes, ranging over a wide district, itself
picturesque, and illuminated by large fires in the dusk of evening,
presented a cheerful picture of animated native life, looking at which
a traveller might easily forget the weak points discoverable in other
phases of life in the desert.
_Sunday, December 15._—The general start of the united “aïri,” or
caravan, took place with great spirit; and a wild, enthusiastic cry,
raised over the whole extent of the encampment, answered to the
beating of the drums. For though the Kél-owí are greatly civilized by
the influence of the black population, nevertheless they are still
“half demons,” while the thoroughbred and freeborn Amóshagh (whatever
name he may bear, whether Tárki, ba-Ásbenchi, Kindín, or Chapáto) is
regarded by all the neighbouring tribes, Arabs as well as Africans, as
a real demon (“jin”). Notwithstanding all this uproar, we were rather
astonished at the small number of camels, laden with salt, which formed
Ánnur’s caravan; for they did not exceed two hundred, and their loads in
the aggregate would realize in Kanó at the very utmost three thousand
dollars, which, if taken as the principal revenue of the chief, seems
very little. The whole number of the caravan did not exceed two thousand
camels.
[Illustration]
However enthusiastically the people had answered to the call of the
drums, the loading of the camels took a long time, and the old chief
himself had remarkably few people to get ready his train; but the reason
probably was that he was obliged to leave as many people behind as
possible for the security of the country. When at length we set out, the
view which presented itself was really highly exciting; for here a whole
nation was in motion, going on its great errand of supplying the wants of
other tribes, and bartering for what they stood in need of themselves.
All the drums were beating, and one string of camels after the other
marched up in martial order, led on by the “mádogu,” the most experienced
and steadfast among the servants or followers of each chief. It was clear
that our last night’s encampment had been chosen only on account of its
being well protected all around by ridges of rock; for on setting out
to-day we had to follow up, in the beginning, a course due west, in order
to return into our main direction along the valley. We then gradually
began to turn round the very remarkable Mount Mári, which here assumed
the figure shown in the sketch. Further on I saw the people busy in
digging up a species of edible bulbous roots called “adíllewan” by the
Kél-owí. This, I think, besides the “bába,” or “níle” (the _Indigofera
endecaphylla_) the first specimens of which we had observed two days ago
shooting up unostentatiously among the herbage, was the most evident
proof that we had left the region of the true desert, though we had still
to cross a very sterile tract.
Having changed our direction from south to south-west, about noon we
entered the high road coming directly from Ásodi, but which was, in fact,
nothing better than a narrow pathway. Here we were winding through a
labyrinth of large detached projecting blocks, while Mount Mári presented
itself in an entirely different shape. Gradually the bottom of the valley
became free from blocks, and we were crossing and recrossing the bed of
the watercourse, when we met a small caravan belonging to my friend the
Emgédesi Ídder, who had been to Damerghú to buy corn. Shortly afterwards,
we encamped at the side of the watercourse, which is called Adóral, and
which joins, further downwards, another channel, called Wéllek, which
runs close along the western range. Here we saw the first specimens of
the pendent nests of the weaver bird (_Ploceus Abyssiniacus_).
While I was filling up my journal in the afternoon I received a visit
from Mohammed Byrji, who had this morning left Tin-téggana; he informed
me that the women and the old men whom we had left there had not returned
to Tin-téllust, but had gone to Tintághalén. All the population of the
other villages in the northern districts of Aír were likewise retreating
southwards during the absence of the salt caravan.
[Illustration]
_Monday, December 16._—On starting this morning we were glad to find some
variety in the vegetation; for instead of the monotonous talha-trees,
which with some justice have been called “vegetable mummies,” the whole
valley-plain was adorned with beautiful spreading addwa- or tabórak-trees
(the _Balanites Ægyptiaca_), the foliage of which often reached down to
the very ground, forming a dense canopy of the freshest green. After
winding along and crossing and recrossing the small channel, the path
ascended the rocky ground, and we soon got sight of the mountains of
Bághzen, looking out from behind the first mountain range, from whose
southern end a point called Ánfisék rises to a considerable elevation.
This higher level, however, was not bare and naked, but overgrown with
the “knotted” grass bú rékkebah, and with the addwa- and gawo-tree, while
on our left the broad but nevertheless sharply marked peak of Mount Mári
towered over the whole, and gave to the landscape a peculiar character.
At an early hour we encamped between buttresses of scattered blocks
shooting out of the plain, which seems to stretch to the very foot of the
Bághzen, and to be noted pre-eminently as the Plain, “erárar.”
In the afternoon I walked to a considerable distance, first to a hill
south-west from our camp, from which I was able to take several angles,
and then to the well. The latter was at the distance of a mile and a half
from our tent in a westerly direction, and was carefully walled up with
stones; it measured three fathoms and a half to the surface of the water,
while the depth of the water itself was at present little less than three
fathoms, so that it is evident that there is water here at all seasons.
Its name is Albes. As, on account of our slow travelling, we had been
four days without water, the meeting with a well was rather agreeable to
us. Between the well and the foot of the mountain there was a temporary
encampment of shepherds, who sent a sheep and a good deal of cheese to
the old chief.
Here we remained the two following days, in order to repose from the
fatigue of our sham travelling! I went once more all over my Emgédesi
collection, and made a present to the servants of the mission, of
twenty-two zékkas of Bílma dates, which I bought from the people of
the caravan; they were all thankful for this little present. I was
extremely glad to find that even the Tunisian shushán, when he had to
receive orders only from me, behaved much better; and I wrote from his
recital a Góber story which, as being characteristic of the imagination
of the natives, and illustrating their ancient Pagan worship of the
dodó, might perhaps prove of interest even to the general reader. The
several divisions of the “aïri” came slowly up; among them we observed
the Kél-azanéres, the people of Lúsu, the chief himself having gone on in
advance, as I observed above.
_Thursday, Dec. 19._—Our heavy caravan at length set out again, the
camels having now recovered a little from the trying march over the
naked desert which divides the mountainous district of Asben from the
“hénderi-Tedá,” the fertile hollow of the Tébu country. It attracted my
attention that the shrubby and thick-leaved “allwot” (the blue _Cucifera_
mentioned before) had ceased altogether; even the eternal bú rékkebah
began to be scarce, while only a few solitary trees were scattered about.
While marching over this dreary plain, we noticed some Tébu merchants,
natives of Dírki, with only three camels, who had come with the salt
caravan from Bílma, and were going to Kanó; from them we learnt that a
Tébu caravan had started from Kawár for Bórnu at the time of the ʿAïd el
kebír. The example of these solitary travellers, indeed, might perhaps be
followed with advantage by Europeans also, in order to avoid the country
of the Azkár and the insecure border districts of the Kél-owí, especially
if they chose to stay in the Tébu oasis till they had obtained the
protection of one of the great men of this country. For a little while
the plain was adorned with talha-trees; but then it became very rugged,
like a rough floor of black basalt, through which wound a narrow path,
pressing the whole caravan into one long string. At length, at half-past
two o’clock in the afternoon, after having traversed extremely rugged
ground, we began to descend from this broad basaltic level, and having
crossed the dry watercourse of a winter torrent, entered the valley
Télliya, which has a good supply of trees, but very little herbage. A
cemetery here gave indication of the occasional or temporary residence of
nomadic settlers.
On ascending again from the bottom of the valley to a higher level,
and looking backwards, we obtained a fine view of Mount Ajúri, at the
foot of which lies Chémia, a valley and village celebrated for its
date-trees. It was not our fate to see any of those places in Asben
which are distinguished by the presence of this tree—neither the valley
just mentioned, nor Iferwán, nor Ir-n-Allem; and a visit to them will
form one of the interesting objects of some future traveller in this
country. Having kept along the plain for an hour, we encamped at a
little distance west from the dry bed of a watercourse running from
north to south along the eastern foot of a low basaltic ridge, with a
fine display of trees, but a scanty one of herbage. I went to ascend the
ridge, supposing it to be connected with the Bághzen, but found that it
was completely separated from the latter by a depression or hollow quite
bare and naked.
[Illustration]
This was the best point from whence to obtain a view over the eastern
flank of Mount Bághzen, with its deep crevices or ravines, which seemed
to separate the mountain mass into several distinct groups; and in the
evening I made the sketch of it given here.
However, we had full leisure to contemplate this mountain, which is
not distinguished by great elevation, the highest peaks being little
more than two thousand feet above the plain; but it is interesting, as
consisting probably of basaltic formation. We stayed here longer than we
desired, as we did not find an opportunity to penetrate into the glens
in its interior, which, from this place seem excessively barren, but
are said to contain some favoured and inhabited spots, where even corn
is reared. But our companions spoke with timorous exclamations of the
numbers of lions which infest these retired mountain passes, and not one
of them would offer himself as a companion. The reason of our longer stay
in this place was that our camels had strayed to a very great distance
southwards, so that they could not be found in the forenoon of the
following day. The blame of letting them stray was thrown upon Hassan,
whose inferiority as a drummer I had occasion to notice above. How he
was punished Mr. Richardson has described; and I will only add that the
handkerchief which he paid was to be given to the “serkí-n-kárfi” (“the
taskmaster,” properly “the master of the iron” or “of the force”); but
the whole affair was rather a piece of pleasantry.
In the morning Mghás, the chief of Téllwa, a fine, sturdy man, mounted
upon a strong grey horse, passed by, going southward, followed by a
long string of camels; and shortly afterwards a small caravan of people
of Selúfiet, who had bought corn in Damerghú, passed in the opposite
direction.
_Saturday, Dec. 21._—The weather was clear and cheerful, and the sun was
warmer than hitherto. We went on, and approached a district more favoured
by nature, when, having passed an irregular formation in a state of great
decomposition, we reached, about ten o’clock, the valley Unán, or rather
a branch wady of the chief valley of that name, where dúm-palms began to
appear, at first solitary and scattered about, but gradually forming a
handsome grove, particularly after the junction with the chief valley,
where a thick cluster of verdure, formed by a variety of trees, greeted
the eye. There is also a village of the name of Unán, lying on the border
of the principal valley a little higher up, and wells occur in different
spots. But the valley was not merely rich in vegetation—it was the
richest, indeed, as yet seen on this road—it was also enlivened by man;
and after we had met two Íghdalén whom I had known in Ágades, we passed
a large troop of Ikádmawen, who were busy watering their camels, cattle,
and goats at one of the wells. We also saw here the first specimens of
stone houses which characterize the district to which the valley Unán
forms the entrance-hall, if I may use the expression. On its western side
is an irregular plain, where a division of the salt caravan lay encamped.
Proceeding then, after midday we passed by a low white cone on our left,
after which the valley, with its variety of vegetation, and animated as
it was by numerous herds of goats, made a cheerful impression. Here the
remains of stone dwellings became numerous, and further on we passed an
entire village consisting of such houses, which, as I was distinctly
informed, constituted in former times one of the principal settlements of
the Kél-gerés, who were then masters of all the territory as far as the
road to Ágades. The whole valley here formed a thick grove of dúm-palms,
and stone houses, entire or in ruins, were scattered all about. About
three o’clock in the afternoon we left it for an hour, traversing a rocky
flat with a low ridge of basalt ranging on our right, when we descended
again into the dúm valley, which had been winding round on the same side,
and encamped, at half-past four o’clock in the afternoon, in the midst
of very wild and rank vegetation, nourished by an immense torrent, which
occasionally rolls its floods along the channel, and which had left, on
the stems of the baggarúwa-trees with which it was lined, evident traces
of the depth which it may sometimes attain. The bed of the torrent was
thickly overgrown with wild melons.
Although there is no well in the neighbourhood, we were to stay here the
two following days, in order to give the camels a good feed. A well,
called Tánis-n-tánode, lies lower down the valley, but at a considerable
distance. The valley itself runs south-westward: by some it is said to
join the Erázar-n-Bargót; but this seems scarcely possible. Numerous
flocks of wild pigeons passed over our heads the following morning,
looking for water. The monotony of the halt was interrupted, in the
course of the day, by the arrival of Hámma, who had been to Afasás,
and by that of Astáfidet, the young titular Kél-owí chief residing in
Ásodi, among whose companions or followers was a very intelligent and
communicative man of the name of el Hasár, who gave me a great deal of
interesting information. All the eminences in the neighbourhood consist
of basaltic formation.
_Tuesday, Dec. 24._—We again moved on a little, following the rich
valley, which in some places reminded me of the scenery of the Upper
Nile, the only difference being that here the broad sandy bottom of the
watercourse takes the place of the fine river in the scenery of Nubia.
We made a short halt on the road, in order to supply ourselves with
water from the well which I mentioned before. About noon the fresh,
fleshy allwot, which had not been observed by us for several days, again
appeared, to the great delight of the camels, which like it more than
anything else, and, having been deprived of it for some time, attacked it
with the utmost greediness. Two miles and a half further on, where the
valley widened to a sort of irregular plain with several little channels,
we encamped; there was a profusion of herbage all around.
It was Christmas Eve, but we had nothing to celebrate it with, and we
were cast down by the sad news of the appearance of the cholera in
Tripoli. This we had learned during our march, from a small caravan
which had left that place three months previously without bringing us a
single line, or even as much as a greeting. The eternal bitter “túwo”
was to be devoured to-day also, as we had no means of adding a little
festivity to our repast. We remained here the two following days, and
were entertained on the morning of Christmas Day by a performance
of Astáfidet’s musicians. This was a somewhat cheerful holiday
entertainment, although our visitors had not that object in view, but
merely plied their talents to obtain a present. There were only two of
them, a drummer and a flautist; and though they did not much excel the
other _virtuosi_ of the country, whose abilities we had already tested,
nevertheless, having regard to the occasion, we were greatly pleased with
them. Here I took leave of my best Kél-owí friend, Hámma, a trustworthy
man in every respect—except, perhaps, as regards the softer sex—and a
cheerful companion, to whom the whole mission, and I in particular, were
under great obligations. He, as well as Mohammed Byrji, the youthful
grandson of Ánnur, who accompanied him on this occasion, were to return
hence with Astáfidet, in order to assist this young titular prince in
his arduous task of maintaining order in the country during the absence
of the old chief and the greater part of the male population of the
north-eastern districts. They were both cheerful, though they felt some
sorrow at parting; but they consoled themselves with the hope of seeing
me again one day. But, poor fellows, they were both doomed to fall in the
sanguinary struggle which broke out between the Kél-gerés and the Kél-owí
in 1854.
CHAPTER XXI.
THE BORDER REGION OF THE DESERT.—THE TAGÁMA.
_Friday, Dec. 27._—At length we were to exchange our too easy wandering
for the rate of real travelling. Early in the morning a consultation
was held with the elder men of the Kél-táfidet, who had come from their
villages. We then set out, taking leave of the regions behind us, and
looking forward with confidence and hope to the unknown or half-known
regions before us. The valley continued to be well clothed with a
profusion of herbage, but it was closely hemmed in on both sides; after a
march, however, of four miles and a half, it widened again to more than a
mile, and began gradually to lose its character of a valley altogether;
but even here the allwot was still seen, although of a stunted and dry
appearance. We then left the green hollow which is the valley Bargót,
and I thought we should now enter upon the Hammáda, or “ténere;” but
after a while the valley again approached close on our left. To my
disappointment, we encamped even before noon, at the easy northern slope
of the rocky ground, where there is a watering-place called Aghálle. The
afternoon, however, passed away very pleasantly, as I had a conversation
with the old chief, who honoured me with a visit, and touched on many
points of the highest interest.
_Saturday, Dec. 28._—Starting at a tolerably early hour, we ascended
the slope; but no sooner had we reached the level of the plain than
we halted, beating the drum until all the different strings of camels
had come up; we then proceeded. At first the plain consisted almost
exclusively of gravel overgrown with herbage and allwot, with only now
and then a rock seen projecting; but gradually it became more pebbly,
and was then intersected by a great many low crests of rock, consisting
chiefly of gneiss. We gradually ascended towards a low ridge called
Abadárjen, remarkable as forming in this district the northern border
of the elevated sandy plain which seems to stretch across a great part
of the continent, and forms the real transition land between the rocky
wilderness of the desert and the fertile arable zone of Central Africa.
This sandy ledge is the real home of the giraffe and of the _Antilope
leucoryx_. Just about noon we entered upon this district, leaving the
rocky range at less than a mile on our left, and seeing before us a
sandy level, broken only now and then by blocks of granite thickly
overgrown with the “knotted” grass called bú rékkebah, and dotted with
scattered talha-trees. Two miles further on we encamped. A very long
ear of géro (_Pennisetum typhoïdeum_), which was broken from a plant
growing wild near the border of the path, was the most interesting object
met with to-day, while an ostrich egg, though accidentally the very
first which we had yet seen on this journey, afforded us more material
interest, as it enabled us to indulge our palates with a little tasteful
_hors d’œuvre_, which caused us more delight, perhaps, than scientific
travellers are strictly justified in deriving from such causes. Our
caravan to-day had been joined by Gajére, a faithful servant of Ánnur,
who was coming from Ágades, and who, though a stranger at the time, very
shortly became closely attached to me, and at present figures among the
most agreeable reminiscences of my journey.
_Sunday, Dec. 29._—When we started we were surprised at the quantity
of hád with which the plain began to be covered. This excellent plant
is regarded by the Arab as the most nutritious of all the herbs of the
desert, for the camel, and in the western part of that arid zone it
seems to constitute its chief food. Numerous footprints of giraffes were
seen, besides those of gazelles and ostriches, and towards the end of
the march those of the Welwaiji, the large and beautiful antelope called
_leucoryx_, from the skin of which the Tuarek make their large bucklers.
Further on, the plain presented some ups and downs, being at times naked,
at others well wooded and overgrown with grass. At length, after a good
day’s march, we encamped. To-day we made the acquaintance of another
native of Middle Sudán, the name of which plays a very important part
in the nomenclature of articles of the daily market in all the towns
and villages. This was the mágaria (called by the Kanúri “kúsulu”), a
middle-sized tree, with small leaves of olive-green colour, and producing
a fruit nearly equal in size to a small cherry, but in other respects
more resembling the fruit of the cornel (_Cornus_), and of light-brown
colour. This fruit, when dried, is pounded and formed into little cakes,
which are sold all over Háusa as “túwo-n-magária,” and may be safely
eaten in small quantities even by a European, to allay his hunger for a
while, till he can obtain something more substantial; for it certainly
is not a very solid food, and if eaten in great quantities has a very
mawkish taste.
While the cattle and the asses went on already in the dark, the camels
were left out during the night to pick up what food they could; but
early in the morning, when they were to be brought back, a great many of
Ánnur’s camels could not be found. Hereupon the old chief himself set
his people an example, and galloping to the spot where their traces had
been lost, he recovered the camels, which were brought in at an early
hour. Meanwhile, however, being informed how difficult it would be to
obtain water at the well before us, in the scramble of people which
was sure to take place, I arranged with Overweg that while I remained
behind, with Mohammed and the things, he should go on in advance, with
the Gatróni and Ibrahim, to fill the water-skins; and we afterwards
had reason to congratulate ourselves on this arrangement, for the well,
though spacious and built up with wood, contained at the time but a
very moderate supply of muddy water for so large a number of men and
beasts. Its name is Terguláwen. This locality, desolate and bare in
the extreme, is considered most dangerous on account of the continual
ghazzias of the Awelímmiden and Kél-gerés, who are sure to surprise and
carry off the straggling travellers who, if they would not perish by
thirst, must resort to this well. Our whole road from our encampment,
for more than seven hours and a half, led over bare, barren sand-hills.
The camping-ground was chosen at no great distance beyond the well, in
a shallow valley or depression ranging east and west, and bordered by
sand-hills on its south side, with a little sprinkling of herbage. The
wind, which came down with a cold blast from the north-north-east, was so
strong that we had great difficulty in pitching the tent.
_Tuesday, Dec. 31._—Last day of 1850. A cold day, and a mountainous
country. After we had crossed the sand-hills, there was nothing before us
but one flat expanse of sand, mostly bare, and clothed with trees only
in favoured spots. The most remarkable phenomenon was the appearance of
the feathery bristle, the _Pennisetum distichum_, which on the road to
Ágades begins much further northwards. Indeed, when we encamped we had
some difficulty in finding a spot free from this nuisance, though of
course the strong wind carried the seeds to a great distance. All our
enjoyment of the last evening of the old year centred in an extra dish of
two ostrich eggs.
_Wednesday, Jan. 1, 1851._—This morning the condition in which the people
composing the caravan crawled out of their berths was most miserable
and piteous; and moreover, nobody thought of starting early, as several
camels had been lost. At length, when the intense cold began to abate,
and when the animals had been found, everybody endeavoured to free
himself and his clothing from the bristles, which joined each part of
his dress to the others like so many needles; but what one succeeded in
getting rid of was immediately carried by the strong wind to another, so
that all were in every respect peevish when they set out at half-past
nine o’clock. Nevertheless the day was to be a very important one to me,
and one on which princely favour was to be shown to me in a most marked
manner.
I have remarked above that on the day I started for Ágades the old chief
made a present of a bullock to the other members of the mission; but in
this present I myself did not participate, and I had not yet received
anything from him. Perhaps he was sensible of this, and wanted to give me
likewise a proof of his royal generosity; but I am afraid he was at the
same time actuated by feelings of a very different nature. He had several
times praised my Turkish jacket, and I had consoled him with a razor or
some other trifle; he had avowedly coveted my warm black bernús, and had
effected, by his frank intimations, nothing more than to make me draw my
warm clothing closer round my body. In order to bear the fatigue of the
journey more easily, he had long ago exchanged the little narrow kígi,
or méheri-saddle, for the broad pack-saddle, with a load of salt, as a
secure seat.
He was one of the foremost in his string, while I, mounted upon my
Bu-Séfi (who, since the loss of my méheri, had once more become my
favourite saddle-horse), was riding outside the caravan, separated
from him by several strings of camels. He called me by name; and on my
answering his call, he invited me to come to him: to do this I had to
ride round all the strings. At length I reached him. He began to complain
of the intense cold, from which he was suffering so acutely, while I
seemed to be so comfortable in my warm clothes; then he asked if the
ostrich eggs of yesterday evening had pleased us, whereupon I told him
that his people had cheered us greatly by contributing, with their gift,
to enable us to celebrate our chief festival. He then put his hand into
his knapsack, and drawing forth a little cheese, and lifting it high up,
so that all his people might see it, he presented the princely gift to
me, with a gracious and condescending air, as a “mágani-n-dári” (a remedy
against the cold), words which I, indeed, was not sure whether they were
not meant ironically, as an intimation that I had withheld from him the
real mágani-n-dári, my black bernús.
We were gladdened when, about noon, the plain became clothed with
brushwood, and after a while also with bú rékkebah. Large troops of
ostriches were seen—once a whole family, the parents, with several young
ones of various ages, all running in single file, one after the other.
We encamped at half-past three in the afternoon, on a spot tolerably
free from karéngia, where we observed a great many holes of the fox,
the fének, or ñauñáwa (_Megalotis famelicus_), particularly in the
neighbourhood of ant-hills. There were also the larger holes of the
earth-hog (_Orycteropus Æthiopicus_), an animal which never leaves its
hole in the daytime, and is rarely seen even by the natives. The holes,
which are from fourteen to sixteen inches in diameter, and descend
gradually, are generally made with great accuracy.
The following day the country during the first part of our march
continued rather bare; but after half-past two in the afternoon it became
richer in trees and bushes, forming the southern zone of this sandy
inland plateau, which admits of pastoral settlements. The elevation of
this plain or transition zone seems to be in general about two thousand
feet above the level of the sea. We encamped at length in the midst of
prickly underwood, and had a good deal of trouble before we could clear a
spot for pitching the tent.
_Friday, Jan. 3._—Soon after setting out on our march, we met a caravan
consisting of twenty oxen laden with corn, and further on passed a herd
of cattle belonging to the Tagáma, a most cheerful sight to us. We then
encamped, before ten o’clock, a little beyond a village of the same
tribe, which, from a neighbouring well, bears the name In-asámet. The
village consisted of huts exactly of the kind described by Leo; for
they were built of mats (_stuore_) erected upon stalks (_frasche_), and
covered with hides over a layer of branches, and were very low. Numbers
of children and cattle gave to the encampment a lively aspect. The well
is rather deep, not less then seventeen fathoms.
We had scarcely encamped, when we were visited by the male inhabitants
of the village, mounted upon a small, ill-looking breed of horses. They
proved to be somewhat troublesome, instigated as they were by curiosity,
as well as by their begging propensities; but in order to learn as much
as possible, I thought it better to sacrifice the comfort of my tent,
and converse with them. They were generally tall men, and much fairer
than the Kél-owí; but in their customs they showed that they had fallen
off much from ancient usages, through intercourse with strangers. The
women not only made the first advances, but, what is worse, they were
offered even by the men—their brethren or husbands. Even those among the
men whose behaviour was least vile and revolting did not cease urging
us to engage with the women, who failed not to present themselves soon
afterwards. It could scarcely be taken as a joke. Some of the women
were immensely fat, particularly in the hinder regions, for which the
Tuarek have a peculiar and expressive name—tebúllodén. Their features
were very regular, and their skin was fair. The two most distinguished
amongst them gave me their names as Shabó and Támatu, which latter word,
though signifying “woman” in general, may nevertheless be also used as a
proper name. The wealthier among them were dressed in black túrkedí and
the zénne, the poorer in white cotton. The dress of most of the men was
also white, but the chief peculiarity of the latter was, that several
of them wore their hair hanging down in long tresses. This is a token
of their being Aníslimen, or Merábetín (holy men), which character they
assume notwithstanding their dissolute manners. They have no school, but
pride themselves on having a mʿallem appointed at their mesállaje, which
must be miserable enough. Having once allowed the people to come into my
tent, I could not clear it again the whole day. The names of the more
respectable among the men were Kílle, el Khassén, Efárret, Cháy, Ríssa,
Khándel, and Amaghár (properly “the Elder”). All these people, men and
women, brought with them a variety of objects for sale, and I bought from
them some dried meat of the welwaiji (_Antilope leucoryx_), which proved
to be very fine, as good as beef; others, however, asserted that it was
the flesh of the “rákomi-n-dáwa,” or giraffe.
Hunting, together with cattle-breeding, is the chief occupation of the
Tagáma, and they are expert enough with their little swift horses to
catch the large antelope as well as the giraffe. Others engage in the
salt trade, and accompany the Kél-gerés on their way to Bilma, without,
however, following them to Sókoto, where, for the reason which I shall
presently explain, they are not now allowed to enter; but they bring
their salt to Kanó. In this respect the Tagáma acknowledge also, in a
certain degree, the supremacy of the Sultan of Agades. Their slaves
were busy in collecting and pounding the seeds of the karéngia, or úzak
(_Pennisetum distichum_), which constitutes a great part of their food.
Whatever may be got here is procurable only with money; even the water
is sold, the waterskin for a zekka of millet; but of course grain is
here very much cheaper than in Aír, and even than in Ágades. Altogether
the Tagáma form at present a very small tribe, able to muster, at the
utmost, three hundred spears; but most of them are mounted on horseback.
Formerly, however, they were far more numerous, till Íbram, the father of
the present chief, undertook, with the assistance of the Kél-gerés, the
unfortunate expedition against Sókoto (then governed by Bello), of which
Clapperton has given a somewhat exaggerated account. The country around
is said to be greatly infested by lions, which often carry off camels.
_Saturday, Jan. 4._—Our setting out this morning, after the camels
were all laden and the men mounted, was retarded by the arrival of a
queen of the desert, a beauty of the first rank, at least as regarded
her dimensions. The lady, with really handsome features, was mounted
upon a white bullock, which snorted violently under his immense burden.
Nevertheless this luxurious specimen of womankind was sickly, and
required the assistance of the tabíb, or “ne-meglán,” a title which
Overweg had earned for himself by his doctoring, though his practice was
rather of a remarkable kind; for he used generally to treat his patients,
not according to the character of their sickness, but according to the
days of the week on which they came. Thus he had one day of calomel,
another of Dover’s powder, one of Epsom salts, one of magnesia, one
of tartar emetic, the two remaining days being devoted to some other
medicines; and it of course sometimes happened that the man who suffered
from diarrhœa got Epsom salts, and he who required opening medicine was
blessed with a dose of Dover’s powder. Of course my friend made numerous
exceptions to this calendary method of treating disease, whenever time
and circumstances allowed him to study more fully the state of a patient.
However, in the hurry in which we just then were he could scarcely make
out what the imaginary or real infirmity of this lady was, and I cannot
say what she got. She was certainly a woman of great authority, as the
old chief himself was full of kind regard and deference to her. We were
rather astonished that he exchanged here his brown mare for a lean
white horse, the owners of which seemed, with good reason, excessively
delighted with their bargain. At length we got off, proceeding towards
the land of promise in an almost direct southerly course. After three
miles’ march, the thick bush “dílu” made its appearance in the denser
underwood, and the country became more hilly and full of ant-holes, while
in the distance ahead of us, a little to our left, a low range became
visible, stretching east and west. Suddenly the ground became a rocky
flat, and the whole caravan was thrown into disorder. We did not at
first perceive its cause, till we saw, to our great astonishment, that a
steep descent by a regular terrace was here formed, at least a hundred
feet high, which conducted to a lower level—the first distinct proof
that we had passed the Hammáda. The vegetation here was different, and
a new plant made its appearance, called “ágwau,” a middle-sized bush,
consisting of a dense cluster of thick branches of very white wood, at
present without leaves, the young shoots just coming out; melons also
were plentiful here, but they had no taste. The rocky descent only
extended to a short distance towards the west, when it broke off, while
on our left it stretched far to the south-east. When we had kept along
this plain for a little more than two miles, we passed, a short distance
on our right, a large pond, or “tébki,” of water, called “Fárak,”
spreading out in a hollow. I had here a long conversation with my
frolicsome friend Mohammed Ánnur’s cousin, who was also going to Sudán;
I told him that his uncle seemed to know his people well, and showed his
wisdom in not leaving such a wanton youngster as himself behind him. He
was, as usual, full of good humour, and informed me that Ánnur’s troop
was almost the first, being preceded only by the caravan of Sálah, the
chief of Égéllat. He prided himself again on his exploits in the late
ghazzia, when they had overtaken the Éfadaye marauders in Tálak and
Búgarén. Further on we passed the well called Fárak, which was now dry,
and encamped two miles beyond it in a district thickly overgrown with
karéngias.
_Sunday, Jan. 5._—We had scarcely started, when I observed an entirely
new species of plant, which is rather rare in Central Negroland, and
which I afterwards met in considerable quantities along the north shore
of the so-called Niger, between Timbúktu and Tosáye. It is here, in
Háusa, called “kumkúmmia,” a euphorbia growing from one and a half to two
feet in height, and is very poisonous; indeed, hereabouts, as in other
districts of Central Africa, it furnishes the chief material with which
arrows are poisoned. The principal vegetation consisted of “árza” (a
species of laurel) and dílu; and further on parasitical plants were seen,
but not in a very vigorous state. Altogether the country announced its
fertility by its appearance, and a little before noon, when low ranges
of hills encompassed the view on both sides, and gave it a more pleasant
character, we passed, close on our left, another pastoral settlement of
half mat and half leather tents, enlivened by numerous cattle and flocks,
and leaning against a beautiful cluster of most luxuriant trees. But more
cheerful still was the aspect of a little lake or tank of considerable
extent, and bordered all around with the thickest grove of luxuriant
acacias of the kind called “baggarúwa,” which formed overhead a dense
and most beautiful canopy. This little lake is called “Gúmrek,” and
was full of cattle, which came hither to cool themselves in the shade
during the hot hours of the day. In this pleasant scenery we marched
along, while a good number of horsemen collected around us, and gave
us a little trouble; but I liked them far better, with their rough and
warlike appearance, than their more civilized and degraded brethren of
the day before. At about half-past two we encamped on the border of a
dry watercourse with a white sandy bed, such as we had not seen for a
long time. But here we made the acquaintance of a new plant and a new
nuisance; this is the “aidó,” a grass with a prickly involucrum of black
colour, and of larger size and stronger prickles than the karéngia (or
_Pennisetum distichum_), and more dangerous for naked feet than for the
clothes. A new string of camels joined us here, led on by Mohammed Ánnur.
_Monday, Jan. 6._—We were greatly surprised at the appearance of the
weather this morning; the sky was covered with thick clouds, and even
a light rain fell while the caravan was loading. We felt some fear on
account of the salt; but the rain soon ceased. In the course of my
travels, principally during my stay in Timbúktu, I had more opportunities
of observing these little incidental rainfalls of the cold season, or
“the black nights,” during January and February; and further on, as
occasion offers, I shall state the result of my observations.
At a little more than a mile from our camping ground, the aspect of the
country became greatly changed, and we ascended a hilly country of a very
remarkable character, the tops of the hills looking bare, and partly
of a deep, partly of a greyish black, like so many mounds of volcanic
_débris_, while the openings or hollows were clothed with underwood.
Here our companions began already to collect wood as a provision for
the woodless corn-fields of Damerghú; but we were as yet some distance
off. Ascending gradually, we reached the highest point at nine o’clock,
while close on our right we had a hill rising to greater elevation, and
here we obtained an interesting view, just as the sun burst through
the clouds, over the hilly country before us, through which a bushy
depression ran in a very winding course. Along this tortuous thread
of underwood lay our path. As we were proceeding, Ibrahím, our Furáwi
freeman, who was a very good marksman for a black, brought down a large
lizard (_Draconina_) “demmó,” or, as the Arabs call it, “wárel,” which
was sunning itself on a tree; it is regarded by the people as a great
delicacy. A little before noon the country seemed to become more open,
but only to be covered with rank reeds ten feet high—quite a new sight
for us, and a great inconvenience to the camels, which stumbled along
over the little hillocks from which the bunches of reeds shot forth.
Further on, the ground (being evidently very marshy during the rainy
season) was so greatly torn and rent by deep fissures that the caravan
was obliged to separate into two distinct parties. The very pleasant and
truly park-like hilly country continued nearly unchanged till one o’clock
in the afternoon, when, at a considerable distance on our left, we got
sight of the first corn-fields of Damerghú, belonging to the villages of
Kulakérki and Banuwélki.
This was certainly an important stage in our journey. For although we had
before seen a few small patches of garden-fields, where corn was produced
(as in Selúfiet, Áuderas, and other favoured places), yet they were on
so small a scale as to be incapable of sustaining even a small fraction
of the population; but here we had at length reached those fertile
regions of Central Africa which are not only able to sustain their own
population, but even to export to foreign countries. My heart gladdened
at this sight, and I felt thankful to Providence that our endeavours had
been so far crowned with success; for here a more promising field for our
labours was opened, which might become of the utmost importance in the
future history of mankind.
We soon after saw another village, which several of our companions
named Olalówa, and which may indeed be so called, although I thought at
the time they applied to it the name of the more famous place further
on, with which they were acquainted, and I afterwards convinced myself
that such was really the case. The country became open and level, the
whole ground being split and rent by fissures. While I was indulging
in pleasing reveries of new discoveries and successful return, I was
suddenly startled by three horsemen riding up to me and saluting me
with a “Lá ílah ilá Allah.” It was Dan Íbra (or Íbram, the “Son of
Ibrahím”), the famous and dreaded chief of the Tamizgída, whom the ruler
of Tin-téllust himself in former times had not been able to subdue, but
had been obliged to pay him a sort of small tribute or transit-money, in
order to secure the unmolested passage of his caravans on their way to
Sudán. The warlike chief had put on all his finery, wearing a handsome
blue bernús, with gold embroidery, over a rich Sudán tobe, and was
tolerably well mounted. I answered his salute, swearing by Allah that
I knew Allah better than he himself, when he became more friendly, and
exchanged with me a few phrases, asking me what we wanted to see in this
country. He then went to take his turn with Mr. Richardson. I plainly saw
that if we had not been accompanied by Ánnur himself, and almost all our
luggage sent on in advance, we should have had here much more serious
colloquies.
After having ascended a little from the lower ground, where evidently,
during the rains, a large sheet of water collects, and having left on
our right a little village surrounded by stubble-fields, we passed along
the western foot of the gently sloping ground on whose summit lies the
village (“úngwa”) Sámmit. It was past four o’clock in the afternoon when
we encamped upon an open stubble-field, and we were greatly cheered at
observing here the first specimen of industry in a good sense; for of
industry in a bad sense the Tagáma had already given us some proof. As
soon as we were dismounted two muscular blacks, girded with leather
aprons round their loins, came bounding forward, and in an instant
cleared the whole open space around us, while in a few minutes several
people, male and female, followed, offering a variety of things for sale,
such as millet, beans (of two sorts), and those cakes called dodówa,
which were duly appreciated by the late Captain Clapperton for the
excellent soup made of them. Of their preparation I shall speak when we
meet the first tree of that species, the dorówa, the name of the cake and
that of the tree being distinguished by the change of a consonant. The
cakes obtained here, however, as I afterwards learned, were of a most
inferior and spurious character—of that kind called “dodówa-n-bósso”
in Háusa, and in some districts “yákwa.” We felt here the benefit of
civilization in a most palpable way, by getting most excellent chicken
broth for our supper. Our servants, indeed, were cooking the whole night.
_Tuesday, Jan. 7._—There were again a few drops of rain in the morning.
Soon after starting, we were greeted by the aspect of a few green
kitchen-gardens, while we were still gradually ascending. On reaching
the highest level, we obtained a sight of the mountains of Damerghú
(“dúwatsu-n-Damerghú,” as they are called), a low range stretching
parallel with the road towards the east, while ahead of us, and westward,
the country was entirely open, resembling one unbroken stubble-field.
Having crossed a hollow with a dry pond and some trees, we had at about
eight o’clock a village close on our right, where, for the first time, I
saw that peculiar style of architecture which, with some more or less
important varieties, extends through the whole of Central Africa.
These huts, in as far as they are generally erected entirely with the
stalks of the Indian corn, almost without any other support except that
derived from the feeble branches of the _Asclepias gigantea_, certainly
do not possess the solidity of the huts of the villages of Asben, which
are supported by a strong framework of branches and young trees; but they
greatly surpass them in cleanliness, on account of the large available
supply of the light material of which they are built. It is, however,
to be remarked that the inhabitants of this district depend in a great
measure for their fuel, too, upon the stalks of the Indian corn. The huts
in general are lower than those in Asben, and are distinguished from
them entirely by the curved top of the thatched roof, which sustains
the whole. In examining these structures one cannot but feel surprised
at the great similarity which they bear to the huts of the aboriginal
inhabitants of Latium, such as they are described by Vitruvius and other
authors, and represented occasionally on terra-cotta utensils, while
the name in the Bórnu or Kanúri language, “kósi,” bears a remarkable
resemblance to the Latin name “casa,” however accidental it may be. It is
still more remarkable that a similar name, “kúde,” is given to a cottage
in the Tamil and other Asiatic languages.
More remarkable and peculiar than the huts, and equally new and
interesting to us, as the most evident symptom of the great
productiveness of this country, were the little stacks of corn scattered
among the huts, and in reality consisting of nothing but an enormous
basket made of reeds, and placed upon a scaffold of thick pieces of wood
about two feet high, in order to protect the corn against the “kúsu” and
the “gará” (the mouse and the ant), and covered over on the top with a
thatched roof, like that of the huts. Of these little corn-stacks we
shall find some most interesting architectural varieties in the course
of our travels. The “gará,” or white ant (_Termes fatalis_), is here the
greatest nuisance, being most destructive to the corn, as well as to all
softer kinds of house-furniture, or rather to the houses themselves.
Every possible precaution must be taken against it. The “kúsu,” or mouse,
abounds here in great numbers, and of several species: particularly
frequent is the jerbóa (_dipus_) which for the traveller certainly forms
a very pleasant object to look at as it jumps about on the fields, but
not so to the native, who is anxious about his corn.
While reflecting on the feeble resistance which this kind of architecture
must necessarily offer in case of conflagration, particularly as water
is at so great a distance, I perceived almost opposite to this little
hamlet a larger one, called Mája, on the other side of the road, and
shaded by some thorn-trees. From both villages the people came forth to
offer cheese and Indian corn for sale. They differed widely from the
fanatical people among whom we had been travelling; most of them were
Pagans and slaves. Their dress was mean and scanty; this of course is an
expensive article in a country where no cotton is produced, and where
articles of dress can only be obtained in exchange for the produce of
the country. On a field near the path the Guinea-corn was still lying
unthreshed, though the harvest had been collected two months before. The
threshing is done with long poles. The whole of Damerghú produces no
durra or sorghum, but only millet or _Pennisetum typhoïdeum_, and all,
as far as I know, of the white species. Further on, the stubble-fields
were pleasantly interrupted by a little pasture-ground, where we saw a
tolerably large herd of cattle. Then followed a tract of country entirely
covered with the monotonous _Asclepias gigantea_, which at present is
useful only as affording materials for the framework of the thatched
roofs, or for fences. It is worthless for fuel, although the pith is
employed as tinder. The milky juice (which at present is used by the
Pagan natives, as far as I know, only to ferment their gíya, and which
greatly annoys the traveller in crossing the fields, as it produces spots
on the clothes, and even injures the hair of the horses) might become an
important article of trade. The cattle, at least in districts where they
have not good pasturage, feed on the leaves of the asclepias.
We were gradually ascending, and reached at about a quarter past ten
o’clock the summit of a rising ground the soil of which consisted of
red clay. Altogether it was an undulating country, appearing rather
monotonous, from its almost total want of trees, but nevertheless of the
highest interest to one just arrived from the arid regions of the north.
Having passed several detached farms, which left a very agreeable
impression of security and peacefulness, we came upon a group of wells,
some dry, but others well filled, where besides cattle, a good many
horses were led to water, a cheerful and to us quite a novel sight; many
more were seen grazing around on the small patches of pasture-ground
which interrupted the stubble-fields, and some of them were in splendid
condition—strong and well-fed, and with fine, sleek coats; all of them
were of brown colour. But there was another object which attracted
our attention; the trough at the well was formed of a tortoise-shell
of more than two feet in length, and on inquiry we learnt that this
animal, of a large size, is not at all rare in this district. It was
already mentioned, as common in these regions, by the famous Andalusian
geographer el Bekri.
Villages, stubble-fields, tracts covered with tunfáfia (the _Asclepias_),
detached farms, herds of cattle, and troops of horses tranquilly grazing
succeeded each other, while the country continued undulating, and
was now and then intersected by the dry bed of a watercourse. Having
passed two divisions of the aïr, of aïri, which had preceded us, and
had encamped near some villages, we obtained quite a new sight—a large
quadrangular place called Dam-mágaji (properly Dan Mágaji, “the Son of
the Lieutenant,” after whom it is called), surrounded with a clay wall,
spreading out at a short distance on our left, while in the distance
before us, in the direction of Zínder, a high cone called Zozáwa became
visible. Leaving a village of considerable size on our right, at a
quarter to three o’clock we reached a small hamlet, from which numbers
of people were hurrying forward, saluting us in a friendly and cheerful
manner, and informing us that this was Tágelel, the old chiefs property.
We now saw that the village consisted of two distinct groups, separated
from each other by a cluster of four or five tsámias, or tamarind-trees,
the first poor specimens of this magnificent tree, which is the
greatest ornament of Negroland. Our camping-ground was at first somewhat
uncomfortable and troublesome, it being absolutely necessary to take
all possible precautions against the dreadful little foe that infests
the ground wherever there is arable land in Sudán—the white ant; but we
gradually succeeded in making ourselves at home and comfortable for the
next day’s halt.
The greatest part of the following day was spent in receiving visits. The
first of these was interesting, although its interest was diminished by
the length to which it was protracted. The visitor was a gallant freeborn
Ikázkezan, of a fine, though not tall figure, regular, well-marked
features, and fair complexion, which at once bespoke his noble birth;
he was clad in a very good red bernús, of the value of seventy thousand
kurdí in Kanó, and altogether was extremely neatly and well dressed. He
came first on horseback with two companions on camels, but soon sent his
horse and companions away, and squatted down in my tent, apparently for
a somewhat long talk with me, and he remained with me for full three
hours. But he was personally interesting, and a very fine specimen of
his tribe, and the interest attaching to his person was greatly enhanced
by his having accompanied the expedition against the Welád Slimán, which
none of our other friends the Kél-owí had done. On this account I was
greatly pleased to find that his statements confirmed and corroborated
the general reports which we had heard before. He was all admiration at
the large fortification which, as soon as they heard that the Tuarek
intended an expedition against them, the Arabs had constructed at
Késkáwa, on the shore of Lake Tsád (carrying trees of immense size from
a great distance), and where they had remained for two months awaiting
the arrival of their enraged foe. He expressed his opinion that nothing
but the great God Himself could have induced them to leave at length
such a secure retreat and impregnable stronghold, by crazing their wits
and confounding their understandings. I also learnt that these daring
vagabonds had not contented themselves with taking away all the camels of
the Kél-owí that came to Bilma for salt, but, crossing that most desolate
tract which separates Kawár or Hénderi Tedá (the Tébu country) from Aír,
pursued the former as far as Agwáu.
At the time I conversed with my Ikázkezan friend about this subject I
was not yet aware how soon I was to try my fortune with the shattered
remains of that Arab horde, although its fate had formed an object of the
highest interest to the expedition from the beginning. As for ourselves,
my visitor was perfectly well acquainted with the whole history of our
proceedings, and he was persuaded that, out of any material, we were able
to make what we liked, but especially fine bernúses—an opinion which gave
rise to some amusing conversation between us.
This interesting visitor was succeeded by a great many tiresome people,
so that I was heartily glad when Overweg, who had made a little excursion
to a great pond of stagnant water, at the foot of the hill of Farára,
the residence of Mákita, returned, and, lying outside the little shed
of tanned skins, which was spread over his luggage, drew the crowd away
from my tent. Overweg, as well as Ibrahím, who had accompanied him, had
shot several ducks, which afforded us a good supper, and made us support
with some degree of patience the trying spectacle of a long procession of
men and women laden with eatables, passing by us in the evening towards
the camping-ground of the chief, while not a single dish found its way to
us; and though we informed them that they were missing their way, they
would not understand the hint, and answered us with a smile. Many severe
remarks on the niggardliness of the old chief were that evening made
round our fire. While music, dancing, and merriment were going on in the
village, a solitary “maimólo” found his way to us, to console the three
forsaken travellers from a foreign land, by extolling them to the skies,
and representing them as special ministers of the Almighty.
_Wednesday, Jan. 8._—Aír, or rather Asben, as we have seen above, was
originally inhabited by the Góber race—that is to say, the most noble
and original stock of what is now, by the natives themselves, called the
Háusa nation; but the boundaries of Asben appear not to have originally
included the district of Damerghú, as not even those of Aír do at the
present day, Damerghú being considered as an outlying province and the
granary of Aír. On the contrary, the name of Damerghú (which is formed of
the same root as the names Daw-erghú, Gam-erghú, and others, all lying
round Bórnu proper) seems to show that the country to which it applied
belonged to the Kanúri race, who are in truth its chief occupants even
at the present day, the Bórnu population being far more numerous than
the Háusa; and though a great many of them are at present reduced to
a servile condition, they are not imported slaves, as Mr. Richardson
thought, but most of them are serfs or prædial slaves, the original
inhabitants of the country. It is true that a great many of the names
of the villages in Damerghú belong to the Háusa language, but these I
conceive to be of a former date. The district extends for about sixty
miles in length, and forty in breadth. It is altogether an undulating
country, of very fertile soil, capable of maintaining the densest
population, and was in former times certainly far more thickly inhabited
than at present. The bloody wars carried on between the Bórnu king ʿAli
ʿOmármi on the one side, and the Sultan of Ágades and the Tuarek of Aír
on the other, must have greatly depopulated these border districts.
I shall first mention five places which owe their celebrity and
importance, not to their size or the number of their inhabitants, but
rather to their political rank, being the temporary residences of the
chiefs. I name first Kúla-n-kérki—not the village mentioned above as
being seen in the distance, but another place, half a day’s journey
(“wúëni,” as the Háusa people say) east from Tágelel—of considerable
size, and the residence of the chief Músa, who may with some truth be
called master of the soil of Damerghú, and is entitled serkí-n-Damerghú
in the same sense in which Mazáwaji was formerly called serkí-n-Asben;
and to him all the inhabitants of the district, with the sole exception
of the people of the three other chiefs, have to do homage and present
offerings. Olalówa, about three miles or three miles and a half
south-west of Tágelel, is rather smaller than Kúla-n-kérki. It is the
residence of Mazáwaji, a man of the same family as Ánnur, who, till a
short time before our arrival in Aír, was “amanókal-n-Kél-owí,” residing
in Ásodi, in the place of Astáfidet. Though he has left Aír voluntarily,
he still retains the title “serkí-n-Kél-owí,” and is a friendly and
benevolent old man. Olalówa has a market-place provided with rúnfona,
or rúnfas (sheds), where a market is held every Sunday; but it is not
well attended by the inhabitants of the other places, owing to the
fear entertained of Mazáwaji’s slaves, who seem (mild as their master
is) to be disposed to violence. Farára, the residence of Mákita, or
Ímkiten, the man who played the chief part during the interregnum, or
rather the reign of anarchy in Ásben, before the installation of ʿAbd
el Káder, is situated about two miles from Tágelel, on the west side of
the road which we were to take, on the top of a hill, at the foot of
which is a very extensive lagoon of water, from which the inhabitants
of Tágelel also, and of many surrounding villages, draw their supply.
Tágelel, the residence of Ánnur, although of small size (the two groups
together containing scarcely more than a hundred and twenty cottages), is
nevertheless of great political importance in all the relations of this
distracted country. Here also I will mention Dankámsa, the residence of
an influential man of the name of Úmma, which in a certain respect enjoys
the same rank as the four above-named villages.
I will also add in this place the little which I was able to learn about
the mixed settlements of Tuarek and black natives between Damerghú
and Múniyo. As these places are the chief centres whence proceed the
predatory excursions which are carried on continually against the
northern districts of Bórnu, information with regard to them is not
easily obtained. The chief among them is the principality of Alákkos,
or Elákwas, about three (long) days north-east from Zínder, and two
from Gúre, the present residence of Muniyóma. The ruling class in this
sequestered haunt of robbers and freebooters seems to belong to the tribe
of the Tagáma, and the name of the present chief is Abu-Bakr, who can
lead into the field perhaps two hundred horsemen. The chief place bears
the same name as the whole principality, and besides it there are but a
few small places, among which I learnt the name of Dáucha. Alákkos is
celebrated among the hungry inhabitants of the desert, on account of its
grain, and in the desert-song the verse which celebrates the horse of
Tawát is followed by another one celebrating the grain of Alákkos, “tádak
Elákwas.”
Quite apart seems to be a place called Gáyim, which is governed by a
chief called Kámmedán, and I know not whether another place called Kárbo
be comprised in the same principality or not. These are the great haunts
of the freebooters, who infest the border districts, from Damerghú to the
very heart of Kánem.
_Thursday, Jan. 9._—This was the great market-day in Tágelel, on which
account our departure was put off till the following day; but the market
did not become thronged until a late hour. I went there in the afternoon.
The market-place, which was about eight hundred yards distant from our
encampment, towards the west, upon a small hilly eminence, was provided
with several sheds or rúnfas. The articles laid out for sale consisted of
cotton (which was imported), tobacco, ostrich eggs, cheese, mats, ropes,
nets, earthenware pots, gúras (or drinking-vessels made of the _Cucurbita
ovifera_ and _C. lagenaria_) and kórios (or vessels made of a fine sort
of reed, for containing fluids, especially milk); besides these there
were a tolerable supply of vegetables, and two oxen, for sale. The buyers
numbered about a hundred.
In the afternoon two magozáwa, or Pagans, in a wild and fanciful attire
(the dry leaves of Indian corn or sorghum hanging down from their
barbarous headdress and from the leather apron which was girt round their
loins and richly ornamented with shells and bits of coloured cloth),
danced in front of our tents the “devil’s dance,” a performance of great
interest in regard to the ancient Pagan customs of these countries, and
to which I may have occasion to revert when I speak about Dodó, or the
evil spirit, and the representation of the souls of the dead.
Tágelel was a very important point for the proceedings of the mission,
on several accounts; for here we had reached the lands where travellers
are able to proceed singly on their way, and here Overweg and I were to
part from Mr. Richardson, on account of the low state of our finances, in
order to try what each of us might be able to accomplish single-handed
and without ostentation, till new supplies should arrive from home.
CHAPTER XXII.
SEPARATION OF THE TRAVELLERS.—THE BORDER DISTRICTS OF THE INDEPENDENT
PAGAN CONFEDERATION.—TASÁWA.
_Friday, Jan. 10._—The important day had arrived when we were to separate
not only from each other, but also from the old chief Annur, upon whom
our fortunes had been dependent for so long a period. Having concealed
his real intentions till the very last moment, he at length, with seeming
reluctance, pretended that he was going first to Zínder. He confided me,
therefore, to the care of his brother Elaiji, a most amiable old man,
only a year younger than himself, but of a very different character, who
was to take the lead of the salt caravan to Kanó, and he promised me that
I should arrive there in safety.
I had been so fortunate as to secure for myself, as far as that place,
the services of Gajére, who was settled in Tágelel, where he was regarded
as Ánnur’s chief slave, or overseer (“babá-n-báwa”). This man I hired,
together with a mare of his, for myself, and a very fine pack-ox for that
part of my luggage which my faithful camel, the Bu-Séfi, was unable to
carry. Ánnur, I must say, behaved excellently towards me in this matter;
for, having called me and Gajére into his presence, he presented his
trusty servant, before all the people, with a red bernús on my account,
enjoining him in the strictest terms to see me safe to Kanó.
And so I separated from our worthy old friend with deep and sincere
regret. He was a most interesting specimen of an able politician and a
peaceful ruler, in the midst of wild, lawless hordes; and I must do him
the justice of declaring that he behaved, on the whole, exceedingly well
towards us. I cannot avoid expressing the sorrow I afterwards felt on
account of the step which Mr. Richardson thought himself justified in
taking as soon as he had passed from the hands of Ánnur into those of the
authorities of Bórnu, viz., to urge the sheikh of that country to claim
restitution from the former, not only for the value of the things taken
from us by the bordering tribes of the desert, but even of part of the
sum which we had paid to Ánnur himself. Such conduct, it appeared to me,
was not only impolitic, but unfair. It was impolitic, because the claim
could be of no avail, and would only serve to alienate from us a man whom
we had succeeded in making our friend; and it was unfair, for, although
the sum which we had given to the chief was rather large in proportion
to our limited means, we were not compelled to pay it, but were simply
given to understand that, if we wanted the chief himself to accompany
us, we must contribute so much. I became fully aware of the unfavourable
effect which Mr. Richardson’s proceedings in this respect produced, on
the occasion of a visit which I paid the old chief in the beginning of
the year 1853, when passing through Zínder on my way to Timbúktu. He then
mentioned the circumstance with much feeling, and asked me if, judging
from his whole behaviour towards us, he had deserved to be treated as a
robber.
But to return to Tágelel, when I shook hands with the “sófo” he was
sitting, like a patriarch of old, in the midst of his slaves and free
men, male and female, and was dividing amongst them presents, such as
shawls and turkedies, but principally painted arm-rings of clay, imported
from Egypt, and of which the women of these districts are passionately
fond. Mr. Richardson being ready to start, I took a hearty farewell of
him, fixing our next place of meeting in Kúkawa, about the 1st of April.
He was tolerably well at the time, although he had shown evident symptoms
of being greatly affected by the change from the fine fresh air of the
mountainous district of Aír to the sultry climate of the fertile lands
of Negroland; and he was quite incapable of bearing the heat of the sun,
for which reason he always carried an umbrella, instead of accustoming
himself to it by degrees. There was some sinister foreboding in the
circumstance that I did not feel sufficient confidence to intrust to
his care a parcel for Europe. I had sealed it expressly that he might
take it with him to Kúkawa, and send it off from that place with his own
despatches immediately after his arrival; but at the moment of parting
I preferred taking it myself to Kanó. All my best friends amongst the
Kél-owí were also going to Zínder, in order, as they said, to accompany
their master, although only a small part of the salt caravan followed
that route. Overweg and I remained together for two or three days longer.
I felt happy in the extreme when I found myself once more on horseback,
however deficient in beauty my little mare might be; for few energetic
Europeans, I think, will relish travelling for any length of time on
camel’s back, as they are far too dependent on the caprice of the animal.
We set out at half-past seven o’clock, and soon passed on our right a
village, and then a second one, which I think was Dákari, where a noble
lady of handsome figure, and well mounted upon a bullock, joined the
caravan. She was seated in a most comfortable large chair, which was
fastened on the bullock’s back. We afterwards passed on our right the
town of Olalówa, situated on a low range of hills. In the lower plain,
into which we next descended, I observed the first regular ant-hill.
Small groups of corn-stacks, or rumbús, further on, dotted a depression
or hollow, which was encompassed on both sides with gently sloping hills.
Here I had to leave the path of the caravan with my new companion Gajére,
who was riding the bullock, in order to water our two beasts, a duty
which now demanded our chief attention every day.
[Illustration]
At length we reached the watering-place of Gílmirám, consisting of a
group of not less than twenty wells, but all nearly dry. The district
of Damerghú must sometimes suffer greatly from drought. The horses and
cattle of the village were just coming to be watered; what time and pains
it must take to satisfy a whole herd, when we were scarcely able to
water our two animals! Passing along through thick underwood, where the
“kálgo,” with its large dry leaves of olive hue, and its long red pods
similar to those of the kharúb-tree, but much larger, predominated almost
exclusively, and leaving the village Maihánkuba on our right, we at last
overtook the caravan; for the Ásbenáwa pack-oxen are capable of carrying
heavy loads at a very expeditious pace, and in this respect leave far
behind them the pack-oxen of the fertile regions of Negroland. We now
kept along through the woody region, where the tree “góshi,” with an
edible fruit, was most frequent. We encamped in a thickly wooded hollow,
when my sociable companion Gajére, as well by the care he took for our
evening fire (which he arranged in the most scientific way) as by the
information he gave me with regard to the routes leading from Zínder to
Kanó, contributed greatly to the comfort and cheerfulness of our bivouac.
I first learned from him that there are four different routes from Zínder
to Kanó, one route, the westernmost, passing by Dáura; the second,
passing by Kazáure; the third, by Garú-n-Gedúnia; the fourth, by Gúmmel
(or, as he pronounced it, Gúmiel), gari-n-serki-n-Da-n-Tanóma, this being
the easternmost and longest route. Gajére himself was only acquainted
with the third route, the stations of which are as follows.
Starting from Zínder, you sleep the first night in Gógo, the second in
Mokókia, the third in Zólunzólun, the fourth in Magária, the fifth in
Túnfushí, the sixth in Garú-n-Gedúnia, from whence it is three days’
journey to Kanó.
_Saturday, Jan. 11._—My people, Gajére, and myself started considerably
in advance of the caravan, in order to water the animals at our leisure,
and fill the water-skins. It was a beautiful morning, and our march a
most pleasant one; a tall sort of grass, called “gámba,” covered the
whole ground. Thus we went on cheerfully, passing by a well at present
dry, situated in a small hollow, and surrounded with fine trees which
were enlivened by numbers of Guinea-fowl and wild pigeons. Beyond this
spot the country became more open, and about five miles from the well we
reached the pond, or “tébki-n-rúwa Kúdura,” close on the right of our
path. It was already partly dried up, and the water had quite a milky
colour, from the nature of the ground, which consists of a whitish clay;
but during the rainy season, and for some time afterwards, when all
the trees which surround it in its dry state stand in the midst of the
water, it is of considerable size. There are a great many kálgo-trees
here. We also met a small troop of men very characteristic of the country
we had entered, being wanton in behaviour and light in dress, having
nothing on but short shirts, the colour of which had once been dark
blue, and diminutive straw hats, while all their luggage consisted of a
small leathern bag with pounded “géro” or millet, some gourd bottles to
contain the fura, besides two or three drinking-vessels. One of them,
an exceedingly tall fellow, rode a horse scarcely able to carry him,
though the cavalier was almost as lean as his Rosinante. Soon afterwards
the pond became enlivened by the arrival of a caravan of pack-oxen,
everything indicating that we had reached a region where intercourse was
easy and continuous.
We remained here nearly two hours, till the “aïri” came up, when we
joined it, and soon discovered the reason of their being so long; for in
the thick underwood the long strings of camels could not proceed fast,
and the stoppages were frequent. We then met another small caravan. At
a quarter past four in the afternoon we encamped in a locality called
Amsúsu, in the midst of the forest. We were busy pitching the tent, when
a body of about sixteen horsemen came up, all dressed in the Tuarek
fashion, but plainly indicating their intermixture with the Háusa people
by their less muscular frame and by the variety of their dress; and in
fact they all belonged to that curious mulatto tribe called Búzu (_pl._
Búzawe). They were going on a “yáki,” but whether against the Awelímmiden
or the Féllani I could not learn at the time; the latter, however, proved
to be the case.
The earth hereabouts was filled with a peculiar kind of small worms,
which greatly annoyed any person lying on the bare ground, so that I was
very fortunate in having my “gadó” with me. A bedstead of some kind is
a most necessary piece of furniture for an African traveller, as I have
already remarked on a previous occasion; but it should be of a lighter
description than my heavy boards, which, notwithstanding their thickness,
were soon split, and at length smashed to pieces, in the thick forests
through which we often had to pass. Our bivouac in the evening round our
fire was exceedingly agreeable, the staid and grave demeanour of my burly
and energetic companion imposing even upon the frivolous Mohammed, who at
this time behaved much better than usual. Gajére informed me that the
direct western road from here to Tasáwa passed by the village Gárari, the
pond Úrafa, the well Jíga, and by Birni-n-Tázin, while we were to follow
an eastern road. Not far from our encampment, eastward, was a swamp named
Tágelel.
_Sunday, Jan. 12._—Several camels were missing in the morning, as was
indeed very natural in a country like this, thickly covered with trees
and underwood. Soon, however, a tremendously shrill cry, passing from
troop to troop, and producing altogether a most startling effect,
announced that the animals had been found; and a most interesting and
lively scene ensued, each party, scattered as the caravan was through
the forest, beginning to load their camels on any narrow open space at
hand. The sky was thickly overcast, and the sun did not break forth till
after we had gone some three or four miles. We passed a beautiful tsámia,
or tamarind-tree, which was, I think, the first full-grown tree of this
species we had seen, those in Tágelel being mere dwarfs. Having descended
a little, we passed at eleven o’clock a small hamlet or farming village
called Kauye-n-Sálakh, and I afterwards observed the first tulip-tree,
splendidly covered with the beautiful flower, just open in all the
natural finery of its colours, while not a single leaf adorned the tree.
I think this was the first tree of the kind we had passed on our road,
although Overweg (whose attention I drew to it) asserted that he had seen
specimens of it the day before; nevertheless I doubt their having escaped
my observation, as I took the greatest interest in noting down accurately
where every new species of plant first appeared. At four o’clock in the
afternoon we saw the first cotton-fields, which alternated with the
corn-fields most agreeably. The former are certainly the greatest and
most permanent ornament of any landscape in these regions, the plant
being in leaf at almost every season of the year, and partly even in a
state of fructification; but a field of full-grown cotton-plants, in
good order, is very rarely met with in these countries, as they are left
generally in a wild state, overgrown with all sorts of rank grass. A
little beyond these fields we pitched our tent.
_Monday, Jan. 13._—We started at rather a late hour, our road being
crossed by a number of small paths which led to watering-places; and we
were soon surrounded by a great many women from a neighbouring village
called Baíbay, offering for sale, to the people of the caravan, “godjía,”
or ground-nuts, and “dákkwa,” a sort of dry paste made of pounded
Guinea-corn (_Pennisetum_), with dates and an enormous quantity of
pepper. This is the meaning of dákkwa in these districts; it is however,
elsewhere used as a general term signifying only paste, and is often
employed to denote a very palatable sort of sweetmeat made of pounded
rice, butter, and honey. We then passed on our left the fields of the
village, those near the road being well and carefully fenced, and lying
around the well, where half the inhabitants of the place were assembled
to draw water, which required no small pains, the depth of the well
exceeding twenty fathoms. Attempting to water the horse, I found that the
water was excessively warm; unfortunately, I had not got my thermometer
with me, but resolved to be more careful in future. On passing the
village, we were struck by the neatness with which it was fenced on
this side; and I afterwards learned by experience what a beautiful and
comfortable dwelling may be arranged with no other material than reeds
and corn-stalks. The population of these villages consists of a mixture
of Mohammedans and Pagans, but I think the majority of the inhabitants
are Mohammedans.
After a short interval of woody country, we passed a village of the name
of Chirák, with another busy scene round the well. In many districts in
Central Africa the labour of drawing water, for a portion of the year,
is so heavy that it occupies the greater part of the inhabitants half
the day; but fortunately, at this season, with the exception of weaving
a little cotton, they have no other employment, while during the season
when agricultural labours are going on water is to be found everywhere,
and the wells are not used at all. Búzawe are scattered everywhere
hereabouts, and infuse into the population a good deal of Berber blood.
Very pure Háusa is spoken.
It was near Chirák that Overweg, who had determined to go directly to
Tasáwa, in order to commence his intended excursion to Góber and Marádi,
separated from me. This was indeed quite a gallant commencement of his
undertaking, as he had none of Ánnur’s people with him, and besides
Ibrahím and the useful snake-like Amánkay (who had recovered from his
guineaworm), his only companion was a Tébu who had long been settled in
Asben, and whom he had engaged for the length of his intended trip. At
that time he had still the firm intention to go to Kúkawa by way of Kanó,
and begged me to leave his things there. He was in excellent health, and
full of an enthusiastic desire to devote himself to the study of the new
world which opened before us; and we parted with a hearty wish for each
other’s success in our different quarters before we were to meet again
in the capital of Bórnu; for we did not then know that we should have an
interview in Tasáwa.
I now went on alone, but felt not at all depressed by solitude, as I had
been accustomed from my youth to wander about by myself among strange
people. I felt disposed, indeed, to enter into a closer connection with
my black friend Gajére, who was very communicative, but oftentimes rather
rude, and unable to refrain from occasionally mocking the stranger who
wanted to know everything, and would not acknowledge Mohammed in all
his prophetic glory. He called my attention to several new kinds of
trees while we were passing the two villages Bagángaré and Tangónda.
There was the “baushi,” the “karámmia,” and the “gónda,” the last being
identical with the _Carica Papaya_, and rather rare in the northern parts
of Negroland, but very common in the country between Kátsena and Núpe,
and scattered in single specimens over all the country from Kanó and
Gújeba southwards to the river Bénuwé; but at that time I was ignorant
that it bore a splendid fruit, with which I first became acquainted in
Kátsena. The whole country, indeed, had a most interesting and cheerful
appearance, villages and corn-fields succeeding each other with only
short intervals of thick, underwood, which contributed to give richer
variety to the whole landscape, while the ground was undulating, and
might sometimes even be called hilly. We met a numerous herd of fine
cattle belonging to Gozenákko, returning to their pasture-grounds
after having been watered, the bulls all with the beautiful hump,
and of fine strong limbs, but of moderate size and with small horns.
Scarcely had this moving picture passed before our eyes, when another
interesting and characteristic procession succeeded—a long troop of
men, all carrying on their heads large baskets filled with the fruit
of the góreba (_Cucifera_, or _Hyphæne Thebaïca_), commonly called the
gingerbread-tree, which, in many of the northern districts of Negroland,
furnishes a most important article of food, and certainly seasons many
dishes very pleasantly, as I shall have occasion to mention in the course
of my narrative. Further on, the fields were enlivened with cattle
grazing in the stubble, while a new species of tree, the “kírria,”
attracted my attention.
Thus we reached Gozenákko; and while my servants Mohammed and the Gatróni
went with the camel to the camping ground, I followed my sturdy overseer
to the village in order to water the horse; for though I might have sent
one of my men afterwards, I preferred taking this opportunity of seeing
the interior of the village. It is of considerable size, and consists
of a town and its suburbs, the former being surrounded with a “kéffi,”
or close stockade of thick stems of trees, while the suburbs are ranged
around without any enclosure or defence. All the houses consist of
conical huts, made entirely of stalks and reeds, and great numbers of
little granaries were scattered among them. As it was about half-past two
in the afternoon, the people were sunk in slumber or repose, and the well
was left to our disposal; afterwards, however, we were obliged to pay for
the water. We then joined the caravan, which had encamped at no great
distance eastward of the village, in the stubble-fields. These, enlivened
as they were by a number of tall fan-palms, besides a variety of other
trees, formed a very cheerful open ground for our little trading-party,
which, preparing for a longer stay of two or three days, had chosen its
ground in a more systematic way, each person arranging his “tákrufa,” or
the straw sacks containing the salt, so as to form a barrier open only
on one side, in the shape of an elongated horseshoe, in the recess of
which they might stow away their slender stock of less bulky property,
and sleep themselves, while, in order to protect the salt from behind, a
light stockade of the stalks of Guinea-corn was constructed on that side;
for having now exchanged the regions of highway robbers and marauders for
those of thieves, we had nothing more to fear from open attacks, but a
great deal from furtive attempts by night.
Scarcely had our people made themselves comfortable, when their appetite
was excited by a various assortment of the delicacies of the country,
clamorously offered for sale by crowds of women from the village. The
whole evening a discordant chime was rung upon the words “nóno” (sour
milk), “may” (butter), “dodówa” (the vegetable paste above mentioned),
“kúka” (the young leaves of the _Adansonia_, which are used for making
an infusion with which meat or the “túwo” is eaten), and “yáru da
dária.” The last of these names, indeed, is one which characterizes and
illustrates the cheerful disposition of the Háusa people; for the literal
meaning of it is “the laughing boy,” or “the boy to laugh,” while it
signifies the sweet ground-nut, which if roasted is indeed one of the
greatest delicacies of the country. Reasoning from subsequent experience,
I thought it remarkable that no “túwo” (the common paste or hasty pudding
made of millet, called “fufu” on the western coast), which forms the
ordinary food of the natives, was offered for sale; but it must be borne
in mind that the people of Asben care very little about a warm supper,
and like nothing better than the fura or ghussub-water, and the corn in
its crude state, only a little pounded. To this circumstance the Arabs
generally attribute the enormous and disgusting quantity of lice with
which the Kél-owí, even the very first men of the country, are covered.
I was greatly disappointed in not being able to procure a fowl for my
supper. The breeding of fowls seems to be carried on to a very small
extent in this village, although they are in such immense numbers in
Damerghú that a few years ago travellers could buy “a fowl for a needle.”
_Tuesday, Jan. 14._—Seeing that we should make some stay here, I had
decided, upon visiting the town of Tasáwa, which was only a few miles
distant to the west, but deferred my visit till the morrow, in order to
see the town in the more interesting phase of the “káswa-n-Láraba,” or
the Wednesday market. However, our encampment, where I quietly spent
the day, was itself changed into a lively and bustling market, and even
during the heat of the day the discordant cries of the sellers did not
cease.
My intelligent and jovial companion meanwhile gave me some valuable
information with regard to the revenue of the wealthy governor of Tasáwa,
who in certain respects is an independent prince, though he may be
called a powerful vassal of the king or chief of Marádi. Every head of a
family in his territory pays him three thousand kurdí, as “kurdí-n-kay”
(head-money or poll-tax); besides, there is an ample list of penalties
(“kurdí-n-laefi”), some of them very heavy: thus, for example, the
fine for having flogged another man, or most probably for having given
him a sound cudgelling, is as much as ten thousand kurdí; for illicit
paternity, one hundred thousand kurdí—an enormous sum considering the
economic condition of the population, and which, I think, plainly proves
how rarely such a thing happens in this region; but of course where
every man may lawfully take as many wives as he is able to feed there is
little excuse for illicit intercourse. In case of wilful murder the whole
property of the murderer is forfeited, and is of right seized by the
governor.
Each village has its own mayor, who decides petty matters, and is
responsible for the tax payable within his jurisdiction. The king, or
paramount chief, has the power of life and death, and there is no appeal
from his sentence to the ruler of Marádi. However, he cannot venture
to carry into effect any measure of consequence without asking the
opinion of his privy council, or at least that of the ghaladíma or prime
minister, some account of whose office I shall have an opportunity of
giving in the course of my narrative. The little territory of Tasáwa
might constitute a very happy state if the inhabitants were left in
quiet; but they are continually harassed by predatory expeditions, and
even last evening, while we were encamped here, the Féllani drove away a
small herd of ten calves from the neighbouring village of Kálbo.
About noon the “salt” of the serkí-n-Kél-owí arrived with the people
of Olalówa, as well as that of Sálah Lúsu’s head man, who before had
always been in advance of us. In the evening I might have fancied
myself a prince, for I had a splendid supper, consisting of a fowl or
two, while a solitary maimólo cheered me with a performance on his
simple three-stringed instrument, which, however monotonous, was still
expressive of much feeling, and accompanied with a song in my praise.
_Wednesday, Jan. 15._—At the very dawn of day, to my great astonishment,
I was called out of the tent by Mohammed, who told me that Fárraji,
Lúsu’s man, our companion from Ghát, had suddenly arrived from Zínder
with three or four Bórnu horsemen, and had express orders with regard
to me. However, when I went out to salute him, he said nothing of his
errand, but simply told me that he wanted first to speak to Elaíji, the
chief of the caravan. I therefore went to the latter myself to know what
was the matter, and learnt from the old man that though he was not able
to make out all the terms of the letters of which Fárraji was the bearer,
one of which was written by the sheríf, and the other by Lúsu, he yet
understood that the horsemen had come with no other purpose but to take
me and Overweg to Zínder, without consulting our wishes, and that the
sheríf as well as Lúsu had instructed him to send us off in company with
these fellows, but that they had also a letter for Ánnur, who ought to
be consulted. As for himself, the old man (well aware of the real state
of affairs, and that the averment of a letter having arrived from the
consul at Tripoli, to the effect that till further measures were taken
with regard to our recent losses we ought to stay in Bórnu, was a mere
sham and fabrication) declared that he would not force us to do anything
against our inclination, but that we ought to decide ourselves what was
best to be done.
Having, therefore, a double reason for going to Tasáwa, I set out as
early as possible, accompanied by my faithless, wanton Tunisian shushán,
and by my faithful, sedate Tageláli overseer. The path leading through
the suburbs of Gozenákko was well fenced, in order to prevent any
violation of property; whereas on the western side of the village there
was scarcely any cultivated ground, and we soon entered upon a wilderness
where the “dúmmia” and the “karása” were the principal plants, when,
after a march of a little more than three miles, the wild thicket again
gave way to cultivated fields, and the town of Tasáwa appeared in the
distance, or rather (as is generally the case in these countries, where
the dwellings are so low, and where almost all the trees round the towns
are cut down, for strategical as well as economical reasons) the fine
shady trees in the interior of the town were seen, which make it a very
cheerful place. After two miles more, we reached the suburbs, and,
crossing them, kept along the outer ditch which runs round the stockade
of the town, in order to reach Al Wáli’s house, under whose special
protection I knew that Mr. Overweg had placed himself.
My friend’s quarters, into which we were shown, were very comfortable,
although rather narrow. They consisted of a courtyard, fenced with mats
made of reeds, and containing a large shed, or “runfá,” likewise built of
mats and stalks, and a tolerably spacious hut, the walls built of clay
(“bángo”), but with a thatched roof (“shíbki”). The inner part of it was
guarded by a cross wall from the prying of indiscreet eyes.
Overweg was not a little surprised on hearing the recent news, and we
sent for el Wákhshi, our Ghadámsi friend from Tin-téggana, in order to
consult him, as one who had long resided in these countries, and who, we
had reason to hope, would be uninfluenced by personal considerations. He
firmly pronounced his opinion that we ought not to go, and afterwards,
when Fárráji called Mánzo and Al Wáli to his aid, entered into a violent
dispute with these men, who advised us to go; but he went too far in
supposing that the letter had been written with a malicious intention.
For my part, I could well imagine that the step was authorized by the
Sheikh of Bórnu, or at least by his vizier, who might have heard long
ago of our intention to go to Kanó, as it had been even Mr. Richardson’s
intention to go there, which indeed he ought to have done in conformity
with his written obligations to Mohammed eʾ Sfáksi; they might therefore
have instructed the sheríf to do what he might think fit to prevent us
from carrying out our purpose. However, it seemed not improbable that
Lúsu had something to do with the affair. But it was absolutely necessary
for Mr. Overweg and myself, or for one of us at least, to go to Kanó,
as we had several debts to pay, and were obliged to sell the little
merchandise we had with us, in order to settle our affairs.
We were still considering the question, when we were informed that
our old protector the chief Ánnur had just arrived from Zínder; and I
immediately determined to go to see him in his own domain at Náchira,
situated at a little more than a mile north-east from Tasáwa. In passing
through the town I crossed the market-place, which at that time, during
the hot hours of the day, was very well frequented, and presented a busy
scene of the highest interest to a traveller emerging from the desert,
and to which the faint sparks of life still to be observed in Ágades
cannot be compared. A considerable number of cattle were offered for
sale, as well as six camels, and the whole market was surrounded by
continuous rows of runfás or sheds; but provisions and ready-dressed
food formed the staple commodity, and scarcely anything of value was
to be seen. On leaving the town I entered an open country covered
with stubble-fields, and soon reached that group of Náchira where the
chief had fixed his quarters. In front of the yard was a most splendid
tamarind-tree, such as I had not yet seen. Leaving my horse in its shade,
I entered the yard, accompanied by Gajére, and looked about for some
time for the great man, when at length we discovered him under a small
shed, or runfá, of a conical form, so low that we had passed it without
noticing the people collected in its shade. There he lay, surrounded
by his attendants, as was his custom in general when reposing in the
daytime, with no clothing but his trousers, while his shirt, rolled up,
formed a pillow to rest his left arm upon. He did not seem to be in the
best humour—at least he did not say a single cheerful word to me; and
though it was the very hottest time of the day, he did not offer me as
much as a draught of water. I had expected to be treated to a bowl of
well-soaked “fura” seasoned with cheese. But what astonished me more than
his miserly conduct (which was rather familiar to me) was that I learned
from his own mouth that he had not been to Zínder at all, whither we had
been assured he had accompanied Mr. Richardson, but that he had spent
all the time in Tágelel, from which place he had now come direct. I was
therefore the more certain that Lúsu had some part in the intrigues.
Ánnur, who had not yet received the letter addressed to him from Zínder,
knew nothing about it, and merely expressed his surprise that such a
letter had been written, without adding another word.
Seeing the old chief in a very cheerless humour, I soon left him, and
took a ramble with Gajére over the place. The estate is very extensive,
and consists of a great many clusters of huts scattered over the
fields, while isolated dúm-palms give to the whole a peculiar feature.
The people, all followers and mostly domestic slaves of Ánnur, seemed
to live in tolerable ease and comfort, as far as I was able to see,
my companion introducing me into several huts. Indeed, every candid
person, however opposed to slavery he may be, must acknowledge that the
Tuarek in general, and particularly the Kél-owí, treat their slaves
not only humanely, but even with the utmost indulgence and affability,
and scarcely let them feel their bondage at all. Of course there are
exceptions, as the cruelty of yoking slaves to a plough, and driving them
on with a whip (which I had witnessed in Aúderas), is scarcely surpassed
in any of the Christian slave-states; but these exceptions are extremely
rare.
When I returned from my ramble, Mr. Overweg had also arrived, and the
old chief had received the letter; and though neither he nor any of his
people could read it, he was fully aware of its contents, and disapproved
of it entirely, saying that we should act freely, and according to the
best of our knowledge. I then returned with my countryman into the town,
and remained some time with him. In front of his dwelling was encamped
the natron caravan of Al Wáli, which in a few days was to leave for
Núpe, or (as the Háusa people say) Nýffi. We shall have to notice very
frequently this important commerce, which is carried on between the
shores of the Tsád and Nýffi.
I left the town at about five o’clock, and feeling rather hungry on
reaching the encampment in Gozenákko, to the great amusement of our
neighbours, parodying the usual salute of “Iná labári” (What is the
news?) I asked my people immediately the news of our cooking-pot, “Iná
labári-n-tokónia” (What news of the pot?) I was greatly pleased with
my day’s excursion, for Tasáwa was the first large place of Negroland
proper which I had seen, and it made the most cheerful impression upon
me, as manifesting everywhere the unmistakable marks of the comfortable,
pleasant sort of life led by the natives: the courtyard fenced with a
“dérne” of tall reeds, excluding to a certain degree the eyes of the
passer-by, without securing to the interior absolute secrecy; then near
the entrance the cool shady place of the “runfá,” for ordinary business
and for the reception of strangers, and the “gída,” partly consisting
entirely of reed (“dáki-n-kára”) of the best wickerwork, partly built of
clay in its lower parts (“bóngo”), while the roof consists of reeds only
(“shíbki”), but of whatever material it may consist, it is warm and well
adapted for domestic privacy, the whole dwelling shaded with spreading
trees, and enlivened with groups of children, goats, fowls, pigeons, and,
where a little wealth had been accumulated, a horse or a pack-ox.
With this character of the dwellings, that of the inhabitants themselves
is in entire harmony, its most constant element being a cheerful
temperament, bent upon enjoying life, rather given to women, dance,
and song, but without any disgusting excess. Everybody here finds his
greatest happiness in a comely lass, and as soon as he makes a little
profit he adds a young wife to his elder companion in life, yet a man
has rarely more than two wives at a time. Drinking fermented liquor
cannot be strictly reckoned a sin in a place where a great many of the
inhabitants are Pagans; but a drunken person, nevertheless, is scarcely
ever seen; those who are not Mohammedans only indulge in their “gíya,”
made of sorghum, just enough to make them merry and enjoy life with more
light-heartedness. There was at that time a renegade Jew in the place,
called Músa, who made spirits of dates and tamarinds for his own use.
Their dress is very simple, consisting, for the man, of a wide shirt and
trousers, mostly of a dark colour, while the head is generally covered
with a light cap of cotton cloth, which is negligently worn, in all
sorts of fashions. Others wear a rather closely fitting cap of green
cloth, called báki-n-záki. Only the wealthier amongst them can afford
the “zénne,” or shawl, thrown over the shoulder like the plaid of the
Highlanders. On their feet the richer class wear very neat sandals, such
as we shall describe among the manufactures of Kanó.
As for the women, their dress consists almost entirely of a large cotton
cloth, also of dark colour—the “túrkedi,” fastened under or above the
breast—the only ornament of the latter in general consisting of some
strings of glass beads worn round the neck. The women are tolerably
handsome, and have pleasant features; but they are worn out by excessive
domestic labour, and their growth never attains full and vigorous
proportions. They do not bestow so much care upon their hair as the
Féllani or some of the Bagírmi people.
There are in the town a good many “Búzawe,” or Tuarek half-castes, who
distinguish themselves in their dress principally by the “ráwani,” or
tesílgemíst (the lithám), of white or black colour, which they wind
round their head in the same way as the Kél-owí; but their mode of
managing the tuft of hair left on the top of the head is not always the
same, some wearing their curled hair all over the crown of the head,
while others leave only a long tuft, which was the old fashion of the
Zenágha. The Pagan inhabitants of this district wear, in general, only
a leathern apron (“wuélki”); but, with the exception of young children,
none are seen here quite naked. The town was so busy, and seemed so
well inhabited, that on the spot I estimated its population at fifteen
thousand; but this estimate is probably too high.
_Thursday, Jan. 16._—We still remained near Gozenákko, and I was busy
studying Temáshight, after which I once more went over the letter of
the Sheríf el Fási, Háj Beshír’s agent in Zínder; and having become
fully aware of the dictatorial manner in which he had requested Elaíji
to forward me and Mr. Overweg to him (just as a piece of merchandise),
without asking our consent, I sat down to write him a suitable answer,
assuring him that, as I was desirous of paying my respects to the son
of Mohammed el Kánemi and his enlightened vizier, I would set out for
their residence as soon as I had settled my affairs in Kanó, and that I
was sure of attaining my ends without his intervention, as I had not the
least desire to visit him.
This letter, as subsequent events proved, grew into importance, for the
sheríf, being perplexed by its tone, sent it straight on to Kúkawa,
where it served to introduce me at once to the sheikh and his vizier.
But the difficulty was to send it off with the warlike messengers who
had brought the sheríf’s letters, as they would not go without us, and
swore that their orders, from the sheríf as well as from Serk’ Ibrám,
were so peremptory that they should be utterly disgraced if they returned
empty-handed. At length, after a violent dispute with Fárráji and these
warlike-looking horsemen, the old chief, who took my part very fairly,
finished the matter by plainly stating that if we ourselves, of our own
free will, wanted to go, we might do so, but if we did not wish to go,
instead of forcing us, he would defend us against anybody who should
dare to offer us violence. Nevertheless the messengers would not depart,
and it seemed impossible to get rid of them till I made each of them a
present of two mithkáls, when they mounted their horses with a very bad
grace, and went off with my letter. The energetic and straightforward
but penurious old chief left us in the afternoon, and rode to Kálgo, a
village at no great distance.
_Friday, Jan. 17._—Still another day of halt, in order, as I was told,
to allow Háj ʿAbdúwa’s salt caravan to come up and join us. Being tired
of the camp, I once more went into the town to spend my day usefully
and pleasantly; leaving all my people behind, I was accompanied by some
of my fellow-travellers of the caravan. Arriving at Overweg’s quarters,
what was my surprise to find Fárráji not yet gone, but endeavouring to
persuade my companion, with all the arts of his barbarous eloquence,
that though I should not go, he at least might, in which case he would
be amply rewarded with the many fine things which had been prepared in
Zínder for our reception. The poor fellow was greatly cast down when
he saw me, and soon made off in very bad humour, while I went with
Overweg to el Wákhshi, who was just occupied in that most tedious of
all commercial transactions in these countries, namely, the counting of
shells; for in all these inland countries of Central Africa the cowries,
or kurdí (_Cypræa moneta_), are not, as is customary in some regions
near the coast, fastened together in strings of one hundred each, but
are separate, and must be counted one by one. Even those “tákrufa” (or
sacks made of rushes), containing twenty thousand kurdí each, as the
governors of the towns are in the habit of packing them up, no private
individual will receive without counting them out. The general custom
in so doing is to count them by fives, in which operation some are very
expert, and then, according to the amount of the sum, to form heaps of
two hundred (or ten háwiyas[13]) or a thousand each. Having at length
succeeded, with the help of some five or six other people, in the really
heroic work of counting five hundred thousand shells, our friend went
with us to the sick Sultan Mazáwaji; I say Sultan, as it is well for a
traveller to employ these sounding titles of petty chiefs, which have
become naturalized in the country from very ancient times, although it is
very likely that foreign governments would be unwilling to acknowledge
them. The poor fellow, who was living in a hut built half of mud, half
of reeds, was suffering under a dreadful attack of dysentery, and
looked like a spectre; fortunately my friend succeeded in bringing on
perspiration with some hot tea and a good dose of peppermint, in the
absence of stronger medicines. We then went to the house of Amánkay,
that useful fellow so often mentioned in the Journal of the late Mr.
Richardson, and by myself. He was a “búzu” of this place, and had many
relatives here, all living near him. His house was built in the general
style, but the interior of the courtyard was screened from profane eyes.
Fortunately I had taken with me some small things, such as mirrors,
English darning-needles, and some knives, so that I was able to give a
small present to each of his kinsmen and relatives, while he treated us
with a calabash of fura.
In the afternoon we strolled a long time about the market, which, not
being so crowded as the day before yesterday, was on that account far
more favourable for observation. Here I first saw and tasted the bread
made of the fruit of the magária-tree, and called “túwo-n-magária,” which
I have mentioned before, and was not a little astonished to see whole
calabashes filled with roasted locusts (“fará”), which occasionally
form a considerable part of the food of the natives, particularly if
their grain has been destroyed by this plague, as they can then enjoy
not only the agreeable flavour of the dish, but also take a pleasant
revenge on the ravagers of their fields. Every open space in the midst
of the market-place was occupied by a fireplace (“maidéffa”) on a raised
platform, on which diminutive morsels of meat, attached to a small stick,
were roasting, or rather stewing, in such a way that the fat, trickling
down from the richer pieces attached to the top of the stick, basted the
lower ones. These dainty bits were sold for a single shell, or “urí,”[14]
each. I was much pleased at recognizing the red cloth which had been
stolen from my bales in the valley of Afís, and which was exposed here
for sale. But the most interesting thing in the town was the “máriná”
(the dyeing-place), near the wall, consisting of a raised platform of
clay with fourteen holes or pits, in which the mixture of indigo is
prepared, and the cloths remain for a certain length of time, from one
to seven days, according to the colour which they are to attain. It is
principally this dyeing, I think, which gives to many parts of Negroland
a certain tincture of civilization, a civilization which it would be
highly interesting to trace, if it were possible, through all the stages
of its development.
While rambling about, Overweg and I for a while were greatly annoyed
by a tall fellow, very respectably and most picturesquely dressed, who
professed himself to be a messenger from the governor of Kátsena, sent to
offer us his compliments and to invite us to go to him. Though the thing
was not altogether impossible, it looked rather improbable; and having
thanked him profusely for his civility, we at length succeeded in getting
rid of him. In the evening I returned to our camping ground with Ídder,
the Emgédesi man mentioned in a preceding part of my narrative, and was
very glad to receive reliable information that we were to start the
following day.
CHAPTER XXIII.
GAZÁWA.—RESIDENCE IN KÁTSENA.
_Saturday, Jan. 18._—We made a good start with our camels, which, having
been treated to a considerable allowance of salt on the first day of our
halt, had made the best possible use of these four days’ rest to recruit
their strength. At the considerable village of Kálgo, which we passed at
a little less than five miles beyond our encampment, the country became
rather hilly, but only for a short distance. Tamarinds constituted the
greatest ornament of the landscape. A solitary traveller attracted our
notice on account of his odd attire, mounted as he was on a bullock with
three large pitchers on each side. Four miles beyond Kálgo the character
of the country became suddenly changed, and dense groups of dúm-palms
covered the ground. But what pleased me more than the sight of these
slender forked trees was when, half an hour after mid-day, I recognized
my splendid old friend the bóre-tree, of the valley Bóghel, which had
excited my surprise in so high a degree, and the magnificence of which at
its first appearance was not at all eclipsed by this second specimen in
the fertile regions of Negroland. Soon afterwards we reached the fáddama
of Gazáwa; and, leaving the town on our right hidden in the thick forest,
we encamped a little further on in an open place, which was soon crowded
with hucksters and retailers. I was also pestered with a visit from
some half-caste Arabs settled in the town; but fortunately, seeing that
they were likely to wait in vain for a present, they went off, and were
soon succeeded by a native mʿallem from the town, whose visit was most
agreeable to me.
About sunset the “serkí-n-turáwa,” or consul of the Arabs, came to pay
his regards to Elaíji, and introduced the subject of a present, which, as
he conceived, I ought to make to the governor of the town as a sort of
passage-money; my protector, however, would not listen to the proposal,
but merely satisfied his visitor’s curiosity by calling me into his
presence and introducing him to me. The serkí was very showily and
picturesquely dressed—in a green and white striped tobe, wide trousers
of a speckled pattern and colour, like the plumage of the Guinea-fowl,
with an embroidery of green silk in front of the legs. Over this he wore
a gaudy red bernús, while round his red cap a red and white turban was
wound crosswise in a very neat and careful manner. His sword was slung
over his right shoulder by means of thick hangers of red silk ornamented
with enormous tassels. He was mounted on a splendid charger, the head and
neck of which was most fancifully ornamented with a profusion of tassels,
bells, and little leather pockets containing charms, while from under the
saddle a shabrack peeped out, consisting of little triangular patches in
all the colours of the rainbow.
This little African dandy received me with a profusion of the finest
compliments, pronounced with the most refined and sweet accent of which
the Háusa language is capable. When he was gone my old friend Elaíji
informed me that he had prevented the “consul of the Arabs” from exacting
a present from me, and begged me to acknowledge his service by a cup of
coffee, which of course I granted him with all my heart. Poor old Elaíji!
He died in the year 1854, in the forest between Gazáwa and Kátsena, where
from the weakness of age he lost his way when left alone. He has left
on my memory an image which I shall always recall with pleasure. He was
certainly the most honourable and religious man among the Kél-owí.
The market in our encampment, which continued till nightfall, reached its
highest pitch at sunset, when the people of the town brought ready-made
“túwo,” each dish, with rather a small allowance, selling for three
kurdí, or not quite the fourth part of a farthing. I, however, was happy
in not being thrown upon this three-kurdí supper; and while I indulged in
my own home-made dish, Gajére entertained me with the narrative of a nine
days’ siege, which the warlike inhabitants of Gazáwa had sustained, ten
years previously, against the whole army of the famous Bello.
_Sunday, Jan. 19._—We remained encamped, and my day was most agreeably
and usefully spent in gathering information with regard to the regions
which I had just entered. There was first Maʿadi, the slave of Ánnur, a
native of Bórnu, who when young had been made prisoner by the Búdduma of
the lake, and had resided three years among these interesting people,
till having fallen into the hands of the Welád Slimán, then in Kánem,
he at length, on the occasion of the great expedition of the preceding
year, had fallen into the power of the Kél-owí. Although he owed the
loss of his liberty to the freebooting islanders, he was nevertheless a
great admirer of theirs, and a sincere vindicator of their character. He
represented them as a brave and high-spirited people, who made glorious
and successful inroads upon the inhabitants of the shores of the lake
with surprising celerity, while at home they were a pious and God-fearing
race, and knew neither theft nor fraud among themselves. He concluded
his eloquent eulogy of this valorous nation of pirates by expressing his
fervent hope that they might for ever preserve their independence against
the ruler of Bórnu.
I then wrote, from the mouth of Gajére and Yáhia (another of my friends),
a list of the places lying round about Gazáwa, as follows: On the east
side, Mádobí, Maíjirgí, Kógena na kay-debu, Kórmasa, Kórgom, Kánche (a
little independent principality); Gumdá, half a day east of Gazáwa, with
numbers of Ásbenáwa; Démbeda, or Dúmbida, at less distance; Shabáli,
Babíl, Túrmeni, Gínga, Kandémka, Sabó-n-kefí, Zángoni-n-ákwa, Kúrni,
Kurnáwa, Dángudaw. On the west side, where the country is more exposed
to the inroads of the Fúlbe or Féllani, there is only one place of
importance, called Tindúkku, which name seems to imply a close relation
to the Tuarek. All these towns and villages are said to be in a certain
degree dependent on Raffa, the “babá” (_i.e._ great man or chief) of
Gazáwa, who, however, himself owes allegiance to the supreme ruler of
Marádi.
There was an exciting stir in the encampment at about ten o’clock in
the morning, illustrative of the restless struggle going on in these
regions. A troop of about forty horsemen, mostly well mounted, led on by
the serkí-n-Gumdá, and followed by a body of tall, slender archers, quite
naked but for their leathern aprons, passed through the different rows of
the áïri, on their way to join the expedition which the prince of Marádi
was preparing against the Féllani.
About noon the natron caravan of Háj Al Wáli, which I had seen in
Tasáwa, came marching up in solemn order, led on by two drums, and
affording a pleasant specimen of the character of the Háusa people.
Afterwards I went into the town, which was distant from my tent about
half a mile. Being much exposed to attacks from the Mohammedans, as the
southernmost Pagan place belonging to the Marádi-Góber Union, Gazáwa
has no open suburbs outside its strong stockade, which is surrounded
by a deep ditch. It forms almost a regular quadrangle, having a gate
on each side, built of clay, which gives to the whole fortification a
more regular character, besides the greater strength which the place
derives from this precaution. Each gateway is twelve feet deep, and
furnished on its top with a rampart sufficiently capacious for about a
dozen archers. The interior of the town is almost of the same character
as Tasáwa; but Gazáwa is rather more closely built, though I doubt
whether its circumference exceeds that of the former place. The market
is held every day, but, as might be supposed, is far inferior to that
of Tasáwa, which is a sort of little _entrepôt_ for the merchants
coming from the north, and affords much more security than Gazáwa,
which, though an important place with regard to the struggle carried on
between Paganism and Islamism in these quarters, is not so with respect
to commerce. The principal things offered for sale were cattle, meat,
vegetables of different kinds, and earthenware pots. Gazáwa has also a
máriná, or dyeing-place, but of less extent than that of Tasáwa, as most
of its inhabitants are Pagans, and wear no clothing but the leathern
apron. Their character appeared to me to be far more grave than that
of the inhabitants of Tasáwa, and this is a natural consequence of the
precarious position in which they are placed, as well as of their more
warlike disposition. The whole population is certainly not less than ten
thousand.
Having visited the market, I went to the house of the mʿallem, where I
found several Ásbenáwa belonging to our caravan enjoying themselves in
a very simple manner, eating the fruits of the kaña, which are a little
larger than cherries, but not so soft and succulent. The mʿallem, as
I had an opportunity of learning on this occasion, is a _protégé_ of
Elaíji, to whom the house belongs. Returning with my companions to our
encampment, I witnessed a very interesting sort of dance, or rather
gymnastic play, performed on a large scale by the Kél-owí, who being
arranged in long rows, in pairs, and keeping up a regular motion, pushed
along several of their number under their arms—not very unlike some of
our old dances.
_Monday, Jan. 20._—Starting early in the morning, we felt the cold very
sensibly, the thermometer standing at 48° Fahr. a little before sunset.
Cultivated fields interrupted from time to time the underwood for the
first three miles, while the “ngílle,” or “kába,” formed the most
characteristic feature of the landscape; but dúm-palms, at first very
rarely seen, soon became prevalent, and continued for the next two miles.
Then the country became more open, while in the distance to the left
extended a low range of hills. New species of trees appeared, which I had
not seen before, as the “kókia,” a tree with large leaves of a dark-green
colour, with a green fruit of the size of an apple, but not eatable. The
first solitary specimens of the gigiña, or deléb-palm, which is one of
the most characteristic trees of the more southern regions, were also met
with.
Moving silently along, about noon we met a considerable caravan, with a
great number of oxen and asses led by two horsemen, and protected in the
rear by a strong guard of archers; for this is one of the most dangerous
routes in all Central Africa, where every year a great many parties are
plundered by marauders, no one being responsible for the security of this
disputed territory. We had here a thick forest on our left, enlivened
by numbers of birds; then about two o’clock in the afternoon we entered
a fine undulating country, covered with a profusion of herbage, while
the large gámshi-tree, with its broad fleshy leaves of the finest green,
formed the most remarkable object of the vegetable kingdom. All this
country was once a bustling scene of life, with numbers of towns and
villages, till, at the very commencement of this century, the “Jihádi,”
or Reformer, rose among the Fúlbe of Góber, and, inflaming them with
fanatic zeal, urged them on to merciless warfare against Pagans as well
as Mohammedans.
It was here that my companions drew my attention to the tracks of the
elephant, of whose existence in the more northern regions we had not
hitherto seen the slightest trace; so that this seems to be the limit
of its haunts on this side; and it was shortly afterwards that Gajére
descried in the distance a living specimen making slowly off to the east;
but my sight was not strong enough to distinguish it. Thus we entered the
thicker part of the forest, and about half-past four in the afternoon
reached the site of the large town of Dánkama, whither Mágajin Háddedu,
the king of Kátsena, had retired after his residence had been taken by
the Fúlbe, and from whence he waged unrelenting but unsuccessful war
against the bloody-minded enemies of the religious as well as political
independence of his country. Once, indeed, the Fúlbe were driven out of
Kátsena; but they soon returned with renewed zeal and with a fresh army,
and the Háusa prince was expelled from his ancient capital for ever.
After several battles, Dánkama, whither all the nobility and wealth of
Kátsena had retired, was taken, ransacked, and burnt.
A solitary colossal kúka (baobab), representing in its huge, leafless,
and gloomy frame the sad recollections connected with this spot, shoots
out from the prickly underwood which thickly overgrows the locality,
and points out the market-place, once teeming with life. It was a most
affecting moment; for, as if afraid of the evil spirits dwelling in
this wild and deserted spot, all the people of the caravan, while we
were thronging along the narrow paths opening between the thick prickly
underwood, shouted with wild cries, cursing and execrating the Féllani,
the authors of so much mischief; all the drums were beating, and every
one pushed on in order to get out of this melancholy neighbourhood as
soon as possible.
Having passed a little after sunset a large granitic mass projecting from
the ground, called Korremátse, and once a place of worship, we saw in
the distance, in front, the fires of those parties of the aïri which had
preceded us; and greeting them with a wild cry, we encamped on the uneven
ground in great disorder, as it had become quite dark. After a long march
I felt very glad when the tent was at length pitched. While the fire
was lighted, and the supper preparing, Gajére informed me that, besides
Dánkama, Bello destroyed also the towns of Jankúki and Madáwa in this
district, which now presents such a frightful wilderness.
In the course of the night the roar of a lion was heard close by our
encampment.
_Tuesday, Jan. 21._—We started, with general enthusiasm, at an early
hour; and the people of our troop seeing the fires of the other divisions
of the salt caravan in front of us still burning, jeered at their
laziness, till at length, on approaching within a short distance of the
fires, we found that the other people had set out long before, leaving
their fires burning. A poor woman, carrying a load on her head, and
leading a pair of goats, had attached herself to our party in Gazáwa; and
though she had lost her goats in the bustle of the previous afternoon,
she continued her journey cheerfully and with resignation.
After five hours’ march the whole caravan was suddenly brought to a
stand for some time, the cause of which was a ditch of considerable
magnitude, dug right across the path, and leaving only a narrow passage,
the beginning of a small path which wound along through thick, thorny
underwood. This, together with the ditch, formed a sort of outer defence
for the cultivated fields and the pasture-grounds of Kátsena, against any
sudden inroad. Having passed another projecting mass of granite rock, we
passed two small villages on our left, called Túlla and Takumáku, from
whence the inhabitants came out to salute us. We encamped at length in a
large stubble-field, beyond some kitchen-gardens, where pumpkins (dúmma)
were planted, two miles north-east from the town of Kátsena. While we
were pitching my tent, which was the only one in the whole encampment,
the Sultan or Governor of Kátsena came out with a numerous retinue of
horsemen, all well dressed and mounted; and having learnt from Elaíji
that I was a Christian traveller belonging to a mission (a fact, however,
which he knew long before), he sent me soon afterwards a ram and two
large calabashes or dúmmos filled with honey—an honour which was rather
disagreeable to me than otherwise, as it placed me under the necessity of
making the governor a considerable present in return. I had no article of
value with me, and I began to feel some unpleasant foreboding of future
difficulties.
An approximative estimate of the entire number of the salt caravan, as
affording the means of accurately determining the amount of a great
national commerce carried on between widely separated countries, had
much occupied my attention, and having in vain tried on the road to
arrive at such an estimate, I did all I could to-day to obtain a list
of the different divisions composing it; but although Yáhia, one of the
principal of Ánnur’s people, assured me that there were more than thirty
troops, I was not able to obtain particulars of more than the following;
viz. encamped on this same ground with us was the salt caravan of Ánnur,
of Elaíji, of Hámma with the Kél-táfidet, of Sálah, of Háj Makhmúd with
the Kél-tagrímmat, of Ámaki with the Amákita, of the Imasághlar (led by
Mohammed dan Ággeg), of the Kél-azanéres, of the Kél-ínger (the people
of Zingína), of the Kél-ágwau, and finally that of the Kél-chémia. No
doubt none of these divisions had more than two hundred camels laden with
salt, exclusive of the young and the spare camels; the whole of the salt,
therefore, collected here at the time was at the utmost worth one hundred
millions of kurdí, or about eight thousand pounds sterling. Beside the
divisions of the aïri which I have just enumerated as encamped on this
spot, the Erázar were still behind, while the following divisions had
gone on in advance: the Kél-n-Néggaru; the Iseráraran, with the chief
Bárka and the támberi (war chieftain) Nasóma; and the Ikázkezan, with the
chiefs Mohammed Irólagh and Wuentúsa.
We may therefore not be far from the truth if we estimate the whole
number of the salt caravan of the Kél-owí of this year at two thousand
five hundred camels. To this must be added the salt which had gone to
Zínder, and which I estimate at about a thousand camel-loads, and that
which had been left in Tasáwa for the supply of the markets of the
country as far as Góber, which I estimate at from two hundred to three
hundred camel-loads. But it must be borne in mind that the country of
Ásben had been for some time in a more than ordinarily turbulent state,
and that consequently the caravan was at this juncture probably less
numerous than it would be in quiet times.
Being rather uneasy with regard to the intention of the governor of the
province, I went early the next morning to Elaíji, and assured him that
besides some small things, such as razors, cloves, and frankincense, I
possessed only two red caps to give to the governor, and that I could
not afford to contract more debts by buying a bernús. The good old man
was himself aware of the governor’s intention, who, he told me, had made
up his mind to get a large present from me, otherwise he would not allow
me to continue my journey. I wanted to visit the town, but was prevented
from doing so under these circumstances, and therefore remained in the
encampment.
[Illustration]
The governor, who spends a great deal of his time in a country house
which he has recently built outside the town, about noon held a sort of
review of several hundred horsemen, whose horses, in general, were in
excellent condition. They were armed with a straight sword hanging on the
left, a long heavy spear for thrusting, and a shield, either of the same
description as that of the Tuarek, of oblong shape, made of the hide of
the large antelope (_Leucoryx_), or else of bullock’s or elephant’s hide,
and forming an immense circular disc of about five feet in diameter;
some of them wore also the dagger at the left arm, while I counted not
more than four or five muskets. Their dress was picturesque, and not
too flowing for warlike purposes, the large shirt, or shirts (for they
generally wear two), being fastened round the breast with an Egyptian
shawl with a red border; and even those who were dressed in a bernús
had it wound round their breasts. Most of them wore black “ráwani,” or
shawls, round their faces, a custom which the Féllani of Háusa have
adopted from the Tuarek merely on account of its looking warlike; for
they have no superstitious reason for covering the mouth. The harness
of the horses was all of Háusa manufacture, the saddles very different
from those of the Tuarek (which seem to be identical with the old Arab
saddles). The stirrups formed a very peculiar kind of medium between the
large, unwieldy stirrups of the modern Arab and the small ones of the
Tuarek and Europeans, the sole of the stirrup being long, but turned
down at both ends, while it is so narrow that the rider can only thrust
the naked foot into it. I could not understand the principle upon which
this kind of stirrup is made. It appeared to me a most absurd specimen of
workmanship.
The Féllani in Kátsena have good reason to be on their guard against the
Kél-owí, who, in an underhand way, are always assisting the independent
Háusa states of Góber and Marádi in their struggle, and might some day
easily make common cause with them to drive out these arrogant intruders
from the conquered provinces. In fact they have done all in their power
to attain this object; and Ánnur’s policy is so well known to the Féllani
that once when he came to Kátsena he received most shameful treatment
at their hands. Afterwards I was visited by el Wákhshi, and paid him
in return a visit at that part of the encampment where some of his
merchandise was deposited, for he himself was living in the town. Here he
introduced to me a person who was very soon to become one of my direst
tormentors, the bare remembrance of whom is even now unpleasant; it was
the háj Bel-Ghét, a man born in Tawát, but who had long been settled in
Kátsena, and though not with the title, yet in reality holding the office
of a “serkí-n-turáwa.”
A troop of eight mounted royal musicians (“masukídda-n-serkí”), who had
been playing the whole day before the several divisions of the “aïri,”
came likewise to my tent in the course of the afternoon, and gratified my
ears with a performance on their various instruments. There was the drum,
or “ganga,” very much like our own instrument of that kind, and of about
the same size as the common regimental drum; the long wind instrument,
or “pampámme;” a shorter one, a sort of flute, or “elgaita;”[15] a sort
of double tambourine, or “kalángo;” a simple tympanum, or “koso;” a
sort of double Egyptian darabúka, called “jójo;” and a small horn, or
“kafó.” The most common among them is the “jójo,” which in Háusa is
the chief instrument made use of in an expedition, and, if accompanied
by the voice, is not disagreeable. With these various instruments the
well-mounted horsemen made a pretty good noise; but it was neither
harmonious nor characteristic: to all this pompous imitative music I
prefer a few strains with natural feeling by a solitary maimólo. I was
obliged to reward my entertainers with a large quantity of cloves, as I
had scarcely anything else left.
I was rather astonished to hear that the Ásbenáwa do not pay
passage-money to the governor according to the number of their camels,
but that every freeman among them makes him a present of one kántu of
salt. For every beast of burden, be it pack-ox or donkey, five hundred
kurdí are generally paid.
_Thursday, Jan. 23._—Having assorted such a present as I could afford, I
protested once more to Elaíji that, my other luggage having gone on in
advance to Kanó, I had but very little to offer the governor.
I went about noon with my protector and a great number of Ásbenáwa to
offer the governor my compliments and my present. Sitting down under
a tree at a considerable distance from the spot where he himself was
seated, we waited a little, till we should be called into his presence,
when his brother, who held the office of ghaladíma, came to us—a man
of immense corpulency, resembling a eunuch. Indeed, nothing but the
cut of his face, his aquiline nose and rather light colour, and the
little goatlike beard which ornamented his chin could expose him to the
suspicion of being a Púllo or Ba-Féllanchi.[16] He wanted to treat my
business apart from that of Elaíji, who, however, declared that he had
come only for my sake. While the fat ghaladíma was returning to inform
his brother of what he had heard, a troop of well-mounted Kélesárar (who,
as I was told, are settled at present in the province of Kátsena) came
up at full speed. It was not long before a servant came from the serkí,
inviting me alone into his presence.
Mohammed Béllo Yeríma, the eldest son of the former well-known governor,
Mʿallem Ghomáro,[17] was seated under a widespreading and luxuriant
tamarind-tree, dressed simply in a large white shirt with a black ráwani
round his face. The Ásbenáwa, who formed a large semicircle around him,
were dressed most gaudily. Stepping into the opening of the semicircle,
I saluted the governor, telling him that as I and my companions had
lost, on the border of Asben, almost all the valuable property we had
brought with us, and as the few things left to me had gone on to Kanó,
he ought to excuse me for being unable at the present moment to offer
him a present worthy of his high position; that it was my desire to go
on without delay to Kanó, in order to settle my affairs, and to proceed
to Bórnu, where we expected to receive fresh supplies, after which one
of our party certainly would go to Sókoto, in order to pay our respects
to the Emír el Múmenín. The governor answered my address with much
apparent kindness, telling me that I was now in his “imána,” or under
his protection, and that he had no other purpose but to do what would
be conducive to my advantage. He then asked the news of my companions,
though he knew all about them, and did not appear to take the least
offence at Mr. Overweg’s going to Marádi, although the people and the
ruler of that place were his most inveterate enemies. But things must
not be looked upon here as they would be in Europe; for here people are
accustomed to see strangers from the north pay visits to all sorts of
princes, whatever may be their policy. However, while he spoke in rather
friendly terms to me, and while my presents were received thankfully by
the servants, he declared to the people who were sitting near him that
as the ruler of Bórnu had laid hold of one of my companions, and that of
Marádi of the other, he should be a fool if he were to let me pass out of
his hands. I therefore took leave of him with no very light heart.
My present consisted of two fine red caps, a piece of printed calico
which I had bought in Múrzuk for four Spanish dollars, but which was of
a pattern not much liked in Sudán, an English razor and scissors, one
pound of cloves, another of frankincense, a piece of fine soap, and a
packet of English needles. Though it certainly was not a very brilliant
present, yet, considering that I did not want anything from him, it was
quite enough; but the fact was that he wanted something more from me, and
therefore it was not sufficient.
Early the following morning, while it was still dark, a servant of the
governor came with Elaíji to my tent, requesting me to stay voluntarily
behind the caravan. Though this would have been the best plan, had I
known that the governor had set his heart upon keeping me back, yet I
could not well assent to it, as I had nothing at all with me, not even
sufficient to keep me and my people for a short time from starving. I
therefore told him that it was impossible for me to stay behind, and
prepared to go on with the caravan which was setting out. This, however,
Elaíji would not allow me to do, but while all the divisions of the aïri
started one after the other, he himself remained behind with several of
the principal men of the caravan, till Háj Bel-Ghét came and announced
that it was necessary for me to go to the town, there to await the
decision of the governor. Seeing that nothing was to be done but to obey,
and having in vain shown my letter of recommendation from the Sultan
of Ágades, from which, as I had feared from the beginning, nothing was
inferred but that I had been directly forwarded by him to the Governor
of Kátsena in order to see me safe to Sókoto, I took leave of Elaíji,
thanking him and his friends for their trouble, and followed Bel-Ghét and
his companion Músa into the town.
The immense mass of the wall, measuring in its lower part not less than
thirty feet, and its wide circumference, made a deep impression upon
me. The town (if town it may be called) presented a most cheerful rural
scene, with its detached light cottages, and its stubble-fields shaded
with a variety of fine trees; but I suspect that this ground was not
entirely covered with dwellings even during the most glorious period of
Kátsena. We travelled a mile and a half before we reached the “zínsere,”
a small dwelling used by the governor as a place of audience—on account,
as it seems, of a splendid widespreading fig-tree growing close to it,
and forming a thick shady canopy sufficient for a large number of people.
I, however, was conducted to the other side of the building, where a
quadrangular chamber projects from the half-decayed wall, and had there
to wait a long time, till the governor came into town from his new
country seat. Having at last arrived, he called me, and, thanking me for
remaining with him, he promised that I should be well treated as his
guest, and that without delay a house should be placed at my disposal. He
was a man of middle age, and had much in his manners and features which
made him resemble an actor; and such he really is, and was still more so
in his younger days.
Taking leave of him for the present, I followed Bel-Ghét to my quarters;
but we had still a good march to make, first through detached dwellings
of clay, then leaving the immense palace of the governor on our left,
and entering what may be strictly called the town, with connected
dwellings. Here I was lodged in a small house opposite the spacious
dwelling of Bel-Ghét; and though on first entering I found it almost
insupportable, I soon succeeded in making myself tolerably comfortable
in a clean room neatly arranged. It seemed to have once formed the snug
seat for a well-furnished harím; at least the dark passages leading to
the interior could not be penetrated by a stranger’s eye. We had scarcely
taken possession of our quarters when the governor sent me a ram and two
ox-loads of corn—one of “dáwa,” and the other of “géro.” But instead of
feeling satisfied with this abundant provision, we were quite horrified
at it, as I with my three people might have subsisted a whole year on
the corn sent us; and we began to have uneasy forebodings of a long
detention. Indeed, we suspected, and were confirmed in our suspicion
by the statements of several people, that it was the governor’s real
intention to forward me directly to Sókoto, a circumstance which
alienated from me my servants—even the faithful Mohammed el Gatróni, who
was much afraid of going there.
However, my new protector, Bel-Ghét, did not leave me much time for
reflection, but soon came back to take me again to the governor.
Having sat awhile in the cool shade of the tree, we were called into
his audience-room, which was nothing more than the round hut or dérne
(“zaure” in Kanúri) which generally forms the entrance and passage-room
in every Púllo establishment. Besides myself, the háj Bel-Ghét, and
his constant companion Músa, there was also the wealthy merchant Háj
Wáli, whom I had seen in Tasáwa, when he tried to persuade me to follow
the men sent to take me to Zínder, while he now sought to represent
the governor of Kátsena as the greatest man in all Negroland, and the
best friend I could have. The governor soon began to display his talent
as an actor, and had the unfortunate letter from the Sultan of Ágades
read, interpreted, and commented upon. According to the sagacious
interpretation of these men, the purport of the letter was to recommend
me expressly to this governor as a fit person to be detained in his
company. All my representations to the effect that my friend ʿAbd el
Káder had recommended me in exactly the same terms to the governors of
Dáura and Kanó, and that I had forwarded a letter from Ágades to the Emír
el Múmenín, in Sókoto, informing him that as soon as we had received
new supplies from the coast one of us at least would certainly pay him
a visit, which under present circumstances, robbed and destitute as we
were, we could not well do, were all in vain; he had an answer for every
objection, and was impudent enough to tell me that a message had been
received from Marádi, soliciting me to go thither; that as Bórnu had
laid hold of one of my companions, and Marádi of the other, so he would
lay hold of me, but of course only in order to become my benefactor (“se
al khére”). Seeing that reply was useless, and that it was much better
to let this lively humourist go through his performance, and to wait
patiently for the end of the comedy, I took leave of him, and returned to
my quarters.
Late in the evening the governor sent for Mohammed, who could scarcely
be expected, with his fiery and inconsiderate behaviour, to improve the
state of things; and as the governor’s dwelling was a good way off, I
was obliged to allow him to go armed with a pair of pistols, which soon
attracted the attention of our host, who complained bitterly that while
all the petty chiefs had received from us such splendid presents, he, the
greatest man in Negroland, had got nothing. Mohammed having told him that
the pistols belonged to me, he wanted me to present them to him; but this
I obstinately refused, as I was convinced that the whole success of our
further proceedings depended on our firearms.
I was rather glad when el Wákhshi called upon me the following morning,
as I trusted he might help me out of the scrape. After conversing with
him about my situation, I went out with him to stroll about the town. We
had gone, however, but a little way when Bel-Ghét saw us, and reprimanded
me severely for going out without asking his permission. Growing rather
warm at such humiliating treatment, I told him, in very plain terms,
that as long as the governor refrained from posting soldiers before my
door I would regard myself as a free man, and at liberty to go where I
chose. Seeing that he could not wreak his anger directly upon me, he
tried to do it indirectly, by reprimanding my companion for going about
with this “káfer,” and confirming the “káfer” in his refractoriness
against the will of the Sultan. Not feeling much honoured with the title
thus bestowed on me, I told him that as yet nobody in the whole town
had insulted me with that epithet, but that he alone had the insolence
to apply it. When the miserable fellow saw me irritated he did not
hesitate to declare that, though well versed in the Kurán, he had been
entirely unaware of the meaning of “káfer,” and begged me to give him
full information about the relations of the English to the various
Mohammedan states. When I came to speak about Morocco he interrupted me,
as, being a native of Gurára, he might be presumed to know the relations
of those countries better than I did; and he insisted that the English
were not on good terms with the Emperor of Morocco and were not allowed
to visit Fás (Fez). I then declared to him that there could scarcely be
a more unmistakable proof of the friendly relations existing between the
English and Mulʿa ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán than the present of four magnificent
horses, which the latter had lately sent to the Queen of England. He
then confessed that he was more of an antiquarian, and ignorant of the
present state of matters; but he was quite sure that during the time of
Mulʿa Ismʿaíl it certainly was as he had stated. To this I replied, that
while all the Mohammedan states, including Morocco, had since that time
declined in power, the Christians, and the English in particular, had
made immense steps in advance. We then shook hands, and I left the poor
Moslim to his own reflections.
Proceeding with el Wákhshi on our intended promenade, and laughing at
the scrape into which he had almost got by changing (in the dispute
with Bel-Ghét) the honorary title of the latter, “Sultàn ben eʾ Sultán”
(Sultan, son of Sultan), into that of “Shitán ben eʾ Shitán” (Satan, son
of Satan), we went to the house of a ghadámsi, where we found several
Arab and native merchants collected together, and among them a ghadámsi
who bore the same name as that which, for more friendly intercourse
with the natives, I had adopted on these journeys, namely, that of
ʿAbd el Kerím. This man had accompanied ʿAbd Allah (Clapperton) on his
second journey from Kanó to Sókoto, and was well acquainted with all the
circumstances attending his death. He was greatly surprised to hear that
“Ríshar” (Richard Lander), whom he had believed to be a younger brother
of Clapperton, had not only successfully reached the coast, after his
circuitous journey to Danróro, and after having been dragged back by
force from his enterprising march upon Fanda, but had twice returned
from England to those quarters before he fell a victim to his arduous
exertions.
I then returned, with my old Ghadámsi friend, to my lodgings, where
Bel-Ghét came soon after us, and once more begged my pardon for having
called me “káfer.”
Afterwards el Wákhshi brought me a loaf of sugar, that I might make a
present of it to Bel-Ghét. On this occasion he cast his eyes on a small
telescope which I had bought in Paris for six francs, and begged me
to give it to him for the loaf of sugar which he had just lent me. I
complied with his wish. Taking the loaf of sugar with me, and the two
other letters of the Sultan of Ágades, as well that addressed to the
Governor of Dáura, as that to the Governor of Kanó, I went to Bel-Ghét,
and, presenting him with the sugar as a small token of my acknowledgment
for the trouble he was taking in my behalf, I showed him the letters as
a proof that the Sultan of Ágades never intended to forward me to his
friend the Governor of Kátsena as a sort of “abenchí” or a _tit-bit_
for himself, but that he acknowledged entirely my liberty of action,
and really wished to obtain protection for me wherever I might choose
to go. Bel-Ghét, being touched by the compliments I paid him, affected
to understand now for the first time the real circumstances of my case,
and promised to lend me his assistance if I would bind myself to return
to Kátsena from Bórnu, after having received sufficient supplies from
the coast. This I did to a certain degree, under the condition that
circumstances should not prove unfavourable to such a proceeding; indeed
I doubted at that time very much whether I should be able to return this
way again. But when I did re-visit Kátsena in the beginning of 1853, with
a considerable supply of presents, and met before the gates of the town
this same man, who had been sent to compliment me on the part of the same
governor, it was a triumph which I could scarcely have expected. The old
man was on the latter occasion almost beside himself with joy, and fell
upon my neck exclaiming, over and over again, “ʿAbd el Kerím! ʿAbd el
Kerím!” while I told him, “Here I am, although both my companions have
died; I am come to fulfil my promise. I am on my way to Sókoto, with
valuable presents for the Emír el Múmenín.”
Leaving Bel-Ghét in better humour, I went with el Wákhshi to his house,
where he treated me and two Ásbenáwa with a dish of roasted fowl and
dates, after which I proceeded with him through the decayed and deserted
quarter where the rich Ghadámsíye merchants once lived, and through some
other streets in a rather better state, to the market-place, which forms
a large regular quadrangle, with several rows of sheds, or runfá, of
the same style as those in Tasáwa, but much better and more regularly
built. Of course there was here a better supply of native cotton cloth
and of small Nuremberg wares, in the market, than in the former place;
but otherwise there was nothing particular, and altogether it was dull,
showing the state of decay into which this once splendid and busy
emporium of Negroland had fallen.
The most interesting thing I observed in the market were limes, of
tolerably large size and extremely cheap, and the beautiful large fruit
of the gónda (_Carica Papaya_), which had just begun to ripen; however,
the latter was rather dear, considering the low price of provisions
in general, a fine papaw being sold for from twenty-five to thirty
kurdí, a sum which may keep a poor man from starvation for five days.
In Kanó I afterwards saw this fruit cut into thin slices, which were
sold for one “urí” (shell) each. Having sat for a long time with el
Wákhshi in a runfá, without being exposed to any insult whatever, though
I was necessarily an object of some curiosity, I returned home and
passed the evening quietly with my people, Gajére giving me reason all
the time for the utmost satisfaction with his faithful and steadfast
behaviour. Besides being sincerely attached to me, he was persuaded
that he possessed influence enough to get me out of my scrape; and thus
he informed me, as a great secret, that he had forwarded a message to
Ánnur, giving him full information of my case, and that in consequence I
might give myself no further trouble, but rely entirely upon that chiefs
assistance. While he was thus cheering my spirits in the evening, as we
lay round the fire in our courtyard, he frequently repeated the words,
“Kasó mutúm dondádi uyátaso, kádda kakíshi da kúmmia,” contrasting his
own faithfulness with the faithless, frivolous behaviour of Mohammed el
Túnsi, whom he called “mógo mutúm” (a bad sort of fellow). But Gajére
also had his own reasons for not being so very angry at our delay, as the
lean mare which I had hired of him had a sore back and was in a rather
weak state, so that a little rest and a full measure of corn every day
was not so much amiss for her.
El Wákhshi returned the same evening, giving me hope that I might get off
the next day. However, this proved to be empty talk; for the following
day my business with the pompous Béllo made no progress, he demanding
nothing less from me than one hundred thousand kurdí or cowries—a sum
certainly small according to European modes of thinking, barely exceeding
8_l._, but which I was quite unable to raise at the time. Béllo was
mean enough to found his claims upon his noble but quite uncalled-for
hospitality, having given me, as he said, two rams, two vessels of honey,
and two loads of corn, altogether worth from eleven to twelve thousand
cowries; and I now felt myself fully justified in changing his noble
title “Sultán, ben Sultán” into that of “Dellál, ben dellál” (Broker,
son of a broker). Even my old friend el Wákhshi took the occasion of
this new difficulty of mine to give vent to his feelings as a merchant,
saying that this was the “dʿawa” (the curse) attending our (the English)
proceedings against the slave-trade. And it must be confessed that the
merchants of Ghadámes have suffered a great deal from the abolition
of the slave-trade in Tunis, without being compensated for this loss
by the extension or increased security of legitimate commerce. Seeing
that the slave-trade is still carried on in Núpe or Nýffi, where, they
are persuaded, the English could prevent it if they would, and that it
is there carried on not by Mohammedans but by Christians, they have
plausible grounds for being angry with the English nation.
I had a highly interesting discussion with my old fanatical friend
Bel-Ghét. It seems that after I had protested against his calling me
“káfer” the other day, he had held a consultation on this subject with
some people of his own faith; and his zeal being thus revived, he
returned to-day to urge the point. He began with questioning me about
the different nations that professed Christianity, and which among them
were the “kofár;” for some of them, he was quite sure, were, and deserved
to be, so called. I replied that the application of the word depended
on the meaning attached to it, and that if he understood by the word
káfer anybody who doubted of the mission of Mohammed, of course a great
many Christians were kofár; but if, with more reason, he called by this
name only those who had no idea of the unity of God, and venerated other
objects besides the Almighty God, that it could then be applied only to
a few Christians, particularly to those of the Greek, and to the less
enlightened of the Catholic Church, though even these venerated the
crucifix and the images rather as symbols than as idols. But I confessed
to him that, with regard to the unity of the Divine Being, Islám
certainly was somewhat purer than the creeds of most of the Christian
sects; and I acknowledged that, just at the time when Mohammed appeared,
Christianity had sunk considerably below the level of its pristine
purity. The old man went away pleased with what I had told him, and
swore that he would not again call the English kofár, but that, with my
permission, he would still apply that name to the “Mósko” (the Russians).
In the afternoon his son, a man of about five and thirty, came to visit
me, accompanied by a sheríf from Yeman, who had been to Bombay, and was
well acquainted with the English; he was now on his way to Timbúktu, in
order to vindicate his right of inheritance to the property of a wealthy
merchant who had died there. In this, however, he was unsuccessful; and
when I reached Timbúktu in September, 1853, he had left it some time
previously with broken spirits and in great distress. He perished on his
way home. He was an amiable and intelligent man, and visited me several
times. From him and his companion I received intimation of a large
“Christian book,” bound in leather, with edges and lock made of metal, in
the possession of a Púllo or Ba-Féllanchi in the town; but no one could
tell me whether it was manuscript or print, and although I offered to
pay for a sight of it, I never succeeded in my object. It might be one
of those heavy books which Clapperton, when dying, told Lander rather to
leave behind than take with him to England.
_Tuesday, Jan. 28._—I at length succeeded in arranging matters with the
governor. Early in the morning I sent Mohammed to el Wákhshi in order to
try and settle the business, telling him that I was ready to make any
possible sacrifice; and he sent me a bernús for fifty-two thousand kurdí.
While I was hesitating about contracting a new debt of such magnitude
(in my poor circumstances), Bel-Ghét, who evidently feared that if I
gave one large present to the governor, he himself would get nothing,
intimated to me that it would be better to choose several small articles.
El Wákhshi therefore procured a caftan of very common velvet, a carpet, a
sedríye or close waistcoat, and a shawl, which altogether did not exceed
the price of thirty-one thousand kurdí; so that I saved more than twenty
thousand. In order, however, to give to the whole a more unpremeditated,
honorary, and professional appearance, I added to it a pencil, a little
frankincense, and two strong doses of Epsom salts.
While Bel-Ghét was engaged in negotiating peace for me with the eccentric
governor, I went with el Wákhshi and Gajére to the market, and thence
proceeded with the latter, who, stout and portly, strode before me with
his heavy spear, like a stately bodyguard or “kavás,” to the house
of Mánzo, an agent of Masáwaji, who always lives here, and paid him
our compliments. Passing then by the house of the Sultan of Ágades
(“gída-n-serkí-n-Agades”), who occasionally resides here, we went to the
“kófan Gúga” (the north-western gate of the town), which my companion
represented to me as belonging entirely to the Ásbenáwa; for as long as
Kátsena formed the great emporium of this part of Africa the aïri used to
encamp in the plain outside this gate. The wall is here very strong and
high, at least from without, where the height is certainly not less than
from five and thirty to forty feet, while in the interior the rubbish
and earth has accumulated against it to such a degree that a man may
very easily look over it; the consequence is that during the rains a
strong torrent, formed here, rushes out of the gate. On the outside there
is also a deep, broad ditch. We returned to our lodging by way of the
“máriná” and the market, both of which places were already sunk in the
repose and silence of night.
I had scarcely re-entered my dark quarters, when Bel-Ghét arrived,
telling me that the governor did not want my property at all; however,
to do honour to my present, he would condescend to keep the caftan and
the carpet, but he sent me back the sedríye and the shawl—of course to be
given as a present to his agent and commissioner, my noble friend from
Gurára. The governor, however, was anxious to obtain some more medicines
from me. He at the same time promised to make me a present of a horse.
Although I had but a small store of medicines with me, I chose a few
powders of quinine, of tartar-emetic, and of acetate of lead, and gave
him a small bottle with a few drops of laudanum, while it was arranged
that on the following morning I should explain to the governor himself
the proper use of these medicines.
The next morning, therefore, I proceeded with Bel-Ghét, to whose swollen
eye I had successfully applied a lotion, and whose greediness I had
satisfied with another small present on the way to the “zínsere.” He
wished to show me the interior of the immense palace, or the “fáda;” but
he could not obtain access to it, and I did not see it till on my second
visit to Kátsena.
Béllo received me in his private apartment, and detained me for
full two hours while I gave him complete information about the use
of the medicines. He wanted, besides, two things from me, which I
could not favour him with—things of a very different character, and
the most desired by all the princes of Negroland. One of these was a
“mágani-n-algúwa” (a medicine to increase his conjugal vigour); the
other, some rockets, as a “mágani-n-yáki” (a medicine of war), in order
to frighten his enemies.
Not being able to comply with these two modest wishes of his, I had great
difficulty in convincing him of my goodwill; and he remained incredulous
to my protestations that we had intentionally not taken such things as
rockets with us, as we were afraid that if we gave such a thing to
one prince, his neighbour might become fiercely hostile to us. But he
remarked that he would keep such a gift a secret. I was very glad he
did not say a word more about the pistols; but in order to give me a
proof that he knew how to value fine things, he showed me the scissors
and razor which I had given him the other day, for which he had got a
sheath made, and wore them constantly at his left side. He then told me
he would make me a present of an “abi-n-háwa” (something to mount upon),
intimating already by this expression that it would not be a first-rate
horse, as I had not complied with his heart’s desire, but that it would
be furnished with saddle and harness, and that besides he would send me a
large “hákkori-n-gíwa” (an elephant’s tooth) to Kanó. This latter offer I
declined, saying that, though my means were very small at present, I did
not like to turn merchant. He reminded me then of my promise to return;
and we parted the best of friends. Notwithstanding the injustice of every
kind which he daily commits, he has some sentiment of honour; and feeling
rather ashamed for having given me so much trouble for nothing, as he
was aware that it would become known to all his fellow-governors, and
probably even to his liege lord, the Emír el Múmenín, he was anxious to
vindicate his reputation. It was from the same motive that he begged me
most urgently not to tell anybody that I had made him the presents here,
adding, that he would afterwards say that he had received them from me
from Kanó.
Having returned home, I thankfully received the compliments which were
made me from different quarters on account of the fortunate issue of my
affair with this “munáfekí,” or evil-doer; and although the horse, which
was not brought till next morning after we had been waiting for it a long
while, proved rather ill-looking and poor, being scarcely worth more than
ten thousand kurdí, or four dollars, and though the saddle was broken and
harness wanting altogether, I was quite content, and exulted in my good
fortune. But before leaving this once most important place I shall try to
give a short historical sketch of its past, and an outline of its present
state.
CHAPTER XXIV.
HÁUSA.—HISTORY AND DESCRIPTION OF KÁTSENA.—ENTRY INTO KANÓ.
In order to render intelligible the anterior history of Kátsena, it
will be necessary to enter into some preliminary explanation respecting
the whole country of Háusa. The name Háusa was unknown, as it seems, to
Leo Africanus; else instead of saying that the inhabitants of Zária,
Kátsena, and Kanó spoke the language of Góber, he would have said that
they spoke the Háusa language. But we have no right to conclude from
this circumstance that the practice of giving the name Háusa, not only
to the widely diffused language, but also to the countries collectively
in which it prevails, is later than Leo’s time; on the contrary, I must
acknowledge the improbability of such an assumption. It is true that,
with the faint light available, we are unable to discern quite distinctly
how the Háusa nation originated; but we may positively assert that it was
not an indigenous nation, or at least that it did not occupy its present
seat from very ancient times, but that it settled in the country at a
comparatively recent date. As to one of the associated states, and the
most prominent and noble amongst them (I mean Góber), we know positively
that in ancient times it occupied tracts situated much further north;[18]
and I have been assured that the name Háusa also proceeded from the
same quarter—an opinion which seems to be confirmed by the affinity of
that language with the Temáshight.[19] Whether the name was originally
identical with the word “Áusa,” which, as we shall see, is used by the
Western Tuarek and the people of Timbúktu to denote the country on this
the northern side of the Great River, in opposition to “Gúrma,” the
country on its southern side, I am unable to say.
Sultan Béllo’s statement that the Háusa people originated from a Bórnu
slave, deserves very little credit. It is to be considered as merely
expressive for his contempt for the effeminate manners of the Háusa
people in his time. But their language, though it has a few words in
common with the Kanúri, is evidently quite distinct from it, as well
in its vocabulary as in its grammar. What Béllo says may be correct in
a certain sense with regard to the population of Kanó, which indeed
seems to consist, for the greater part, of Bórnu elements, though in
course of time the people have adopted the Háusa language; and this may
be the case also with other provinces, the original population having
been more nearly related to the Manga-Bórnu stock. The name “Báwu,”
which occurs in the mythical genealogy of the Háusa people as that of
the ancestor of most of the Háusa states, can hardly be supposed to be
a mere personification representing the state of slavery in which the
nation formerly existed; the name for slave in the Háusa language is
báwa, not báwu. It is, however, remarkable that this personage is said
to be the son of Karbágarí, whose name evidently implies “the taking of
a town,” and might be derived from the capture of the town of Bíram,
which is universally represented as the oldest seat of the Háusa people,
a tradition which is attested by a peculiar usage even at the present
day. This town of Bíram is situated between Kanó and Khadéja, and is
often called “Bíram-ta-ghabbes,” in order to distinguish it from a more
westerly town of the same name. Bíram, the personification of this town,
is said to have been, by his grandson, Báwu (the son of Karbágarí), the
progenitor of the six other Háusa states (likewise personified): viz.
Kátsena and Zégzeg, who are represented as twins; Kanó and Ranó, another
pair of twins; Góber and Dáura. However, it seems almost universally
acknowledged that of all these children Dáura was the eldest.[20]
More important in a historical point of view, and confirming what has
been said above, appears to be the statement that the mother of these
children belonged to the Déggara or Díggera, a Berber tribe at present
established to the north of Múniyo, and once very powerful. Bíram, Dáura,
Góber, Kanó, Ranó, Kátsena, and Zégzeg, are the well-known original seven
Háusa states, the “Háusa bókoy” (the seven Háusa), while seven other
provinces or countries, in which the Háusa language has spread to a great
extent, although it is not the language of the aboriginal inhabitants,
are called jocosely “bánza bókoy” (the upstart, or illegitimate); these
are Zánfara, Kébbi, Núpe or Nýffi, Gwári, Yáuri, Yóruba or Yáriba, and
Korórofa.
As for the six children of Báwu, they are said to have had each his share
assigned to him by his father in the following way: Góber was appointed
the “serkí-n-yáki” (the war-chief), in order to defend his brethren,
Kanó and Ranó being made “sáraki-n-baba” (the ministers of the “máriná,”
that peculiar emblem of the industry of Háusa), and Kátséna and Dáura
“sáraki-n-káswa” (the ministers of intercourse and commerce), while
Zégzeg is said to have been obliged to provide his brethren with those
necessary instruments of social life in these regions, namely, slaves,
becoming the “serkí-n-baÿ.” Ranó, which at present has been greatly
reduced, though it is still a considerable place, situated south-west
from Kanó, was originally, like each of the other towns, the capital of
an independent territory, though not mentioned hitherto by any traveller
who has spoken of Háusa.
If we credit Leo’s description, we must conclude that when he visited
these regions, towards the end of the fifteenth century of our era,
there was no capital in the province of Kátsena, the whole country being
inhabited in “piccoli casali fatti a guisa di capanne.” For with respect
to later events, which happened after he had left the country, and while
he was writing his description, very imperfect information appears to
have reached him. Now, the list of the kings of Kátsena, from a remote
period, is still tolerably well preserved, together with the length of
their respective reigns; and there is no reason whatever to doubt their
general accuracy, as the history of the state has been in writing at
least since the middle of the sixteenth century of our era, and we have
something to control this list, and to connect it with facts gleaned from
other quarters. This regards the period of the reign of the king Ibrahím
Máji, who, as we know, lived in the time of the famous Tawáti Mohammed
ben ʿAbd el Kerím ben Maghíli, the friend and contemporary, as I have
said above,[21] of the great encyclopædist Abu ’l Fadhl Jelál eʾ dín
ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán el Khodairi eʾ Soyúti, commonly known under the name of
Eʾ Sheikh eʾ Soyúti; and his connection with the King of Kátsena we are
able to fix with tolerable certainty by his relation to the Sónghay king
Is-hák, who is said to have excited his severest indignation by refusing
to punish the people who had murdered his son in Gógó.[22] And although
we can scarcely believe that the ruin of the Sónghay empire, and the
rise of that of Kátsena, was the consequence of this holy man’s curse,
nevertheless we are justified in presuming that after he had received
offence from the king Is-hák, by being refused satisfaction, he began to
cultivate friendly relations with the King of Kátsena, a country then
rising into importance.
We are therefore justified in placing Ibrahím Máji (the King of Kátsena,
whom the fanatic Moslim converted to Islám) about the middle of the tenth
century of the Hejra. Now, if we count backwards from this period, adding
together the years attributed to each reign, to Komáyo, the man who is
universally stated to have founded Kátsena, we obtain at least three
hundred and fifty years, which would carry back the political existence
of the state of Kátsena to the beginning of the seventh century of the
Hejra. In this computation we reduce the reign of the first two kings,
or chiefs (of whom Komáyo is said to have reigned a hundred years, and
his successor ninety), to about twenty years each. Excepting this little
exaggeration, which is such as we find recurring in the early history of
almost every nation, I do not see any reason for rejecting the list of
the kings of this country, as it is preserved not only in the memory of
the people, but even in written documents, though, indeed, it is to be
lamented that the books containing a comprehensive history of this nation
have been destroyed intentionally by the Fúlbe, or Féllani, since the
conquest of the country, in order to annihilate, as far as possible, the
national records.
The dynasty founded by Komáyo comprised four kings in succession, besides
its founder, namely, Rámba, Téryau, Jerinnáta, and Sanáwu. Sanáwu,
after a reign of thirty years, is said to have been killed by Koráwu,
who came from a place named Yendútu, and founded a new dynasty (if we
count backwards from the time of Ibrahím Máji) about the year 722 of
the Hejra; but, of course, I do not pretend to any exactness in these
dates. Whether Ibrahím Máji belonged to the same dynasty which Koráwu
had founded, I am not able to say. About thirty years before the time of
Ibrahím Máji, in the year 919 A.H., or 1513 A.D., occurred that eventful
expedition of the great Sónghay king Háj Mohammed Áskiá which threw all
these countries into the greatest confusion. According to Leo, at that
time Kátsena acknowledged the supremacy of Kanó, having been subjected
for only a short time to the sway of the King of Sónghay, and afterwards
most probably to that of the energetic and successful King of Kébbi, who
repulsed the great Áskiá. Kátsena must have fallen very soon under the
supremacy of the empire of Bórnu. About fifty years after the beginning
of the reign of the first Moslim king, a new dynasty commenced, that
of the Hábe,[23] which, as it is unanimously stated to have ruled for
a hundred and sixty-nine years, and as it was driven out by the Fúlbe
in the year of the Hejra 1222, must have commenced about the year 1053
(A.D. 1643). In this latter dynasty, however, there seem to have been
two factions (or families), which are noticed already in the preceding
dynasty, one of which was called Chagarána, and the other Káryaghíwá.[24]
But before speaking of the struggle between the Fúlbe and the Hábe, I
shall say a few words about the town of Kátsena.
The town, probably, did not receive the name of the province till it
had become large and predominant; which event, if Leo be correct, we
must conclude did not happen much before the middle of the sixteenth
century of our era, while in early times some separate villages probably
occupied the site where, at a later period, the immense town spread out.
The oldest of these villages is said to have been Ambutéy or Mbutéy,
where we must presume Komáyo and his successors to have resided. After
Gógó had been conquered by Muláy Hámed, the Emperor of Morocco, and,
from a large and industrious capital, had become a provincial town,
great part of the commerce which formerly centred there must have been
transferred to Kátsena, although this latter place seems never to have
had any considerable trade in gold, which formed the staple of the market
of Gógó. Thus the town went on increasing to that enormous size, the
vestiges of which still exist at the present time, although the quarter
actually inhabited, comprises but a small part of its extent.
The town, if only half of its immense area were ever tolerably well
inhabited, must certainly have had a population of at least a hundred
thousand souls; for its circuit is between thirteen and fourteen
English miles. At present, when the inhabited quarter is reduced to
the north-western part, and when even this is mostly deserted, there
are scarcely seven or eight thousand people living in it. In former
times it was the residence of a prince, who, though he seems never
to have attained to any remarkable degree of power, and was indeed
almost always in some degree dependent on, or a vassal of, the King of
Bórnu, nevertheless was one of the most wealthy and conspicuous rulers
of Negroland.[25] Every prince at his accession to the throne had to
forward a sort of tribute or present to Birni Ghasréggomo, the capital
of the Bórnu empire, consisting of one hundred slaves, as a token of his
obedience; but this being done, it does not appear that his sovereign
rights were in any way interfered with. In fact Kátsena, during the
seventeenth and eighteenth centuries of our era, seems to have been the
chief city of this part of Negroland, as well in commercial and political
importance as in other respects; for here that state of civilization
which had been called forth by contact with the Arabs seems to have
reached its highest degree, and as the Háusa language here attained the
greatest richness of form and the most refined pronunciation, so also the
manners of Kátsena were distinguished by superior politeness from those
of the other towns of Háusa.
But this state of things was wholly changed, when, in the very beginning
of the present century, in the year 1222 of the Hejra, or 1807 of our
era, the Fúlbe, called Féllani by the Háusa, and Felláta by the Bórnu
people, raised to the highest pitch of fanaticism by the preaching of
the Reformer or Jihádi ʿOthmán dan Fódiye, and formed into the religious
and political association of the Jemmáʿa, or, as they pronounce it,
Jemmára, succeeded in possessing themselves of this town. However, while
Kanó fell ingloriously, and almost without resistance, into the hands of
Slimán (the Háusa king el Wáli having escaped to Zária), the struggle for
Kátsena was protracted and sanguinary. Indeed Mʿallem Ghomáro had carried
on unrelenting war against the town for seven years, before he at length
reduced it by famine; and the distress in the town is said to have been
so great that a dead “ángulú” or vulture (impure food which nobody would
touch in time of peace) sold for five hundred kurdí, and a kadángeré or
lizard for fifty. But the struggle did not cease here; for the “Hábe”
succeeded once more in expelling the conquerors from the town, without,
however, being able to maintain their position, when Mʿallem Ghomáro
returned with a fresh army. Five princes of Kátsena, one after the other,
fell in this struggle for religious and national independence; and the
Púllo general was not quite secure of his conquest till after the total
destruction of the town of Dánkama, when Mágajin Háddedu was slain only
four months after his predecessor Mahamúdu had succumbed in Sabóngarí.
Even then the new Háusa prince Benóni, who still bore the title of
“serkí-n-Kátsena,” did not lay down his arms, but maintained the contest
till he likewise was conquered and slain in Túntuma.
[Illustration: 1, House where I was lodged during my first stay in
Kátsena in 1851; 2, House belonging to the quarter Dóka where I
was lodged in 1853; 3, The Zénsere; 4, Palace of the governor; 5,
Market-place; 6, Old mosque; 7, Kofa-n-Gúga; 8, Kofa-n-Yendúkki; 9,
Kofa-n-Koya; 10, Kofa-n-Gazúbi; 11, Kofa-n-Káura; 12, Kofa-n-Marúsa;
13, Kofa-n-Dúrdu; 14, Kofa-n-Samrí; 15, A brook formed by a spring; 16,
Former place of encampment of salt caravan.]
From this time the town declined rapidly, and all the principal foreign
merchants migrated to Kanó, where they were beyond the reach of this
constant struggle; and even the Ásbenáwa transferred their salt-market
to the latter place, which now became the emporium of this part of
Negroland, while Kátsena retained but secondary importance as the seat
of a governor. This is indeed to be lamented, as the situation of the
town is excellent, and, both on account of its position to the various
routes and of its greater salubrity, is far preferable to Kanó. However,
as matters stand, unless either the Fúlbe succeed in crushing entirely
the independent provinces to the north and north-west (which, in the
present weak state of the empire of Sókoto, is far from probable), or
till the Goberáwa and Mariadáwa, whose king still bears the title of
serkí-n-Kátsena, reconquer this town, it will continue to decline and
become more desolate every year. In fact Mohammed Béllo, the present
governor, had conceived the design of giving up this immense town
altogether, and of founding a new residence of smaller compass in its
neighbourhood; but his liege lord, Alíyu, the Emír el Múmenín, would not
allow him to do so.
The only inhabited part of the town at present is the north-west quarter,
although any one who should omit to take into account the population
scattered over the other parts, principally round about the residence of
the governor, and the people settled in the hamlets near the gates, would
make a great mistake. Here it may be added, that most of the importance
which Kátsena has still preserved, in a commercial aspect, is due to its
position with respect to Núpe, with which it keeps up a tolerably lively
intercourse, the route from it to that industrious but most unfortunate
country being practicable even for camels, while the road from Kanó can
only be travelled with horses and asses. Almost all the more considerable
native merchants in Kátsena are Wangaráwa (Eastern Mandingoes).
The province of Kátsena was formerly far more extensive than it is at
present, but it has been curtailed, in order not to leave its governor
too much inducement to make himself independent. Besides, many parts of
it, being much exposed to the continual incursions of the independent
Háusáwa, have greatly suffered, so that probably the population of the
whole province does not now exceed three hundred thousand souls, of whom
only about one-half seem to pay tribute. Every head of a family has to
pay here two thousand five hundred kurdí-n-kassa, or ground-rent, and
the whole of the kurdí-n-kassa of the province is estimated by those
best acquainted with the affairs of the country at from twenty to thirty
millions; a tax of five hundred kurdí is levied also on every slave. The
military force of the province consists of two thousand horsemen, and
about eight thousand men on foot, most of them archers. Altogether the
province of Kátsena is one of the finest parts of Negroland, and being
situated just at the water-parting between the basin of the Tsád and that
of the Kwára, at a general elevation of from twelve hundred to fifteen
hundred feet, it enjoys the advantage of being at once well watered and
well drained, the chains of hills which diversify its surface sending
down numerous rapid streams, so that it is less insalubrious than other
regions of this continent. Its productions are varied and rich, though
its elevated situation seems unfavourable to the growth of cotton. But,
on the other side, useful trees seem to be more numerous in this district
than in any other under the same latitude; and the áyaba or banana,
and the gónda or papaya, are found in many favoured spots, while the
dorówa or _Parkia_, the tsámia or tamarind, and the kadeña, or the Shea
butter-tree (_Bassia Parkii_), are the most common trees everywhere, and
very often form thick clusters.
_Thursday, Jan. 30._—I was extremely glad when, after a long delay—for
we had been obliged to wait more than an hour for the poor nag presented
to me by the governor,—we reached the south-eastern gate of the town,
the “kófa-n-Káura.” It was as if I had just escaped from a prison, and
I drew my breath deeply as I inhaled the fresh air outside the wall. I
should have carried with me a very unfavourable impression of Kátsena,
if it had not been my destiny to visit this place again under more
favourable circumstances; and I should have obtained a very false idea of
the character of the Fúlbe, if, from the little experience which I had
acquired in this place, I had formed a definitive judgment of them.
On the southern side of the town there is at present no cultivated
ground; but the whole country is in a wild state, covered with brushwood.
What we saw also of the traffic on the path seemed to be not of a very
peaceable kind; for we met nothing but armed foot and horsemen hastening
to Kátsena on the news of the expedition in course of preparation by
the people of Marádi. But further on, the aspect of the country became
a little more peaceful; and after a march of three miles we passed a
well, where the women from a neighbouring village were offering for sale
the common vegetables of the country, such as gowáza or yams, dánkali
or sweet potatoes, kúka, the leaves of the monkey bread-tree, dodówa or
the vegetable cakes mentioned above, ground nuts, beans, and sour milk.
Nevertheless the whole country, with its few fortified villages, its
little cultivation, and the thick forests which separated the villages
one from another, left the impression of a very unsettled and precarious
existence. I observed that brushwood, where it is not interrupted by
larger trees, is always a proof of cultivation having been carried on
at no distant period. In the midst of a wild thicket, which deranged
all my things, we met a long warlike-train of several hundred horsemen,
who perhaps might have incommoded us on the narrow path, if the strange
appearance of my luggage had not so frightened the horses, that they
rather chose to carry their riders through the very thickest of the
covert than to fall in with us. Dúm-palms now began to appear; and beyond
the considerable village Bay, cultivation became more extensive. Besides
the fan-palm, the dumma and kaña, and the immense monkey bread-tree, with
its colossal (now leafless) branches, from which the long heavy “kauchi”
were hanging down on slender mouse-tail stalks, were the prevalent trees.
By degrees the country became more beautiful and cheerful, exhibiting a
character of repose and ease which is entirely wanting in the northern
parts of the province; separate comfortable dwellings of cattle-breeding
Féllani were spread about, and the cornfields were carefully fenced and
well kept. I was greatly astonished when Gajére with a certain feeling
of national pride, pointed out to me here the extensive property of Sídi
Ghálli el Háj Ánnur, the man whom I had occasion, in my description of
Agades, to mention amongst the most respectable people of that town. It
is astonishing how much property is held in these fertile regions by
the Tuarek of Asben; and to what consequences this may eventually lead,
everybody will easily conjecture.
A little before four o’clock in the afternoon we encamped close to a
village called Shibdáwa, the celebrated town of Dáura being distant two
days’ march.
_Friday, Jan. 31._—It was a most beautiful morning; and I indulged in
the feeling of unbounded liberty, and in the tranquil enjoyment of the
beautiful aspect of God’s creation. The country through which we passed
on leaving Shibdáwa, formed one of the finest landscapes I ever saw in
my life. The ground was pleasantly undulating, covered with a profusion
of herbage not yet entirely dried up by the sun’s power; the trees,
belonging to a great variety of species, were not thrown together into
an impenetrable thicket of the forest, but formed into beautiful groups,
exhibiting all the advantage of light and shade. There was the kaña,
with its rich dark-tinged foliage; the kadeña, or butter-tree, which I
here saw for the first time, exhibiting the freshest and most beautiful
green; then the marké, more airy, and sending out its branches in more
irregular shape, with light groups of foliage; young tamarind-trees
rounding off their thick crown of foliage till it resembled an artificial
canopy spread out for the traveller to repose in its shade, besides
the gámji, the shéria, the sokútso, the turáwa, and many other species
of trees unknown to me; while above them all, tall and slender górebas
unfolded their fan-crowns, just as if to protect the eye of the delighted
wanderer from the rays of the morning sun, and to allow him to gaze
undisturbed on the enchanting scenery around. Near the village Káshi even
the gónda-tree, or _Carica Papaya_, which is so rarely seen in these
quarters, enlivened the scenery. The densely luxuriant groves seemed to
be the abode only of the feathered tribe, birds of numberless variety
playing and warbling about in the full enjoyment of their liberty, while
the “serdi,” a large bird with beautiful plumage of a light-blue colour,
especially attracted my attention. Now and then a herd of cattle was seen
dispersed over the rich pasturage grounds, all of white colour, and the
bulls provided with a large fat hump or “tózo” hanging down on one side.
But in this delightful spectacle objects of destruction also were not
wanting, the poisonous plant “túmnia” starting forth everywhere. Cotton
and karásia fields interrupted the parklike scenery; and near Kámri, a
small place surrounded with a low clay wall, we were delighted with the
view of a green patch of low ground laid out into beds, and with the help
of a number of drawbeams, “khattatír,” or “lámbuna,” producing wheat and
onions. This ground too is only worked with the gélma and the fertáña or
small hoe.
Granite rock was protruding in several places; and a little after midday
we had a detached range of hills on our right stretching east and west.
Soon afterwards, near the village Temma, we passed a small market-place
consisting of about eight sheds, and shaded by a number of wide-spreading
tamarind-trees, where I was astonished at the number of cattle and horses
assembled, but heard on inquiry that they were not intended for sale.
Further on, after we had passed the fields of Gógó, plenty of cattle
and goats were seen browsing everywhere about. All the cattle were of
a white, and all the goats of a coffee-brown colour. Having passed the
encampment of the Tin-néggaru or Kél-néggaru, and crossed a dale fringed
with small fresh patches of wheat, which were watered by way of the said
“lámbuna” from wells in the hollow, we encamped a quarter before four
o’clock close to the fence of the village Bógo; for the whole country
swarms with thieves, and great caution is necessary at night: the
Tin-néggaru last night killed a thief who was attempting to carry off a
loaf of salt.
_Saturday, Feb. 1._—After a march of about two miles and a half over
clayey ground greatly broken up by the rains, we reached the north-west
corner of the considerable town Kusáda, and continued along its western
wall, where a group of very tall and majestic rimis (_Bombax_ or
_Eriodendron Guineense_), though at present leafless, formed a most
conspicuous object. It is very singular and highly characteristic, that
this tree (the bentang-tree of Mungo Park) generally grows near the
principal gate of the large towns in Háusa, while otherwise it is not
frequent, at least not the large full-grown specimens; and it is not
improbable that the natives purposely planted them in those places as a
kind of waymark—or perhaps it may be a remnant of their pagan customs,
this tree being deemed holy by several pagan tribes. It is almost
incredible at what an immense distance these stupendous trees, the
tallest of the vegetable kingdom, may be seen.
Kusáda is a town of importance, and is very little less than Gazáwa,
though not so thickly inhabited; the wall of the town is in tolerably
good repair, and the interior is rich in trees, making it look very
cheerful and comfortable. Most of the huts consist of clay walls, with a
thatched roof, which is certainly the mode of architecture best adapted
to the climate and the whole nature of the country.
When leaving the south side of this town we were joined by a troop of
women very heavily laden, each carrying upon the head from six to ten
enormous calabashes filled with various articles: but they did not prove
to be agreeable company; for not being able to walk steadily for any
length of time with their loads, they stopped every few minutes, and then
went on at a running pace, till they were obliged again to halt, so that
they came frequently into collision either with my camel or with the
bullock. It is really incredible what loads the native women of Negroland
can carry on their heads, but I think no other tribe is equal in this
respect to the Tápua or Nyffáwa. The country through which we had to pass
along for the first two miles was overgrown with underwood, and much
broken up by the rains, till we reached the stubble-fields of Kaférda,
where my attention was attracted again by a few scattered specimens
of the gigiña, or deléb-palm, which, in these districts, seems to be
extremely rare. Descending then a little, the country assumed once more
that delightful parklike appearance which had so charmed me the previous
day; and the variety of the vegetation was extraordinary,—góreba, jéja,
gámji, rími, and dóka being the principal trees.
The industry of the natives was also well represented; for soon after
we had met a troop of men carrying home loads of indigo-plants, in
order to prepare them in their simple way, we passed over extensive
tobacco-fields, which had very nearly reached maturity. Rich aromatic
bushes were growing everywhere in the fields, affording most nourishing
food for bees, for which purpose hives, formed of thick hollow logs,
were fastened to the branches of the colossal kúka-trees. We here
passed a most curious specimen of vegetable intercourse in the thorough
intermixture of a gigiña with another tree. In the course of my travels
my attention was drawn to the interesting attraction which exists
between the tamarind-tree and the kúka, both of which trees I very
often found linked together in the closest embraces. This district was
greatly enlivened also by a rich variety of the feathered tribe, but the
beautiful serdi was not seen; the káló and the tsírna now taking its
place.
A quarter of an hour after noon we passed the considerable place
Dan-Sábua, defended only by a stockade, and, with the exception of a
small market-place, giving very little proof of any kind of industry
existing among its inhabitants. When I passed the place three years
later, it even seemed almost deserted. About two miles further on we
passed a small round hill covered with underwood up to its very summit,
and remarkable enough for being taken as a boundary mark between the
provinces of Kátsena and Kanó; in 1854, however, the frontier was carried
further north-west, near Kaférda. We encamped early in the afternoon
near the village Gúrzo, separated from it only by a dell laid out in
small garden-fields with wheat and onions, and obtained a good supply of
the latter, but nothing else. In the night a thief almost succeeded in
carrying off some of our luggage, but had to run very hard for his life.
Early the next morning we started with an enthusiastic impulse, in order
to reach before night the celebrated emporium of Central Negroland. Kanó,
indeed, is a name which excites enthusiasm in every traveller in these
regions, from whatever quarter he may come, but principally if he arrives
from the north. We thus started in the twilight, passing in the bush some
herds of cattle remaining out in the pasture-grounds, and meeting several
troops of travellers, which made us fancy the capital to be nearer than
it really was. We listened to the tales of our comely and cheerful
companion, the “babá-n-báwa” of Tágelel, who detailed to us the wonders
of this African London, Birmingham, and Manchester—the vastness of the
town, the palace and retinue of the governor, the immense multitudes
assembled every day in its marketplace, the splendour and richness of the
merchandise exposed there for sale, the various delicacies of the table,
the beauty and gracefulness of its ladies. At times my fiery Tunisian
mulatto shouted out from mere anticipation of the pleasures which awaited
him.
Keeping steadily along, we reached, after about five miles, the very
considerable town of Béchi, the well-kept high clay walls of which
started forth suddenly from a most luxuriant mass of vegetation, where we
saw again the beautifully feathered serdi fluttering about from branch to
branch.
The town is very remarkable, as exhibiting the peculiar circumstances of
the social state in this country; for it belongs partly to the Tuarek
tribe of the Itísan, whose búgaje or serfs—properly half-castes, born of
free mothers, but slaves from the father’s side—live here, cultivating
for their lords the fields around the town. Thus we see Tuarek
everywhere, not only as occasional merchants, but even as settlers and
proprietors. The town has but one gate; and a great many of the houses
are of the kind described above. Beyond the town the country becomes less
cultivated, and is mostly covered with the wild gónda-bush, which bears
a most delicious fruit, richly deserving to be called the cream-apple. I
suspected it for some time to be identical with the custard-apple; but I
afterwards assured myself that it is not. I call the attention of every
African traveller to this fruit, which affords the greatest relief after
a long day’s journey; but it does not grow on the flat clayey plains of
Bórnu proper.
Beyond the little market-place of Budúmme we met the first strings of
empty camels belonging to the aïri with which we had been travelling.
They were returning from Kanó, where they had carried the salt, in order
to retrace their steps to good pasture-grounds, while their masters
remained in the capital to sell their merchandise. The drivers confirmed
the information we had already received, that our protector Elaíji
had not as yet arrived in the town. For he likewise possesses a large
property near Kazáure, whither he had gone after parting from me at
Kátsena. The country again assumed a more cheerful character; we passed
several villages, and even a máriná, or dyeing-place, and the path was
well frequented. Almost all the people who met us saluted us most kindly
and cheerfully; and I was particularly amused by the following form of
salutation: “Bárka, sanú sanú; hm! hm!” “God bless you, gently, gently;
how strange!” Only a few proud Féllani, very unlike their brethren in
the west, passed us without a salute. The villages are here scattered
about in the most agreeable and convenient way, as farming villages ought
always to be, but which is practicable only in a country in a state of
considerable security and tranquillity. All their names, therefore,
are in the plural form, as Tarauráwa, Jimbedáwa, Bagadáwa. The idea of
a great degree of industry was inspired by the sight of a máriná near
Jimbedáwa, comprising as many as twenty dyeing-pots; and here also a
little market was held by the women of the district. About half-past one
in the afternoon we entered the rich district of Dáwano, which almost
exclusively belongs to the wealthy Dan Mália, and is chiefly inhabited
by Féllani. There was here a large market-place, consisting of several
rows of well-built sheds, and frequented by numbers of people. A few
market-women attached themselves to our little troop, giving us assurance
that we should be able to reach the “bírni” to-day, but then added that
we ought to arrive at the outer gate before sunset, as it is shut at that
time.
We accordingly pressed on with our varied little caravan, consisting
of a very lean black horse, covered with coarse wool-like hair, worth
four dollars, or perhaps less; a mare, scarcely worth more in its
present condition; a camel, my faithful Bú-Séfi, evidently the most
respectable four-footed member of the troop, carrying a very awkward
load, representing my whole travelling household, with writing-table and
bedding-boards; a sumpter-ox, heavily laden; then the four human bipeds
to match, viz. one half-barbarized European, one half-civilized Góberáwi
Tunisian mulatto, a young lean Tébu lad, and my stout, sturdy, and grave
overseer from Tágelel. As we then entered some fields of sesamum, or
“nóme” (quite a new sight for me in this country, but which was soon
to become of very common occurrence), Gajére descried in the distance
between the trees the top of the hill Dála, and we all strained our eyes
to get a first glimpse of this hill, which is the real landmark of Kanó.
The country hereabouts exhibited a new feature, some of the fields being
enclosed with a bush which I had not seen before, and which was called
by my intelligent guide “fidde serewukka.” In Múniyo, where I afterwards
saw it used for the same purpose, it is called “mágara.” It is a kind
of broom, growing to the height of ten or twelve feet, and has a milky
juice, which is slightly poisonous, but by some people is employed as
a cure for wounds caused by thorns. A little while afterwards we saw
the first single date-palm, a tree also most characteristic of Kanó;
and now, the country becoming clear, we obtained a full sight of both
the hills, Dalá and Kógo-n-dútsi, which rise from the flat level of
the plain; but nothing was as yet visible of the town, and we had but
faint hopes of reaching it before sunset. However, we went on, though a
little disheartened, as we had some foreboding that we should incur the
displeasure of the governor; and passing through the gate, in front of
which part of the aïri were encamped, without stopping, as if we were
natives of the country, went on across open fields. It took us forty
minutes to reach the house of Báwu from the gate, though this lies near
the very outskirts of Dalá, the northernmost quarter of the town. It was
quite dark, and we had some trouble in taking possession of the quarters
assigned to us by our host.
Kanó had been sounding in my ears now for more than a year; it had been
one of the great objects of our journey as the central point of commerce,
as a great storehouse of information, and as the point whence more
distant regions might be most successfully attempted. At length, after
nearly a year’s exertions, I had reached it.
CHAPTER XXV.
RESIDENCE IN KANÓ.—VIEW OF ITS INTERIOR.—ITS HISTORY AND PRESENT
STATE.—COMMERCE.
Kanó for us was a station of importance not only from a scientific,
but also from an economical point of view. Instead of being provided
with ready cash, we had received in Múrzuk, on account of the British
Government, merchandise which, we had been assured, would not only
be safer than money, but would also prove more advantageous for us.
In consequence of the heavy extortions to which we were subjected on
the road to Aír, and of our long delay in that country, we had been
deprived of the small articles which we carried for barter, so that we
were entirely thrown upon the merchandise which we had forwarded in
advance from Tintéggana; and I for my part, on my arrival in Kanó, had
to liquidate a debt of not less than 112,300 kurdí: viz. 55,000 for the
carriage of this very merchandise from Tintéggana to Kanó; 8,300 as my
share of the presents or passage-money given on the road; 18,000 to
Gajére, as hire for the mare and bullock; and 31,000 to a man of the name
of Háj el Dáwaki, on account of Abú-Bakr el Wákhshi, for the articles
bought from him in Kátsena, in order to satisfy the governor of that
place. Besides, I was aware that I had to make a considerable present to
the governor of Kanó; and I was most desirous to discharge Mohammed eʾ
Túnsi, whom I had discovered to be utterly useless in these countries,
and who, besides his insupportable insolence, might bring me into trouble
by his inconsiderate and frivolous conduct.
These were material calls upon my encumbered property. On my mind, too,
there were claims of a not less serious character; for from my very
outset from Europe, I had steadily fixed my eyes upon that eastern branch
of the Kwára, or so-called Niger, which Laird, Allen, and Oldfield had
navigated for the distance of some eighty miles, and which the former
(although he himself did not penetrate further than Fánda) had, with
reasons decisive in my eyes, and which could not be overthrown in my
opinion by Captain William Allen’s ingenious but fanciful hypothesis,
concluded to have no communication whatever with Lake Tsád, but to
proceed from another and very different quarter.[26]
I had therefore cherished the hope, that I should be capable of
penetrating from Kanó in the direction of Ádamáwa, a country wherein
I was sure that the question respecting the course of the river would
be decided; but obviously such an undertaking could not be engaged in
without pecuniary means, and all therefore depended on my success in
selling advantageously the merchandise with which I was provided.
For all these reasons, nothing could be more disagreeable and
disheartening to me, though I was not quite unprepared for it, than the
information which I received the very evening of my arrival in Kanó,
that the price of merchandise such as I had was very low. In the next
place, I soon found that Báwu, Mr. Gagliuffi’s agent, whom in compliance
with his recommendation we had made also our commissioner, was not to
be implicitly relied on. He was the second son of Háj Hát Sáleh, the
man so well known from the narrative of Captain Clapperton, towards whom
he seems to have behaved with honesty and fairness, and by this means
perhaps he had recommended himself to Mr. Gagliuffi; but Báwu was not
the right man to be entrusted with discretionary power over the property
of a foreign merchant residing at a great distance, and belonging even
to another religion, or to be the commissioner for European travellers.
Young and ambitious as he was, he had no other object but to insinuate
himself into the good graces of the governor at the expense of those who
had been foolish enough to trust themselves into his hands. Besides, he
had upon his hand a host of younger brothers, who all wanted to “eat.”
Though Háj Hát Sáleh seems to have been a respectable man, he must have
paid very little attention to the education of his children.
It will scarcely be believed that this man, although he had two
camel-loads of goods of mine in his hands, yet left me without a single
shell, “ko urí gudá,” for a whole fortnight, so that I was glad to borrow
two thousand kurdí—less than an Austrian dollar, from Mohammed eʾ Sfáksi,
in order to defray the most necessary expenses of my household.
Besides, this agent urged the absolute necessity of making a considerable
present not only to the governor, which I was quite prepared to do, but
another of nearly the same value to the ghaladíma or first minister,
who happened to be the governor’s brother, and enjoyed quite as much
authority and influence. The consequence was that I was obliged to
give away the few articles of value in my possession merely for being
tolerated and protected. The second day after my arrival, the governor
received a message from Mr. Richardson, forwarded from Zínder, intimating
that, after he should have received new supplies from the coast, he would
not fail to come to Kanó; whereupon he sent me word that I had done very
wrong to enter his town without giving him previous information, whereas
my countryman had already forwarded a notice that at some future period
he was likely to pay him a visit. Besides concluding, from the fact that
I was not mentioned at all in that letter, that I was travelling on my
own account, he made also greater pretensions with regard to a present.
Being lodged in dark, uncomfortable, and cheerless quarters, which I
was forbidden to leave before the governor had seen me, destitute of a
single farthing in cash, while I was daily called upon and pestered by
my numerous creditors, and laughed at on account of my poverty by an
insolent servant, my readers may fancy that my situation in the great
far-famed _entrepôt_ of Central Africa, the name of which had excited
my imagination for so long a time, was far from agreeable. Partly from
anxiety, partly from want of exercise, in the course of a few days I
had a very severe attack of fever, which reduced me to a state of great
weakness. Fortunately, however, I mustered sufficient strength to avail
myself of a summons which called me at length into the presence of the
governor, on the 18th of February; and by sacrificing what few things
remained to me, I paved the road for my further proceedings, while the
degree of exertion which was necessary to undergo the fatigue of the
visit carried me over my weakness, and restored me gradually to health.
The distances in Kanó, though less than those of London, are very great;
and the ceremonies to be gone through are scarcely less tedious than
those at any European court.
[Illustration: KANÓ, FROM MOUNT DALÁ.]
Clothing myself as warmly as possible in my Tunisian dress, and wearing
over it a white tobe and a white bernús, I mounted my poor black nag,
and followed my three mediators and advocates. These were Báwu, Elaíji,
and Sídi ʿAlí. Elaíji had arrived three days after me from his estate,
and had continued to show me the same disinterested friendship which I
had experienced from him before. Sídi ʿAlí was the son of Mohammed, the
former Sultan of Fezzán, and last of the Welád Mohammed, who was killed
by Mukni, the father of Yusuf, Mr. Richardson’s interpreter.
This man, whom it would have been far better for us to have employed as
our agent from the beginning, had testified his interest in my welfare by
sending me a fat ram as a present, and now accompanied me most kindly, in
order to exert his influence in my behalf with the governor. On my second
visit to Kanó, on my return from Timbúktu in the latter part of 1854,
when I was still more destitute than in 1851, I placed myself directly
under his protection, and made him my agent at the moment when the state
of my affairs rendered considerable credit desirable.
It was a very fine morning; and the whole scenery of the town in its
great variety of clay houses, huts, sheds, green open places affording
pasture for oxen, horses, camels, donkeys, and goats, in motley
confusion, deep hollows containing ponds overgrown with the water-plant
the _Pistia stratiotes_, or pits freshly dug up in order to form the
material for some new buildings, various and most beautiful specimens of
the vegetable kingdom, particularly the fine symmetric gónda or papaya,
the slender date-palm, the spreading alléluba, and the majestic rími or
silk cotton-tree (_Bombax_)—the people in all varieties of costume, from
the naked slave up to the most gaudily dressed Arab,—all formed a most
animated and exciting scene. As far as the market-place I had already
proceeded on foot; but Báwu, as soon as he saw me, had hurried me back to
my lodgings, as having not yet been formally received by the governor.
But no one on foot can get a correct idea of an African town, confined
as he is on every side by the fences and walls, while on horseback he
obtains an insight into all the courtyards, becomes an eye-witness of
scenes of private life, and often with one glance surveys a whole town.
Passing through the market-place, which had only begun to collect
its crowds, and crossing the narrow neck of land which divides the
characteristic pool “Jákara,” we entered the quarters of the ruling
race, the Fúlbe or Féllani, where conical huts of thatchwork, and the
gónda-tree, are prevalent, and where most beautiful and lively pictures
of nature meet the eye on all sides. Thus we proceeded, first to the
house of the gadó (the Lord of the Treasury), who had already called
several times at my house, and acted as the mediator between me and the
governor.
His house was a most interesting specimen of the domestic arrangements
of the Fúlbe, who, however civilized they may have become, do not disown
their original character as “berroróji,” or nomadic cattle-breeders. His
courtyard, though in the middle of the town, looked like a farmyard, and
could not be conscientiously commended for its cleanliness. Having with
difficulty found a small spot to sit down upon without much danger of
soiling our clothes, we had to wait patiently till his Excellency had
examined and approved of the presents. Having manifested his satisfaction
with them by appropriating to himself a very handsome large gilt cup,
which with great risk I had carried safely through the desert, he
accompanied us on horseback to the “fáda,” “lamórde,” or palace, which
forms a real labyrinth of courtyards, provided with spacious round huts
of audience, built of clay, with a door on each side, and connected
together by narrow intricate passages. Hundreds of lazy, arrogant
courtiers, freemen and slaves, were lounging and idling here, killing
time with trivial and saucy jokes.
We were first conducted to the audience-hall of the ghaladíma, who, while
living in a separate palace, visits the “fáda” almost every day, in order
to act in his important and influential office as vizier; for he is far
more intelligent, and also somewhat more energetic, than his lazy and
indolent brother ʿOthmán, who allows this excessively wealthy and most
beautiful province, “the garden of Central Africa,” to be ransacked with
impunity by the predatory incursions of the serkí Ibrám of Zínder, and
other petty chiefs. Both are sons of Dábo and Shékara—the latter one of
the celebrated ladies of Háusa, a native of Dáura, who is still living,
and has three other children, viz. a son (Makhmúd) and two daughters,
one of them named Fátima Záhar, and the other Sáretu. The governor was
then eight and thirty, the ghaladíma seven and thirty years of age. They
were both stout and handsome men, the governor rather too stout and
clumsy. Their apartments were so excessively dark that, coming from a
sunny place, it was some time before I could distinguish anybody. The
governor’s hall was very handsome, and even stately for this country,
and was the more imposing as the rafters supporting the very elevated
ceiling were concealed, two lofty arches of clay, very neatly polished
and ornamented, appearing to support the whole. At the bottom of the
apartment were two spacious and highly decorated niches, in one of which
the governor was reposing on a “gadó,” spread with a carpet. His dress
was not that of a simple Púllo, but consisted of all the mixed finery
of Háusa and Barbary; he allowed his face to be seen, the white shawl
hanging down far below his mouth over his breast.
In both audiences (as well that with the ghaladíma as with the governor)
old Elaíji was the speaker, beginning his speech with a _captatio
benevolentiæ_, founded on the heavy and numerous losses sustained on
the road by me and my companions. Altogether he performed his office
very well, with the exception that he dwelt longer than was necessary
on Overweg’s journey to Marádi, which certainly could not be a very
agreeable topic to a ba-Féllanchi. Sídi ʿAlí also displayed his
eloquence in a very fair way. The ghaladíma made some intelligent
observations, while the governor only observed that, though I had
suffered so severely from extortion, yet I seemed to have still ample
presents for him. Nor was he far wrong; for the black “kabá” (a sort of
bernús, with silk and gold lace, which I gave him) was a very handsome
garment, and here worth sixty thousand kurdí: besides, he got a red cap,
a white shawl with red border, a piece of white muslin, rose oil, one
pound of cloves, and another of jáwi or benzoin, razor, scissors, an
English clasp-knife, and a large mirror of German silver. The ghaladíma
got the same presents, except that, instead of the kabá, I gave him a
piece of French striped silk worth fifty thousand kurdí.
However, our audience did not go off so fast as I relate it, for, after
being dismissed by the ghaladíma, we were obliged to wait full two
hours before we could see the governor; yet although we returned to our
quarters during the very hottest hour of the day, I felt much better, and
in the evening was able to finish a whole chicken, and to enjoy a cup of
Cyprian wine, for which I felt very grateful to Mr. and Mrs. Crowe, who
had supplied me with this cheering luxury.
Having now at length made my peace with the governor, and seeing that
exercise of body and recreation of mind were the best medicines I could
resort to, I mounted on horseback the next day again, and, guided by a
lad well acquainted with the topography of the town, rode for several
hours round all the inhabited quarters, enjoying at my leisure, from the
saddle, the manifold scenes of public and private life, of comfort and
happiness, of luxury and misery, of activity and laziness, of industry
and indolence, which were exhibited in the streets, the market-places,
and in the interior of the courtyards. It was the most animated picture
of a little world in itself, so different in external form from all that
is seen in European towns, yet so similar in its internal principles.
Here a row of shops filled with articles of native and foreign produce,
with buyers and sellers in every variety of figure, complexion, and
dress, yet all intent upon their little gain, endeavouring to cheat
each other; there a large shed, like a hurdle, full of half-naked,
half-starved slaves torn from their native homes, from their wives or
husbands, from their children or parents, arranged in rows like cattle,
and staring desperately upon the buyers, anxiously watching into whose
hands it should be their destiny to fall. In another part were to be
seen all the necessaries of life, the wealthy buying the most palatable
things for his table, the poor stopping and looking greedily upon a
handful of grain; here a rich governor dressed in silk and gaudy clothes,
mounted upon a spirited and richly caparisoned horse, and followed by a
host of idle, insolent slaves; there a poor blind man groping his way
through the multitude, and fearing at every step to be trodden down;
here a yard neatly fenced with mats of reed, and provided with all the
comforts which the country affords—a clean, snug-looking cottage, the
clay walls nicely polished, a shutter of reeds placed against the low,
well-rounded door, and forbidding intrusion on the privacy of life, a
cool shed for the daily household work,—a fine spreading alléluba-tree,
affording a pleasant shade during the hottest hours of the day, or a
beautiful gónda or papaya unfolding its large feather-like leaves above a
slender, smooth, and undivided stem, or the tall date-tree, waving over
the whole scene; the matron in a clean black cotton gown wound round her
waist, her hair neatly dressed in “chókoli” or bejáji, busy preparing
the meal for her absent husband, or spinning cotton, and at the same time
urging the female slaves to pound the corn; the children naked and merry,
playing about in the sand at the “urgi-n-dáwaki” or the “da-n-chácha,” or
chasing a straggling stubborn goat; earthenware pots and wooden bowls,
all cleanly washed, standing in order. Further on a dashing Cyprian,
homeless, comfortless, and childless, but affecting merriment or forcing
a wanton laugh, gaudily ornamented with numerous strings of beads around
her neck, her hair fancifully dressed and bound with a diadem, her gown
of various colours loosely fastened under her luxuriant breast, and
trailing behind in the sand; near her a diseased wretch covered with
ulcers, or with elephantiasis.
[Illustration: 1, My own quarters in Dalá. During my second stay in
Kanó, I also resided in Dalá, at a short distance from my old quarters;
2, Great market-place; 3, Small market-place; 4, Palace of Governor; 5,
Palace of Ghaladíma; 6, Kofa Mazúger; 7, Kofa-n-Adama; 8, Kofa-n-Gúdan;
9, Kofa-n-Kansákkali; 10, Kofa-n-Limún, or Káboga: 11, Kofa-n-Dakanye,
or Dukánie; 12, Kofa-n-Dakaina; 13, Kofa-n-Naísa; 14, Kofa-n-Kúra; 15,
Kofa-n-Nasaráwa; 16, Kofa-n-Máta; 17, Kofa-n-Wambay; 18, Kofa-n-Magardi;
19, Kofa-n-Rúa (at present shut); 20, Mount Dalá; 21, Mount Kógo-n-dútsi.]
Now a busy “máriná,” an open terrace of clay, with a number of
dyeing-pots, and people busily employed in various processes of their
handicraft; here a man stirring the juice, and mixing with the indigo
some colouring wood in order to give it the desired tint; there another,
drawing a shirt from the dye-pot, or hanging it upon a rope fastened
to the trees; there two men beating a well-dyed shirt, singing the
while, and keeping good time; further on, a blacksmith busy with his
rude tools in making a dagger which will surprise, by the sharpness
of its blade, those who feel disposed to laugh at the workman’s
instruments, a formidable barbed spear, or the more estimable and useful
instruments of husbandry; in another place, men and women making use of
an ill-frequented thoroughfare, as a “kaudi tseggenábe,” to hang up,
along the fences, their cotton thread for weaving; close by, a group of
indolent loiterers lying in the sun and idling away their hours.
[Illustration]
Here a caravan from Gónja arriving with the desired kola-nut, chewed
by all who have “ten kurdí” to spare from their necessary wants, or a
caravan laden with natron, starting for Núpe, or a troop of Asbenáwa
going off with their salt for the neighbouring towns, or some Arabs
leading their camels, heavily laden with the luxuries of the north and
east (the “káya-n-ghábbes”) to the quarter of the Ghadamsíye; there, a
troop of gaudy, warlike-looking horsemen galloping towards the palace
of the governor to bring him the news of a new inroad of serkí Ibrám.
Everywhere human life in its varied forms, the most cheerful and the
most gloomy, seem closely mixed together; every variety of national
form and complexion—the olive-coloured Arab, the dark Kanúri, with his
wide nostrils, the small-featured, light, and slender ba-Féllanchi,
the broad-faced ba-Wángara (Mandingo), the stout, large-boned, and
masculine-looking Núpe female, the well-proportioned and comely ba-Háushe
woman.
Delighted with my trip, and deeply impressed by the many curious and
interesting scenes which had presented themselves to my eyes, I returned
by way of the “úngwa-n-makáfi,” or “belád el amiyán” (the village of the
blind), to my quarters, the gloominess and cheerlessness of which made
the more painful impression upon me from its contrast with the brightly
animated picture which I had just before enjoyed. The next day I made
another long ride through the town; and being tolerably well acquainted
with the topography of the place and its different quarters, I enjoyed
still more the charming view obtained from the top of the Dalá.
I had just descended from the eminence beneath which spread this glorious
panorama, when I heard a well-known voice calling me by my name; it
was ʿAbdallah the Tawáti, my friend and teacher in Ágades, who, after
residing some time in Tasáwa, had come to try his fortune in this larger
sphere of action. I had besides him some other acquaintances, who gave
me much interesting information, particularly a young ba-Háushe lad
of the name of Íbrahíma, who gave me the first tolerably correct idea
of the road to Yóla, the capital of Adamáwa, although he was puzzled
about the direction of the Great River, which he had crossed, supposing
that it flowed eastward instead of westward. I derived also a great
deal of information from a less agreeable man named Mohammed, with the
surname “el Merábet” (reclaimed), rather antithetically, as “_lucus à
non lucendo_,” for he was the most profligate drunkard imaginable, and
eventually remained indebted to me for several thousand cowries.
I was much worried during my stay in Kanó by a son of the governor
of Zária, who, suffering dreadfully from stricture or some other
obstruction, had come expressly to Kanó in the hope of being relieved by
me; and it was impossible for me to convince him that I had neither the
knowledge nor the instruments necessary for effecting the cure of his
disease. It would, no doubt, have been of great service if I had been
able to cure him, as he was the son of one of the most powerful princes
of Negroland; but as it was, I could only afford him a little temporary
relief. My intercourse with this man was indeed most painful to me, as
I felt conscious of entire inability to help him, while he conjured me,
by all that was dear to me, not to give him up and abandon him. He died
shortly afterwards. More agreeable to me was a visit from the eldest
son of the governor of Kanó, who, accompanied by two horsemen, came to
call upon me one day, and not finding me at home, traced me whither I
had gone, and having met me, followed silently till I had re-entered
my quarters. He was a handsome, modest, and intelligent youth of about
eighteen years of age, and was delighted with the performance of my
musical-box. I gave him an English clasp-knife, and we parted the best of
friends, greatly pleased with each other.
I had considerable difficulty in arranging my pecuniary affairs, and
felt really ashamed at being unable to pay my debt to the Háj el Dáwaki
till after el Wákhshi himself had arrived from Kátsena. After having
sold, with difficulty, all that I possessed, having suffered a very
heavy loss by Báwu’s dishonesty, paid my debts, and arranged my business
with Mohammed el Túnsi, who, suffering under a very severe attack of
fever, wanted most eagerly to return home, I should scarcely have been
able to make the necessary preparations for my journey to Bórnu if the
governor had not assisted me a little. He had hitherto behaved very
shabbily towards me, not a single dish, not a sheep or other token of
his hospitality having been sent me during my stay in the town. I was
therefore most agreeably surprised when, on the morning of the 2nd of
March, old Elaíji came and announced to me that, in consequence of
his urgent remonstrances, the governor had sent me a present of sixty
thousand kurdí. He told me, with a sort of pride, that he had severely
reprimanded him, assuring him that he was the only prince who had not
honoured me. I should have been better pleased if the governor had sent
me a pair of camels or a horse; but I was thankful for this unexpected
supply, and giving six thousand to the officer who had brought the money,
and as much to Elaíji, and dividing eight thousand between Báwu and Sídi
ʿAlí, I kept forty thousand for myself.
With this present I was fortunately enabled to buy two camels instead of
sumpter-oxen, which give great trouble on the road during the dry season,
especially if not properly attended to, and prepared everything for my
journey; but the people in these countries are all cowards, and as I was
to go alone without a caravan, I was unable to find a good servant. Thus
I had only my faithful Tébu lad Mohammed whom I could rely upon, having
besides him none but a debauched young Fezzáni, Makhmúd, who had long
lived in this town, and a youth named ʿAbdallah. Nevertheless I felt not
a moment’s hesitation, but, on the contrary, impatiently awaited the
moment when I should leave my dingy and melancholy quarters, full of mice
and vermin.
I had hoped to get off on the 6th; but nothing was heard from the
governor, and it would have been imprudent to start without his
permission. With envious feelings I witnessed the departure of the natron
caravan for Núpe or Nýffi, consisting of from two to three hundred
asses. With it went Mohammed Ánnur, a very intelligent man, whom I had
endeavoured by all possible means to hire as a servant, but could not
muster shells enough. However, the exploration of all those more distant
regions I was obliged in my present circumstances to give up, and to
concentrate my whole energies on the effort to reach Kúkawa, where I had
concerted with Mr. Richardson to arrive in the beginning of April. I had
had the satisfaction of sending off a long report and several letters to
Europe on the 1st of March (when the Ghadamsíye merchants despatched a
courier to their native town), and felt therefore much easier with regard
to my communication with Europe. My delay also had given me the great
advantage of making the acquaintance of a man named Mohammed el ʿAnáya,
from the Dʿara el Takhtaníye, to the south of Morocco, who first gave me
some general information about the route from Timbúktu to Sókoto, which
in the sequel was to become a new field for my researches and adventures.
I became so seriously ill on the 8th, that I looked forward with
apprehension to my departure, which was fixed for the following day.
But before leaving this important place, I will make a few general
observations with regard to its history and its present state.
The town of Kanó, considered as the capital of a province, must be of
somewhat older date than Kátsena, if we are to rely on Leo’s accuracy,
though from other more reliable sources (which I shall bring to light
in the chapter on the history of Bórnu) it is evident that even in the
second half of the sixteenth century there could have been here only the
fortress of Dalá, which, at that period, withstood the attacks of the
Bórnu king. I think we are justified in supposing that, in this respect,
Leo (when, after an interval of many years, he wrote the account of
the countries of Negroland which he had visited) confounded Kanó with
Kátsena. The strength of the Kanáwa, that is to say, the inhabitants of
the province of Kanó, at the time of the Bórnu king Edrís Alawóma, is
quite apparent from the report of his imám; but from that time forth the
country seems to have been tributary to Bórnu; and the population of
the town of Kanó is said, with good reason, to have consisted from the
beginning mostly of Kanúri or Bórnu elements. However, the established
allegiance or subjection of this province to Bórnu was evidently rather
precarious, and could be maintained only with a strong hand; for there
was a powerful neighbour, the King of Korórofa or Júku, ready to avail
himself of every opportunity of extending his own power and dominion
over that territory. We know also that one king of that country, whose
name, however, I could not obtain, on the entry of a new governor into
office in Kanó, made an expedition into that country, and installed
his own representative in the place of that of Bórnu, and though the
eastern provinces of Korórofa itself (I mean the district inhabited
by the Koána or Kwána) became afterwards tributary to Bórnu, yet the
main province (or Júku proper) with the capital Wukári, seems to have
always remained strong and independent, till now, at length, it seems
destined to be gradually swallowed up by the Fúlbe, if the English do not
interfere. But to return to our subject. As long as Kátsena continued
independent and flourishing, the town of Kanó appears never to have been
an important commercial place; and it was not till after Kátsena had been
occupied by the Fúlbe, and, owing to its exposed position on the northern
frontier of Háusa, had become a very unsafe central point for commercial
transactions, that Kanó became the great commercial _entrepôt_ of Central
Negroland. Before this time, that is to say, before the year 1807, I
have strong reason to suppose that scarcely any great Arab merchant ever
visited Kanó, a place which nevertheless continues till this very day to
be identified with Ghána or Ghánata, a state or town expressly stated
by Arab writers of the eleventh century to have been the rendezvous for
Arab merchants from the very first rise of commercial connections with
Negroland. And all regard to historical or geographical facts is put
aside merely from an absurd identification of two entirely distinct names
such as Kanó and Ghána or Ghánata.
As to the period when the Kánawa in general became Mohammedans, we may
fairly assume it to have been several years later than the time when
Máji, the prince of Kátsena, embraced Islám, or about the seventeenth
century, though it is evident that the larger portion of the population
all over Háusa, especially that of the country towns and villages,
remained addicted to paganism till the fanatic zeal of their conquerors
the Fúlbe forced them to profess Islám, at least publicly. Nevertheless
even at the present day there is a great deal of paganism cherished, and
rites really pagan performed, in the province of Kanó as well as in that
of Kátsena,—a subject on which I shall say something more on another
occasion.
With regard to the growth of the town, we have express testimony that
Dalá was the most ancient quarter. The steep rocky hill, about 120 feet
high, naturally afforded a secure retreat to the ancient inhabitants in
case of sudden attack; but it is most probable that there was another or
several separate villages within the wide expanse now encompassed by the
wall, which rather exceeds than falls short of fifteen English miles,
and it seems inconceivable why the other hill, “Kógo-n-dútsi” (which is
enclosed within the circumference of the walls), though it is not quite
so well fortified by nature, should not have afforded a strong site for
another hamlet. We have, indeed, no means of describing the way in which
the town gradually increased to its present size; this much, however, is
evident, that the inhabited quarters never filled up the immense space
comprised within the walls, though it is curious to observe that there
are evident traces of a more ancient wall on the south side, which, as
will be seen from the plan, did not describe so wide a circumference,
particularly towards the south-west, where the great projecting angle
seems to have been added in later times, for merely strategical purposes.
The reason why the fortifications were carried to so much greater extent
than the population of the town rendered necessary, was evidently to
make the place capable of sustaining a long siege (sufficient ground
being enclosed within the walls to produce the necessary supply of corn
for the inhabitants), and also to receive the population of the open and
unprotected villages in the neighbourhood. The inhabited quarter occupies
at present only the south-eastern part of the town between Mount Dalá and
the wall, which on this side is closely approached by the dwellings.
On the northern margin of the Jákara is the market-place, forming a
large quadrangle, mostly consisting of sheds built in regular rows like
streets; but the westernmost part of it forms the slaughtering-place,
where numbers of cattle are daily butchered, causing an immense quantity
of offal and filth to accumulate, for which there is no other outlet than
the all-swallowing Jákara. It is the accumulation of this filth in the
most frequented parts of the town which makes it so unhealthy. On the
north-east side of the sheds is the camel-market, where also pack-oxen
are sold. The shed where the slaves are sold is at the north-west
corner; and thence, along the principal street, which traverses the
market, is the station of the people who sell firewood. The market is
generally immensely crowded during the heat of the day, and offers a most
interesting scene.
The wall, just as it has been described by Captain Clapperton, is still
kept in the best repair, and is an imposing piece of workmanship in this
quarter of the world. This wall, with its gates, I have not been able
to lay down with much exactness; but, from my observations on my later
visit in 1854, being aware of the great inaccuracy of the little sketch
of the town given by Clapperton, who himself pretends only to give an
eye-sketch, I thought it worth while, with regard to a place like Kanó
(which certainly will at some future period become important even for
the commercial world of Europe), to survey and sketch it more minutely;
and I hope my plan, together with the view taken from Mount Dalá of the
southern and really inhabited quarter of the town, will give a tolerably
correct idea of its character.
The market-place is necessarily much less frequented during the rainy
season, when most of the people are busy with the labours of the field. A
great part of the market-place during that time is even inundated by the
waters of the pond Jákara.
I now proceed to enumerate the quarters, the names of which are not
without their interest. I must first observe, that the quarters to the
north of the great and characteristic pond Jákara, which intersects the
town from east to west, are chiefly inhabited by Háusa people, or, as
they are called by their conquerors, “Hábe,” from the singular “Kádo,”
while the southern quarters are chiefly, but not at all exclusively,
inhabited by the Fúlbe (_sing._ Púllo), called Féllani (_sing._
ba-Féllanchi) by the conquered race.
Beginning with Dalá, the oldest quarter of the town, and which in
commercial respects is the most important one, as it is the residence
of almost all the wealthy Arab and Berber (principally Ghadamsíye)
merchants, I shall first proceed eastwards, then return by south to
west, and so on. East-south-east, the quarter called Déndalin (the
esplanade) borders on Dalá, then Kutumbáwa, Gérke, Mádabó, Ya-n-tándu,
Adakáwa, Kóki, Zéta, Límanchí (or the quarter of the people of Tóto, a
considerable town not far from Fánda); south from the latter, Yandówea,
and thence, returning westward, Jibdji-n-Yél-labu, another Límanchí
(with a large mosque), Masu-kiyáni (the quarter near the “kaswa” or
market-place), Túddu-n-mákera (the quarter of the blacksmiths) on
the west side of the market, Yámroché, “Marárraba bókoy” (the seven
crossways), “Báki-n-rúa” (the waterside—that is, the quay along the
Jákara, not very neat nor fragrant, and in this respect deserving to be
compared, with the quays of the Thames, which may be called, just with
the same reason, the great sink of London, as the Jákara is that of Kanó,
the difference being only that the Thames is a running stream, while the
Jákara is stagnant), “Runfáwa” (the quarter of the sheds), Yéllwá. Here,
turning again eastwards, we come first to the quarter Ríma-n-jirájiré,
then enter Mággoga, then Maggógi, Ungwa-n-kári, Déndali-n-Wáre, Límanchí
(a third quarter of this name), Dukkuráwa, Rúffogí, Dérma. All these are
quarters of the Hábe, where no Púllo, as far as I am aware, would deign
to live. Beyond the Jákara we now come to the quarters of the ruling
race, proceeding from west to east.
Yaálewa, Mármara, Ágadesáwa (a quarter belonging originally to the
natives of Ágades), Yóla—the princely quarter of the town, and called
on this account “mádaki-n-Kanó.” It is interesting also as having given
its name to the new capital of Ádamáwa (the natives of Negroland being
not less anxious than Europeans to familiarize the new regions which
they colonize by names taken from their ancient homes); el Kántara (so
called from a rough kind of bridge, or kadárko, thrown over one of those
numerous pools which intersect the town), Wuaitákka, Go-shérifé-dodó (a
quarter, the name of which is taken from the ancient pagan worship of
the “dodó),” Tókobá, Dukkáwa, Zaghidámse, Sháfushí. Returning from east
to west we have the quarters Shérbalé, Mádaté, Kúrna, Sheshé, “Dirmí
(or dírremi)-kay okú” (called from a tree of the dírremi species, with
three separate crowns), Lelóki-n-lemú, Kóllwá al héndeki, Sóra-n-dínki,
Rími-n-kóro, Tojí, Yárkasá, Mándáwari, Mármara (different from the
quarter mentioned above), Dantúrku, Sabansára, Kudedefáwa, Jingo, Doséyi,
Warúre, Gʿao (an interesting name, identical with that of the capital
of the Sónghay empire), Kurmáwa, Háusáwa, Ungwa Mákama, Ghaladánchi
(the quarter wherein resides the ghaladíma), Shúramchí (the quarter
where lives the eldest son of the governor, whose title chiróma—a
Kanúri name—in the corrupted form of “shúromo” has furnished the name
of the quarter), Ye-serkí, Kurmáwa (not identical with the above),
“Kusseráwa” (the corner), Udeláwa. South from the palace of the governor,
Rími-n-kerá, Káraká, Dugeráwa, Yákase, Naseráwa (most probably destined
to be hereafter the quarter of the Nasára or Christians), and ʿAbdeláwa.
All over the town, clay houses and huts, with thatched conical roofs, are
mixed together; but generally in the southern quarter the latter prevail.
The clay houses, as far as I have seen them in Dalá, where of course Arab
influence predominates, are built in a most uncomfortable style, with no
other purpose than that of obtaining the greatest possible privacy for
domestic life, without any attempt to provide for the influx of fresh air
and light, although I must admit that a few houses are built in somewhat
better taste; but invariably the courtyard is extremely small, and in
this respect the houses of Kanó are very inferior to those of Ágades and
Timbúktu, which are built almost on the same principle as the dwellings
of the ancient Greeks and Romans. I here give the ground plan of the
house in which I lodged in 1851.
Almost all these houses have also a very irregular upper story on a
different level, and very badly aired. Many of the Arabs sleep on their
terraces.
[Illustration: 1, Large public yard common to the two houses with two
huts; 2, Irregular apartment, where I was to reside, as it was least
wanting in light and air; 3, Dark room without any current of air, but to
which I was obliged to withdraw when suffering from fever; 4, Storeroom;
5, Inner private yard; 6, Closet.]
In estimating the population of the town at 30,000, I am certainly
not above the truth. Captain Clapperton estimated it at from 30,000
to 40,000. The population, as might be expected in a place of great
commercial resort, is of a rather mixed nature; but the chief elements
in it are Kanúri or Bórnu people, Háusáwa, Fúlbe or Féllani, and Nyfláwa
or Núpe; a good many Arabs also reside there, who by their commerce and
their handicraft contribute a great deal to the importance of the place.
The influx of foreigners and temporary residents is occasionally very
great, so that the whole number of residents during the most busy time
of the year (that is to say from January to April) may often amount to
60,000. The number of domestic slaves, of course, is very considerable;
but I think it hardly equals, certainly does not exceed, that of the free
men, for while the wealthy have many slaves, the poorer class, which is
far more numerous, have few or none. It would be very interesting to
arrive at an exact estimate of the numbers of the conquering nation, in
order to see the proportion in which they stand to the conquered. As for
the town itself, their whole number, of every sex and age, does not, in
my opinion, exceed 4,000; but with regard to the whole country I can give
no opinion.
The principal commerce of Kanó consists in native produce, namely, the
cotton cloth woven and dyed here or in the neighbouring towns, in the
form of tobes or rígona (_sing._ ríga); túrkedí, or the oblong pieces of
dress of dark-blue colour worn by the women; the zénne[27] or plaid of
various colours; and the ráwani bakí, or black lithám.
The great advantage of Kanó is, that commerce and manufactures go hand
in hand, and that almost every family has its share in them. There is
really something grand in this kind of industry, which spreads to the
north as far as Múrzuk, Ghát, and even Tripoli; to the west, not only to
Timbúktu, but in some degree even as far as the shores of the Atlantic,
the very inhabitants of Arguin dressing in the cloth woven and dyed in
Kanó; to the east, all over Bórnu, although there it comes in contact
with the native industry of the country; and to the south it maintains a
rivalry with the native industry of the Ígbira and Ígbo, while towards
the south-east it invades the whole of Ádamáwa, and is only limited by
the nakedness of the pagan _sans-culottes_, who do not wear clothing.
As for the supply sent to Timbúktu, this is a fact entirely overlooked in
Europe, where people speak continually of the fine cotton cloth produced
in that town, while in truth all the apparel of a decent character in
Timbúktu is brought either from Kanó or from Sansándi; and how urgently
this article is there demanded is amply shown by the immense circuit
which the merchandise makes to avoid the great dangers of the direct road
from Kanó to Timbúktu travelled by me, the merchandise of Kanó being
first carried up to Ghát and even Ghadámes, and thence taking its way to
Timbúktu by Tawát.
[Illustration]
I make the lowest estimate in rating this export to Timbúktu alone at
three hundred camel-loads annually, worth sixty million kurdí in Kanó—an
amount which entirely remains in the country, and redounds to the benefit
of the whole population, both cotton and indigo being produced and
prepared in the country. In taking a general view of the subject, I think
myself justified in estimating the whole produce of this manufacture,
as far as it is sold abroad, at the very least at about three hundred
millions; and how great this national wealth is, will be understood by my
readers when they know that, with from fifty to sixty thousand kurdí, or
from four to five pounds sterling a year, a whole family may live in that
country with ease, including every expense, even that of their clothing:
and we must remember that the province is one of the most fertile
spots on the earth, and is able to produce not only the supply of corn
necessary for its population, but can also export, and that it possesses,
besides, the finest pasture-grounds. In fact, if we consider that this
industry is not carried on here, as in Europe, in immense establishments,
degrading man to the meanest condition of life, but that it gives
employment and support to families without compelling them to sacrifice
their domestic habits, we must presume that Kanó ought to be one of the
happiest countries in the world; and so it is as long as its governor,
too often lazy and indolent, is able to defend its inhabitants from the
cupidity of their neighbours, which of course is constantly stimulated
by the very wealth of this country.
Besides the cloth produced and dyed in Kanó and in the neighbouring
villages, there is a considerable commerce carried on here with the cloth
manufactured in Nýffi or Núpe, which, however, extends only to the first
and the third of the articles above mentioned, viz. the “ríga,” or shirt
worn by men, and the “zénne,” or plaid; for the Nyffáwa are unable to
produce either túrkedí or ráwaní—at least for export, while they seem,
with the exception of the wealthier classes, to supply their own wants
themselves. The tobes brought from Nýffi are either large black ones, or
of mixed silk and cotton.
With regard to the former, which are called “gíwa” (the elephant’s
shirt), I am unable to say why the Kanáwa are not capable of
manufacturing them themselves; but it seems that, while they thoroughly
understand how to impart the most beautiful dye to the túrkedí, they are
unable to apply the same to the ríga—I do not know why.
Of the latter kind there are several varieties: the ríga sáki, the small
squares blue and white, as if speckled, and therefore called by the Arabs
“fílfil” (pepper), and by the Tuarek, who, as I have mentioned, esteem it
more than any other kind, the “Guinea-fowl shirt” (tekátkat taílelt), as
shown in the woodcut on page 301, is very becoming, and was my ordinary
dress from the moment I was rich enough to purchase it, as a good one
fetches as much as from eighteen to twenty thousand kurdí; then the
tob-harír, with stripes of speckled cast like the taílelt, but intermixed
with red; the jellába, red and white, with embroidery of green silk, and
several others. Specimens of all these I have brought home and delivered
to the Foreign Office.[28]
The chief articles of native industry, besides cloth, which have a
wide market, are principally sandals. The sandals are made with great
neatness, and, like the cloth, are exported to an immense distance; but
being a cheap article (the very best, which are called “táka-sárakí,”
fetching only two hundred kurdí), they bear of course no comparison in
importance with the former. I estimate this branch at ten millions. It
is very curious that the shoes made here by Arab shoemakers, of Sudán
leather, and called “bélghʿa,” are exported in great quantities to North
Africa. The “nesísa,” or twisted leather strap, is a celebrated article
of Kanó manufacture, and “jebíras,” richly ornamented, as the woodcut on
page 303 shows, are made by Arab workmen.
[Illustration]
The other leather-work I will not mention here, as it does not form
a great article of commerce; but tanned hides (“kulábu”) and red
sheepskins, dyed with a juice extracted from the stalks of the holcus,
are not unimportant, being sent in great quantities even as far as
Tripoli. I value the amount of export at about five millions.[29]
Besides these manufactures, the chief article of African produce in
the Kanó market is the “gúro,” or kola-nut: but while on the one hand
it forms an important article of transit, and brings considerable
profit, on the other large sums are expended by the natives upon this
luxury, which has become to them as necessary as tea or coffee to us.
On another occasion I shall enumerate the different kinds of this nut,
and the seasons when it is collected. The import of this nut into Kanó,
comprising certainly more than five hundred ass-loads every year, the
load of each, if safely brought to the market—for it is a very delicate
article, and very liable to spoil—being sold for about two hundred
thousand kurdí, will amount to an average of from eighty to one hundred
millions. Of this sum, I think we shall be correct in asserting about
half to be paid for by the natives of the province, while the other half
will be profit.
[Illustration]
But we must bear in mind that the greater part of the persons employed in
this trade are Kanáwa, and that therefore they and their families subsist
upon this branch of trade.
A very important branch of the native commerce in Kanó is certainly the
slave-trade; but it is extremely difficult to say how many of these
unfortunate creatures are exported, as a greater number are carried away
by small caravans to Bórnu and Núpe than on the direct road to Ghát and
Fezzán. Altogether, I do not think that the number of slaves annually
exported from Kanó exceeds five thousand; but of course a considerable
number are sold into domestic slavery either to the inhabitants of the
province itself, or to those of the adjoining districts. The value of
this trade, of which only a small percentage falls to the profit of the
Kanáwa, besides the tax which is levied in the market, may altogether
amount to from a hundred and fifty to two hundred millions of kurdí per
annum.
Another important branch of the commerce of Kanó is the transit of
natron from Bórnu to Núpe or Nýffi, which here always passes into other
hands, and in so doing leaves a considerable profit in the place. The
merchandise is very cheap; but the quantity is great, and it employs
a great many persons, as I shall have ample occasion to illustrate in
the course of my proceedings. Twenty thousand loads, at the very least,
between pack-oxen, sumpter-horses, and asses, of natron must annually
pass through the market of Kanó; which, at five hundred kurdí per load,
merely for passage-money, would give ten millions of kurdí.
I here also mention the salt-trade, which is entirely an import one, the
salt being almost all consumed in the province. Of the three thousand
camel-loads of salt which I have above computed as comprising the aïri
with which I reached Kátsena, we may suppose one-third to be sold in the
province of Kanó; and therefore that hereby a value of from fifty to
eighty millions annually is drained from the country. But we must not
forget that the money which is paid for this requisite (and not only for
that consumed in Kanó, but also in other provinces) is entirely laid out
by the sellers in buying the produce of Kanó; viz. cloth and corn. Here,
therefore, is an absolute balance—a real exchange of necessaries and
wants.
As for ivory, at present it does not form a very important branch of
the commerce of Kanó; and I scarcely believe that more than one hundred
kantárs pass through this place. The lowest price of the kantár is in
general thirty dollars, or seventy-five thousand kurdí; but it often
rises to forty dollars, or one hundred thousand kurdí, and even more,
though I have seen it bought with ready money for twenty-five dollars.
Of European goods the greatest proportion is still imported by the
northern road, while the natural road, by way of the great eastern branch
of the so-called Niger, will and must, in the course of events, be soon
opened.
But I must here speak about a point of very great importance for the
English, both as regards their honour and their commercial activity.
The final opening of the lower course of the Kwára has been one of the
most glorious achievements of English discovery, bought with the lives
of so many enterprising men. But it seems that the English are more apt
to perform a great deed than to follow up its consequences. After they
have opened this noble river to the knowledge of Europe, frightened by
the sacrifice of a few lives, instead of using it themselves for the
benefit of the nations of the interior, they have allowed it to fall
into the hands of the American slave-dealers, who have opened a regular
annual slave-trade with those very regions, while the English seem not to
have even the slightest idea of such a traffic going on. Thus American
produce, brought in large quantities to the market of Núpe, has begun
to inundate Central Africa, to the great damage of the commerce and
the most unqualified scandal of the Arabs, who think that the English,
if they would, could easily prevent it. For this is not a legitimate
commerce; it is nothing but slave-traffic on a large scale, the Americans
taking nothing in return for their merchandise and their dollars but
slaves, besides a small quantity of natron. On this painful subject I
have written repeatedly to H.M.’s consul in Tripoli, and to H.M.’s
Government, and I have spoken energetically about it to Lord Palmerston
since my return. I principally regret in this respect the death of Mr.
Richardson, who, in his eloquent language, would have dealt worthily with
this question. But even from his unfinished journals as they have been
published, it is clear that during his short stay in the country before
he was doomed to succumb, he became well aware of what was going on.[30]
The principal European goods brought to the market of Kanó are bleached
and unbleached calicoes, and cotton prints from Manchester; French silks
and sugar; red cloth from Saxony and other parts of Europe; beads from
Venice and Trieste; a very coarse kind of silk from Trieste; common
paper with the sign of three moons, looking-glasses, needles, and small
ware, from Nuremberg; sword blades from Solingen; razors from Styria. It
is very remarkable that so little English merchandise is seen in this
great emporium of Negroland, which lies so near to the two branches of
“the Great River” of Western Africa, calico and muslins (or tanjips,
as they are called by the merchants) being almost the only English
articles. Calico certainly is not the thing most wanted in a country
where home-made cloth is produced at so cheap a rate, and of so excellent
a quality; indeed the unbleached calico has a very poor chance in Kanó,
while the bleached calico and the cambric attract the wealthier people on
account of their nobler appearance. In Timbúktu on the contrary, where
the native cloth is dearer, unbleached calico is in request; and it would
be so in an extraordinary degree, if it were dyed dark blue. It is very
interesting to observe that a small proportion of the calico imported
into Kanó is again exported, after having been dyed, returning even the
long way to Ghadámes. I estimate the whole amount of Manchester goods
imported into Kanó at about forty millions; but it may be somewhat more.
The sale of tanjips is very considerable; and the import of this article
into Kanó certainly equals in value that of the former.
The very coarse silk, or rather refuse, which is dyed in Tripoli, is
imported to a very considerable amount, this forming the principal
merchandise of most of the caravans of the Ghadamsíye merchants, and
about one-third of their whole commerce, amounting certainly to not less
than from three to four hundred camel-loads annually, worth in Kanó
each about two hundred thousand kurdí; this would give a value of about
seventy millions imported. But according to some well-informed people,
even as many as one thousand loads of this article pass annually through
Ghadámes; so that, if we take into consideration that the supply of the
northerly markets (as Tasáwa, Zínder) may well be compensated by what is
brought by way of Múrzuk, the value of the import of this article into
Kanó may be much more. A great deal of this silk, I have no doubt by far
the greatest part, remains in the country, being used for ornamenting the
tobes, sandals, shoes, and other things.
Woollen cloth of the most ordinary quality, chiefly red, but about
one-third of the whole amount of green colour, was formerly imported to
a great extent; but it has gone out of fashion, and I think a better
quality, like that with which the market of Timbúktu is supplied by way
of Mogador or Swaira, would succeed. I estimate this branch at present at
only fifteen millions.
Beads, in very great variety,[31] form an important article of import;
but the price has become so low of late years that there has been very
little profit, and the supply has been kept back to raise the prices. The
import of this article certainly amounts to more than fifty millions of
kurdí, of which sum the value of twenty may remain in the country.
Of sugar, I think about one hundred camel-loads are imported every year,
each containing eighty small loaves, of two and a half pounds each, which
are sold in general at fifteen hundred kurdí; so that the import of this
article would amount to about twelve millions. It is very remarkable that
in all Central Negroland the large English sugar-loaf is scarcely ever
seen, while it is the only one seen in Timbúktu. However, I was greatly
surprised when, on my return from that place in 1854, ʿAlíyu, the Emír
el Mumenín of Sókoto, presented to me an English loaf of sugar; and I
heard that he had received several of them as presents from a merchant of
Tawát. The small loaf has certainly a great advantage in such a country,
where money is scarce; and I found in 1854 that its weight had even been
reduced to two pounds.
Common paper, called on the coast “tre lune,” from the mark of three
moons which it bears, is imported in great quantity, being used for
wrapping up the country cloth; but it is a bulky, heavy article, and in
larger quantities is sold at a very cheap rate. The whole amount of this
import may be about five millions of kurdí.
Needles, with the emblem of the pig,[32] and small looking-glasses called
“lemmʿa” in boxes, form important but very cheap articles, and I think
their amount together will not much exceed the value of eight millions.
Generally, the needles in large quantities are sold for one “urí” or
shell each, but often even cheaper; and I was obliged to sell a thousand
for six hundred kurdí. Also, fine needles for silk-work are in request,
but only in small quantity, while large darning-needles are not at all
wanted here, where the cotton cloth is fine, but are the most profitable
thing in Eastern Negroland, from Bagírmi inclusive to Abyssinia.
Sword-blades, which are set here, are imported in considerable quantity;
as not only the Kél-owí and the neighbouring Tárki tribes, but also
the Háusáwa, Fúlbe, Nyffáwa, and Kanúri or Bórnu people, are supplied
from this market. Fifty thousand may be the general annual amount of
this article, which produces (the blade being reckoned at one thousand
kurdí) fifty millions. Almost all of them that I saw, not only here, but
even among the Tuarek near Timbúktu, were from Solingen. Only a small
proportion of the import remains in the country; but the setting of the
blades, which are again exported, secures a great profit to the natives.
Very few firearms, as far as I became aware, are imported into this
market, although common muskets have begun to be imported by way of
Nýffi at extraordinarily cheap prices by the Americans. Pistols and
blunderbusses are privately sold by the merchants to princes or great men.
The common razors made in Styria, with black, wooden handles, bad as they
are, are very much liked by the inhabitants, who know how to sharpen
them most beautifully, and strengthen the wretched handle with a guard
of copper. I had a tolerable supply of English razors, and found that
those bought for sixpence at home would sell profitably, but that nobody
would give, for a good razor, though ever so excellent, more than one
thousand kurdí; however, the better sort are very fit for presents to men
of importance, who know well their value. In any case the handles ought
to be strong, and not likely to break. This commodity does certainly not
much exceed two or three millions.
French silks, called “hattáya,” were formerly in great request, but at
present seem to be a little out of vogue; and most of what is imported
here is exported again by second-hand buyers to Yóruba and Gónja. The
amount of this import into the Kanó market, I think, does not exceed
twenty millions.
An important branch of import is formed by articles of Arab dress,
chiefly bernúses, caftans, sedríyas, trousers, red caps, red sashes,
shawls. It is difficult to state, even approximately, the value of these
articles; but it cannot certainly be much less than fifty millions
altogether. The sort of dress most in request comes from Tunis, but a
good deal also from Egypt; and from the latter country come all the white
shawls with red borders, called “subéta” in Arabic, “aliyáfu” in Háusa,
and very much liked by the negroes as well as by the Tuarek. The import
of this article alone exceeds the value of ten millions. The common
articles of dress, of coarser workmanship, are made in Tripoli. Red caps
of very coarse description are now imported from Leghorn, and find a
sale, but are not liked by the free people.
Frankincense and spices—principally jáwi, benzoin, the resin obtained
from a species of styrax, “símbil” or _Valeriana Celtica_, and
cloves—form a not inconsiderable article of import, perhaps amounting to
fifteen millions. However, I exclude from this sum the value of the rose
oil which is annually imported in considerable quantity, and begin a dear
article, forms also an important one; but very little of it comes into
the general trade, almost all of it being disposed of privately to the
princes and great men, or given to them in presents. I am inclined to
estimate the value of this article imported at about forty millions. Tin
and many other smaller articles may together be estimated at ten millions.
In the trade of Kanó there is another very interesting article,
which tends to unite very distant regions of Africa; this is
copper—“ja-n-kárfi.” A good deal of old copper—say fifty loads, together
with about twenty loads of zinc—is imported from Tripoli; but a
considerable supply of this useful and handsome metal is also imported
every year by the Jellába of Nímro in Wadáy, who bring it from the
celebrated copper-mine, “el hófra,” situate to the south of Dar-Fúr, of
which I shall have occasion to speak later.[33] I estimate the whole
import of this metal at about from fifteen to twenty millions; but it is
to be remarked that, so far from being to the disadvantage of the Kanáwa,
it proves a new material of industry, while only the smaller part remains
in the country.
With regard to the precious metals, a small supply of silver is imported
by the merchants, but rather exceptionally, most of the latter being but
agents or commissioners engaged to effect the sale of the merchandise
forwarded from Tripoli and Fezzán. The silver likewise supplies a branch
of industry, the silversmiths, who are generally identical with the
blacksmiths, being very clever in making rings and anklets. In Kanó
scarcely any tradesman will object to receive a dollar in payment. With
regard to iron, which forms a very considerable branch of industry in
the place, I will only say that it is far inferior to that of Wándala
or Mándara and Bubanjídda, which I shall mention in the course of my
proceedings. Spears, daggers, hoes, and stirrups are the articles most
extensively produced in iron.
As for gold, though a general standard, of the mithkál at four thousand
kurdí, is usually maintained, in Timbúktu its price greatly varies, from
three thousand five hundred up to four thousand five hundred kurdí; but
this unreasonable fluctuation is but nominal, gold being scarcely ever
bought in Timbúktu for ready money, but for túrkedís, when a túrkedí
bought in Kanó for eighteen hundred, or at the utmost two thousand,
fetches there a mithkál. One hundred mithkáls of gold may easily be
bought in Kanó at any time. Even the common currency of the Kanó market,
the “uri” (_pl._ kurdí) or shell (_Cypræa moneta_), two thousand five
hundred of which are equal to the Spanish or Austrian dollar,[34] forms
an important article of import and commerce, though I have not been
able to ascertain that a large quantity is ever introduced at a time.
Nevertheless that must sometimes happen, as a great amount of shells
has been exported to Bórnu, where they have been recently introduced as
currency; and this obviously explains why since the year 1848 the demand
for these shells has so greatly increased on the coast.
These merely approximative figures cannot be reduced to the form of
a balance-sheet; but they will give a general idea of the commercial
activity of the place. I will conclude these few remarks by observing
that the market of Kanó is better supplied with articles of food than
any other market in Negroland; but meat as well as corn is dearer here
than in Kúkawa, particularly the latter. Besides the great market-place,
there are several smaller ones dispersed through the town, the most
noted of which are the káswa-n-kurmí, Mandáweli, Hanga, káswa-n-máta,
káswa-n-áyagi, káswa-n-Jírba, káswa-n-Yákase, káswa-n-kófan Wámbay, and
the káswa-n-kófan Náyisa.
The province of Kanó, which comprises a very fertile district of
considerable extent, contains, according to my computation, more than two
hundred thousand free people, besides at least an equal number of slaves;
so that the whole population of the province amounts to more than half a
million; though it may greatly exceed this number. The governor is able
to raise an army of seven thousand horse, and more than twenty thousand
men on foot. In the most flourishing state of the country, the governor
of Kanó is said to have been able to bring into the field as many as ten
thousand horse.
The tribute which he levies is very large, considering the state of the
country, amounting altogether to about one hundred millions of kurdí,
besides the presents received from merchants. The most considerable item
of his revenue consists in, the “kurdí-n-kása” (what is called in Kanúri
“lárderám”), or the ground-rent. It is said to amount to ninety millions,
and is levied, both here and in the province of Kátsena, not from the
ground under cultivation, but every head of a family has to pay two
thousand five hundred kurdí, or just a Spanish dollar; in the province of
Zégzeg, on the contrary, the kurdí-n-kása is a tax of five hundred kurdí
levied on every fertáña or hoe, and a single hoe will cultivate a piece
of ground capable of producing from one hundred to two hundred “démmi”
or sheaves of grain (sorghum and pennisetum), each of which contains
two kél, while fifty kél are reckoned sufficient for a man’s sustenance
during a whole year. Besides the kurdí-n-kása, the governor levies an
annual tax called “kurdí-n-korófi,” of seven hundred kurdí[35] on every
dyeing-pot or korófi, of which there are more than two thousand in the
town alone; a “fítto” of five hundred kurdí on every slave sold in the
market; an annual tax, “kurdí-n-debíno,” of six hundred kurdí on every
palm-tree, and a small tax called “kurdí-n-ráfi” on the vegetables sold
in the market, such as dánkali or sweet potatoes, gwáza or yams, rísga,
rógo, etc. This latter is very singular, as the meat, or the cattle
brought into the town, as far as I know, does not pay any tax at all.
Clapperton was mistaken in stating that all the date-trees in the town
belong to the governor, which is not more true than that all the sheds in
the market belong to him.
The authority of the governor is not absolute, even without considering
the appeal which lies to his liege lord in Sókoto or Wúrno, if the
subjects’ complaints can be made to reach so far; a sort of ministerial
council is formed, to act in conjunction with the governor, which
in important cases he cannot well avoid consulting. At the head of
this council stands the ghaladíma, whose office originated, as we
shall see, in the empire of Bórnu, and who very often exercises, as
is the case in Kanó, the highest influence, surpassing that of the
governor himself; then follows the “serkí-n-dáwakay” (the master of
the horse), an important charge in barbarous countries, where victory
depends almost always on the cavalry; then the “bánda-n-Kanó” (a
sort of commander-in-chief); then the “alkáli” or chief justice,
the “chiróma-n-Kanó” (the eldest son of the governor, or some one
assuming this title), who exercises the chief power in the southern
part of the province; the “serkí-n-báy” (properly, the chief of the
slaves), who has the inspection of the northern districts of the
province as far as Kazáure; then the “gadó” or lord of the treasury,
and finally the “serkí-n-sháno” (the master of the oxen, or rather the
quartermaster-general), who has all the military stores under his care;
for the ox, or rather the bull, is the ordinary beast of burden in
Negroland. It is characteristic that, when the governor is absent paying
his homage to his liege lord, it is not the ghaladíma, but the gadó and
the serkí-n-sháno who are his lieutenants or substitutes.
With regard to the government in general, I think, in this province,
where there is so much lively intercourse, and where publicity is given
very soon to every incident, it is not oppressive, though the behaviour
of the ruling class is certainly haughty, and there is, no doubt, a
great deal of injustice inflicted in small matters. The etiquette of the
court, which is far more strict than in Sókoto, must prevent any poor man
from entering the presence of the governor. The Fúlbe marry the handsome
daughters of the subjugated tribe, but would not condescend to give
their own daughters to the men of that tribe as wives. As far as I saw,
their original type has been well preserved as yet, though, by obtaining
possession of wealth and comfort, their warlike character has been
greatly impaired, and the Féllani-n-Kanó have become notorious for their
cowardice throughout the whole of Negroland.
CHAPTER XXVI.
STARTING FOR KÚKAWA.—THE FRONTIER DISTRICT.
_Sunday, March 9._—The traveller who would leave a place where he has
made a long residence, often finds that his departure involves him in
a great deal of trouble, and is by no means an easy affair. Moreover
my situation when, after much delay, I was about to leave Kanó, was
peculiarly embarrassing. There was no caravan; the road was infested by
robbers; and I had only one servant upon whom I could rely, or who was
really attached to me, while I had been so unwell the preceding day as to
be unable to rise from my couch. However, I was full of confidence; and
with the same delight with which a bird springs forth from its cage, I
hastened to escape from these narrow, dirty mud-walls into the boundless
creation.
There being scarcely anyone to assist my faithful Gatróni, the loading
of my three camels took an immense time, and the horseman destined to
accompany me to the frontier of the Kanó territory grew rather impatient.
At length, at about two o’clock in the afternoon, I mounted my unsightly
black four-dollar nag, and following my companion, who (in a showy dress,
representing very nearly the German costume about the time of the Thirty
Years’ War, and well mounted), gave himself all possible airs of dignity,
started forth from the narrow streets of Dalá, into the open fields.
I felt my heart lightened, and, forgetting what had passed, began to
think only of the wide field now opening before me, if fresh means
should reach us in Kúkawa. We had taken a very circuitous road in order
to pass through the widest of the fourteen gates of the town; but the
long passage through the wall was too narrow for my unwieldy luggage;
and my impatient, self-conceited companion fell into despair, seeing
that we should be unable to reach the night’s quarters destined for us.
At length all was again placed upon the patient animals; and my noble
Bú-Séfi taking the lead of the short string of my caravan, we proceeded
onwards, keeping at a short distance from the wall, till we reached
the highroad from the Kófa-n-Wámbay. Here too is a considerable estate
belonging to a ba-Ásbenchí (a man from Asben), who has a company of
slaves always residing here. Going slowly on through the well-cultivated
country, we reached a small watercourse. Being anxious to know in what
direction the torrent had its discharge, and unable to make it out from
my own observation, I took the liberty of asking my companion; but the
self-conceited courtier, though born a slave, thought himself insulted by
such a question, and by the presumption that he ever paid attention to
such trivial things as the direction of a watercourse, or the name of a
village!
Having watered our horses here, I and my friend went on in advance,
to secure quarters for the night, and chose them in a small hamlet,
where, after some resistance, a mʿallem gave us up part of his courtyard
surrounded with a fence of the stalks of Guinea-corn. When the camels
came up we pitched our tent. The boy ʿAbdallah, however, seeing that my
party was so small, and fearing that we should have some misadventure,
had run away and returned to Kanó.
Though there was much talk of thieves, who indeed infest the whole
neighbourhood of this great market-town, and, excited by the hope of
remaining unpunished under an indolent government, very often carry off
camels during the night even from the middle of the town, we passed a
tranquil night, and got off at a tolerably early hour the next morning.
The character of the country is almost the same as that during our
last day’s march in coming from Kátsena, small clusters of huts and
detached farms being spread about over the cultivated country, where we
observed also some tobacco-fields just in flower: my attention was more
attracted by a small range of hills in the distance on our left. I was
also astonished at the little traffic which I observed on this route,
though we met a considerable natron-caravan coming from Zínder, the
ass and the bullock going on peaceably side by side, as is always the
case in Negroland. The country continued to improve; and the fields of
Charó, shaded as they were by luxuriant trees, looked fertile and well
cared for, while the clusters of neat huts scattered all about had an
air of comfort. Here we ought to have passed the previous night; and my
companion had gone in advance to deliver his order, and probably to get
a good luncheon instead of his missed supper. Beyond this village, or
rather district, cultivation seemed to be less careful; but perhaps the
reason was only that the villages were further from the road.
The quiet course of domestic slavery has very little to offend the mind
of the traveller; the slave is generally well treated, is not overworked,
and is very often considered as a member of the family. Scenes caused by
the running away of a slave in consequence of bad and severe treatment
occur every day with the Arabs, who generally sell their slaves, even
those they have had some time, as soon as occasion offers; but with the
natives they are very rare. However, I was surprised at observing so few
home-born slaves in Negroland—with the exception of the Tuarek, who seem
to take great pains to rear slaves—and I have come to the conclusion
that marriage among domestic slaves is very little encouraged by the
natives; indeed I think myself justified in supposing that a slave is
very rarely allowed to marry. This is an important circumstance in
considering domestic slavery in Central Africa; for if these domestic
slaves do not of themselves maintain their numbers, then the deficiency
arising from ordinary mortality must constantly be kept up by a new
supply, which can only be obtained by kidnapping or, more generally, by
predatory incursions, and it is this necessity which makes even domestic
slavery appear so baneful and pernicious. The motive for making these
observations in this place was the sight of a band of slaves, whom we met
this morning, led on in two files, and fastened one to the other by a
strong rope round the neck.
Our march was to be but a short one, as we were to pass the remainder
of the day and the following night in Gezáwa; and as it was still long
before noon, and we had the hottest time of the day before us, I was
anxious to encamp outside the town in the shade of some fine tree, but
my escort would not allow me to do so. We therefore entered the town,
which is surrounded with a clay wall in tolerable repair, and moreover
by a small ditch on the outside; but the interior presents a desolate
aspect, only about a third part of the space being occupied by detached
cottages. Here I was lodged in a small hot shíbki (reed hut), and passed
the “éni” most uncomfortably, cursing my companion and all the escorts
in the world, and resolved never again to take up my quarters inside a
town, except where I was to make a stay of some length. I was therefore
delighted, in the course of the afternoon, to hear from the man who had
taken the camels outside the town upon the pasture-ground, that the
sheríf Konché had arrived and sent me his compliments.
I had once seen this man in Kanó, and had been advised to wait for him,
as he was likewise on his way to Kúkawa; but knowing how slow Arabs are,
and little suspecting what a sociable and amiable man he was, I thought
it better to go on; whereupon he, thinking that my company was preferable
to a longer stay, hastened to follow me. To-day, however, I did not see
him, as he had encamped outside the town; still I had already much reason
to thank him, as he had brought back my fickle runaway servant ʿAbdallah,
whom after some reprimand, and a promise on his side to remain with me
in future, I took back, as I was very much in want of a servant. He was
a native of the country, a Baháushe with a little Arab blood in him, and
had been reduced to slavery. Afterwards, in Bórnu, a man claimed him as
his property. His mother, who was living not far from Gérki, was also
about this time carried into slavery, having gone to some village where
she was kidnapped. Such things are of daily occurrence in these countries
on the borders of two territories. The lad’s sister had a similar fate.
The inhabitants of Gezáwa seem to be devoted almost entirely to
cattle-breeding; and in the market which was held to-day (as it is
every Monday) outside the town, nothing else was offered for sale but
cattle and sheep, scarcely a piece of cotton cloth being laid out, and
very little corn. Also round the town there are scarcely any traces of
cultivation. The mayor seemed not to be in very enviable circumstances,
and bore evident traces of sorrow and anxiety; indeed the laziness and
indolence of the governor of Kanó in neglecting the defence of the wealth
and the national riches of his province are incredible, and can only be
tolerated by a liege lord just as lazy and indifferent as himself. But at
that period the country still enjoyed some tranquillity and happiness,
while from the day on which the rebel Bokhári took possession of Khadéja,
as I shall soon have occasion to relate, the inhabitants of all the
eastern part of this beautiful province underwent daily vexations, so
that the towns on this road were quite deserted when I passed a second
time through this country, in December 1854.
Early next morning we loaded our camels and left the town, in order to
join our new travelling companion, who by this time had also got ready
his little troop. It consisted of himself on horseback, his “sirríya,”
likewise on horseback, three female attendants, six natives, and as many
sumpter-oxen. He himself was a portly Arab, with fine, sedate manners,
such as usually distinguish wealthy people of the Gharb (Morocco); for
he was a native of Fás, and though in reality not a sheríf (though the
title of a sheríf in Negroland means scarcely anything but an impudent,
arrogant beggar), yet, by his education and fine, noble character, he
deserved certainly to be called a gentleman. The name “Konché” (Mr.
Sleep) had been given to him by the natives, from his very reasonable
custom of sleeping, or pretending to sleep, the whole day during the
Ramadan, which enabled him to bear the fasting more easily. His real name
was ʿAbd el Khafíf.
Our first salutation was rather cold; but we soon became friends; and
I must say of him that he was the most noble Arab merchant I have
seen in Negroland. Though at present he had not much merchandise of
value with him, he was a wealthy man, and had enormous demands upon
several governors and princes in Negroland, especially upon Múniyóma,
or the governor of Múniyo, who was indebted to him for about thirty
millions—shells, of course, but nevertheless a very large sum in this
country. Of his “sirríya,” who always rode at a respectful distance
behind him, I cannot speak, as she was veiled from top to toe; but if a
conclusion might be drawn from her attendants, who were very sprightly,
well-formed young girls, she must have been handsome. The male servants
of my friend were all characteristically dressed, and armed in the native
fashion with bows and arrows,—knapsacks, water-bottles, and drinking
vessels all hanging around them in picturesque confusion; but among them
there was a remarkable fellow, who had already given me great surprise in
Kanó. When lying one day in a feverish state on my hard couch, I heard
myself saluted in Romaic or modern Greek. The man who thus addressed
me had long whiskers, and was as black as any negro. But I had some
difficulty in believing him to be a native of Negroland. Yet such he
was, though by a stay in Stambúl of some twenty years, from his boyhood,
he had not only learned the language perfectly, but also adopted the
manners, and I might almost say the features, of the modern Greeks. In
such company we continued pleasantly on, sometimes through a cultivated
country, at others through underwood, meeting now and then a motley
caravan of horses, oxen, and asses, all laden with natron, and coming
from Múniyo. Once there was also a mule with the other beasts of burden;
and on inquiry, on this occasion, I learnt that this animal, which I had
supposed to be frequent in Negroland, is very rare, at least in these
parts, and in Kanó always fetches the high price of from sixty to eighty
thousand kurdí, which is just double the rate of a camel. In Wángara and
Gónja the mule seems to be more frequent. But there is only one in Kúkawa
and in Timbúktu, the latter belonging to one of the richest Morocco
merchants.
Animated scenes succeeded each other:—now a well, where the whole
population of a village or zángo were busy in supplying their wants for
the day; then another, where a herd of cattle was just being watered;
a beautiful tamarind-tree spreading a shady canopy over a busy group
of talkative women selling victuals, ghussub-water, and sour milk, or
“cotton.” About ten o’clock detached dúm-palms began to impart to the
landscape a peculiar character, as we approached the considerable but
open place Gabezáwa, which at present exhibited the busy and animated
scene of a well-frequented market. In this country the market days of
the towns succeed each other by turns, so that all the inhabitants of a
considerable district can take advantage every day of the traffic in the
peculiar article in which each of these places excels.
While pushing our way through the rows of well-stocked sheds, I became
aware that we were approaching the limits of the Kanúri language; for
being thirsty, I wished to buy ghussub-water (“furá” in Háusa), but in
asking for it, received from the woman fresh butter (“fulá” in Kanúri),
and had some difficulty in making them understand that I did not want
the latter. Continuing our march without stopping, we reached at noon
the well-known (that is to say, among the travelling natives) camping
ground of Kúka mairuá, an open place surrounded by several colossal
specimens of the monkey-bread-tree, kúka or _Adansonia digitata_, which
all over this region of Central Africa are not of that low, stunted
growth which seems to be peculiar to them near the coast, but in general
attain to a height of from sixty to eighty feet. Several troops of
native traders were already encamped here, while a string of some thirty
camels, most of them unloaded, and destined to be sold in Kanó, had just
arrived. A wide-spreading tamarind-tree formed a natural roof over a
busy market-scene, where numbers of women were selling all the eatables
and delicacies of the country. The village lay to the south-east. Here
we pitched our tents close together, as robbers and thieves are very
numerous in the neighbourhood; and I fired repeatedly during the night, a
precaution which the event proved to be not at all useless. The name of
the place signifies “the Adansonia with the water.” However, the latter
part of the name seemed rather ironical, as I had to pay forty kurdí
for filling a water-skin, and for watering my horse and my camels; and
I would therefore not advise a future traveller to go to a neighbouring
village, which bears the name of “Kúka maífurá,” in the belief that he
may find there plenty of cheap furá or ghussub-water.
_Wednesday, March 12._—Our encampment was busy from the very first
dawn of day, and exhibited strong proof of industry on the part of the
natives; for even at this hour women were offering ready-cooked pudding
as a luncheon to the travellers. Some of our fellow-sleepers on this
camping-ground started early; and the two Welád Slimán also, who led the
string of camels, started off most imprudently in the twilight. As for
us we waited till everything was clearly discernible, and then took the
opposite direction through underwood; and we had advanced but a short
distance when a man came running after us, bringing us the exciting news
that a party of Tuarek had fallen upon the two Arabs, and after wounding
the elder of them, who had made some resistance, had carried off all
their camels but three. I expressed my surprise to my horseman that such
a thing could happen on the territory of the governor of Kanó, and urged
him to collect some people of the neighbouring villages, in order to
rescue the property, which might have been easily done; but he was quite
indifferent, and smiling in his self-conceit, and pulling his little
straw hat on one side of his head, he went on before us.
Small villages belonging to the district of Zákara were on each side, the
inhabitants indulging still in security and happiness; the following year
they were plunged into an abyss of misery, Bokhári making a sudden inroad
on a market-day, and carrying off as many as a thousand persons. I here
had a proof of the great inconvenience which many parts of Negroland
suffer with regard to water, for the well at which we watered our horses
this morning measured no less than three and thirty fathoms; but I
afterwards found that this is a very common thing as well in Bórnu as in
Bagírmi, while in other regions I shall have to mention wells as much as
sixty fathoms deep. Beyond this spot we met a very numerous caravan with
natron, coming from Kúkawa; and I therefore eagerly inquired the news of
that place from the horsemen who accompanied it. All was well; but they
had not heard either of the arrival or of the approach of a Christian.
This natron, which is obtained in the neighbourhood of the Tsád, was all
in large pieces like stone, and is carried in nets, while that coming
from Múniyo consists entirely of rubble, and is conveyed in bags, or a
sort of basket. The former is called “kílbu tsaráfu,” while the name of
the latter is “kílbu bóktor.” We soon saw other troops laden with this
latter article; and there were even several mules among the beasts of
burden. The commerce of this article is very important; and I counted
to-day more than five hundred loads of natron that we met on our road.
I then went on in advance with “Mr. Sleep,” and soon reached the
village Dóka, which by the Arabs travelling in Negroland is called,
in semi-barbarous Arabic, “Súk el karága,” karága being a Bórnu word
meaning wilderness. The village belongs to the ghaladíma. Here we sat
tranquilly down near the market-place, in the shade of some beautiful
tamarind-trees, and indulged in the luxuries which my gentlemanlike
companion could afford. I was astonished, as well as ashamed at the
comfort which my African friend displayed, ordering one of the female
attendants of his sirríya to bring into his presence a basket which
seemed to be under the special protection of the latter, and drawing
forth from it a variety of well-baked pastry, which he spread on a napkin
before us, while another of the attendants was boiling the coffee. The
barbarian and the civilized European seemed to have changed places; and,
in order to contribute something to our repast, I went to the market and
bought a couple of young onions. Really is incredible what a European
traveller in these countries has to endure; for while he must bear
infinitely more fatigue, anxiety, and mental exertion than any native
traveller, he is deprived of even the little comfort which the country
affords—has no one to cook his supper, and to take care of him when he
falls sick, or to shampoo him;
“And, ah! no wife or mother’s care
For him the milk or corn prepare.”
Leaving my companion to indulge in the “kief” of the Osmánli, of which he
possessed a great deal, I preferred roving about. I observed that during
the rainy season a great deal of water must collect here, which probably
explains the luxurious vegetation and the splendid foliage of the trees
hereabouts; and I was confirmed in my observation by my companion, who
had travelled through this district during the rainy season, and was
strongly impressed with the difficulties arising from the water, which
covers a great part of the surface.
Having allowed our people, who by this time had come up, to have a
considerable start in advance of us, we followed at length, entering
underwood, from which we did not emerge till we arrived near Gérki.
According to instructions received from us, our people had already
chosen the camping ground on the north-west side of the town; but my
horseman, who had gone in advance with them, thought it first necessary
to conduct me into the presence of the governor, or rather of one of
the five governors who rule over this place, each of them thinking
himself more important than his colleague. The one to whom he presented
me was, however, a very unprepossessing man, and not the same who on
my return from the west in 1854 treated me with extraordinary respect.
Yet he did not behave inhospitably to me: for he sent me a sheep (not
very fat indeed), with some corn and fresh milk. Milk during the whole
of my journey formed my greatest luxury; but I would advise any African
traveller to be particularly careful with this article, which is capable
of destroying a weak stomach entirely; and he would do better to make it
a rule always to mix it with a little water, or to have it boiled.
The town of Gérki is a considerable place, and under a strong government
would form a most important frontier-town. As it is, it may probably
contain about fifteen thousand inhabitants; but they are notorious for
their thievish propensities, and the wild state of the country around
bears ample testimony to their want of industry. The market, which
is held here before the south-west gate, is of the most indifferent
description. The wall with its pinnacles is in very good repair. In
order to keep the thievish disposition of the natives in check, I fired
some shots late in the evening; and we slept undisturbed. On my return
journey, however, in 1854, when I was quite alone with my party, I
was less fortunate, a most enterprising thief returning thrice to his
task, and carrying away, one after the other, first the tobe, then the
trousers, and finally the cap from one of my people.
_Thursday, March 13._—Not waiting for the new horseman whom I was
to receive here early in the morning, I went on in advance with my
companion, in order to reach Gúmmel before the heat of the day; and we
soon met in the forest a string of twelve camels, all laden with kurdí or
shells, and belonging to the rich Arab merchant Bú-héma, who resides in
Múniyo, and carries on a considerable commerce between Kanó and Kúkawa.
I will here mention, that in general one hundred thousand kurdí are
regarded as a camel-load; a fine animal, however, like these will carry
as much as a hundred and fifty thousand, that is, just sixty dollars
or twelve pounds’ worth. It is easy to be understood that, where the
standard coin is of so unwieldy a nature, the commerce of the country
cannot be of great value.
About two miles before we reached the frontier town of the Bórnu empire
in this direction, we were joined by the horseman of the governor of
Gérki; and we here took leave of Háusa with its fine and beautiful
country, and its cheerful and industrious population. It is remarkable
what a difference there is between the character of the ba-Háushe
and the Kanúri—the former lively, spirited, and cheerful, the latter
melancholic, dejected, and brutal; and the same difference is visible
in their physiognomies—the former having in general pleasant and regular
features, and more graceful forms, while the Kanúri, with his broad
face, his wide nostrils, and his large bones, makes a far less agreeable
impression, especially the women, who are very plain and certainly the
ugliest in all Negroland, notwithstanding their coquetry, in which they
do not yield at all to the Háusa women.
Birmenáwa is a very small town, but strongly fortified with an earthen
wall and two deep ditches, one inside and the other outside, and only one
gate on the west side. Around it there is a good deal of cultivation,
while the interior is tolerably well inhabited. Konché, who was in a
great hurry to reach Gúmmel, would have preferred going on directly
without entering the town: but as I was obliged to visit it in order to
change my horseman, it being of some importance to me to arrive in Gúmmel
with an escort, he accompanied me. The population consists of mixed Háusa
and Kanúri elements.
Having obtained another man, we continued our march through a country
partly under cultivation, partly covered with underwood, and were
pleased, near the village Tókun, to find the Háusa custom of a little
market held by the women on the roadside still prevailing; but this was
the last scene of the kind I was to see for a long time. We reached the
considerable town of Gúmmel just when the sun began to shine with great
power; and at the gate we separated, the sheríf taking his way directly
towards his quarters in the southern part of the town, while I was
obliged to go first to the house of the governor, the famous Dan-Tanóma
(the son of Tanóma, his own name being entirely unknown to the people);
but on account of his great age, neither on this nor on a later occasion
did I get a sight of him. Indeed, he was soon to leave this world, and by
his death to plunge not only the town wherein he resided, but the whole
neighbouring country, into a destructive civil war between his two sons.
However, on my first visit Gúmmel was still a flourishing place, and
well inhabited, and I had to pass through an intricate labyrinth of
narrow streets enclosed between fences of mats and reeds surrounding
huts and courtyards, before I reached the dwellings of the few Arabs who
live here: and after looking about for some time I obtained quarters
near the house of Sálem Maidúkia (the Rothschild of Gúmmel), where my
Morocco friend was lodged. But my lodgings required building in the
first instance, as they consisted of nothing but a courtyard, the fence
of which was in a state of utter decay, and a hut entirely fallen in,
so that there was not the least shelter from the sun, whereas I had to
wait here two days at least for my new friend, whose company I was not
inclined to forego, without very strong reasons, on my journey to Kúkawa.
However, building is not so difficult in Negroland as it is in Europe;
and a most comfortable dwelling, though rather light, and liable to catch
fire, may be erected in a few hours; even a roof is very sufficiently
made, at least such as is here wanted during the dry season, with
those thick mats, made of reed, called “síggedi” in Bórnu. But most
fortunately Sálem had a conical roof just ready, which would have
afforded satisfactory shelter even from the heaviest rain. I therefore
sent immediately my whole remaining supply of kurdí to the market to
buy those mats and sticks; and getting four men practised in this sort
of workmanship, I immediately set to work, and, long before my camels
arrived, had a well-fenced private courtyard, and a splendid cool shade,
while my tent served as a store for my luggage, and as a bedroom for
myself.
Having, therefore, made myself comfortable, I was quite prepared to
indulge in the luxurious luncheon sent me by the maidúkia, consisting
of a well-cooked paste of Negro millet with sour milk; after which I
received visits from the few Arabs residing here, and was pleased to
find one among them who had been Clapperton’s servant, and was well
acquainted with the whole proceedings of the first expedition. He had
been travelling about a good deal, and was able, with the assistance of
a companion of his, to give me a tolerably complete itinerary of the
route from Sókoto to Gónja, the gúro-country and the northern province
of Asianti. These Arabs necessarily lead here a very miserable sort of
existence; Sálem, however, a native of Sókna, has succeeded in amassing
a considerable fortune for these regions, and is therefore called by the
natives maidúkia. He had a freed slave of the name of Mohammed Abbeakúta,
who, though not at all an amiable man, and rather self-conceited,
nevertheless gave me some interesting information. Among other things, he
gave me a very curious list of native names of the months, which are not,
however, those used by the Háusáwa, nor, I think, by the Yórubáwa, he
having been evidently a native of Yóruba. He also gave me the following
receipt for an antidote in the case of a person being wounded by poisoned
arrows: a very young chicken is boiled with the fruits of the chamsínda,
the áddwa (_Balanites_), and the tamarind-tree; and the bitter decoction
so obtained, which is carried in a small leathern bag ready for use,
is drunk immediately after receiving the poisonous wound, when, as he
affirmed, the effect of the poison is counteracted by the medicine. The
chicken would seem to have very little effect in the composition, but
may be added as a charm. The next morning I went with ʿAbd el Khafíf to
pay our compliments to old Dan-Tanóma. His residence, surrounded by high
clay walls, and including, besides numbers of huts for his household and
numerous wives, some spacious halls of clay, was of considerable extent;
and the courtyard, shaded by a wide-spreading, luxuriant tamarind-tree,
was a very noble area. While we sat there awaiting the governor’s
pleasure, I had a fair insight into the concerns of this little court,
all the well-fed, idle parasites coming in one after the other, and
rivalling each other in trivial jokes. The Háusa language is the language
of the court; and the offices are similar to those which I mentioned
above with regard to Kanó. Having waited a long time in vain, the weak
old man sending an excuse, as he could not grant us an interview, we
returned to our quarters.
To-day being Friday was market-day; and in order to see the market in
its greatest activity I mounted at noon on horseback, and went out. In
all these parts of Negroland, the customs of which are in every respect
so different from those of Yóruba and the neighbouring countries, the
market (in Kúkawa and Maseña, as well as in Kanó, Sókoto, and even in
Timbúktu) is always most frequented and most busy in the hottest hours
of the day, notwithstanding the great fatigue which all the people, and
particularly the strangers, have to undergo. The market of Gúmmel is held
outside the town, between the two gates on the west side, but nearer to
the “chínna-n-yalá.”[36] (the northern gate), which is remarkable on
account of its well-fortified condition.
Though I had heard a good deal about Gúmmel, I was nevertheless surprised
at the size and the activity of the market, although that held on
Saturday is said to be still more important. Gúmmel is the chief market
for the very extensive trade in natron, which as I have mentioned above,
is carried on between Kúkawa and Múniyo on one side, and Núpe or Nýffi
on the other; for this trade passes from one hand into another, and the
Bórnu people very rarely carry this merchandise further than Gúmmel.
Large masses of natron, certainly amounting to at least one thousand
loads of both qualities mentioned above, were offered here for sale—the
full bullock’s load of the better quality for five thousand, an ass’s
load of the inferior sort for five hundred kurdí. There were also about
three hundred stalls or sheds, but not arranged in regular rows, where a
great variety of objects were offered for sale,—all sorts of clothing,
tools, earthenware pots, all kinds of victuals, cattle, sheep, donkeys,
horses—in short, everything of home or foreign produce which is in
request among the natives.
The Arabs have their place under a wide-spreading fig-tree, where I was
greatly pleased to make the acquaintance of a very intelligent man called
ʿAzi Mohammed Moníya, who gave me some valuable information, particularly
with regard to the route from Kanó to Tóto, and that from Sókoto to
Gónja. He also gave me the first accurate description of the immense town
Alóri, or Ilóri, the great centre of the conquering Fúlbe in Yóruba,
which I shall have frequent opportunity of mentioning in the course of
my proceedings. This man, who was really very intelligent, had travelled
a great deal, and had made a long stay in Stambúl, assured me that Alóri
was, without the least doubt, larger than the latter city. Yet this
immense town, of which the first accounts are due, I think, to Captain
Clapperton, is sought for in vain in many of our most recent maps.
Greatly delighted with my visit to the market, though not a little
affected by the exposure to the sun during the hot hours, I returned
to my quarters; for though a practised traveller will bear very well
the most scorching power of the sun, if he sets out in the morning and
by degrees becomes inured to greater and greater heat, he may suffer
fatally from exposing himself for a long time to the midday sun, after
having spent the morning in the shade. Later in the afternoon, the
governor sent, as a gift to me and ʿAbd el Khafíf, through his principal
courtiers (such as the ghaladíma, the chiróma, and others, who were
accompanied by a long train of followers), a young bullock, they being
instructed at the same time to receive in return the present, or “salám,”
as it is generally called, which we had prepared for him. I gave them
a subéta and a small flask with rose oil, which is an article in great
request with the fashionable world in Háusa and Bórnu. In the evening, we
received also corn for our horses.
_Saturday, March 15._—This was a most fortunate and lucky day for me; for
suddenly, when I least expected it, I was visited by an Arab from Sókna,
of the name of Mohammed el Mughárbi, who had just arrived with a little
caravan of Swákena from Múrzuk, and brought me a considerable number of
letters from friends in Tripoli, England, and Germany, after my having
been deprived of news from them for ten months. The letters gave me great
delight; but besides the letters there was something with them which
touched me more sensibly, by the providential way in which it supplied my
most urgent wants.
I was extremely short of cash, and having spent almost my whole supply
of shells in fitting up my quarters, paying my guides, and discharging
Makhmúd, who had proved quite unfit for service, I had very little left
wherewith to provide for our wants on our long journey to Kúkawa. How
surprised and delighted was I, then, on opening Mr. Gagliuffi’s letter,
at the unexpected appearance of two Spanish dollars, which he forwarded
to me in order to make good an error in my account with him. Two Spanish
dollars! it was the only current money I had at that time; and they
were certainly more valuable to me than so many hundreds of pounds at
other times. However, the rascal who brought me the letters had also
merchandise on the account of the mission, to the value of one hundred
pounds; but, either because he wished to deliver it to the director
himself, or in order to obtain also the hire stipulated for him if he
should be obliged to carry the merchandise on to Kúkawa, he declared that
the things had gone on in advance to Kanó,—an evident falsehood, which
eventually caused us much unnecessary expense, and brought Mr. Overweg
and myself into the greatest distress; for I did not, in fact, receive
this merchandise till after my return from Ádamáwa—having subsisted all
the time upon “air and debts.”
This and the following day I was busy answering my letters, and I
will only mention here that from this place I intimated to one of my
friends—Mr. Richard Lepsius, of Berlin—my foreboding that it might be
my destiny, after trying in vain to penetrate to any great distance
in a south-eastern direction, to turn my steps westwards, and to
fill up my researches into the regions about Timbúktu by my personal
experience. Having finished my parcel of letters, I gave it to the
Mughárbi to take with him to Kanó, and entrust it to the care of one of
my Tinýlkum friends, who would soon forward it to Múrzuk. Having been
thus freshly imbued with the restless impulse of European civilization,
and strengthened with the assurance that highly respected persons at
such a distance took a deep interest in the results of our proceedings,
I resolved not to linger a moment longer in this place, but rather to
forego the company of my amiable friend, particularly as I knew that he
was going to Múniyo, and therefore, after a few days’ march, would at
all events separate from me. And I did well; for my friend did not reach
Kúkawa before the middle of May, that is, six weeks after me. Such are
the Arabs, and woe to him who relies upon them! The same thing happened
to me on my successful return from Bórnu to the coast in 1855. Everybody
assured me that the caravan was to leave immediately: but I went on
alone in May, and reached Tripoli in August, while the caravan did not
reach Múrzuk before March 1856. I therefore sent to Dan-Tanóma, begging
him to furnish me with a horseman who would escort me to Máshena, and
he assented. It was a hazardous and troublesome undertaking: I had only
one servant, faithful, but young, and who had never before travelled
this road; besides a little boy, delicate in body and unsteady in mind,
and I was sure that I myself should have to do half the work, as well in
loading and unloading the camels as in pitching the tent, and looking
after everything.
_Monday, March 17._—Having, taken a hearty leave of ʿAbd el Khafíf,
I followed my camels and—my good luck. This was the first time on my
journey that I travelled quite alone, and I felt very happy, though, of
course, I should have been glad to have had one or two good servants.
The country on the east side of Gúmmel, at least at this time of
the year, presented a very dull and melancholy appearance, and the
most decided contrast to that cheerful and splendid scenery which is
peculiar to the landscape round Kanó. Nevertheless, it seemed to be well
inhabited, and we passed several places, some of them of tolerable size,
and surrounded with earthen walls, of very inconsiderable elevation, and
ditches; the courtyards, especially in the first town which we passed,
the name of which is Kadángaré, “the lizard” in Háusa, were wide and
spacious. A little later in the season the drought must be terribly
felt in these quarters; for even at present we had great difficulty in
watering our horses and filling a water-skin. Trees of good size became
continually more scarce, but the country was still well inhabited, and
after ten o’clock, near the little town Gósuwa, surrounded likewise by a
low earthen wall, we reached a small market-place, consisting of about
thirty stalls, where a market is held every Sunday; the town, however,
was not thickly inhabited, and near its north-east corner especially
there were large empty spaces.
Beyond this place the country became a little richer in trees, and we
here passed a large village called Gáreji, where a path branches off
leading to Maimágariá, a road generally taken by caravans. The population
of all these places is composed of Bórnu and Háusa people, and many
particular customs might be observed hereabouts, which are rather
peculiar to the latter race. Dull as the country appeared, a feeling
of tranquillity and security was communicated by the sight of little
granaries, such as I have described above, scattered about without any
protection in the neighbourhood of some villages. After we had passed the
empty market-place of the little walled town Kábbori, the surface of the
ground had a very peculiar look, being covered entirely with colocynths,
which were just in maturity. About a mile and a half further on we
took up our quarters in Benzári, a town belonging to the province of
Máshena, or Másena, and were well received and hospitably treated by the
ghaladíma. The town is separated into two parts by a spacious opening,
wherein is the principal well which supplies almost the whole population,
but its depth is considerable, being more than twenty fathoms. Here we
filled our water-skin the next morning before we set out.
_Tuesday, March 18._—Scarcely had we left Benzári behind us when my ears
were struck by the distant sound of drums and singing, and I learnt on
inquiry that it was Bokhári, or, as the Bórnu people call him, Bowári,
the deposed governor of Khadéja and the brother of Áhmedu, the present
ruler of that town. Bokhári’s name was then new, not only to me, but even
to the natives of the neighbouring provinces. He had been governor of
Khadéja, but being a clever and restless man he, or rather his jealous
brother, had excited the suspicion of his liege lord ʿAlíyu, the ruler
of Sókoto, who had deposed him and given the government to his brother
Áhmedu, whereupon Bokhári had nothing else to do but to throw himself
upon the hospitality and protection of the Bórnu people, who received
him with open arms, the governor of Máshena, with the sanction of his
liege lord the sheikh of Bórnu, assigning to him a neighbouring place,
Yerímarí, for his residence. This is an incident of very frequent
occurrence in these loosely connected empires; but it is particularly
so with the Fúlbe, among whom one brother often cherishes the most
inveterate hatred against another. Exactly the same thing we have seen
already in Kátsena. Bokhári having remained some time quietly in this
place, strengthening his party and assisted underhand with arms and men
by the vizier of Bórnu, had just now set out to try his fortune against
his brother, and was beating the drums in order to collect as many people
as possible.
Predatory incursions are nothing new in these quarters, where several
provinces and entirely distinct empires have a common frontier; but this,
as the event proved, was rather a memorable campaign for the whole of
this part of Negroland, and was to become “the beginning of sorrows”
for all the country around. For Bokhári having taken the strong town of
Khadéja, and killed his brother, was not only able to defend himself
in his new position, vanquishing all the armies sent against him, and
amongst them the whole military force of the empire of Sókoto, which was
led on by the vizier in person, ʿAbdu the son of Gegádo, Clapperton’s
old friend, but spread terror and devastation to the very gates of Kanó.
Indeed, on my second journey through these regions, I shall have the sad
duty of describing the state of misery into which districts, which on
my former visit I had found flourishing and populous, had been reduced
by this warlike chieftain, who instead of founding a strong kingdom
and showing himself a great prince, chose rather, like most of his
countrymen, to base his power on the destruction and devastation of the
country around him, and to make himself a slave-dealer on a grand scale.
Tens of thousands of unfortunate people, pagans as well as Mohammedans,
unprotected in their wellbeing by their lazy and effeminate rulers, have
from the hands of Bokhári passed into those of the slave-dealer, and have
been carried away from their native home into distant regions.
Kept in alarm by the drumming, and making some not very tranquillizing
reflections on the weakness of our little band, which consisted of three
men and a boy, in the turbulent state of the country through which we
were passing, we continued silently on, while the character of the
landscape had nothing peculiarly adapted to cheer the mind. Cultivation
beginning to cease, nothing was to be seen but an immense level tract
of country covered with the monotonous _Asclepias gigantea_ with only a
single poor _Balanites_ now and then. But the scene became more animated
as we approached Chifówa, a considerable town surrounded by a low earthen
wall, which I was greatly astonished to hear belonged still to the
territory of Gúmmel, and was also assigned to Bokhári during his exile.
The boundary between the provinces must run here in a very waving line.
All that I observed here testified that the Háusa population still
greatly predominated; and as we had to turn close round the place on the
north side, where the ground rose, we had a fine view over the whole
interior of the town. It presented a very animated spectacle; and a large
number of horsemen were assembled here, evidently in connection with
the enterprise of Bokhári, while men and women were busy carrying water
into the town from a considerable distance. Of cultivation, however,
very few traces appeared; but a good many cattle and sheep, and even
some camels, were seen grazing about. In Kaselúwa also, the next town,
we were complimented with the usual Háusa salute. Having then passed
through a monotonous tract of country covered with tall reed-grass and
with the _Asclepias_, we reached the town of Yélkazá at half-past nine
o’clock in the morning. Here the governor of the province of Máshena, who
generally has his residence in the town of the same name, was staying at
present, apparently on account of the expedition of Bokhári, which he was
assisting underhand; and I accordingly had to pay him my compliments, as
my horseman, who was a servant of Dan-Tanóma, could not well conduct me
any further. We therefore entered the town by the north gate, and found
people very busy repairing the fortification, consisting of two walls and
three ditches of considerable depth, two of which ran outside round the
outer wall, while the third was enclosed between the two walls.
Having presented ourselves at the residence of the governor, which
was situated in the middle of the town, and consisted altogether of
reed-work, we obtained good quarters, with a spacious and cool shed,
which was the only thing we wanted; for being anxious not to lose
any more time, I had resolved to start again in the afternoon. In
order, therefore, to obtain a guide as soon as possible, I went to
pay my compliments to the governor, whose name was Mohammed. After a
little delay, he came out of the interior of his reed-house into the
audience-hall, which likewise consisted entirely of reed-work, but was
spacious and airy; there he sat down upon a sort of divan, similar to the
ánkaréb used in Egypt, and made of the branches of the tukkurúwa, which
had been brought in expressly for the purpose. My interview, however,
was short, for neither was he himself a lively or inquisitive man, nor
was my Tébu servant, whom, as I myself was not yet able to speak Kanúri
with tolerable fluency, I was obliged to employ as interpreter, at all
distinguished either by eloquence or by frankness, though in other
respects he was an excellent lad.
I obtained, however, all that I wanted, the governor assigning me
immediately a man who should accompany me to ghaladíma ʿOmár, the
governor of Búndi, and I was glad that he did not grumble at my present,
which consisted only of a small phial of rose oil and a quarter of a
pound of cloves. The best and most usual present for the governors on
this road, who are justly entitled to some gift, as no tolls are to
be paid, is a subéta, or white shawl with red or yellow border, such
as are brought from Egypt, which may be accompanied with some spices.
The old man also sent me, after a little while, when I had returned
to my quarters, a dish which at least was not richer than my present,
consisting in a very unpalatable paste of Negro corn, with a nasty sauce
of míya, or molukhíya. Háusa with its delicacies was behind us; and I was
unable to procure, either for hospitality’s sake or for money, a dish of
“fúra,” which I had become very fond of.
The heat was very great, though a light fresh breeze from the east made
it supportable; and my new guide seemed by no means so anxious to go on
as I was, so that I was obliged to search for him a long while. Having
at length laid hold of him we started, passing through an undulating
country without cultivation, and covered only with brushwood, and with
the dreadfully monotonous káwo or _Asclepias_, when after three miles
it became a little varied by underwood, the scene being enlivened by a
karábka, or káfila, with nine camels coming from Kúkawa.
Thus we approached Taganáma, a considerable town, enclosed with a wall
and a double ditch. We were obliged, however, to go round the whole
town, the western gate being closed, and a sort of outwork, such as is
very rare in these countries, consisting in a cross ditch projecting
to a great distance, being made at its north-east corner. At length we
reached the eastern gate, and entered the town. Its interior left on us
an impression of good order and comfort; all the fences of the courtyards
were in excellent repair, the huts large and spacious, and a certain air
of wellbeing was spread over the whole place. Having obtained tolerable
quarters, and corn for my guide’s horse and my own, we lay down early, in
order to continue our journey with the first dawn next morning, but were
aroused at midnight by some people arriving and stating, with an air of
great importance, that they had letters for me. Greatly surprised, and
wondering what these important despatches could be, I got up, but found,
when I had kindled a light, that the letters were not for me at all but
addressed to persons in Kúkawa unknown to me, by others in Kanó not
better known. These unknown friends most probably, after I had fairly
set out, had determined not to let slip this excellent opportunity of
communicating with their friends in Kúkawa. However, the carriers of
the letters thinking, and perhaps expressly made to think, that they
had brought some important message for me, expected a handsome present;
and I had some difficulty in persuading them that they were only giving
me trouble for the sake of other people. Nevertheless, as they were
unprovided with food, I ordered Mohammed to cook a supper for them; and
after having disturbed my night’s rest by their noisy conversation, they
made off again long before daylight. For in this whole district, where
so many different nationalities border close together, the greatest
insecurity reigns, and the inhabitants of one town cannot safely trust
themselves to those of a neighbouring place without fear of being sold as
slaves, or at least of being despoiled of the little they have.
My fine lancer, with whose manly bearing I had been very much pleased
yesterday, appeared to have thought that, instead of exposing himself
alone, by accompanying me further through a disturbed and infested
district, he would do better to retrace his steps in the company of these
people; for the next morning he was gone, and no trace of him was to be
found. Perhaps he was anxious to join the expedition against Khadéja,
where the soldier might make his fortune, while with me he could only
expect to gain a few hundred shells; but whatever was his reason for
decamping, he left me in a state of great perplexity, as I was in a
hurry to go on as fast as possible; and in a country where there are
no highroads, but where even tracks so important as that from Kanó to
Kúkawa are nothing but small paths leading from one village or from one
town to another, I could not well dispense with a guide. As regards
security, I could only rely upon Providence and my own courage. Having
in vain searched for my man, I loaded the camels, and mounting my horse,
proceeded to the residence of the governor, who is the vassal of the
ruler of Máshena. He, having been informed by his servants, soon came
forth, a tall imposing figure, and seeing that my complaint was just, his
liege lord having expressly assigned me the horseman in order to conduct
me to Búndi, he assured me that he would find another guide for me; but
as it would take some time, he ordered one of his servants to lead me out
of the town to a place where the camels meanwhile might graze a little.
Seeing that he was a just and intelligent man, I thanked him for his
kindness, and followed his servant, who conducted us a few hundred yards
from the town, where there was most excellent pasturage for the camels.
While we were waiting here for the guide, my companion, who was a
sociable sort of man, helped me pass the time most agreeably with his
instructive talk. I had observed a very curious object at the governor’s
house—a leathern parcel of considerable dimensions, tied up with great
care and hung on a long pole, and I had fancied that it contained the
body of a criminal exposed there to every man’s sight as a warning
example of severe punishment; but to my great astonishment I now learned
that it was a powerful talisman suspended in order to protect the town
against the Felláta, as the Bórnu people call the Fúlbe, whose inroads
were greatly feared. He likewise informed me that four years ago there
was a desperate struggle for Taganáma, when that town very narrowly
escaped falling into the hands of those fanatical invaders. He praised
his master, whose name as I now learned was Ísa. The cheerful aspect of
the town seemed fully to confirm his praises, and I expressed my hope
that his watchfulness and energy might be a better safeguard to the
inhabitants than that monstrous talisman, the dimensions of which were
really frightful. I was greatly pleased also to observe here the very
first signs of preparing the ground for the approaching season, the
slaves being busy clearing the soil with a sort of strong rake provided
with four long wooden teeth, called “kámga”; but this is very rarely
done, and the preparatory labours of agriculture must differ more or less
in different districts according to the peculiar nature of the ground.
At length we saw the guides coming towards us. Instead of a horseman
there were two archers on foot, short muscular men, clad only with a
leathern apron round their loins, and for arms bearing, besides bow and
arrows, the peculiar little Mánga battle-axe, which they carry on their
shoulders, while a good sized leathern pocket for carrying provisions,
and several diminutive garra bottles hung down by their sides. In short,
they were real Mánga warriors, though they certainly did not inspire us
with all the confidence which we should have wished to repose in a guide.
However, having made them promise in the presence of the governor’s
servant, who professed to know them well, that they would accompany me to
Búndi, I started with them.
Having lost the finest hours of the morning, I was naturally anxious not
to waste more time; and I was glad to perceive that the fine eastern
breeze, which had prevailed for some days, greatly lessened the power
of the sun. Soon afterwards we met the brother of the governor of
Máshena, with a troop of twelve horsemen, hastening towards the point
where the memorable campaign of Bokhári was to commence. The country
was very monotonous, being soon covered with a forest of mean growth,
uninterrupted by any tree of larger size, except the bare dismal-looking
kúka or monkey-bread-tree, and presented evident signs of destructive
warfare waged throughout it; we passed the former sites of several small
towns and villages. The soil consisted here of deep white sand. After
a march of about eight miles, however, the vegetation began to assume
a different character, the ngílle or dúm-bush first appearing, then a
karáge or gáwo (the locust-tree) being seen now and then, after which the
dúm-palm began to prevail entirely. The substratum of this district is
evidently granite, which seems to lie very close to the surface, as about
noon a large mass of this rock projected near our path. A little beyond
this point the wilderness was agreeably interrupted by an opening with
stubble-fields, about which were scattered small granaries, producing,
at such a distance from any inhabited place and without guardians, an
agreeable feeling of security.
Half an hour afterwards we reached the stockade of Wuélleri, and
proceeded directly to the house of the bíllama or mayor, as I wished to
obtain here another guide, for it was only with the greatest difficulty
that I succeeded in dragging on thus far my two archers, who had shown
signs of the greatest anxiety during the latter part of the march, and
had tried several times to turn their backs; but further they would not
go on any account, and I was therefore obliged to dismiss them, paying
them three hundred shells. Unfortunately the bíllama was not at home,
and his brother proved to be a morose and surly fellow. I wished to
stay here only during the hot hours of the day, and to proceed in the
evening after having watered the camels; but he represented to me that
the town of Máshena was too distant to be reached before night, if I
did not go on directly. As this was impossible, I resolved to stay here
for the night, and pitched my tent in an open place in front of a cool
shed. However, we found great difficulty in watering our animals, the
Mánga pretending that there was no water, though we ourselves had passed
the well where the cattle had just been watered. Certainly the aquatic
element was very scarce; and, after much debate, I was at length obliged
to pay one hundred and fifty shells—an enormous charge, if the general
price of the necessaries of life in this country be considered. Thus our
poor camels got at length something to drink, and, with a good feed in
the afternoon, were prepared for a long march the following day. However,
we still wanted a guide; and, notwithstanding our begging, promising,
and threatening, we were unable to persuade any one to accompany us on
to Búndi. The reason of this, however, was not only on account of the
absence of the governor of Máshena from his capital, but likewise owing
to the unsettled state of the country, and the fear entertained by these
people of being caught and sold into slavery. Indeed, between all these
towns, there was scarcely any mutual intercourse kept up by the natives
themselves.
_Thursday, March 20._—Having exerted myself to the utmost to obtain a
guide, I found myself obliged to start alone with my two young lads, the
eldest of whom was eighteen, and the other not more than thirteen or
fourteen years of age. Field and forest succeeded alternately to each
other; and after a little less than two miles, we passed on our left a
small village lightly fenced. Here we met also a small caravan, as a
faint symptom of peaceable intercourse, though its array (covered as it
went by an advanced guard of three archers marching at some distance, and
performing at the same time the office of scouts, and by a rearguard of
two more) showed clearly their sense of insecurity. The country now began
to improve considerably; and a beautiful tamarind-tree vested in the
richest foliage, and closely embracing a colossal leafless _Adansonia_,
formed the beginning of a finer vegetation, while two mounts, one on
our right hand and the other on our left, interrupted the monotonous
level through which we had been travelling. Further on, granitic masses
projected on all sides, and a solitary date-palm spread a peculiar charm
over the landscape.
Having watered my horse at a well in the hollow between the two mounts,
I reached, with my camels, the ditch and thorny fence then forming the
only fortification of the town of Máshena, which place was strengthened,
in the following year, with a clay wall. It lies on the gentle southern
slope of an eminence, the top of which is crowned with a rocky crest,
and is a considerable place for this country, having a population of
certainly not less than ten thousand souls, but without the least sign
of industry. A small káfila of Tébu and Arab merchants were encamped
here; but although we arrived at the very hottest time of the day, I was
too anxious to proceed to think of staying here; and having only asked
the news from Kúkawa, and heard that all was well, I continued my march.
It shows the slowness of intercourse in this country, that these people
were ignorant of Mr. Richardson’s death, although he had died twenty days
before at a place only six days’ march on this side of Kúkawa.
Keeping steadily on, first over open pasture-grounds, then through a
country well wooded, we reached, after a march of about seven miles, a
village, and entered it cheerfully with the intention of spending the
night there, but were greatly disappointed on discovering that it was
entirely deserted, and did not contain a living creature. Fortunately,
however, after consulting what was to be done, we found a traveller
who showed us a small path which was to lead us to the town of Alamáy.
He also informed us that the inhabitants of this village, the name of
which was Jáwel, had formed a new village further south. The little
path pointed out, however, was so overgrown and slightly marked that we
soon became doubtful and perplexed. I went, therefore, to inquire of a
shepherd whom we saw at some little distance on the right of our path;
but no sooner did he observe me approaching than he ran away, leaving his
flock at our discretion.
The state of this country is very miserable indeed, all the petty
governors around, as soon as they have any debts to pay, undertaking a
predatory expedition, and often selling even their own subjects. However,
we were lucky in finding at last a more trodden path, which soon brought
us to an open, straggling village named Kárgímawa, which displayed a
most animated and cheerful picture of a wealthy and industrious little
community—the men sitting in the shade of some fine caoutchouc-trees,
some of them busy making mats others weaving, while the women were
carrying water, or setting the pot upon the fire for the evening repast.
Cattle, goats, and fowl roved about in considerable quantities.
Quite delighted at arriving (in consequence of having strayed from the
direct road) at this sequestered place, we pitched our tent with a
grateful sense of security, and squatted comfortably down, while the
camels found a rich repast in the fields. In one thing, however, I was
disappointed. The sight of so many cattle had led me to anticipate a
good draught of milk; but the cattle did not belong to the inhabitants,
and before sunset they were driven away. In other respects we were
hospitably treated, and four little dishes were brought us in the evening
from different huts, three of which contained paste of Guinea-corn, and
one beans. The latter always seemed to me an agreeable variety; but a
European must be very cautious how he indulges in them in these regions,
as they are apt to derange the stomach, and to bring on serious illness.
_Friday, March 21._—Very early in the morning a numerous troop of small
tradesmen, with pack-oxen, passed through the village while we awaited
daylight; and then having gratefully taken leave of the hospitable
villagers, we set out, accompanied by one of them, to show us the road.
Having passed the former site of a little town, we soon gained the
direct road, where we fell in with a motley gipsy-looking troop of those
Tébu-Jétko, who, after the almost total annihilation of the commonwealth
of Kánem, have immigrated into Bórnu. Those we met here were coming from
Zínder. They had a few horses, oxen, and asses with them, but scarcely
any luggage; and the whole attire of men, women, and children was very
poor. We then passed the little town of Álamáy, surrounded not only with
an earthen wall and ditch, but also with a dense thorny fence some ten
feet thick on the outside. Here was exhibited the pleasant picture of a
numerous herd of fine cattle lying tranquilly on the spacious area inside
the wall, ruminating their last day’s repast, while a large extent of
cultivated ground around the town gave ample proof of the industry of
the people. But the well-being of the inhabitants of these regions has
very little guarantee; and when, toward the end of the year 1854, I again
travelled this same road, not a single cow was to be seen here, and the
whole place looked mournful and deserted, tall reed-grass covering the
fields which had been formerly cultivated.
Having then passed a thick forest of underwood, and some cultivated
ground, half an hour before noon we reached Búndi,[37] the residence
of the ghaladíma ʿOmár, fortified in the same way as Álamáy, and went
up directly to the house of the governor, which consists entirely
of reed-work. However, the mats (“lágará”) which surround the whole
establishment are of very great height, at least fifteen feet, and of
considerable thickness, made of a peculiar reed called “súgu,” and being
sustained by long poles, and kept in a good state of repair, do not look
ill. Besides, they are in general strengthened still further on the
outside by a fence of thorny bushes.
The ghaladíma,[38] or governor of the Gháladí, which (as we shall see in
the historical account of the Bórnu empire) comprised all the western
provinces of Bórnu from the komádugu Wáube (the so-called Yéou) to the
shores of the Kwára, having his residence in Bírni Ngurú, near Mármar,
in former times was an officer (or rather an almost independent feudal
vassal) of immense power; at present, however, he has sunk to great
insignificance, and in real power is much inferior to his neighbours the
governors of Múniyo, Zínder, and even that of Máshena. But the present
ghaladíma ʿOmár is an intriguing man; and it would have been imprudent to
pass on without paying him the compliment of a visit; and I was justified
in hoping that he would provide me with a guide in order that I might
reach as soon as possible the presence of his liege lord the sheikh of
Bórnu.
Not being able to see him directly, I was obliged to sacrifice half a
day, and to make up my mind to spend the night here. I therefore asked
for quarters, and was lodged in a spacious but dirty courtyard, where
I could procure but a very insufficient shade with my little English
bell-tent of thin canvas. Having passed two uncomfortable hours without
any refreshment, I was called in the afternoon into the presence of the
governor, and being obliged to leave my servant behind to take care of my
luggage while ʿAbdallah was pasturing the camels, I went alone, and found
the great man in a spacious room or hall formed entirely of matwork,
where he was lying upon an elevated platform or divan spread with a
carpet. He was a short, well-fed, dark-coloured man, of about sixty years
of age, his large, broad face looking forth from the hood of a blue
cloth bernús, with a neutral expression indicating neither stupidity
nor cleverness; his courtiers were grouped around him on the ground.
Having saluted him and made the usual polite inquiries, I expressed my
ardent desire to reach Kúkawa as soon as possible, as the day which I
had fixed with my elder brother (Mr. Richardson) for a meeting in that
place was drawing nigh; and I begged him, therefore, to grant me a guide
who might conduct me there by the most direct road, of which I myself
was ignorant, much time having been already lost in groping my way from
one place to another. I then delivered my little present, consisting of
an English razor and clasp-knife, a large mirror of German silver, a
parcel of English darning-needles, half a pound of cloves, and a piece of
scented soap. Having looked at these things with satisfaction, he asked
me if I had not anything marvellous with me; and I consented to return
to my quarters and fetch my musical box, with the performance of which
the ghaladíma was highly pleased, but greatly desired to see some other
curious things, such as pocket-pistols, whereupon I told him that I had
nothing else calculated to gratify his curiosity. I was much fatigued,
and on returning to my tent was not at all pleased to be still troubled
by the governor’s servant, who came to ask, in the name of his master,
for calico, sugar, rose oil, and sundry other articles.
Búndi is a place of tolerable size, but with little industry; and the
province of which it is the capital is going to ruin more and more, on
account of the laziness and negligence of its governor,—a statement
which will be amply proved by the account of my journey through the same
district in 1854. The town probably contains eight or nine thousand
inhabitants, who belong to the Mánga nation, which seems to be the chief
element of the Kanúri, and preserves many very remarkable customs. The
special name of the clan of this tribe which dwells hereabouts is Kárda.
There is no market here of any importance; but the inhabitants seem to be
tolerably at their ease, and there was music and racing, or “kadáske,”
in the evening, accompanied by the joyous shrill voices, the “wulúli,”
of the women. We, however, seemed to be forgotten; and it was nine
o’clock at night, long after we had supped, when we received a dish for
ourselves, and corn for the horse. It is rather remarkable that these
western provinces of Bórnu were never conquered by the Fúlbe or Felláta,
though lying so much nearer to those countries of which they have
definitively taken possession than that part of Bórnu situated between
the old capital and the great lagoon. The consequence is, that a certain
degree of independence is allowed to them, and that they do not pay any
tithes to the sheikh.[39]
CHAPTER XXVII.
BÓRNU PROPER.
_Saturday, March 22._—The ghaladíma had promised to send me a horseman
last evening, as I wanted to start early in the morning; but as we
neither saw nor heard anything of him the whole night, I thought it
better not to lose any more time, but to rely upon my own resources, and
accordingly left the town quietly by the northern gate, while the people,
after last night’s merriment, were still buried in sleep.
Following the great road, we kept on through a light forest, at times
interrupted by a little cultivation. We met several parties—first of
a warlike character, armed, horse and foot, then a motley band of
natron-traders with camels, bulls, horses and asses, all laden with this
valuable article. Emerging at length from the forest, we came upon a
wide extent of cultivated land with a sandy soil, with hardly a single
tree at present, and, the labours of the field not having yet commenced,
still covered with the káwo or _Asclepias_, the characteristic weed
of Negroland, which every year, at the beginning of the agricultural
season, is cleared away, and which during the dry season grows again,
often to the height of ten or twelve feet. We then had a most interesting
and cheerful scene of African life in the open, straggling village of
Kálimarí or Kálemrí, divided into two distinct groups by a wide open
space, where numerous herds of cattle were just being watered at the
wells; but how melancholy, how mournful, became the recollection of the
busy animated scene which I then witnessed, when three years and a half
later, as I travelled again through this district, the whole village,
which now presented such a spectacle of happiness and well-being, had
disappeared, and an insecure wilderness, greatly infested by robbers, had
succeeded to the cheerful abode of man.
But inviting as the village was for a halt during the heat of the day,
we had, as conscientious and experienced travellers, the stomachs of our
poor animals more at heart than our own; and having watered the horse
and filled our skins, we continued on for a while, and then halted in
very rich herbage, where, however, there was scarcely a spot free from
the disagreeable “ngíbbu,” the _Pennisetum distichum_. On starting again
in the afternoon, the country began to exhibit a greater variety of
bush and tree; and after a march of two hours, we reached the village
Dármagwá, surrounded with a thorny fence, and encamped near it, not far
from another little trading-party. We were soon joined by a troop of five
Tébu merchants with two camels, a horse, and two pack-oxen, who were also
going to Kúkawa, but who, unfortunately, did not suit me as constant
companions, their practice being to start early in the morning long
before daylight, which was against my principle, as well in a scientific
as in a material point of view; for neither should I have been able to
lay down the road with correctness, nor would even the best arms have
guaranteed my safety while marching in the dark. We therefore allowed
them next morning to have the start of us for full two hours, and then
followed.
_Sunday, March 23._—We now entered a district which may be most
appropriately called the exclusive region of the dúm-palm or _Cucifera
Thebaïca_ in Negroland; for though this tree is found, in large clusters
or in detached specimens, in many localities of Central Africa, yet it
is always limited to some favoured spot, especially to the bank of a
watercourse, as the komádugu near the town of Yo, and there is no other
district of such extent as this tract between Kálemrí and Zurríkulo where
the _Cucifera Thebaïca_ is the characteristic and almost the only tree.
My Gatróni thought that the trees would perhaps not bear fruit here; but
on my second journey, in the month of December, they were loaded with
fruit.
The country has a very peculiar open character, a sandy level very
slightly undulating, covered thinly with tall reed-grass shooting forth
from separate bunches, the line of view broken only now and then by a
cluster of slender fan-palms, without a single trace of cultivation. I
was anxious afterwards to know whether this tract has always had this
monotonous, deserted character, or whether it had contained formerly any
towns and villages; and from all that I could learn, the former seems to
be the case. However, our road was frequented, and we met several little
troops of native travellers, with one of whom I saw the first specimen of
the “kúri,” a peculiar kind of bull of immense size and strength, with
proportionately, large horns of great thickness and curving inwards. They
are almost all of white colour. Their original home is Kárgá, the cluster
of islands and swampy ground at the eastern corner of the Tsád.
After five hours’ marching, when we had just traversed a small hollow
full of herbage, the dúm-palm was for a moment superseded by other
trees, chiefly by the gáwo or karáge; but it soon after again asserted
its eminence as the predominating tree. We encamped at length, ignorant
as we were of the country, a few minutes beyond a small village, the
first human abode we had met with since we had left Dármagwá, half an
hour before noon, in the shade of a tamarind-tree, surrounded by a
thick cluster of dúm-palms. Certainly the tamarind-tree indicated that
water was near: but I was not a little surprised, when ʿAbdallah, who
was tending the camels, brought me the news that a considerable river,
now stagnant, was close behind us. It was, as I afterwards learnt, the
“Wáni,” that branch of the komádugu Wáube (erroneously called “Yéu”)
which runs past Khadéja and joins the other branch which comes from
Katágum. We therefore watered our camels here without being obliged to
pay a single shell, and gave them a good feed, after which we resumed our
march, and were not a little astonished when, having crossed the komádugu
where it formed a narrow meandering channel about fifty yards broad, and
bordered on both sides with trees, we discovered the town of Zurríkulo at
a short distance before us. Going round the north side of the town, we
entered the dilapidated wall on the eastern side, where there was an open
space, and pitched my tent close to the Tébu, who had arrived already in
the forenoon. Soon after, there arrived also a káfila, with twelve camels
and a number of oxen and asses, from Kúkawa, and I was anxious to obtain
some news of Mr. Richardson; but these people were utterly ignorant of
the actual or expected arrival of any Christian in that place. They told
me, however, what was not very agreeable, that the sheikh of Bórnu was
about to undertake a pilgrimage to Mekka; but fortunately, though that
was the heart’s desire of that mild and pious man, he could not well
carry it into execution.
I had now entered Bórnu proper, the nucleus of that great Central African
empire in its second stage, after Kánem had been given up. It is bordered
towards the east by the great sea-like komádugu the Tsád or Tsáde, and
towards the west and north-west by the little komádugu which by the
members of the last expedition had been called Yéou, from the town of
that name, or rather Yó, near which they first made its acquaintance on
their way from Fezzán. I had now left behind me those loosely attached
principalities which still preserve some sort of independence, and
henceforth had only to do with Bórnu officers. Not feeling very well, I
remained in my tent without paying my compliments to the officer here
stationed, whose name is Kashélla Sʿaid, with whom I became acquainted
on another occasion, but the good man being informed by the people that
a stranger from a great distance, who was going to visit his liege lord,
had entered his town, sent his people to welcome me, and regaled me with
several bowls of very good paste, with fresh fish, and a bowl of milk.
Zurríkulo was once a large town, and at the time of the inroad of Wadáÿ
revolted from the sheikh, but was obliged to surrender to his brother
ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán. Since then it has gradually been decaying, and is now
half deserted. The neighbourhood of the town is full of wild animals; and
great fear was entertained by my companions for our beasts, as we had no
protection in our rear. The roaring of a lion was heard during the night.
_Monday, March 24._—Next morning, when we resumed our march, the fan-palm
for some time continued to be the prevailing tree; but some kúkas also,
or _Adonsonia digitata_, and other more leafy trees began to appear, and
after a while a thick underwood sprang up. Then followed a few scattered,
I might say forlorn, date-trees, which looked like strangers in the
country, transplanted into this region by some accident. The sky was
clear; and I was leaning carelessly upon my little nag, musing on the
original homes of all the plants which now adorn different countries,
when I saw advancing towards us a strange-looking person of very fair
complexion, richly dressed and armed, and accompanied by three men on
horseback, likewise armed with musket and pistols. Seeing that he was a
person of consequence, I rode quickly up to him and saluted him, when
he, measuring me with his eyes, halted and asked me whether I was the
Christian who was expected to arrive from Kanó; and on my answering
him in the affirmative, he told me distinctly that my fellow-traveller
Yakúb (Mr. Richardson) had died before reaching Kúkawa, and that all his
property had been seized. Looking him full in the face, I told him that
this, if true, was serious news; and then he related some particulars,
which left but little doubt as to the truth of his statement. When
his name was asked, he called himself Ismʿaíl; I learned, however,
afterwards, from other people, that he was the Sheríf el Habíb, a native
of Morocco, and really of noble blood, a very learned, but extremely
passionate man, who, in consequence of a dispute with Mʿallem Mohammed
had been just driven out of Kúkawa by the sheikh of Bórnu.
This sad intelligence deeply affected me, as it involved not only the
life of an individual, but the whole fate of the mission; and though
some room was left for doubt, yet in the first moment of excitement, I
resolved to leave my two young men behind with the camels, and to hurry
on alone on horseback. But Mohammed would not hear of this proposal; and
indeed as I certainly could not reach Kúkawa in less than four days, and
as part of the road was greatly infested by the Tuarek, such an attempt
might have exposed me to a great deal of inconvenience. But we determined
to go on as fast as the camels would allow us. We halted at eleven
o’clock, shaded by the trunk of an immense leafless monkey-bread-tree,
a little behind the walled place Kábi, the southern quarter of which is
alone inhabited, and where our friends the Tébu had encamped. Starting
then together with them at two o’clock in the afternoon, we took the road
by Déffowa, leaving on our right that which passes Donári, the country
now assuming a more hospitable and very peculiar character.
For here begins a zone characterized by sandy downs from one hundred
to one hundred and twenty feet high, and exhibiting on their summits a
level plain of excellent arable soil, but with few trees, while the dells
separating these downs one from the other, and which often wind about in
the most anomalous manner, are in general richly overgrown with a rank
vegetation, among which the dúm-palm and the dúm-bush are predominant.
This curious formation, I fancy, has some connection with the great
lagoon, which in a former period must have been of much greater extent.
The intercourse on the road this afternoon was exceedingly animated;
and one motley troop followed another,—Háusa fatáki, Bórnu traders or
“tugúrchi,” Kánembú Tébu, Shúwa Arabs, and others of the roving tribe of
the Welád Slimán, all mixed together,—while their beasts of burden formed
a multifarious throng of camels, oxen, horses, and asses. The Welád
Slimán, who were bringing camels for sale to the market of Kanó, were
greatly frightened when I told them what had happened to their brethren
near Kúka mairuá, as they were conscious that most of the camels now
with them were of the number of those which two years ago had been taken
from the Kél-owí in Bilma. As evening came on, the dells which we had to
traverse were thronged with thousands of wild pigeons, carrying on their
amorous play in the cool twilight of approaching night. All was silent
with the exception of a distant hum, becoming more and more distinct as
we wound along the side of an exuberant meandering valley. The noise
proceeded from the considerable town of Déffowa, which we reached at a
quarter past seven o’clock, and encamped at a little distance to the
north. Lively music never ceased in the town till a late hour.
_Tuesday, March 25._—All was still silent in the place when, early in
the morning, I set out with my little troop to follow the track of our
temporary companions the Tébu. The village was surrounded only by a light
thorny fence; but it seemed to be prosperous and densely inhabited. The
country continued similar in character, but better cultivated than the
tract we had traversed the day before; and the immense multitude of wild
pigeons, which found a secure and pleasant haunt in the rank vegetation
of the hollows, made it necessary to resort to some expedient to keep
them off. High platforms were therefore erected in the fields, in the
shade of some tree; and ropes drawn from them were fastened to poles and
coated with a peculiar vegetable extract, which caused them, if put into
motion by a person stationed upon the platform, to give forth a loud
sound, which kept the birds at a respectful distance. We saw here also
a small cotton-field. If the country were more densely inhabited and
the people more industrious and better protected by their slave-hunting
governors, all the lowlands and valley-like hollows, which during the
rainy season form so many water-channels, and retain a great degree of
moisture during the whole year, would afford the most splendid ground for
this branch of cultivation.
The repeated ascent and descent along steep slopes of deep sandy soil
more than a hundred feet high was very fatiguing for the camels. While
ascending one of these ridges, we had a very charming view over the whole
of the neat little village of Kálowa, lying along the slope and in the
hollow to our left. It was rather small, containing about two hundred
huts, but every yard was shaded by a korna or bíto-tree (_Balanites_);
and comfort (according to the wants felt by the natives) and industry
were everywhere manifested. In the midst was a large open space, where
the cattle were collecting round the wells to be watered, while the
people were drawing water to fill the large round hollows, “kéle nkíbe,”
made with little clay walls to serve as troughs. The blacksmith was seen
busy at his simple work, making new hoes for the approaching season;
the weaver was sitting at his loom; several were making mats of reed;
some women were carrying water from the wells, some spinning or cleaning
the cotton, while others pounded corn for their daily consumption. The
little granaries, in order to preserve the stock of corn from the danger
of conflagration, which every moment threatens these light structures
of straw and reed, were erected on a sandy level near the edge of the
slope. Even the fowls had their little separate abodes, also of reed,
very thrifty and neat, as the accompanying woodcut will show. Such was
the simple but nevertheless cheerful picture which this little village
exhibited. My two boys were a long way ahead of me when I awoke from my
reverie and followed them.
[Illustration]
It was shortly before we came to this village that we passed the enormous
skeleton of an elephant,—the first trace of this animal which I had seen
since Gazáwa (I mean the independent pagan place of that name between
Tasáwa and Kátsena). The road was frequented; early in the morning we
had met a party of tugúrchi with pack-oxen, who had been travelling a
great part of the night, as they generally do on account of this beast
of burden bearing the heat of the day very badly. About an hour’s march
beyond Kálowa we met a party of horsemen coming from Kúkawa; and as their
head man appeared to be an intelligent person, I approached him, and
asked him the news of the place. He most probably took me for an Arab,
and told me that all was well, but that the Christian who had been coming
from a far distant country to pay his compliments to the sheíkh had died
more than twenty days ago, in a place called Ngurútuwa, before reaching
Kúkawa. There could now be no more doubt of the sad event; and with deep
emotion I continued my march, praying to the Merciful to grant me better
success than had fallen to the lot of my companion, and to strengthen me,
that I might carry out the benevolent and humane purposes of our mission.
This district also has a very scanty supply of water; and it took us more
than half an hour to collect, from four wells near another small village,
a sufficient supply for my horse; but as to filling our water-skins, it
was not to be thought of. The wells were ten fathoms deep. We halted
half an hour before noon, not far from another well, at the foot of a
sandy swell upon which the little village “Mʿallem Kerémerí” is situated.
Here, as well as in the village passed in the morning, we could not
obtain beans, though the cultivation of them is in general carried
on to a great extent; but this district seemed to produce millet or
_Pennisetum typhoïdeum_ almost exclusively—at least no sorghum was to
be seen. Keeping generally along a hollow, which however was not much
depressed, and which consisted of arable sandy soil with a few bushes
and trees, we reached the little town or village Dunú, surrounded with
a ditch and earthen wall in decay, so that the gate had become useless.
There was a large open space inside, and as the inhabitants, who gave us
a very cheerful welcome, advised us not to encamp outside, on account of
the number of wild beasts infesting the neighbourhood, we pitched the
tent inside the wall. We might have passed a very comfortable evening
with the natives, who took great interest in me, had it not been for my
faithful old companion the Bú-Séfi, the best (or rather the only good
one) of my three camels, which, when it was growing dark, and ʿAbdallah
went to bring the animals back from their pasture, could not be found.
The careless boy had neglected to fasten the camel’s legs; and being
very hungry, it had gone in search of better herbage. This was a very
disagreeable accident for me, as I was in the greatest hurry; and my
two young lads, who were well aware of it, went for several hours,
accompanied by the inhabitants of the place, in every direction, through
the whole tract where the camels had been grazing, lighting the ground
with torches, but all in vain.
Wearied and exhausted, they returned about midnight and lay down to
sleep, the music and dance also, which the cheerful natives had kept
up, dying away at the same time. About an hour later, being too much
excited from anxiety to obtain sleep, I went out once more to see if
all was right, when I saw my favourite coming slowly along towards the
tent; and on reaching it he laid down by the side of his two inferior
companions. There was no moonlight; the night was very dark; evidently
only the brightness of the well-known white tent guided the “stupid”
animal. But this was no great proof of stupidity; and I am rather afraid
that Europeans often make camels stupid by their own foolish treatment of
them, whereas I was wont to treat this noble animal, which had carried
myself or the heaviest of my things all the way from Tripoli, as a
sensible companion, giving it in the beginning the peel of the oranges I
was eating, of which it was particularly fond, or a few of my dates (for
which it did not fail to turn round its beautiful neck), or granting it
a little extra feed of Negro millet which it ate like a horse. Rejoiced
at seeing my favourite, the absence of which had created such anxiety,
returning of its own accord to my tent, and lying down near it, I aroused
my servant from his sleep to tell him the joyful news. I wanted to reward
it with some corn, but it had taken such good care of itself, that it
refused its favourite food.
I was much grieved in consequence of being obliged to part with my old
companion; but camels from the coast will not stand the effects of a
rainy season in Negroland. I hoped it would safely return to its native
country; but the Arab who bought it from me, went first to Kanó when the
rainy season was already setting in, and the poor animal died not far
from the place where Mr. Richardson had succumbed. Its fidelity will ever
remain in my memory as one of the pleasantest recollections of my journey.
Having thus got back our best carrier, though we had lost a good night’s
rest, we started early next morning over the same sort of ground we had
been traversing the last few days, and in two hours reached the little
town of Wádi, the noise from which, caused by the pounding of grain, had
been heard by us at the distance of almost a mile. Indeed the pounding
of grain has betrayed many a little village and many a caravan. The town
is considerable, but properly consists of two different quarters walled
all round, and separated from each other by a wide open space where
the cattle rest in safety. Approving very much of this way of building
a town in these turbulent regions, we kept along the open space, but
were greatly perplexed from the number of paths branching off in every
direction, and scarcely knew which road to take. It had been my intention
originally to go to Borzári, in the hope of obtaining from the governor
of that town a horseman to carry the news of my approach to the sheikh
of Bórnu; but being here informed that I should be obliged to make
a great circuit in order to touch at that place, I changed my plan,
and took another and more direct road, which in the beginning seemed
a well-trodden highroad, but soon became a narrow footpath, winding
along from village to village without any leading direction. However,
we met several small caravans as well of Arabs, who were going to Kanó,
as of native traders or tugúrchi with natron. Passing now over open
cultivated ground, then through a bushy thicket, we reached, about ten
o’clock in the morning, the considerable open village Kábowa, where a
well-frequented and very noisy market was being held, and halted during
the heat of the day under a shady tamarind-tree about five hundred yards
to the south, near a “kaudi” or “kabéa tseggénabé” (a yard for weaving
cotton).
We had scarcely unloaded our camels, when one of the weavers came, and,
saluting me most cordially, begged me to accept of a dish of very well
prepared “fúra” or “tiggra,” with curdled milk, which evidently formed
their breakfast. The market was very partially supplied, and did not
furnish what we wanted. Natron, salt, and túrkedí, or the cloth for
female dress made in Kanó, constituted the three articles which were
plentiful; also a good many cattle, or rather pack-oxen, were there,
besides two camels and abundance of the fruit of the dum-palm; but meat
was dear, onions extremely scarce, and beans not to be got at all,
and, what was worse, the people refused to accept shells (“kúngona”
in Kanúri), of which we had still a small supply, and wanted gábagá,
or cotton stripes, of which we had none. Our camels, therefore, which
hereabouts found plenty of their favourite and nourishing food, the
aghúl or _Hedysarum Alhaggi_, fared much better than we ourselves. The
neighbourhood had rather a dreary aspect; the east wind was very high and
troublesome; the well was distant, and, with a depth of eight fathoms,
did not furnish the supply necessary for the numerous visitors to the
market. Early in the afternoon we continued our march, first in the
company of some market-people returning to their native village, then
left to our judgment to discriminate, among the numberless footpaths
which intersected the country in every direction, the one which was most
direct or rather least circuitous; for a direct highroad there is none.
We became at length so heartily tired of groping our way alone, that we
attached ourselves to a horseman who invited us to accompany him to his
village, till, becoming aware that it lay too much out of our way, we
ascended the slope of a sandy ridge to our right, on the summit on which
was situated the village Lúshiri, where we pitched our tent.
Here also the inhabitants behaved hospitably; and I had scarcely
dismounted, when a woman from a neighbouring hut brought me a bowl of
ghussub-water as a refreshment. We succeeded also in buying here a good
supply of beans and sorghum—or ngáberi, as it is called in Kanúri; for
my Kátsena horse refused to eat the millet or argúm, and sorghum is
very scarce in all this part of the country as well as in many other
districts of Bórnu, especially in the district of Koyám. The women of
the village, who were very curious to see the interior of my tent, were
greatly surprised to find that I was a bachelor, and without a female
partner, accustomed, as they were, to see travellers in this country,
at least those tolerably at their ease, with a train of female slaves.
They expressed their astonishment in much diverting chat with each other.
I got also milk and a fowl for my supper, and the bíllama afterwards
brought some “ngáji” (the favourite Kanúri dish) for my men. As the
situation of the village was elevated, it was most interesting to see in
the evening the numerous fires of the hamlets and small towns all around,
giving a favourable idea of the local population.
_Thursday, March 27._—Early in the morning we continued our march; but
we lost a great deal of time through ignorance of the direct way. Some
of the paths appear, at times, like a well-frequented highroad, when
suddenly almost every trace of them is lost. At length, at the walled
town of Gobálgorúm, we learned that we were on the road to Kashímma;
and we determined to keep on as straight as possible. The country which
we traversed early in the morning consisted of stiff clayey soil,
and produced ngáberi; but this was only a sort of basin of no great
extent, and the landscape soon changed its character. After we had
passed Gobálgorúm, the country became much richer in trees; and this
circumstance, as well as the increased number of waterfowl, indicated
plainly that we were approaching a branch of the wide-spreading net of
the komádugu of Bórnu.
First we came to a hollow clothed with a great profusion of vegetation
and the freshest pasturage, but at present dry, with the exception of a
fine pond of clear water on our left; and we marched full three miles
through a dense forest before we came to the real channel, which here,
running south and north, formed an uninterrupted belt of water as far as
the eye could reach, but at present without any current. It looked just
like an artificial canal, having almost everywhere the same breadth of
about fifty yards, and, at the place where we crossed it, a depth of two
feet and a half. We halted during the heat of the day, on its eastern
shore, in the shade of one of the small gáwo-trees which border it on
this side; and after our dreary and rather uninteresting march from
Kanó, I was greatly delighted with the animated and luxuriant character
of the scene before us. The water of this komádugu, moreover, though
it was fully exposed to the power of the sun’s rays, was delightfully
cool, while that from the wells was disagreeably warm, having a mean
temperature of 77°, and quite unfit to drink until allowed to cool. The
river was full of small fish; and about twenty boys from the village of
Shógo, which lay upon the summit of the rising ground before us, were
plashing about in it in playful exercise, and catching the fish with a
large net of peculiar make, which they dragged through the water. This
komádugu too is called Wáni; and I think it more probable that this is
the continuation of the branch which passes Katágum, than that the latter
joins the branch of Khadéja to the southward of Zurríkulo. While we were
resting here, I was pestered a little by the curiosity of a company of
gipsy-like Jétko, who, with very little luggage, traverse the country in
every direction, and are the cleverest thieves in the world. A native of
the village, whom we had met on the road, came afterwards, with his wife,
and brought me a dish of well-cooked hasty-pudding; and on my complaining
that, though in great haste, we were losing so much time, owing to our
being unacquainted with the nearest road, he promised to serve us as a
guide: but unfortunately I made him a present too soon; and as he did not
keep his word, we preferred groping our way onwards as well as possible.
Our camels had meanwhile got a good feed in the cool shade of the trees;
for if exposed to the sun, these animals will not eat during the heat of
the day, but prefer lying down.
With fresh spirit and energy we started, therefore, at half-past two in
the afternoon, ascending the considerable slope of the ridge upon which
the village stands. At this hour the sun was very powerful, and none of
the inhabitants were to be seen, with the exception of an industrious
female who, on a clean open spot near the road, was weaving the cotton
threads into gábagá. Opposite the village to the north of the path, was a
round cluster of light Kánembú cottages formed in a most simple way, with
the long stalks of the native corn bent so as to meet at the top, and
fastened with a few ropes. Descending immediately from this considerable
ridge, we entered a dale thickly overgrown with trees, where I was
greatly astonished to see a herd of cattle watered, with great trouble,
from the wells, while the river was close at hand; but on addressing the
neatherds, I was informed by them that the stagnant water of the komádugu
at this season is very unwholesome for cattle.
All the trees hereabouts were full of locusts, while the air was darkened
by swarms of hawks (_Cenchreis_), which, with a singular instinct,
followed our steps as we advanced; for on our approaching a tree, the
locusts, roused from their fatal repose and destructive revelling, took
to flight in thick clouds, when the birds dashed down to catch them,
often not only beating one another with their wings, but even incommoding
us and our animals not a little.
The peculiar character of lofty sandy ridges and thickly overgrown
hollows continued also in this district; no dúm-palm was to be seen, but
only the dúm-bush, called ngílle by the Bórnu people. About two miles and
a half behind Shógo we passed a wide and most beautiful basin, with rich
pasture-grounds enlivened by numbers of well-fed cattle. Stubble-fields,
with small granaries such as I have described above, were scattered about
here and there. Then keeping on through a more level country with patches
of cultivation, we reached the fields of Bandégo. The village introduced
itself to our notice from afar by the sound of noisy mirth; and I was
surprised to hear that it was occasioned by the celebration, not of a
marriage, but of a circumcision. This was the first and last time during
my travels in Negroland that I saw this ceremony performed with so much
noise.
We were quietly pitching our tent on the east side of the village, and
I was about to make myself comfortable when I was not a little affected
by learning that the girls, who had been bringing little presents
to the festival, and who were just returning in procession to their
homes, belonged to Ngurútuwa, the very place where the Christian (Mr.
Richardson) had died. I then determined to accompany them, though it
was late, in order to have at least a short glimpse of the “white man’s
grave,” and to see whether it were taken care of. If I had known, before
we unloaded the camels, how near we were to the place, I should have gone
there at once to spend the night.
Ngurútuwa,[40] once a large and celebrated place, but at present
somewhat in decay, lies in a wide and extensive plain, with very few
trees, about two miles north-east from Bandégo; but the town itself
is well shaded, and has, besides kórna and bíto, some wide-spreading
umbrageous fig-trees, under one of which Mr. Richardson had been buried.
His grave, well protected with thorn bushes, appeared to have remained
untouched, and was likely to remain so. The natives were well aware that
it was a Christian who had died here; and they regarded the tomb with
reverence. The story of his untimely end had caused some sensation in the
neighbourhood. He arrived in a weak state in the evening, and early the
next morning he died. The people had taken great interest in the matter,
and the report they gave me of the way in which he was buried agreed in
the main circumstances with that which I afterwards received from his
servants, and of which I forwarded an account from Kúkawa. Unfortunately
I had no means of bestowing gifts on the inhabitants of the place where
my companion had died. I gave, however, a small present to a man who
promised to take especial care of the grave; and I afterwards persuaded
the vizier of Bórnu to have a stronger fence made round it.
It was late in the evening when I returned to my tent engrossed with
reflections on my own probable fate, and sincerely thankful to the
Almighty Ruler of all things for the excellent health which I still
enjoyed notwithstanding the many fatigues which I had undergone. My way
of looking at things was not quite the same as that of my late companion,
and we had therefore often had little differences; but I esteemed him
highly for the deep sympathy which he felt for the sufferings of the
native African, and deeply lamented his death. Full of confidence
I stretched myself upon my mat, and indulged in my simple supper,
accompanied with a bowl of milk which the inhabitants of Bandégo had
brought me. The people were all pleased with us; only the cattle, when
returning from their pastures, took offence at my strange-looking tent,
which I had pitched just in the path by which they were accustomed to
return to their usual resting-place.
_Friday, March 28._—At an early hour we were again on the march,
conducted a little while by an inhabitant of the village, who undertook
to show us the direct road, which passes on its south side. He
represented the road which we were about to take as much infested by
the Kindín or Tuarek at that moment; and he advised us, as we went on
from one place to another, to make strict inquiries as to the safety of
the road before us. With this well-meant advice he left us to our own
discretion; and I pursued my way with the unsatisfactory feeling that it
might be again my fate to come into too close contact with my friends
the Tuarek, whom I had been so glad to get rid of. Saddened with these
reflections, my two young companions also seeming a little oppressed,
and trudging silently along with the camels, we reached Aláune, once a
considerable town, but now almost deserted, and surrounded by a clay wall
in a state of great decay. Accosting the people, who were just drawing
water from the well inside the wall, and asking them about the state of
the road, we were told that, as far as Kashímma, it was safe; but beyond
that they pronounced it decidedly dangerous. We therefore continued our
march with more confidence, particularly as we met some market-people
coming from Kashímma.
Aláune is the same place which, by the members of the last expedition,
has been called Kabshári, from the name of the then governor of the
town—Bu-Bakr-Kabshári—after whom the place is even at present often
called “bílla Kabshári_be_” (the town of Kabshári). Keeping on through
a country partly cultivated, partly covered with thick underwood, which
was full of locusts, we were greatly delighted by obtaining at about
eight o’clock a view of a fine sheet of water, in the dale before us,
surrounded with a luxuriant vegetation, and descended cheerfully towards
its shore, where two magnificent tamarind-trees spread their canopy-like
foliage over a carpet of succulent turf. While enjoying this beautiful
picture, I was about to allow my poor horse a little feed of the grass,
when a woman, who had come to fetch water, told me that it was very
unwholesome.
This is the great komádugu of Bórnu, the real name of which is “komádugu
Wáube,” while, just from the same mistake which has caused Aláune to
be called Kabshári, and the river of Zyrmi, Zyrmi, it has been called
Yeou; for though it may be called the river of Yeou, or rather of Yó,
particularly in its lower course, where it passes the town of this name,
it can never be called “the river Yó,” any more than the Thames, on
account of its flowing through London, can be called the river London.
While ordering ʿAbdallah to follow with the camels along the lower road,
I ascended with Mohammed the steep slope of the sandy swell, rising to
about three hundred feet, on the top of which Kashímma is situated in a
fine healthy situation commanding the whole valley. It is an open place,
consisting entirely of huts made of cornstalks and reeds, but is of
considerable size and well inhabited. However, I was not disposed to make
any halt here; and learning, to my great satisfaction, that no Kindín
had been seen as far as the Eastern Ngurútuwa, I determined to go on as
fast as possible, and persuaded a netmaker to point out clearly to me the
road which we were to take; for we had now rather difficult ground before
us—the wide bottom of the valley, with its thick forest and its several
watery channels.
The path led us gradually down from the eminence upon which Kashímma is
situated, into the bushy dale with a great quantity of ngílle, and also
a few dúm-palms. Here we saw numerous footprints of the elephant, and
some of enormous size; and truly the wanderer cannot be surprised that
this colossal animal has taken possession of these beautiful, luxuriant
shores of the komádugu, from which the native in his inborn laziness has
despairingly retired, and allowed them to be converted into an almost
impenetrable jungle. The thicket became for a while very dense, a real
jungle, such as I had not yet seen in Negroland, when a clearer spot
followed, overgrown with tall coarse grass ten feet high, fed by the
water which after the rainy season covers the whole of this low ground,
and offering a rich pasture to the elephant. Then we had to traverse a
branch of the real komádugu, at present very shallow, but at times, to
be crossed only with the aid of a “mákara.” In the thick covert which
bordered upon this channel the dúm-palm was entirely predominant.
Though the thicket was here so dense, the path was well trodden, but as
soon as we reached a place which had been cleared for cultivation we lost
all traces of it, and then turned off to our right, where we saw a small
village and a farm situated in the most retired spot imaginable. Here we
found a cheerful old man, the master of the farm, who, on hearing that we
too were going eastward, begged us, very urgently, to spend the remainder
of the day in his company, adding that he would treat us well and start
early the next morning with us for Ngurútuwa; but, however delightful
it might appear to me to dream away half a day in this wilderness, my
anxiety to reach Kúkawa compelled me to reject his proposal. However, the
thicket became so dense, that we had the utmost difficulty in getting my
bulky luggage through it.
Having made a short halt about noon to refresh ourselves and our
animals, we continued our march through the forest, which here consisted
principally of dúm-palms, farʿaón, kálgo, tʿalha-trees, and a little
siwák or _Capparis sodata_. The ground was covered with the heavy
footprints of the elephant, and even at this season it retained many
ponds in the channel-like hollows. A solitary maráya or mohhor (_Antilope
Soemmeringii_) bounded through the thicket; indeed antelopes of any
species are rare in these quarters, and on the whole road I had seen but
a single gazelle, near the village Díggere-báre. But it seems remarkable
that from the description of the natives there cannot be the least doubt
that that large and majestic variety of antelope called _addax_, which
is very much like a large stag, is occasionally found here. A fine open
space with rich pastures and with hurdle-enclosures interrupted the
thicket for about a mile, after which we had to traverse, another thick
covert, and emerging from it were agreeably surprised at beholding a
lake of considerable dimensions on our left, and after a short interval
another still more considerable approaching from the north and turning
eastward, its surface furrowed by the wind and hurrying along in little
billows which dashed upon the shore. On its eastern side lie the ruins of
the celebrated town Ghámbarú, which although not the official residence
of the kings of Bórnu, was nevertheless their favourite retreat during
the flourishing period of the empire; and those two lakes, although
connected with the komádugu and fed by it, were artificial basins, and
seem to have considerable depth; else they could scarcely have presented
such a magnificent sheet of water at this season of the year. But at
present all this district, the finest land of Bórnu in the proper sense
of the word, which once resounded with the voices and bustle of hundreds
of towns and villages, has become one impenetrable jungle, the domain of
the elephant and the lion, and with no human inhabitants except a few
scattered herdsmen or cattle-breeders, who are exposed every moment to
the predatory inroads of the Tuarek. This condition of the finest part of
the country is a disgrace to its present rulers, who have nothing to do
but to transfer hither a few hundreds of their lazy slaves, and establish
them in a fortified place, whereupon the natives would immediately gather
round them and change this fine country along the komádugu from an
impenetrable jungle into rich fields, producing not only grain but also
immense quantities of cotton and indigo.
The town of Ghámbarú was taken and destroyed by the Jemáʿa of the Fúlbe
or Felláta at the same time with Ghasréggomo, or Bírni, in the year of
the Hejra 1224, or 1809 of our era, and has not been since reoccupied, so
that the ruins are thickly overgrown and almost enveloped in the forest.
Although I had not leisure to survey attentively the whole area of the
town, I could not help dismounting and looking with great interest at a
tolerably well-preserved building, evidently part of a mosque, at the
south-eastern corner of the wall. I knew, from the report of the last
expedition, that there were here remains of brick buildings; but I did
not expect to find the workmanship so good. The bricks are certainly not
so regularly shaped as in Europe, but in other respects they seemed quite
as good. It is indeed a source of mournful reflection for the traveller
to compare this solid mode of building practised in former times in
this country, at least by its rulers, with the frail and ephemeral
architecture of the present day; but this impression of retrograding
power and resources is caused also by the history of the country,
which we shall soon lay before our readers. Even in the half-barbarous
country of Bagírmi we may still find the remains of very extensive brick
buildings.
Overtaking the two young companions of my adventurous journey, I
travelled on through an interesting but wild country, when at five
o’clock in the afternoon a branch of the river once more approached on
our left, and soon cut across our path, leaving no trace of it. I felt
sure that the track crossed the river here, but unfortunately allowed
myself to be overruled by my servant (who was in truth an experienced
lad); and accordingly we kept along the sandy border of the channel,
following the traces of cattle till we became assured that there was
no path in this place. Having searched for about two hours, we were at
last compelled, by the darkness which had set in, to encamp in the midst
of this dense forest; and I chose a small hillock on the border of the
river, in order to protect myself, as well as possible, from the noxious
exhalations, and spread my tent over my luggage, in the midst of which I
arranged my bed. I then strewed, in a circle round our little encampment,
dry wood and other fuel, to be kindled in case of an attack of wild
beasts, and, taking out a parcel of cartridges, prepared for the worst.
However, we passed a quiet night, disturbed only by the roaring of a lion
on the other side of the river, and by a countless multitude of waterfowl
of various species, playing and splashing about in the water the whole
night.
_Saturday, March 29._—Having convinced myself that the river could be
crossed by the path only at the place where we first came upon it,
I mounted early in the morning, after we had loaded the camels, and
returned to that spot, when, having crossed the stream, I found the
continuation of the path on the other side. At length we were again _en
route_, having lost altogether about three hours of our precious time.
However, my companions thought that nevertheless we should not have been
able the previous evening, in the twilight, to reach the next station,
the name of which is also Ngurútuwa; so dense was the forest in some
places, and such difficulty had we in getting through with our luggage,
so that we were at times almost reduced to despair.
Beyond the village mentioned we should not have succeeded in finding an
outlet, had we not met with some shepherds who were tending numerous
flocks of sheep and goats. All was one thorny covert, where kaña
and bírgim, the African plum-tree, were, together with mimosa, the
predominant trees. Near the village, however, which lies in the midst of
the forest, very fine fields of wheat occupied a considerable open space,
the corn standing now about a foot and a half high, and presented a most
charming sight, particularly when compared with the scanty industry which
we had hitherto observed in this, the finest part of the country.
Keeping then close to the narrow path, we reached, half an hour before
noon, an open place of middle size called Míkibá, and halted between the
village and the well, which, being in a hollow, is only three fathoms
deep. Being obliged to allow the camels a good feed, as they had got
nothing the previous evening, we did not start again till four o’clock
in the afternoon; and it was in vain that I endeavoured to buy some
provisions from the inhabitants with the few indifferent articles which I
had to offer them: the small fancy wares of Nuremberg manufacture proved
too worthless and frail even for these barbarians. The people, however,
endeavoured to frighten us by their accounts of the roads before us—and
indeed, as it afterwards appeared, they were not quite wrong; but we
could not stay a night with people so inhospitable, and, besides, I had
lost already too much time.
Confiding, therefore, in my good luck, I was again in the saddle by
four o’clock, the country being now clearer of wood, though generally
in a wild, neglected state. After a little more than two miles’ march,
near a patch of cultivated ground I saw a group of three monkeys of the
same species, apparently, as those in Asben. In general, monkeys seem
not to be frequent in the inhabited parts of Negroland. The day with
its brightness was already fading away, and darkness setting in filled
us with anxiety as to where we might pass the night with some security,
when, to our great delight, we observed in the distance to our right the
light of some fires glittering through a thicket of dúm-palms, tamarinds,
and other large trees. We endeavoured, therefore, to open a path to them,
cheered in our effort by the pleasing sound of dance and song which came
from the same direction.
It proved to be a wandering company of happy herdsmen, who bade us a
hearty welcome after they had recognized us as harmless travellers;
and, well satisfied at seeing our resolution thus rewarded, we pitched
our tent in the midst of their huts and numerous herds. Entering then
into conversation with them, I learnt to my astonishment that they were
neither Kanúri nor Háusa people, but Felláta, or Fúlbe of the tribe
of the Óbore, who, notwithstanding the enmity existing between their
kinsmen and the ruler of Bórnu, are allowed to pasture their herds here
in full security, so far as they are able to defend themselves against
the robberies of the Tuarek, and without even paying any tribute to the
sheikh. However, their immigration into this country does not date from
very ancient times; and they appear not to have kept their stock pure
from intermixture, so that they have lost almost all the national marks
of the Fulfúlde race.
They seemed to be in easy circumstances, the elder men bringing me each
of them an immense bowl of milk, and a little fresh butter as cleanly
prepared as in any English or Swiss dairy. This was a substantial proof
of their nationality; for all over Bórnu no butter is prepared except
with the dirty and disgusting addition of some cow’s urine, and it is
all in a fluid state. The hospitable donors were greatly delighted when
I gave to each of them a sailor’s knife; but on our part we were rather
perplexed by their bounty, as I and my two boys might easily have drowned
ourselves in such a quantity of milk. Meanwhile, as I was chatting with
the old people, the younger ones continued their singing and dancing till
a late hour with a perseverance most amusing, though little favourable
for our night’s rest; moreover, we were startled several times by some
of the cattle, which lay close to our tent, starting up occasionally
and running furiously about. There was a lion very near; but the blaze
of the fires kept him off. Our friends did not possess a single dog—but
this was another mark of nationality; they rely entirely upon their own
watchfulness.
In consequence of our disturbed night’s rest, we set out at rather a late
hour, accompanied by two of our friends, in order to show us the ford
of the komádugu, which, they told us, ran close to their encampment.
And it was well that we had their assistance; for though the water was
but three feet deep at the spot where they led us through, it was much
deeper on both sides, and we might easily have met with an accident. It
was here about five and thirty yards across, and was quite stagnant. It
is, doubtless, the same water which I had crossed at Kashímma, where,
with its several branches, it occupied an immense valley, and again just
before I came to the Eastern Ngurútuwa.
Our hospitable friends did not leave us till they had assisted us through
the extremely dense covert which borders the eastern bank of the river.
They then returned, recommending us very strongly to be on our guard,
as we should have the komádugu always on our left, where some robbers
were generally lurking. We had not proceeded far when we met an archer
on horseback following the traces of a band of Tuarek, who, as he told
us, had last night made an attack upon another encampment or village of
herdsmen, but had been beaten off. He pursued his way in order to make
out whether the robbers had withdrawn. An archer on horseback is an
unheard-of thing not only in Bórnu, but in almost all Negroland, except
with the Fúlbe; but even among them it is rare. Fortunately the country
was here tolerably open, so that we could not be taken by surprise, and
we were greatly reassured when we met a troop of native travellers, three
of whom were carrying each a pair of bukhsa or ngibú, immense calabashes
joined at the bottom by a piece of strong wood, but open on the top.
These are the simple ferry-boats of the country, capable of carrying one
or two persons, who have nothing besides their clothes (which they may
deposit inside the calabashes), safely, but certainly not dryly, across a
stream. In order to transport heavier things, three pairs, joined in the
way I shall have an opportunity of describing at another time, will form
a sufficiently buoyant raft. This would form the most useful expedient
for any European traveller who should undertake to penetrate into the
equatorial regions, which abound in water; but if he has much luggage,
he ought to have four pairs of calabashes, and a strong frame to extend
across them.
The great advantage of such a portable boat is, that the parts can
be most easily carried on men’s backs through the most rugged and
mountainous regions, while the raft so formed will be strong enough, if
the parts are well fastened together, for going down a river; but of
course, if they came into contact with rocks, the calabashes would be
liable to break. Horses must swim across a river in these countries; but
even their crossing a powerful stream safely would be greatly facilitated
if they were protected against the current by such a float lying along
their sides. On my succeeding journeys I often wished to be in the
possession of such a boat.
Amusing myself with such thoughts, and indulging in happy anticipations
of future discoveries, I continued my solitary march cheerfully and with
confidence. To our left the channel of the komádugu once approached, but
soon receded again and gave way to the site of a considerable deserted
town, containing at present but a small hamlet of cattle-breeders, and
called significantly “fáto ghaná” (few huts). The country was here
adorned with trees of fine foliage, and was enlivened besides by large
flocks of goats and sheep, and by a small caravan which we fell in with.
We then passed, on our right, a considerable pool of stagnant water,
apparently caused by the overflowing of the komádugu, and further on
observed a few patches of cotton-ground well fenced and protected from
the cattle. Then followed stubble-fields adorned with fine trees, in the
shade of which the cattle reposed in animated groups. The soil consisted
of sand, and was burrowed throughout in large holes by the earth-hog
(_Orycteropus Æthiopicus_).
Thus about half-past ten we reached the neat little village Ájirí, and
encamped at a short distance from it, under a cluster of beautiful and
shady tamarind-trees, not knowing that, as the cemetery of some venerated
persons, it was a sanctified place; however, on being informed of this
circumstance, we were careful not to pollute it. I now learned that I
had not followed the shortest track to Kúkawa, which passes by Kamsándi,
but that Yusuf (Mr. Richardson’s interpreter), with the Christian’s
property, had also taken this road. I might therefore have pursued my
journey directly to that residence, and should have had the company of
a corn-caravan, which was about to set forward in the afternoon; but
as it was absolutely necessary that I should send word to the sheikh
that I was coming, and as there was no other governor or officer on
the track before me from whom I might obtain a decent and trustworthy
messenger, I preferred going a little more out of my way in order to
visit the Kashélla Khér-Alla, an officer stationed by the sheikh in the
most exposed place of this district, in order to protect it against the
inroads of the Tuarek.
Having, therefore, taken a hearty leave of the villagers, who had
all collected round me, listening with astonishment and delight to
the performance of my musical box, I started again at an early hour
in the afternoon, accompanied, for a little while, by the bíllama,
and continuing in a north-easterly direction. The country in general
presented nothing but pasture-grounds, with only some cultivation of
grain and patches of cotton-fields near the hamlet Yerálla, which, after
a little more than three miles, we passed on our left. Further on, the
komádugu again approached on the same side; and we were obliged to go
round it at a sharp angle to reach the village where the Kashélla had his
residence.
Having pitched the tent, I went to pay him my compliments, and had the
satisfaction to find him a friendly, cheerful person, who at once ordered
one of his best men to mount and to start for Kúkawa, in order to carry
to the vizier the news of my arrival. He is a liberated slave, who,
having distinguished himself by his valour in the unfortunate battle at
Kúsuri, has been stationed here at the vizier’s suggestion. His power,
however, is not great, considering the wide extent of the district which
he has to protect, as he has only seventy horsemen under his command,
twenty of whom are constantly employed in watching the motions of the
predatory bands of the Tuarek. These are chiefly the inhabitants of the
little principality of Alákkos, of which I have had occasion to speak
above, who, like all the Tuarek, in general are not very fond of serious
fighting, but rather try to carry off a good booty, in slaves or cattle,
by surprise. Khér-Alla has already done a great deal for the security
and welfare of the district where he resides, the population of which is
intermixed with Tébu elements, and cannot be trusted; but he evidently
cannot extend his protecting hand much further westward than Ájiri.
Feeling deeply the disgraceful state of this the finest portion of Bórnu,
I afterwards advised the vizier to build watch-towers all along the
komádugu, from the town Yó, as far as the western Ngurútuwa, the place
where Mr. Richardson died, which would make it easy to keep off the
sudden inroads of these predatory tribes, and, in consequence, the whole
country would become the secure abode of a numerous population; but even
the best of these mighty men cares more for the silver ornaments of his
numerous wives than for the welfare of his people. I presented Khér-Alla
with a red cap, a pair of English scissors, and some other small things;
and he spent the whole evening in my tent, listening with delight to the
cheerful Swiss air played by my musical box.
_Monday, March 31._—At a tolerably early hour, I set out to continue
my march, accompanied by a younger brother and a trusty servant of the
kashélla, both on horseback, and traversed the entire district. It is
called Dúchi, and is well inhabited in a great number of widely scattered
villages. The soil is sandy, and cornfields and pasture-grounds succeed
each other alternately; but I did not see much cattle. I was astonished
also to find so little cultivation of cotton. Having met a small troop of
tugúrchi with pack-oxen, we made a halt, a little after eleven o’clock,
near the first village of the district, Dímberwá.
My two companions wanted to obtain here a guide for me, but were
unsuccessful; however, after we had started again at three o’clock, they
procured a man from the bíllama of the next village, and then left me.
I wished to obtain a guide to conduct me at once to Kúkawa; but I was
obliged to submit to this arrangement, though nothing is more tedious and
wearisome than to be obliged to change the guide at every little place,
particularly if the traveller be in a hurry. It might be inferred, from
the number of little paths crossing each other in every direction, that
the country is thickly inhabited; and a considerable troop of tugúrchi
gave proof of some intercourse. Dark-coloured, swampy ground, called
“ánge,” at times interrupted the sandy soil, which was covered with fine
pasture; and we gradually ascended a little. I had already changed my
guide four times, when, after some trouble, I obtained another at the
village Gúsumrí; but the former guide had scarcely turned his back, when
his successor in office decamped, most probably in order not to miss his
supper, and, after some useless threatening, I had again to grope my
way onward as well as I could. Darkness was already setting in when I
encamped near the village Bággem, where I was treated hospitably by the
inhabitants of the nearest cottage.
_Tuesday, April 1._—Keeping through an open country with sandy soil and
good pasture, we reached, a little after nine o’clock, the well of Úra, a
village lying at some distance to the left of the path, and here filled a
water-skin, and watered the horse; but, hurrying on as we were, perhaps
we did not allow the poor beast sufficient time to fill his stomach.
Having then marched on through an open country, where large trees cease
altogether, only detached clusters of bushes appearing here and there,
and where we saw a large herd of ostriches and a troop of gazelles, we
halted a little before noon in the scanty shade of a small _Balanites_.
About two o’clock in the afternoon, after man and beast had enjoyed a
little repose and food, we prepared to continue our march; and my horse
was already saddled, my bernús hanging over the saddle, when I perceived
that my two youngsters could not manage our swift and capricious
she-camel, and that, having escaped from their hands, although her
forelegs were tied together, she baffled all their efforts to catch her
again. Confiding, therefore, in the staid and obedient disposition of my
horse, I ran to assist them, and we at length succeeded in catching the
camel; but when I returned to the place where I had left my horse, it was
gone, and it was with some difficulty that we found its tracks, showing
that it had returned in the direction whence we had come. It had strayed
nearly as far as the well of Úra, when it was most fortunately stopped by
some musketeers marching to Kúkawa, who met my boy, when he had already
gone halfway in pursuit of it.
In consequence of this _contretemps_, it was five o’clock when we again
set out on our march; and in order to retrieve the lost time, I kept
steadily on till half an hour before midnight. At seven o’clock we
passed a considerable village, called Búwa, where the troops, horse and
foot, which had passed us some time before, had taken up their quarters,
and two miles further on we had villages on our right and left; but
still there were few signs of population, probably because, owing to
the lateness of the hour, the fires were extinguished. We encamped,
at length, near a small village, but had reason to repent our choice;
for while we were unable to procure a drop of water, the inhabitants
being obliged to bring their supply from a considerable distance, we
were annoyed the whole night by a violent quarrel between a man and his
two wives. But here I must remark that I very rarely witnessed such
disgusting scenes during the whole of my travels in Negroland.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
ARRIVAL AT KÚKAWA.
_Wednesday, April 2._—This was to be a most momentous day of my travels;
for I was to reach that place which was the first distinct object of our
mission, and I was to come into contact with those people on whose ill
or goodwill depended the whole success of our mission. Although encamped
late at night, we were again up at an early hour; but in endeavouring
to return to the track which we had left the preceding night, we
inadvertently crossed it, and so came to another village, with a very
numerous herd of cattle, where we became aware of our error, and then
had to regain the main road. Two miles afterwards there was a very great
change in the character of the country; for the sandy soil which had
characterized the district all along the komádugu now gave way to clay,
where water is only met with at a considerable depth. We met a troop
of tugúrchi, who informed us that none of the villages along our track
at the present moment had a supply of water, not even the considerable
village Kangáruwa, but that at the never-failing well of Beshér I should
be able to water my horse. This news only served to confirm me in my
resolution to ride on in advance, in order as well to water my poor beast
before the greatest heat of the day, as to reach the residence in good
time.
I therefore took leave of my two young servants, and, giving Mohammed
strict orders to follow me with the camels as fast as possible, I
hastened on. The wooded level became now interrupted from time to time
by bare naked concavities, or shallow hollows, consisting of black
sedimentary soil, where, during the rainy season, the water collects and,
drying up gradually, leaves a most fertile sediment for the cultivation
of the másakwá. This is a peculiar kind of holcus (_Holcus cernuus_),
which forms a very important article in the agriculture of Bórnu. Sown
soon after the end of the rainy season, it grows up entirely by the
fructifying power of the soil, and ripens with the assistance only of the
abundant dews, which fall here usually in the months following the rainy
season. These hollows, which are the most characteristic natural feature
in the whole country, and which encompass the south-western corner of the
great lagoon of Central Africa throughout a distance of more than sixty
miles from its present shore, are called “ghadír” by the Arabs “fírki,”
or “ánge,” by the Kanúri. Indeed they amply testify to the far greater
extent of the lagoon in ante-historical times.
Pushing on through a country of this description, and passing several
villages, I reached about noon Beshér, a group of villages scattered over
the cornfields, where numerous horsemen of the sheikh were quartered; and
being unable myself to find the well, I made a bargain with one of the
people to water my horse, for which he exacted from me forty “kúngona”
or cowries. However, when I had squatted down for a moment’s rest in the
shade of a small talha-tree, his wife, who had been looking on, began
to reprove him for driving so hard a bargain with a young inexperienced
stranger; and then she brought me a little tiggra and curdled milk
diluted with water, and afterwards some ngáji, or paste of sorghum.
Having thus recruited my strength, I continued my march; but my horse,
not having fared so well, was nearly exhausted. The heat was intense; and
therefore we proceeded but slowly till I reached Kálilwá, when I began
seriously to reflect on my situation, which was very peculiar. I was now
approaching the residence of the chief whom the mission, of which I had
the honour to form part, was especially sent out to salute, in a very
poor plight, without resources of any kind, and left entirely by myself
owing to the death of the director. I was close to this place, a large
town, and was about to enter it without a single companion. The heat
being just at its highest, no living being was to be seen either in the
village or on the road; and I hesitated a moment, considering whether it
would not be better to wait here for my camels. But my timid reluctance
being confounded by the thought that my people might be far behind, and
that if I waited for them we should find no quarters prepared for us, I
spurred on my nag, and soon reached the western suburb of Kúkawa.
Proceeding with some hesitation towards the white clay wall which
encircles the town, and which from a little distance could scarcely
be distinguished from the adjoining ground, I entered the gate, being
gazed at by a number of people collected here, and who were still
more surprised when I inquired for the residence of the sheikh. Then
passing the little daily market (the dyrríya), which was crowded with
people, I rode along the déndal, or promenade, straight up to the
palace, which borders the promenade towards the east. It is flanked by
a very indifferent mosque, built likewise of clay, with a tower at its
north-west corner, while houses of grandees enclose the place on the
north and south sides. The only ornament of this place is a fine chédia
or caoutchouc-tree in front of the house of ʿAli Ladán, on the south
side: but occasionally it becomes enlivened by interesting groups of
Arabs and native courtiers in all the finery of their dress, and of their
richly caparisoned horses.
The sheikh, though he usually resides in his palace in the eastern town,
was at present here; and the slaves stared at me, without understanding
or caring to understand, what I wanted, until Díggama, the storekeeper,
was called, who, knowing something of me as ʿAbd el Kerím, ordered a
slave to conduct me to the vizier. Though I had heard some account
of the sheikh living out of the western town, I was rather taken by
surprise at seeing the large extent of the double town; and I was equally
astonished at the number of gorgeously dressed horsemen whom I met on my
way.
Considering my circumstances, I could not have chosen a more favourable
moment for arriving. About two hundred horsemen were assembled before
the house of the vizier, who was just about to mount his horse in order
to pay his daily visit to the sheikh. When he came out, he saluted me
in a very cheerful way, and was highly delighted when he heard and saw
that I had come quite alone. He told me he had known me already, from the
letter which I had sent to his agent in Zínder stating that I would come
after I had finished my business, but not before. While he himself rode
in great state to the sheikh, he ordered one of his people to show me my
quarters. These were closely adjoining the vizier’s house, consisting of
two immense courtyards, the more secluded of which enclosed, besides a
half-finished clay dwelling, a very spacious and neatly built hut. This,
as I was told, had been expressly prepared for the mission before it was
known that we were without means.
I had scarcely taken possession of my quarters when I received several
visits from various parties attached to the mission, who all at once
made me quite _au fait_ of all the circumstances of my not very enviable
situation as one of its surviving members. The first person who called
upon me was Ibrahím, the carpenter, who, at Mr. Richardson’s request,
had been sent up from Tripoli, at the monthly salary of twenty mahbúbs
besides a sum of four dollars for his maintenance. He was certainly a
handsome young man, about twenty-two years of age, a native of “the
holy house” (Bét el mogaddus) or Jerusalem, with big sounding phrases
in his mouth, and quite satisfied to return with me directly to Fezzán
without having done anything. Then came his more experienced and cheerful
companion, ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán, a real sailor, who was not so loud in his
clamours, but urged more distinctly the payment of his salary, which was
equal to that of Ibrahím.
After I had consoled these dear friends, and assured them that I had no
idea at present of returning northward, and that I should do my best
to find the means of satisfying the most urgent of their claims, there
arrived another of the bloodsuckers of the mission, and the most thirsty
of them all. It was my colleague, the bibulous Yusuf, son of Mukni the
former governor of Fezzán, accompanied by Mohammed ben Bu-Sʿad, whom
Mr. Richardson, when he discharged Yusuf in Zínder, had taken into his
service in his stead, and by Mohammed ben Habíb, the least serviceable
of Mr. Richardson’s former servants. Yusuf was mounted upon a fine
horse, and most splendidly dressed; but he was extremely gracious and
condescending, as he entertained the hope that my boxes and bags, which
had just arrived with my faithful Gatróni, were full of shells, and that
I should be able to pay his salary at once. He was greatly puzzled when
I informed him of my extreme poverty. Mr. Richardson’s other servants,
to my great regret, had gone off the day before, unpaid as they were, in
order to regain their various homes.
I now ascertained that the pay due to Mr. Richardson’s servants amounted
to more than three hundred dollars; besides which there was the
indefinite debt to the Sfáksi, amounting in reality to twelve hundred
and seventy dollars, but which, by the form in which the bill had been
given, might easily be doubled. I did not possess a single dollar, a
single bernús, nor anything of value, and moreover was informed by my
friends that I should be expected to make both to the sheikh and to the
vizier a handsome present of my own. I now saw also that what the Sheríf
el Habíb had told me on the road (viz. that all Mr. Richardson’s things
had been divided and squandered) was not altogether untrue. At least,
they had been deposited with the vizier on very uncertain conditions,
or rather had been delivered up to him by the two interpreters of our
late companion, intimating to him that I and Mr. Overweg were quite
subordinate people attached to the mission, and that we had no right to
interfere in the matter.
Seeing how matters stood, I thought it best, in order to put a stop to
the intrigues which had been set a going, to take Mohammed ben Sʿad into
my service on the same salary which he had received from Mr. Richardson.
Besides, I pledged my word to all that they should each receive what was
due to him, only regretting that the rest of Mr. Richardson’s people
had already gone away. After all these communications, fraught with
oppressive anxiety, I received a most splendid supper as well from the
sheikh as from the vizier, and, after the various exertions of the day,
enjoyed a quiet night’s rest in my clean cottage.
Thus strengthened, I went the next morning to pay my respects to
the vizier, taking with me a small present of my own, the principal
attractions of which lay in a thick twisted lace of silk of very handsome
workmanship, which I had had made in Tripoli, and a leathern letter-case
of red colour, which I had brought with me from Europe. Destitute as
I was of any means, and not quite sure as yet whether Her Britannic
Majesty’s Government would authorize me to carry out the objects of the
mission, I did not deem it expedient to assume too much importance, but
simply told the vizier that, though the director of the mission had not
been fortunate enough to convey to him and the sheikh with his own mouth
the sentiments of the British Government, yet I hoped that, even in this
respect, these endeavours would not be quite in vain, although at the
present moment our means were so exhausted that, even for executing our
scientific plans, we were entirely dependent on their kindness.
The same reserve I maintained in my interview with the sheikh on
the morning of Friday, when I laid little stress upon the object of
our mission (to obtain security of commerce for English merchants),
thinking it better to leave this to time, but otherwise dwelling upon
the friendship established between the sheikh’s father and the English,
and representing to them that, relying upon this manifestation of their
friendly disposition, we had come without reserve to live awhile among
them, and under their protection and with their assistance to obtain an
insight into this part of the world, which appeared so strange in our
eyes. Our conversion was quite free from constraint or reserve, as nobody
was present besides the sheikh and the vizier.
I found the sheikh (ʿOmár, the eldest son of Mohammed el Amín el Kánemy)
a very simple, benevolent, and even cheerful man. He has regular and
agreeable features, rather a little too round to be expressive; but he is
remarkably black—a real glossy black, such as is rarely seen in Bórnu,
and which he has inherited undoubtedly from his mother, a Bagírmaye
princess. He was very simply dressed in a light tobe, having a bernús
negligently wrapped round his shoulder; round his head a dark-red shawl
was twisted with great care; and his face was quite uncovered, which
surprised me not a little, as his father used to cover it in the Tuarek
fashion. He was reclining upon a divan covered with a carpet, at the back
of a fine airy hall neatly polished.
My presents were very small, the only valuable article among them being
a nice little copy of the Kurán, which on a former occasion I had bought
in Egypt for five pounds sterling, and was now carrying with me for my
own use. That I made a present of this book to the prince may perhaps
be regarded with an unfavourable eye by some persons in this country;
but let them consider it as a sign of an unprejudiced mind, and of the
very high esteem in which he held me, that, although knowing me to be a
Christian, he did not refuse to accept from my hands that which was most
holy in his eyes. On the whole I could not have expected a more friendly
reception, either from the sheikh or from his vizier. But there was a
very delicate point which I was obliged to touch upon: what was to become
of Mr. Richardson’s property?
In the afternoon I went again to the vizier, and requested to see the
inventory of all that my late companion had left; and he showed it to
me and read it himself. He then ordered the box to be opened, which
contained clothes and papers; and I was glad to see that not only the
journals, upon the keeping of which Mr. Richardson had bestowed great
care, but also all his other collectanea, were safe. Having taken the
inventory with me, I sent Mohammed the following day to him with the
request that Mr. Richardson’s property should be delivered to me. Having
been desired to call myself at noon, I went, but was surprised to find
only Lamíno (properly el Amín), the vizier’s confidential officer,
of whom I shall have occasion to speak hereafter. I was still more
surprised when only some of Mr. Richardson’s boxes were brought in, and
I was desired to select what I wanted, and leave the rest behind. This
I refused to do, and asked where the other things were, when Lamíno did
not hesitate to declare that the ornamented gun and the handsome pair of
pistols had been sold. Upon hearing this, though I had been treated very
kindly and hospitably on my arrival, and had received immense quantities
of provision of every kind, I could not refrain from declaring that if in
truth they had behaved so unscrupulously with other people’s property I
had nothing more to do here, and returned to my quarters immediately.
My firmness had its desired effect; and late in the evening I received
a message from the vizier, that if I wanted to have a private interview
with him I might come now, as during the daytime he was always troubled
by the presence of a great many people. The person who brought me this
message was Háj Edrís, a man of whom in the course of my proceedings
I shall have to speak repeatedly. Satisfied with having an opportunity
of conversing with the vizier without reserve, I followed the messenger
immediately, and found Háj Beshír quite alone, sitting in an inner court
of his house, with two small wax candles by his side. We then had a
long interview, which lasted till midnight, and the result of which was
that I protested formally against the sale of those things left by Mr.
Richardson, and insisted that all should be delivered to me and to Mr.
Overweg as soon as he should arrive, when we would present to the sheikh
and to the vizier, in a formal manner all those articles which we knew
our companion had intended to give to them. Besides, I urged once more
the necessity of forwarding the news of Mr. Richardson’s death, and of
my safe arrival as soon as possible, as, after our late misfortunes in
Aír, Her Britannic Majesty’s Government, as well as our friends, would be
most anxious about our safety. I likewise tried to persuade my benevolent
and intelligent host that he might do a great service to the mission,
if he would enable us to carry out part of our scientific purposes
without delay, as Government would certainly not fail to honour us with
their confidence, if they saw that we were going on. Having carried all
my points, and being promised protection and assistance to the widest
extent, I indulged in a more friendly chat, and, delighted by the social
character of my host, and full of the most confident hopes for my future
proceedings, withdrew a little after midnight.
Having in this way vindicated the honourable character of the mission,
and my own, I applied myself with more cheerfulness to my studies and
inquiries, for which I found ample opportunity; for many distinguished
personages from distant countries were staying here at this time, partly
on their journey to or from Mekka, partly only attracted by the fame of
the vizier’s hospitable and bounteous character. But before I give any
account of my stay in Kúkawa previous to my setting out for Ádamáwa, I
think it well to try to impart to the reader a more lively interest in
the country to which he has thus been transferred, by laying before him
a short account of its history, as I have been able to make it out from
original documents and from oral information.
CHAPTER XXIX.
AUTHENTICITY AND GENERAL CHARACTER OF THE HISTORY OF BÓRNU.
The documents upon which the history of Bórnu is based, besides the
scanty information contained in the narratives of recent explorers, are—
1. A chronicle (“diván”), or rather the dry and sterile abridgment of a
chronicle, comprising the whole history of Bórnu, from the earliest time
down to Ibrahím, the last unfortunate offspring of the royal family, who
had just ascended the crumbling throne of the Bórnu empire when the last
English expedition arrived in that country. 6 pp. 4to.[41]
2. Two other still shorter lists of the Bórnu kings.
3. A detailed history of the first twelve years of the reign of the king
Edrís Alawóma, consisting of two parts, in my copy one of 77 and the
other of 145 pages, and written by a contemporary of the above-mentioned
king, the Imám Ahmed, son of Sofíya. Of this very interesting and
important history a copy was forwarded by the late vizier of Bórnu, Háj
Beshír ben Tiráb, at my urgent request,[42] to Her Britannic Majesty’s
Government, and is now in the Foreign Office; another copy I myself have
brought back.
4. A few facts regarding the history of this country, mentioned by Arabic
writers, such as Ebn Sáid (A.D. 1282), Ebn Batúta (A.D. 1353), Ebn
Khaldún (A.D. 1381-2), Makrízí (about A.D. 1400), and Leo Africanus (A.D.
1528).
5. A short document containing information about embassies sent to
Tripoli by some Bórnu kings, and published in the “Bulletin de la Société
Géographique de Paris,” 1849, 252 ff.
I now proceed to inquire into the character of the first of these
documents, which is the only one among them comprising the whole history
of Bórnu, and which therefore forms the basis of our tables. The most
momentous question is,—upon what authority this document rests, and
when it was compiled. As for the first point, I have been assured by
Shitíma Makarémma (a man intimately connected with the old dynasty, who
made the two copies for me, and of whom some notice will be found in my
journal) that it is a mere extract from a more voluminous work, which
he represented as still existing, but which I was unable to procure, as
it is carefully concealed. The whole business of collecting documents
and information relative to the history of the old dynasty was most
difficult, and demanded much discretion, as the new dynasty of the
Kánemíyín endeavours to obliterate as much as possible the memory of
the old Kanúri dynasty, and has assiduously destroyed all its records
wherever they could be laid hold of.
As regards the time when the chronicle, of which the manuscript in
question is a very meagre and incorrect abridgment, was written, it is
stated that the various parts of it were composed at different times,
at the beginning of every new reign; and the question is, when the
Kanúri people, or rather their ʿulama, began to commit to writing the
most important facts of their history. This question we are fortunately
enabled, from Imám Ahmed’s work, to answer satisfactorily; namely, that
there existed no written record whatever of the history of his country
previous to the king Edrís Katakarmábi, whose reign falls in the first
half of the sixteenth century of our era. For when that writer refers to
facts of the older history, he is only able to recite as his authority
oral information received from old men versed in historical tradition;
and he evidently mentions as the oldest author of a written history, the
fákih Masfárma ʿOmár ben ʿOthmán, who wrote the history of the king in
question.
The annals, therefore, of the time preceding the period of this king and
of his predecessor ʿAli Gajidéni, appear to be based entirely upon oral
information, and cannot but be liable to a certain degree of inaccuracy
as to the actions attributed to each king, the length of their respective
reigns, and even the order of succession where it was not dependent on
genealogy or descent. For it would be the extreme of hypercriticism to
deny that the royal family of Bórnu, in the middle of the sixteenth
century, could not or may not justly be supposed to have preserved with
great precision their line of descent for fifteen or twenty generations;
and in this respect the chronicle No. 1 is entirely confirmed and borne
out by Imám Ahmed, who, in the introduction to his History, gives the
pedigree of his master Edrís Alawóma up to his first royal ancestor,
while the difference in the form of the names, and one slight variance
in the order of succession, as given by these two documents, is a plain
proof that they have not been borrowed from each other, but have been
based on independent authorities.
The disagreement in question is certainly a remarkable one; but it is
easily explained. For Makrízí, in harmony with the extract from the
chronicle, names the father of the kings Edrís and Dáúd (whose reign he
places about the year 700 of the Hejra), Ibrahím, while Imám Ahmed calls
them sons of Nikále son of Ibrahím; and this is the general statement
of the natives of the country even at the present time, every educated
man knowing “Dáúd tata Nikálebe,” or Dáúd Nikálemi. The fact is, that
the name Bíri, which the chronicle attributes to the father of Ibrahím
the grandfather of Edrís and Dáúd, being a variation of the form Bíram,
is identical with Ibrahím; whence it appears that Nikále was another
name of Ibrahím the son of Bíri. The same is the case with regard to the
names Ahmed and Dúnama, which are identical, if not with regard to their
meanings, at least with regard to their applications, as well as the
names Sélma or Sélmama and ʿAbd el Jelíl.
This general harmony between the pedigree of the Bórnu kings as given by
the chronicle No. 1 and the Imám Ahmed, a learned and clever man in a
high position, and in constant connection with the court, is, I think,
very satisfactory, and the more so if we take into consideration that,
from a reason which I shall soon mention, and which at the same time is
a strong argument in favour of the authenticity of these two documents,
the pedigree as given by them is not the only one current in Bórnu, but
the line of descent and succession varies greatly in one of the two other
short chronicles which are mentioned in No. 2, while the third one,
which does not appear to make any pretensions to completeness, cannot be
taken into account here. Hence, as far as regards the line of descent
or succession, I have not thought these two lists worthy of attention,
except only with regard to the reign following that of the fifty-eighth
king, if we count the reign of the usurper Sʿaíd ʿAlí, the son of
Háj ʿOmár. For here the chronicle No. 1 has omitted, by mistake or
negligence, the well-established reign of Edrís ben ʿAli, who succeeding
to his father ʿAlí, preceded his younger brother Dúnama ben ʿAlí, and
reigned twenty years.[43]
What I have here said with regard to the authenticity of the chronicle
refers only to the line of descent and succession of the kings mentioned;
but, of course, it is quite another question, if we take into view the
length of time attributed to the reign of each succeeding king. But even
here the dates of the chronicle are confirmed in a most surprising and
satisfactory manner by the history of Imám Ahmed, who, in relating the
successful expedition of Edrís Aʿaishámi to Kánem, states that from the
time when Dáúd Nikálemi was obliged to leave his capital Njímiye, down to
the period when Edrís made his entrance into it, 122 years had elapsed.
Now, according to the dates of the chronicle, between the end of the
reign of Dáúd and the beginning of the reign of Edrís, who is expressly
stated by the historian to have undertaken that expedition in the first
year of his reign, there intervened exactly 121 years. And indeed we
see from the Imám’s account, that most people thought this was the real
length of the period, and not 122 years; so well were the educated
inhabitants of Bórnu at that time acquainted with the history of their
country. Perhaps also Imám Ahmed wishes here to refute Masfárma, the
historian of Edrís Áʿaishámi, who adhered to the general opinion.
Unfortunately, the length of the several reigns is our only guide with
regard to the chronology of this history, as neither the chronicle nor
even Imám Ahmed specifies particular years with reference to any of the
events which they mention. This is indeed a very great defect, not so
apparent in the dry chronicle as in the account of the learned priest;
and it seems almost inconceivable, as he is very particular, not only
with regard to seasons, but even to months and days, mentioning with
great exactness on what day of the month his master did so and so, and
even disputing, in this respect, slight variations of opinion. If he had
only given us the date of a single year, we should be much better off as
to the chronology of the history of Bórnu. As it is, if we put out of
account other chronological data which we are fortunately in possession
of, in order to reduce to chronology the events mentioned by the
chronicle, we can only reckon backwards the number of years attributed
by it to the reign of each successive king, commencing from the death
of Sultan Dúnama, who in the year A.H. 1233 was killed in the battle at
Ngála (written “Ghála” in Arabic, but called “Angala” by the members of
the former expedition).
If we now count together the years attributed to each reign, proceeding
in a backward order, and beginning with the end of the year H. 1233, we
obtain, in an inverse order, the following chronological dates for the
more important periods of the history of Bórnu.
A.H. A.D.
Beginning of the reign of Ayúma 391 1000-1
Beginning of the reign of Humé, the first Moslim
king 479 1086
Reign of Dúnama Díbalámi, the warlike and daring
king who spoiled the talisman of Bórnu 618-658 1221-1259-60
Beginning of the reign of Ibrahím Nikálemi 707 1307
Beginning of the reign of Edrís ben Ibrahím 754 1353
End of the reign of Dáúd, who succumbed to the
Bulála 789 1387
End of the reign of ʿOthmán ben Edrís 795 1392-3
The reign of ʿOmʿar, who abandoned his residence
in Kánem altogether, ceding it to the Bulála 796-799 1393-1396
Beginning of the reign of ʿAlí Dúnamámi 877 1472
Beginning of the reign of Edrís Katarkamábi 911 1505
Beginning of the reign of Edrís Alawóma 980 1572
Beginning of the reign of Háj ʿOmár 1036 1626-7
Beginning of the reign of ʿAli ben Háj ʿOmár 1055 1645
Having obtained these dates, we have first to observe that to fill up
the period from Ayúma to Dhu Yazan, the presumed ancestor of the Séfuwa,
and even known as such to Abú ’l Fedá as well as to Makrízí, and whose
age (as being that of a man who predicted the coming of the prophet)
is fixed beyond all doubt, only six generations are left. This is the
circumstance which I mentioned above as speaking greatly in favour of
the authenticity of this chronicle and its genealogies, even with regard
to the more remote times. For if it had not been necessary to preserve
scrupulously a well-established line of succession, how easy it would
have been to introduce a few more individuals in order to fill up this
blank, as has been done in the other list (_b_), instead of admitting the
palpable nonsense of attributing to the two oldest kings a reign of from
two hundred and fifty to three hundred years. Even Séf and Ibrahím, the
first two princes of the line, are, I think, quite historical persons,
whose existence was so well established that a conscientious chronicler
could not change anything in the number of years attributed to the length
of their reigns.
Following, therefore, the hints given to us by the chronicle itself, we
fix the foundation of the dynasty of the Séfuwa in Kánem about the middle
of the third century after Mohammed, or a little before the year 900 of
our era. We shall afterwards return to this circumstance.
Now we shall first see how triumphantly the authenticity of the chronicle
is confirmed in every respect by the occasional remarks made by Makrízí
and Ebn Batúta with regard to the history of Bórnu.
Unfortunately, the oldest date which Makrízí (on the authority, as it
would seem, of Ebn Sʿaíd) mentioned with regard to Kánem, namely, an
expedition made by its king into the fertile districts of Mábiná in the
year H. 650, cannot be used as a sufficient test of the authenticity of
the chronicle, as the historian does not mention the name of the king;
but the deed itself harmonizes exceedingly well with the warlike and
enterprising character of Dúnama Díbalámi, whose reign, according to our
chronicle, falls between the years 618 and 658. Just the same is to be
said of the fact mentioned by Ebn Khaldún, who, in his valuable history
of the Berbers, which has been recently made accessible to all, relates
the interesting fact that, among other valuable presents, a giraffe was
sent by the King of Kánem (to whom even at that early date he gives
the title of “master of Bórnu”) to Abú ʿAbdallah el Mostánser the king
of Tunis, in the year of the Hejra 655. The same historian, in another
passage of his work, referring to the year 656, mentions again the king
of Kánem as having caused the death of a son of Kárakosh el Ghozzi
el Modáfferi, the well-known adventurous chieftain who had tried to
establish himself in Wadán.
But fortunately we have other data which afford us a very fair test.
According to Makrízí, not long after the close of the seventh century
of the Hejra (fi hedúd sennet sebʿa mayet), the king of Kánem was Háj
Ibrahím; after him reigned his son, el Háj Edrís—the historian does not
say expressly that he immediately succeeded his father; then Dáúd, the
brother of Edrís, and another son of Ibrahím; then ʿOmár, the son of
Dáúd’s elder brother Háj Edrís; and then ʿOthmán, the brother of the
former, and another son of Edrís. Makrízí adds that this last-named king
reigned shortly before A.H. 800; and then he states that the inhabitants
of Kánem revolted against the successors of Ibrahím, and made themselves
independent, but that Bórnu remained their kingdom.
All these dates given by Makrízí, as may be seen from the few most
important events which I have extracted from the chronicle, are in most
surprising harmony with the information conveyed in a dry and sterile but
uncorrupted way by the latter. Notwithstanding the slight discrepancy in
the order of succession of the later kings, whose reign was of very short
duration, and whose relationship is rather perplexing, is it possible to
find a harmony more complete than this, if we take into consideration the
only way in which Makrízí could have obtained his information, that is to
say, from merchants or pilgrims visiting Egypt on their way to Mekka?
We now come to Ebn Batúta; and we again find the same surprising harmony
between the fact regarding Bórnu, as mentioned by him, and the dates of
the chronicle. The famous and enterprising traveller of Tangiers, on
his return-journey from his visit to Western Sudán, left the capital of
Mélle or Máli (that is, Mungo Park’s Jára) the 22nd of Moharrem, 754,
and, proceeding by way of Timbúktu or Túmbutu, and thence down the Ísa
or Niger to Gágho or Gógo, and thence to Tekádda,[44] in speaking about
the copper found in the mines near this town, relates that the bars made
of it were exported to Góber and Rágha (or rather Ragháy), and also to
Bórnu, and then adds the interesting fact that the name of the ruling
king of the latter country was Edrís.
Now if we follow implicitly the dates of the chronicle, Edrís ben Ibrahím
(Nikále) ascended the throne in that very year (753) when, according
to this precious and unimpeachable testimony of the illustrious and
intelligent traveller, he actually occupied the throne.
The very remarkable and really surprising harmony here shown to exist
between the chronicle and the dates which have come to our knowledge from
other sources, will, I hope, give to any unprejudiced mind some degree of
confidence in the authenticity of that document, and will make him aware
of its superiority over the information of a man like Leo Africanus, or
rather Hasen Ebn Mohammed el Wasas, who, though he undoubtedly has, and
will always have, the merit of having given to Europe a clear general
view of the political and linguistic groups of Central Africa, yet, on
account of the manner in which his report was drawn up (merely from
memory, after the lapse of many years), cannot be a decisive authority on
any special circumstance. Hence, when he states that the name of the king
of Bórnu, at the time when he visited the country, was Abraham (Ibrahím),
we may confidently assume that he is wrong, and that he speaks of the
illustrious conqueror ʿAlí ben Dúnama, who restored peace and glory to
that distracted country, and, on account of his warlike character and his
various expeditions, obtained the surname el Gházi. I shall return to
this subject in the chronological table, in speaking of the reign of ʿAlí
ben Dúnama.
As for the document mentioned above as No. 5, it contains a few valuable
dates with regard to those Bórnu kings who reigned near the time when
the author obtained his information in Tripoli, while for the older
times, about which the people could only inform him “_par tradition des
leurs pères_,” his information is of little value. The most important
dates which it contains are those which have reference to the time of
the accession to the throne of the three Bórnu kings, ʿAbdallah ben
Dúnama, Háj ʿOmár, and Háj ʿAlí; and these vary but little from the dates
computed from the chronicle, and serve therefore to confirm its accuracy.
However, it is not my design to vindicate this chronicle from all
possibility of error; but my object is to show that its general
character, dry and meagre as it is, has the strongest claim to
authenticity. Indeed I am sure that it can be fully relied upon,
all uncertainty being reduced to a space of one or two years; I may
therefore be allowed to assert that the chronological table, which I
shall give in the Appendix, is something more than a mere fairy tale.
But in this place, I think it well to offer a few general remarks on the
characteristic features of the history of Bórnu.
I have first to speak of the origin of the Séfuwa or Dúguwa. We have
already seen that the chronology of the Bórnu people, if palpable
absurdities be left out of consideration, does not carry their history
further down than the latter half of the ninth century of our era.
Accordingly there can be no further question as to whether Séf was really
the son of the celebrated Dhu Yazan, and identical with Séf Dhu Yazan,
the last native ruler of the Himyaritic kingdom, who celebrated his
accession to the throne in the famous castle of Gumdán, and with the
assistance of Khosru Parvis liberated Yeman from the dominion of the
Abyssinians. I frankly confess that, while Ibrahím the son of Séf, as
“father of the king” (as he appears to have been entitled occasionally),
seems to me to have a really historical character, I entertain sincere
doubts whether Séf be not a mere imaginary personage, introduced into
the pedigree expressly in order to connect it with Yeman. Indeed, in one
short list of Bórnu kings which I possess, several princes are mentioned
before Séf, whose names, such as Futírmi, Hálar Sukayámi, Halármi,
Bunúmi, Rizálmi, Mairími, have quite a Kanúri character. As the reader
will see, I do not at all doubt of some connection existing between the
ruling family of Bórnu and the Himyaritic or Kushitic stock; but I doubt
its immediate descent from the royal Himyaritic family.
But be this as it may, I think that Leo Africanus, who is a very good
authority for general relations, is right in stating that the kings
of Bórnu originated from the Libyan tribe of the Bardoa, a tribe also
mentioned by Makrízí as Berdʿoa. That there is an ethnological connection
between the names Bérnu or Bórnu, Bórgu, Berdʿoa, Berdáma, Berauni,
Berber, can scarcely be doubted; but to many the Berdʿoa might seem to
have nearer relation with the Tedá or Tébu than with the real Berber or
Mazígh. Sultan Béllo certainly, in the introduction to his history of
the conquests of the Fúlbe, expressly says that the Bórnu dynasty was
of Berber origin; and it is on this account that the Háusa people call
every Bórnu man “ba-Bérberche,” and the Bórnu nation “Bérbere.” This view
of the subject is confirmed by the distinct statement of Makrízí, who
says that that was the common tradition of the people at his time—“it is
said that they are descended from the Berbers,”—and moreover in another
passage informs us that the king of Kánem was a nomade, or wanderer;
although it seems that this statement refers properly to the Bulála
dynasty.
Before the time of Sélma, or Sélmama, the son of Bíkoru, whose reign
began about A.H. 581, the kings are stated by the chronicle to have been
of a red complexion, like the Arabs; and to such an origin from the red
race, the Syrian-Berber stock, is certainly to be referred their custom
of covering the face and never showing the mouth, to which custom Ebn
Batúta adverts in speaking of King Edrís, who ruled in his time. To this
origin is also to be referred the custom, till recently practised, of
putting the new king upon a shield, and raising him up over the heads of
the people, as well as the polity of the empire, which originally was
entirely aristocratical, based upon a council of twelve chiefs, without
whose assent nothing of importance could be undertaken by the king.
We have a very curious statement concerning the Bórnu empire, emanating
from Lucas, the traveller employed by the African Association, and based
on the authority of his Arab informants, principally Ben ʿAlí, who no
doubt was a very clever and intelligent man. He describes the Bórnu
kingdom as an elective monarchy, the privilege of choosing a successor
among the sons of a deceased king, without regard to priority of birth,
being conferred by the nation on three of the most distinguished men of
the country. He does not say whether these belonged to the courtiers,
or whether every private individual might be called upon promiscuously
to fulfil this important duty; but the strict etiquette of the court of
Bórnu makes it probable that the former was the case. Be this as it may,
the choice being made, the three electors proceeded to the apartment of
the sovereign elect, and conducted him in silence to the gloomy place in
which the unburied corpse of his deceased father was deposited; for till
this whole ceremony was gone through the deceased could not be interred.
There, over the corpse of his deceased father, the newly elected king
seems to have entered into some sort of compromise sanctioned by oath,
binding himself that he would respect the ancient institutions, and
employ himself for the glory of the country.
I shall have to mention a similar custom still prevailing at the present
day in the province of Múniyó, which belonged to that part of the empire
called Yerí, while the dynasty of the Múniyóma probably descended from
the Berber race. Every newly elected Múniyóma, still at the present day,
is in duty bound to remain for seven days in a cave hollowed out by
nature, or by the hand of man, in the rock behind the place of sepulchre
of the former Múniyóma, in the ancient town of Gámmasak, although it is
quite deserted at present, and does not contain a living soul.
But that not only the royal family, but even a great part of the whole
nation, or rather one of the nations which were incorporated into the
Bórnu empire, was of Berber origin, is still clear so late as the time
of Edrís Alawóma, that is to say, only two centuries and a half ago; for
in the report of his expeditions, constant mention is made of the Berber
tribes (“kabáíl el Beráber”) as a large component part of his army, and
constantly two parts of this army are distinguished as the Reds, “el
Áhhmar,” and the Blacks, “eʾ Súd.” This part of the population of Bórnu
has separated from the rest, I suspect in consequence of the policy of
ʿAlí, the son and successor of Háj ʿOmár, a very warlike prince, who, in
the second half of the seventeenth century, waged a long war with Ágades.
Viewed in the light thus shed by past history, the continual and
uninterrupted warlike expeditions made by the Tuarek at the present time
against the northern regions of Bórnu and against Kánem assume quite a
new and far more interesting character. Now if it be objected that the
Kanúri or Bórnu language does not appear to contain any Berber elements
(which indeed it does not), I have only to adduce the exactly parallel
example of the Bulála, a brother dynasty of the Bórnu royal family,
descended from the same stock, who, having settled and founded a dynasty
among the tribe of the Kúka, in the territory of Fíttri, still continue
to speak their native language, that is the Kanúri, in the time of
Leo,[45] but have now entirely forgotten it, adopting the language of
the people over whom they ruled; and similar examples are numerous.
A second point which deserves notice is, that the Kanúri even at the
present day call people in general, but principally their kings, always
after the name of their mother, and that the name of the mother’s tribe
is almost continually added in the chronicle as a circumstance of the
greatest importance. Thus the famous king Dúnama ben Selmʿaa is known in
Bórnu generally only under the name of Díbalámi, from the name of his
mother Díbala; and the full form of his royal title is Díbalámi Dúnama
Selmámi, his mother’s name, as the most noble and important, preceding
his individual name, which is followed by the name derived from his
father. It is also evident, even from the dry and jejune report of
the chronicle, what powerful influence the Walíde or “Mágira”—this is
her native title—exercised in the affairs of the kingdom; I need only
mention the examples of Gúmsu (“gúmsu” means the chief wife) Fasámi,
who imprisoned her son Bíri, when already king, for a whole year, and
of Áʿaishad or ʿAisa, the mother of Edrís, who for a number of years
exercised such paramount authority, that in some lists, and even by many
ʿulama at the present time, her name is inserted in the list of the
sovereigns of the country.
These circumstances may be best explained by supposing that a kind of
compromise took place between the strangers—Berbers, or rather Imóshagh
(Mazígh) from the tribe of the Berdʿoa—and the tribe or tribes among whom
they settled, just in the same manner as we have seen that a stipulation
of the same kind was probably made between the conquering Kél-owí and the
ancient inhabitants of Aír of the Góber race; and the same circumstances,
with similar results, are observable in ancient times, in the relations
subsisting between the Grecian colonists and the original inhabitants of
Lycia.
The most important among the indigenous tribes of Kánem are the
Kíye or Beni Kíya, also mentioned in the time of Edrís Alawóma, the
Meghármah, who may possibly be identical with the Ghemármah, the
Temághera (evidently a Berber name), the Débiri, the Kúnkuna, at present
established in Kárgá, and finally the Tébu or Tubu, or rather Tedá.
Of all these the last-named constituted by far the most important and
most numerous tribe. To them belonged the mother of Dúnama ben Humé,
the most powerful of the older kings of Bórnu, who appears to have
thrice performed the pilgrimage to Mekka. Indeed it would seem that the
real talisman which Díbalámi Dúnama Selmámi spoiled consisted in the
friendly relation between the Berauni or Kanúri and the Tébu, which was
so intimate that the name of Berauni, which originally belonged to the
inhabitants of Bórnu, is still at present the common name given by the
Tuarek to the Tébu; or rather, the latter are a race intimately related
to the original stock of the Kanúri, as must become evident to every
unprejudiced mind that investigates their language.
How powerful a tribe the Tedá were, is sufficiently shown by the length
of the war which they carried on with that very king Dúnama Selmámi, and
which is said to have lasted more than seven years. Indeed, it would seem
as if it had been only by the assistance of this powerful tribe that
the successors of Jíl Shikomémi were able to found the powerful dynasty
of the Bulála, and to lay the foundation of the great empire called by
Leo Gaoga, comprehending all the eastern and north-eastern parts of the
old empire of Kánem, and extending at times as far as Dóngola, so that
in the beginning of the sixteenth century it was larger than Bórnu.
Even in the latter half of the sixteenth century, the Tedá appears to
have constituted a large proportion of the military force of the Bulála
in Kánem; and great numbers of them are said, by the historian of the
powerful king Edrís Alawóma, to have emigrated from Kánem into Bórnu, in
consequence of the victories obtained by that prince over the Bulála. At
that time they seem to have settled principally in the territories of the
Koyám, a tribe very often mentioned in the book of Imám Ahmed as forming
part of the Bórnu army, and with whom at present they are completely
intermixed. It is very remarkable, that neither by the chronicle, nor
by the historian of Edrís Alawóma, the large tribe of the Mánga, which
evidently formed a very considerable element in the formation of the
Bórnu nation, is ever once mentioned.
While the tribes above enumerated were more or less absorbed by the
empire of Kánem, and, in the course of time, adopted the Mohammedan
religion professed by its rulers, there was on the other hand a very
numerous indigenous tribe which did not become amalgamated with the
conquering element, but, on the contrary, continued to repel it in a
hostile manner, and for a long time threatened its very existence.
These were the “Soy” or “Só,” a tribe settled originally in the vast
territory enclosed towards the north and north-west by the komádugu
Wáube, erroneously called the Yeou, and towards the east by the Shári,
and divided, as it would seem, into several small kingdoms.
This powerful tribe was not completely subjugated before the time of
Edrís Alawóma, or the latter part of the sixteenth century; and it might
be matter of surprise that they are not mentioned at all by the chronicle
before the middle of the fourteenth century, if it were not that even
circumstances and facts of the very greatest importance are passed over
in silence by this arid piece of nomenclature. It would therefore be
very inconsistent to conclude from this silence, that before the period
mentioned the princes of Kánem had never come into contact with the
tribe of the Soy; the reason why the chronicle, sparing as it is of
information, could not any longer pass them over in silence, was that in
the space of three years they had vanquished and killed four successive
kings. The places mentioned in the list, where the first three of these
princes were slain, cannot be identified with absolute certainty; but as
for Nánighám, where Mohammed ben ʿAbdallah was killed, it certainly lay
close to, and probably in, the territory of the Soy. After this period we
learn nothing, with regard to this tribe until the time of Edrís Alawóma,
although it seems probable that Edrís Nikálemi, the successor of Mohammed
ben ʿAbdallah, and the contemporary of Ebn Batúta, had first to gain a
victory over the Soy, before he was able to sit down quietly upon his
throne.
Altogether, in the history of Bórnu we can distinguish the following
epochs. First, the rise of power in Kánem, Njímiye being the capital
of the empire, silent and imperceptible till we see on a sudden, in the
beginning of the twelfth century, the powerful prince Dúnama ben Humé
start forth under the impulse of Islám, wielding the strength of a young
and vigorous empire, and extending his influence as far as Egypt. The
acme, or highest degree of prosperity, of this period coincides with
the reign of Díbalámi Dúnama Selmámi, in the middle of the thirteenth
century, during the prime of the dynasty of the Beni Háfis in Tunis.
But this reign already engendered the germs of decay; for during it the
two cognate elements of which the empire consisted, namely the Tedá
and the Kanúri, were disunited, and it yielded too much influence to
the aristocratical element, which was represented by the twelve great
offices, an institution which seems to deserve particular attention.
The consequence was, that a series of civil wars and regicides ensued,
interrupted only by the more tranquil reign of Ibrahím Nikálemi in the
first half of the fourteenth century, which was followed, however,
by the most unfortunate period of the empire, when the great native
tribe of the Soy burst forth and killed four kings in succession. Then
followed another respite from turmoil, just at the time when Ebn Batúta
visited Negroland; but the son of the very king who in the time of
that distinguished traveller ruled over Bórnu fell the first victim in
the struggle that ensued with a power which had arisen from the same
root, had gained strength during the civil wars of Bórnu, and which now
threatened to swallow it up altogether. This was the dynasty of the
Bulála, which, originating with the fugitive Bórnu prince Jíl Shikomémi,
had established itself in the district of Fíttri over the tribe of the
Kúka, and from thence spread its dominion in every direction till, after
a sanguinary struggle, it conquered Kánem, and forced the Kanúri dynasty
to seek refuge in the western provinces of its empire, about the year
1400 of our era.
The Bórnu empire (if we may give the name of empire to the shattered
host of a belligerent tribe driven from their home and reduced to a few
military encampments) for the next seventy years seemed likely to go
to pieces altogether, till the great king ʿAli Dúnamámi opened another
glorious period; for having at length mastered the aristocratical
element, which had almost overwhelmed the monarchy, he founded as a
central point of government a new capital or “bírni,” Ghasréggomo, the
empire having been without a fixed centre since the abandonment of
Njímiye. It was in his time that Leo Africanus visited Negroland, where
he found the Bulála empire (Gaoga) still in the ascendant: but this
was changed in the beginning of the sixteenth century, even before the
publication of his account; for in the hundred and twenty-second (lunar)
year from the time when ʿOmár was compelled to abandon his royal seat
in Njímiye, ceding the rich country of Kánem, the very nucleus of the
empire, to his rivals, the energetic king Edrís Katakarmábi entered that
capital again with his victorious army, and from that time down to the
beginning of the present century Kánem has remained a province of Bórnu,
although it was not again made the seat of government.
Altogether the sixteenth century is one of the most glorious periods
of the Bórnu empire, adorned as it is by such able princes as the two
Edrís and Mohammed, while in Western Negroland the great Sónghay empire
went to pieces, and was finally subjugated by Mulay Hámed el Mansúr, the
Emperor of Morocco. Then followed a quieter period, and old age seemed
gradually to gain on the kingdom, while pious and peaceful kings occupied
the throne, till in the middle of the last century the energetic and
enterprising king ʿAli ʿOmármi began a violent struggle against that very
nation from which the Bórnu dynasty had sprung, but which had now become
its most fearful enemy—the Imóshagh or Tuarek. He made great exertions in
every direction; but his efforts seem to have resembled the convulsions
of death, and being succeeded by an indolent king, for such was Ahmed,
the fatal hour, which was to accomplish the extinction of the dynasty
of the Séfuwa, rapidly approached. At last, when the very centre of the
empire had already fallen a prey to a new nation which had started forth
on a career of glory, the Fúlbe or Felláta, there arose a stranger,
a nationalized Arab, who, in saving the last remains of the kingdom,
founded a new dynasty, that of the Kánemíyín, which, after having shone
forth very brightly under its founder, was recently reduced by civil
discord, and seems now destined to a premature old age.
CHAPTER XXX.
THE CAPITAL OF BÓRNU.
I shall now give an account of my stay in Kúkawa before setting out on
my journey to Ádamáwa. Regarding Kúkawa only as the basis of my further
proceedings, and as a necessary station already sufficiently known to the
European public by the long stay of the former expedition, I endeavoured
to collect as much information as possible with regard to the surrounding
countries. Two of my friends were distinguished by a good deal of
Mohammedan learning, by the precision with which they recollected the
countries they had wandered through, and by dignified manners; but they
differed much in character, and were inclined to quarrel with each other
as often as they happened to meet in my house.
These two men, to whom I am indebted for a great deal of interesting and
precise information, were the Arab Ahmed bel Mejúb, of that division of
the tribe of the Welád bu-Sebʿa who generally live in the Wady Sákiyet el
Hamra, to the south of Morocco, and the Púllo Ibrahím son of the Sheikh
el Mukhtár, in Kaháide on the Senegal, and cousin of the late Mohammed el
Amín, the energetic prince of Fúta-Tóro. Ahmed had travelled over almost
the whole of Western Africa, from Arguín on the ocean as far as Bagírmi,
and had spent several years in Ádamáwa, of which country he first gave
me an exact description, especially with regard to the direction of
the rivers. He was a shrewd and very intelligent man; yet he was one of
those Arabs who go round all the courts of the princes of Negroland, to
whatever creed or tribe they may belong, and endeavour to obtain from
them all they can by begging and by the parade of learning. I esteemed
him on account of his erudition, but not in other respects.
Quite a different person was the Púllo Ibrahím—a very proud young
man, fully aware of the ascendency, and strongly marked with the
distinguishing character, of the nation to which he belonged. He had
performed the pilgrimage to Mekka, crossing the whole breadth of Africa
from west to east, from warm religious feeling mixed up with a little
ambition, as he knew that such an exploit would raise him highly in the
esteem of his countrymen, and secure to him a high position in life. He
had been two years a hostage in Ndér (St. Louis), and knew something
about the Europeans. It had struck him that the French were not so eager
in distributing bibles as the English, while he had truly remarked that
the former were very sensible of the charms of the softer sex, and very
frequently married the pretty daughters of the Dembaséga. He obtained
from me, first the Zabúr, or the Psalms of David, which even the Arabs
esteem very highly, and would esteem much more if they were translated
into a better sort of Arabic, and afterwards the whole Bible, which he
wished to take with him on his long land journey.
The Arabs and the Fúlbe, as is well known, are in almost continual
warfare all along the line from the Senegal as far as Timbúktu; and it
was most interesting for me to see him and Ahmed in violent altercation
about the advantages of their respective nations, while I was thereby
afforded an excellent means of appreciating their reports with regard
to the state of the tribes and countries along the Senegal. The way in
which they began to communicate to me their information was in itself
expressive of their respective characters, Ahmed protesting that, before
he dared to communicate with me, he was compelled to ask the permission
of the vizier, while Ibrahím laughed at him, declaring that he felt
himself fully authorized to give me any information about Negroland.
Ibrahím became an intimate friend of mine, and took a lively interest in
me, particularly commiserating my lonely situation in a foreign country,
far from home, without the consolations of female companionship.
As an example of the risks which European travellers may incur by giving
medicines to natives to administer to themselves at home, I will relate
the following incident. Ibrahím told me one day that he wanted some
cooling medicine; and I gave him two strong doses of Epsom salts, to use
occasionally. He then complained the following day that he was suffering
from worms; and when I told him that the Epsom salts would not have the
effect of curing this complaint, but that worm-powder would, he begged
me to give him some of the latter; and I gave him three doses to use on
three successive days. However, my poor friend, though an intelligent
man, thought that it might not be amiss to take all this medicine at
once, viz. four ounces of Epsom salts and six drachms of worm-powder;
and the reader may imagine the effect which this dose produced upon a
rather slender man. Unfortunately, I had just taken a ride out of the
town; and he remained for full two days in a most desperate state, while
his friends, who had sent in vain to my house to obtain my assistance,
were lamenting to all the people that the Christian had killed their
companion, the pious pilgrim.
Besides these two men, there were many interesting strangers at that time
in Kúkawa, from whom I learnt more or less. Some of them I shall here
mention, as their character and story will afford the reader a glance
at one side of life in Negroland. A man who had performed travels of
an immense extent, from Khórasán in the east as far as Sansándi in the
west, and from Tripoli and Morocco in the north as far as Asiantí and
Jenakhéra and Fertít towards the south, would have been of great service,
if he had preserved an exact recollection of all the routes which he had
followed in his devious wanderings; but as it was, I could only gather
from him some general information, the most interesting part of which
had reference to Mósi or rather Móre, a large and populous country known
by name already, from Sultan Béllo’s curious communications to Captain
Clapperton, but always misplaced in the maps, and its capital Wóghodoghó.
This enterprising man, who generally travelled as a dervish, had gone
from Sofára on the Máyo balléo or Niger, between Hamdalláhi and Ségo,
across a most unsettled country, to Wóghodoghó; but he was unable to
give me any precise details with regard to it, and I never met another
person who had travelled this dangerous route. He had also travelled all
along the pagan states to the south of Bagírmi and Wadáy, and advised me
strongly, if it were my plan to penetrate to the Upper Nile (as, indeed,
I then intended, notwithstanding my total want of means), to adopt the
character of a dervish, which he deemed essential for my success. But
while such a character might, indeed, insure general success, it would
preclude the possibility of making any accurate observations, and would
render necessary the most painful, if not insupportable, privations. And
on the whole this poor fellow was less fortunate than I; for in the year
1854 he was slain on that very route from Yóla to Kúkawa which I myself
had twice passed successfully. He was a native of Baghdád, and called
himself Sheríf Ahmed el Baghdádi.
There was another singular personage, a native of Sennár, who had been a
clerk in the Turkish army, but, as malicious tongues gave out, had been
too fond of the cash entrusted to his care, and absconded. He afterwards
resided some years in Wadáy, where he had drilled a handful of the
sultan’s slaves, had come to this kingdom to try his fortune, and was now
about to be sent to Wadáy by the sheikh of Bórnu, as a spy, to see if the
prince of that country had still any design of recommencing hostilities.
From all persons of this description the traveller may learn a great
deal; and, intriguing fellows as they generally are, and going from court
to court spreading reports everywhere, prudence requires that he should
keep on tolerably good terms with them.
Most interesting and instructive was a host of pilgrims from different
parts of Másena or Mélle, partly Fúlbe, partly Sónghay, who having heard
of the white man, and of his anxiety to collect information respecting
all parts of the continent, came repeatedly to me to contribute each
his share. I used to regale them with coffee, while they gave me ample
opportunities of comparing and testing their statements. The most
interesting and best informed amongst them, were Bu-Bakr, a native
of Hamdalláhi, the capital of the sheikh (sekho) Ahmedu ben Ahmedu,
who, having made a pilgrimage to Mekka, had long resided in Yeman, and
was now returning homeward with a good deal of knowledge; and another
cheerful and simple-hearted old man from Sá on the Ísa or Niger, between
Hamdalláhi and Timbúktu. Indeed, as the report of Ahmed bel Mejúb about
Ádamáwa had confirmed me in my determination to sacrifice everything
in order to visit that country as soon as possible, so the manifold
information of these people with respect to the countries on the middle
course of the so-called Niger excited in me a most ardent desire to
execute the design, previously but vaguely entertained, of accomplishing
also a journey westward to Timbúktu.
Among my Bórnu friends at this time, the most instructive were Shitíma
Makarémma and Ámsakay. The former, who had been a courtier under the
old dynasty, and who had saved his life by his intrigues, was a very
intelligent old man, but an acknowledged rascal to whom unnatural vices,
which seem in general entirely unknown in these regions, were imputed.
Nevertheless he was the only man who was master of all the history of
the old dynasty; and he spoke the Kanúri language with such exquisite
beauty as I have never heard from anybody else. He had two very handsome
daughters, whom he succeeded in marrying, one to the vizier and one to
his adversary, ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán; but in December 1853 he was executed,
together with the vizier, but on totally different grounds, as having
long forfeited his life. Quite a different sort of man was Ámsakay, a
simple Kánemma chief, who has been represented in one of my sketches.
He had formerly distinguished himself by his expeditions against the
Búdduma, till those enterprising islanders succeeded in conciliating him
by the gift of one of their handsome daughters for a wife, when he became
half settled amongst them.
I had also some interesting pagan instructors, among whom I will only
mention Agíd Búrku, a very handsome youth, but who had undergone the
horrible process of castration. The abolition of this practice in the
Mohammedan world ought to be the first object of Christian governments
and missionaries, not merely on account of the unnatural and desecrated
state to which it reduces a human being, but on account of the dreadful
character of the operation itself, which, in these countries at least,
is the reason why scarcely one in ten survives it: With extreme delight
Agíd Búrku dwelt upon the unconstrained nudity in which his countrymen
indulged, and with great _naïveté_ described a custom of the Pagans,
which is identical with a custom of the civilized Europeans, but is an
abomination in the eyes of every Mohammedan. He had wandered about a
good deal in the southern provinces of Bagírmi and Wadáy, and gave me the
first information about the interesting mountain-group near Kénga Matáya.
But I must principally dwell upon my relations to the vizier el Háj
Beshír ben Ahmed Tiráb, upon whose benevolent disposition the whole
success of the mission depended, as he ruled entirely the mind of the
sheikh, who was more sparing of words, and less intelligent. Mohammed
el Beshír, being the son of the most influential man in Bórnu after the
sheikh, enjoyed all the advantages which such a position could offer for
the cultivation of his mind, which was by nature of a superior cast. He
had gone on a pilgrimage to Mekka in the year 1843, by way of Ben-Gházi,
when he had an opportunity both of showing the Arabs near the coast that
the inhabitants of the interior of the continent are superior to the
beasts, and of getting a glimpse of a higher state of civilization than
he had been able to observe in his own country.
Having thus learned to survey the world collectively from a new point
of view, and with an increased eagerness after everything foreign
and marvellous, he returned to his native country, where he soon had
an opportunity of proving his talent, his father being slain in the
unfortunate battle at Kúsuri, and Sheikh ʿOmár, a fugitive in his native
country, having much need of a faithful counsellor in his embarrassed
situation. The sheikh was beset by a powerful and victorious host,
encamping in the largest of the towns of his kingdom, while the party
of the old dynasty was rising again, and not only withdrawing from him
the best forces wherewith to face the enemy, but threatening his very
existence, at the same time that a brother was standing in fierce rivalry
to him at the head of a numerous army. Sheikh ʿOmár was successful, the
host of Wadáy was obliged to withdraw, and, abandoning the purpose for
which they had come, namely, that of re-establishing the old dynasty,
commenced a difficult retreat of many hundred miles at the beginning
of the rainy season; the partisans of the old dynasty were entirely
crushed, the last prince of that family slain, the residence of the
sultans levelled to the ground, and even the remembrance of the old
times was almost effaced. There remained to be feared only his brother
ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán. ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán was a good soldier, but a man of a very
loose and violent character. When a youth he had committed all sorts of
violence and injustice, carrying off young brides by force, to indulge
his passions: he was besides a man of little intelligence. But being but
a few months younger than ʿOmár, he thought himself equally entitled to
the succession; and if once admitted into a high position in the empire,
he might be expected to abuse his influence on the very first opportunity.
Sheikh ʿOmár, therefore, could not but choose to confide rather in the
intelligent son of his old minister, the faithful companion in the
field and counsellor of his father, than in his own fierce and jealous
brother; and all depended upon the behaviour of Háj Beshír, and upon the
discretion with which he should occupy and maintain his place as first,
or rather only minister of the kingdom. Assuredly his policy should have
been to conciliate, as much as possible, all the greater “kokanáwa” or
courtiers, in order to undermine the influence of ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán, whom
it might be wise to keep at a respectful distance. But in this respect
the vizier seems to have made great mistakes, his covetousness blinding
him to his principal advantages; for covetous he certainly was—first,
from the love of possessing, and also in order to indulge his luxurious
disposition, for he was certainly rather “kamúma,” that is to say,
extremely fond of the fair sex, and had a harím of from three to four
hundred female slaves.
In assembling this immense number of female companions for the
entertainment of his leisure hours, he adopted a scientific principle;
in fact, a credulous person might suppose that he regarded his harím
only from a scientific point of view;—as a sort of ethnological
museum—doubtless of a peculiarly interesting kind—which he had brought
together in order to impress upon his memory the distinguishing features
of each tribe. I have often observed that, in speaking with him of the
different tribes of Negroland, he was at times struck with the novelty of
a name, lamenting that he had not yet had a specimen of that tribe in his
harím, and giving orders at once to his servants to endeavour to procure
a perfect sample of the missing kind. I remember, also, that on showing
to him one day an illustrated ethnological work in which he took a lively
interest, and coming to a beautiful picture of a Circassian female, he
told me, with an expression of undisguised satisfaction, that he had a
living specimen of that kind; and when, forgetting the laws of Mohammedan
etiquette, I was so indiscreet as to ask him whether she was as handsome
as the picture, he answered only with a smile, at once punishing and
pardoning my indiscreet question. I must also say that, notwithstanding
the great number and variety of the women who shared his attention, he
seemed to take a hearty interest in each of them: at least I remember
that he grieved most sincerely for the loss of one who died in the winter
of 1851. Poor Háj Beshír! He was put to death in the last month of 1853,
leaving seventy-three sons alive, not counting the daughters, and the
numbers of children which may be supposed to die in such an establishment
without reaching maturity.
But to return to his political character. I said that he neglected
to attach to himself the more powerful of the courtiers, with whose
assistance he might have hoped to keep the rival brother of Sheikh
ʿOmár at some distance; indeed, he even alienated them by occasional,
and sometimes injudicious use of his almost unlimited power, obliging
them, for instance, to resign to him a handsome female slave or a fine
horse. If he had possessed great personal courage and active powers, he
might have mastered circumstances and kept his post, notwithstanding
the ill-will of all around him; but he wanted those qualities, as the
result shows: and yet, well aware of the danger which threatened him,
he was always on his guard, having sundry loaded pistols and carbines
always around him, upon and under his carpet. Shortly before I arrived,
an arrow had been shot at him in the evening, while he was sitting in his
courtyard.
I have peculiar reason to thank Providence for having averted the
storm which was gathering over his head during my stay in Bórnu, for
my intimacy with him might very easily have involved me also in the
calamities which befell him. However, I repeat that altogether he was a
most excellent, kind, liberal, and just man, and might have done much
good to the country, if he had been less selfish and more active. He was
incapable, indeed, of executing by himself any act of severity, such
as in the unsettled state of a semi-barbarous kingdom may at times be
necessary; and, being conscious of his own mildness, he left all those
matters to a man named Lamíno, to whom I gave the title of “the shameless
left hand of the vizier,” and whom I shall have frequent occasion to
mention.
I pressed upon the vizier the necessity of defending the northern
frontier of Bórnu against the Tuarek by more effectual measures than had
been then adopted, and thus retrieving, for cultivation and the peaceable
abode of his fellow-subjects, the fine borders of the komádugu, and
restoring security to the road to Fezzán. Just about this time the Tuarek
had made another expedition into the border-districts on a large scale,
so that Kashélla Belál, the first of the war chiefs, was obliged to march
against them; and the road to Kanó, which I, with my usual good luck,
had passed unmolested, had become so unsafe that a numerous caravan was
plundered, and a well-known Arab merchant, the Sheríf el Gháli, killed.
I remonstrated with him on the shamefully neglected state of the shores
of the lake, which contained the finest pasture-grounds, and might yield
an immense quantity of rice and cotton. He entered with spirit into all
my proposals; but in a short time all was forgotten. He listened with
delight to what little historical knowledge I had of these countries,
and inquired particularly whether Kánem had really been in former times
a mighty kingdom, or whether it would be worth retaking. It was in
consequence of these conversations that he began to take an interest
in the former history of the country, and that the historical records
of Edrís Alawóma came to light; but he would not allow me to take them
into my hands, and I could only read over his shoulders. He was a very
religious man; and though he admired Europeans very much on account of
their greater accomplishments, he was shocked to think that they drank
intoxicating liquors. However, I tried to console him by telling him
that, although the Europeans were also very partial to the fair sex, yet
they did not indulge in this luxury on so large a scale as he did, and
that therefore he ought to allow them some other little pleasure.
He was very well aware of the misery connected with the slave-trade; for
on his pilgrimage to Mekka, in the mountainous region between Fezzán
and Ben-Gházi he had lost, in one night, forty of his slaves by the
extreme cold, and he swore that he would never take slaves for sale, if
he were to travel again. But it was more difficult to make him sensible
of the horrors of slave-hunting, although, when accompanying him on the
expedition to Músgu, I and Mr. Overweg urged this subject with more
success, as the further progress of my narrative will show. He was very
desirous to open a commerce with the English, although he looked with
extreme suspicion upon the form of articles in which the treaty was
proposed to be drawn up; but he wished to forbid to Christians the sale
of two things, viz. spirituous liquors and bibles. He did not object to
bibles being brought into the country, and even given as presents; but he
would not allow of their being sold. But the difficulties which I had to
contend with in getting the treaty signed will be made more conspicuous
as my narrative proceeds.
The most pressing matter which I had with the vizier in the first
instance, after my arrival, was to obtain some money, in order to settle,
at least partly, the just claims of the late Mr. Richardson’s servants,
and to clear off debts which reflected little credit on the Government
which had sent us. I could scarcely expect that he would lend me the
money without any profit, and was therefore glad to obtain it at the rate
of 1000 cowries, or kúngona as they are called in Bórnu, for a dollar,
to be paid in Fezzán; and I lost very little by the bargain, as the
creditors, well aware of the great difficulty I was in, and acknowledging
my desire to pay them off, agreed to receive for every dollar of the
sum which they claimed, only 1,280 cowries, while in the market the
dollar fetched a much higher price. Indeed it was most grateful to my
feelings to be enabled, on the 13th of April, to distribute among the
eight creditors 70,000 shells; and it was the more agreeable, as the
more arrogant among them, seeing my extreme poverty, had assumed a tone
of great insolence towards me, which I found it difficult to support in
silence. Being now relieved a little in circumstances, I immediately rid
myself of the carpenter, the grandiloquent Son of Jerusalem, and sent him
away. He died on the road before reaching Múrzuk—a fact which the natives
attributed to the curse which I had given him for having stolen something
from my house.
My household now became more comfortable. Already, on the 10th of April,
late in the evening, I had removed my quarters from the large empty
courtyard in the eastern town, or bílla gedíbe, to a small clay house in
the western, or bílla futébe. This dwelling consisted of several small
but neatly made rooms, and a yard. Afterwards we succeeded in obtaining
in addition an adjoining yard, which was very spacious, and included
several thatched huts; and all this together formed “the English house,”
which the sheikh was kind enough to concede to the English mission as
long as anybody should be left there to take care of it. Its situation
was very favourable, as will be seen from the plan on page 380, being
situated almost in the middle of the town, and nevertheless out of the
way of the great thoroughfares; the internal arrangement is shown in the
woodcut on next page.
[Illustration: 1. Segífa, or “sóro chínnabe,” into which a person coming
from the small yard before the house first enters through the principal
gate. In the corner there is a spacious clay bench, “dágali,” raised
three feet from the ground. 2. Small open courtyard, with a very fine
chédia or caoutchouc-tree (3), in which we had generally a troop of
monkeys, while at the bottom a couple of squirrels (_Sciurus_) were
living in a hole. 4. A second courtyard with a henhouse (5). 6. Inner
segífa, where, in the beginning, the servants loitered, and which
was afterwards changed into a simple dining-room. Here generally the
water-jars were kept. 7. Small courtyard, with water-jar. 8. Inner
room, where I used to live, and afterwards, Mr. Vogel. 9. Inner large
courtyard, where, in the corner, the kitchen was established. 10. Room
with a large claybank, where Mr. Overweg used to recline in the daytime.
11. Bedroom of Mr. Overweg, and afterwards of the Sappers, Corporal
Church and Macguire. 12. Small back courtyard. 13. Storeroom. 14. Outer
enclosure of great courtyard in the beginning of our residence in Kúkawa.
This wall we afterwards pulled down, when we obtained a very large
yard for our horses and cattle. We, at times, had six horses and five
or six cows. 15. Very large well-built conical hut, with clay wall and
thatched roof. In the interior there were two spacious raised claybanks
of the kind called “dagáli” and “zinzin,” and in the background a raised
recess, separated by a wall two feet high, for luggage or corn. This hut
I occupied during my last stay in Kúkawa after my return from Timbúktu,
when I built in front of it a large shed with that sort of coarse mats
called síggedí. 16. Hut occupied by Maʿadi, a liberated slave, first in
the service of Mr. Richardson, afterwards in that of Mr. Overweg, and
lastly, Mr. Vogel’s head servant. Having been wounded in the service of
the expedition, a small pension has been granted to him. 17. Hut occupied
by another servant. 18. Place for our cattle. 19. A well. The sandy soil,
as I have said, obliged us to change the place of our well very often,
and we had great trouble in this respect. 20. A clayhouse which, during
the latter part of our stay, fell to ruins.]
I immediately took possession of the room No. 8, which, although very
small, was altogether the best, and was very cool during the hot hours
of the day. Mr. Vogel too, when he afterwards arrived, immediately fixed
upon this room. There was a most splendid kórna-tree in the neighbouring
courtyard, which spread its shade over the terrace of this room, and over
part of the small courtyard in front of it. In our own yard we had only
a very fine specimen of a chédia or caoutchouc-tree (in the first yard,
No. 3), which was afterwards a little damaged by Mr. Overweg’s monkeys,
besides two very small kórna-trees in the great yard around the huts
Nos. 16 and 17. Having thus made myself as comfortable as possible, I
began without delay to dig a well in the small court before the house,
as we had to fetch the water from another well at some distance, which
was much used by the people. My attempt caused some amusement to the
vizier, who soon heard of it, and recognized in it a feature of the
European character; for digging a well is no small undertaking in Kúkawa,
although water is to be found at only nine fathoms depth; for the ground,
consisting of loose sand under an upper thin layer of clay, is very apt
to fall in, while the slender boughs with which the shaft is upheld,
offer but little resistance. We had a great deal of trouble with our
well, not only in constantly repairing it, but in the course of our stay
we were thrice obliged to change the spot and dig a new well altogether.
We should have been glad to set an example to the natives by building up
our shaft with bricks; but with our scanty means, or rather our entire
want of means, we could scarcely think of undertaking such a costly work.
At a later period Mr. Overweg found a layer of shell lime in a spot of
our courtyard, and got our house neatly whitewashed. The great point in
this place is to protect oneself against the countless swarms of fleas
which cover the ground, the best preservative being considered a frequent
besmearing of the walls and the floor with cowdung. The large white ant
too is most troublesome; and sugar particularly is kept with difficulty
from its voracious attacks. Our rooms swarmed also with bugs, “bermáde,”
but I am almost afraid that we ourselves imported them with our books.
The bug, however, in Bórnu is not regarded as that nasty insect which
creates so much loathing in civilized countries; on the contrary, the
native thinks its smell aromatic.
My poor Kátsena nag, the present of the extraordinary governor of that
place, almost against my expectation, had successfully carried me as far
as Kúkawa, but at that point it was quite exhausted, wanting at least
some months’ repose. I was, therefore, without a horse, and was obliged
at first to walk on foot, which was very trying in the deep sand and
hot weather. I had once entreated the vizier to lend me a horse, but
Lamíno had in consequence sent me such a miserable animal that I declined
mounting it. The sheikh being informed afterwards that I was bargaining
for a horse, sent me one as a present; it was tall and well-formed, but
of a colour which I did not like, and very lean, having just come from
the country where it had got no corn, so that it was unfit for me, as
I wanted a strong animal, ready to undergo a great deal of fatigue. I
was already preparing for my journey to Ádamáwa, and having made the
acquaintance of Mʿallem Katúri, a native of Yákoba, or rather, as the
town is generally called, Garún Báuchi, and an excellent man, who had
accompanied several great ghazzias in that country, and particularly
that most remarkable one of Amba-Sambo, the governor of Chámba, as far
as the Igbo country, at the delta of the Niger, I hired him and bought
for his use a strong good travelling horse. I bought also a tolerable
pony for my servant, Mohammed ben Sʿad, so that, having now three horses
at my command, I entered with spirit upon my career as an explorer of
Negroland. All this of course was done by contracting a few little debts.
The vizier, who was well aware of the difficulties and dangers attending
my proposed excursion to Ádamáwa, was rather inclined to send me to the
Músgu country, whither it was intended to dispatch an expedition, under
the command of Kashélla Belál; but fortunately for me, and perhaps,
also, for our knowledge of this part of the continent, the design was
frustrated by an inroad of the Tuarek, which demanded the presence of
this officer, the most warlike of the empire. This incursion of the
plundering Kindín was made by a considerable body of men; who, having in
vain tried to surprise some town on the frontier of Bórnu, turned their
march towards Kánem, and went as far as Báteli, where, however, they met
with but little success.
Having now a horse whereon to mount, I rode every day, either into the
eastern town to pay a visit to the sheikh, or to the vizier, or roving
around the whole circuit of the capital, and peeping into the varied
scenes which the life of the people exhibited. The precincts of the town
with its suburbs are just as interesting as its neighbourhood (especially
during the months that precede the rainy season) is monotonous and
tiresome in the extreme. Certainly, the arrangement of the capital
contributes a great deal to the variety of the picture which it forms,
laid out as it is in two distinct towns each surrounded with its wall,
the one, occupied chiefly by the rich and wealthy, containing very large
establishments, while the other, with the exception of the principal
thoroughfare, which traverses the town from west to east, consists of
rather crowded dwellings, with narrow winding lanes. These two distinct
towns are separated by a space about half a mile broad, itself thickly
inhabited on both sides of a wide open road which forms the connection
between them, but laid out less regularly, and presenting to the eye a
most interesting medley of large clay buildings and small thatched huts,
of massive clay walls surrounding immense yards, and light fences of
reeds in a more or less advanced state of decay, and with a variety of
colour, according to their age, from the brightest yellow down to the
deepest black. All around these two towns there are small villages or
clusters of huts, and large detached farms surrounded with clay walls,
low enough to allow a glimpse from horseback over the thatched huts which
they enclose.
In this labyrinth of dwellings a man, interested in the many forms which
human life presents, may rove about at any time of the day with the
certainty of finding never-failing amusement, although the life of the
Kanúri people passes rather monotonously along, with the exception of
some occasional feasting. During the hot hours, indeed, the town and its
precincts become torpid, except on market-days, when the market-place
itself, at least, and the road leading to it from the western gate, are
most animated just at that time. For, singular as it is, in Kúkawa, as
well as almost all over this part of Negroland, the great markets do not
begin to be well attended till the heat of the day grows intense; and it
is curious to observe what a difference prevails in this as well as in
other respects between these countries and Yóruba, where almost all the
markets are held in the cool of the evening.
The daily little markets, or durríya, even in Kúkawa, are held in the
afternoon, and are most frequented between the ʿaser (lásari) and the
mughreb (almágribu) or sunset. The most important of these durríyas is
that held inside the west gate of the bílla futébe; and here even camels,
horses, and oxen are sold in considerable numbers; but they are much
inferior to the large fair, or great market, which is held every Monday
on the open ground beyond the two villages which lie at a short distance
from the western gate. Formerly it was held on the road to Ngórnu, before
the southern gate; but it has been removed from thence on account of the
large pond of water formed during the rainy season in the hollow close to
this gate.
[Illustration: 1. English house, of which a special plan is given on
page 377. 2. Palace, “fáto maibe,” of the sheikh, in the western town
or bílla futébe, with the mosque, “máshidí,” at the corner. 3. Minaret
of mosque. 4. Square at the back of the palace, with a most beautiful
caoutchouc-tree, the finest in Kúkawa. 5. Déndal, or principal street.
6. Area before the southern gate, where all the offal and dead bodies
of camels and cattle, and sometimes even of slaves, are thrown, and
which, during the rainy season, is changed into a large and deep pond.
7. Palace of the sheikh in the eastern town, or bílla-gedíbe. 8. Palace
of the vizier el Háj Beshír. 9. House where I was first lodged on my
arrival, afterwards occupied by Lamíno the vizier’s head man. 10.
(The house west from this) Palace belonging to Ábú-Bakr, the sheikh’s
eldest and favourite son, with a very large caoutchouc-tree in front.
11. House belonging to Abba Yusuf, second brother of the sheikh. 12.
House occupied, during my later stay, by Lamíno. 13. Hollows from
whence the clay has been taken for building material, and which,
during the rainy season, are changed into deep pools of stagnant
water. 14. Cemetery.]
I visited the great fair, “kásukú letenínbe,” every Monday immediately
after my arrival, and found it very interesting, as it calls together
the inhabitants of all the eastern parts of Bórnu, the Shúwa and the
Koyám, with their corn and butter; the former, though of Arab origin
and still preserving in purity his ancient character, always carrying
his merchandise on the back of oxen, the women mounted upon the top
of it, while the African Koyám employs the camel, if not exclusively,
at least with a decided preference;[46] the Kánembú with their butter
and dried fish, the inhabitants of Mákari with their tobes (the kóre
berné): even Búdduma, or rather Yédiná are very often seen in the market,
selling whips made from the skin of the hippopotamus, or sometimes
even hippopotamus meat, or dried fish, and attract the attention of
the spectator by their slender figures, their small handsome features
unimpaired by any incisions, the men generally wearing a short black
skirt and a small straw hat, “súni ngáwa,” their neck adorned with
several strings of kúngona, or shells, while the women are profusely
ornamented with strings of glass beads, and wear their hair in a very
remarkable way, though not in so awkward a fashion as Mr. Overweg
afterwards observed in the island Belárigo.
On reaching the market-place from the town, the visitor first comes
to that part where the various materials for constructing the light
dwellings of the country are sold, such as mats, of three different
kinds, the thickest, which I have mentioned above as lágará, then
síggedí, or the common coarse mat made of the reed called kalkálti, and
the búshi, made of dúm-leaves, or “ngílle,” for lying upon; poles and
stakes; the framework, “léggerá,” for the thatched roofs of huts, and
the ridge-beam or “késkan súmo”; then oxen for slaughter “fé debáterám,”
or for carrying burdens, “knému lápterám”; further on, long rows of
leathern bags filled with corn, ranging far along on the south side of
the market-place, with either “kéwa,” the large bags for the camel, a
pair of which form a regular camel’s load, or the large “jerábu,” which
is thrown across the back of the pack-oxen, or the smaller “fállim,” a
pair of which constitute an ox-load, “kátkun knémube.” These long rows
are animated not only by the groups of the sellers and buyers, with their
weatherworn figures and torn dresses, but also by the beasts of burden,
mostly oxen, which have brought the loads and which are to carry back
their masters to their distant dwelling-places; then follow the camels
for sale, often as many as a hundred or more, and numbers of horses, but
generally not first-rate ones, which are mostly sold in private. All this
sale of horses, camels, etc., with the exception of the oxen, passes
through the hands of the dilélma or broker, who, according to the mode of
announcement, takes his percentage from the buyer or the seller.
The middle of the market is occupied by the dealers in other merchandise
of native and of foreign manufacture, the “amagdí” or tob from Ujé,
and the kóre, or rébshi; the farásh, or “fetkéma,” and the “selláma,”
the people dealing in cloths, shirts, túrkedí, beads of all sizes and
colours, leatherwork, coloured boxes of very different shape and size,
very neatly and elegantly made of ox-hide. There are also very neat
little boxes made of the kernel, or “náge,” of the fruit of the dúm-tree.
Then comes the place where the kómbuli disposes of his slaves.
There are only a few very light sheds or stalls (“kaudi”), erected
here and there. In general, besides a few of the retail dealers, only
the dilélma, or broker, has a stall, which, on this account, is called
diléllam; and, no shady trees being found, both buyers and sellers are
exposed to the whole force of the sun during the very hottest hours of
the day, between eleven and three o’clock, when the market is most full
and busy, and the crowd is often so dense that it is difficult to make
one’s way through it: for the place not being regularly laid out, nor the
thoroughfares limited by rows of stalls, each dealer squats down with
his merchandise where he likes. There are often from twelve to fifteen
thousand people crowded together in the market; but the noise is not very
great, the Kanúri people being more sedate and less vivacious than the
Háusáwa, and not vending their wares with loud cries. However, the wanzám
or barber, going about, affords amusement by his constant whistling,
“kangádi.” In general, even amusements have rather a sullen character in
Bórnu; and of course, in a place of business like the market, very little
is done for amusement, although sometimes a serpent-tamer (“kadíma”), or
a story-teller (“kosgolíma”), is met with. Also the luxuries offered to
the people are very few in comparison with the varieties of cakes and
sweetmeats in the market-places of Háusa; and “kólché” (the common sweet
ground-nut), “gángala” (the bitter ground-nut), boiled beans or “ngálo,”
and a few dry dates from the Tébu country, are almost the only things,
besides water and a little nasty sour milk, offered as refreshment to the
exhausted customer.
The fatigue which people have to undergo in purchasing their week’s
necessaries in the market is all the more harassing, as there is not
at present any standard money for buying and selling; for the ancient
standard of the country, viz., the pound of copper, has long since
fallen into disuse, though the name, “rotl,” still remains. The
“gábagá,” or cotton-strips, which then became usual, have lately began to
be supplanted by the cowries or “kúngona,” which have been introduced, as
it seems, rather by a speculation of the ruling people, than by a natural
want of the inhabitants, though nobody can deny that they are very useful
for buying small articles, and infinitely more convenient than cotton
strips. Eight cowries or kúngona are reckoned equal to one gábagá, and
four gábagá, or two-and-thirty kúngona, to one rotl. Then, for buying
larger objects, there are shirts of all kinds and sizes, from the “dóra,”
the coarsest and smallest one, quite unfit for use, and worth six rotls,
up to the larger ones, worth fifty or sixty rotls. But while this is a
standard value, the relation of the rotl and the Austrian dollar, which
is pretty well current in Bórnu, is subject to extreme fluctuation,
due, I must confess, at least partly, to the speculations of the ruling
men, and principally to that of my friend the Háj Beshír. Indeed, I
cannot defend him against the reproach of having speculated to the great
detriment of the public; so that when he had collected a great amount of
kúngona, and wished to give it currency, the dollar would suddenly fall
as low as to five-and-forty or fifty rotls, while at other times it would
fetch as much as one hundred rotls, or three thousand two hundred shells;
that is, seven hundred shells more than in Kanó. The great advantage
of the market in Kanó is, that there is one standard coin, which, if a
too large amount of dollars be not on a sudden set in circulation, will
always preserve the same value.
But to return to the market. A small farmer who brings his corn to the
Monday market, or the “kásukú létenínbe,” in Kúkawa, will on no account
take his payment in shells, and will rarely accept of a dollar: the
person, therefore, who wishes to buy corn, if he has only dollars, must
first exchange a dollar for shells, or rather buy shells; then with
the shells he must buy a “kúlgu,” or shirt; and after a good deal of
bartering he may thus succeed in buying the corn, be it some kind of
argúm, wheat, or rice. However, these two latter articles are not always
to be got, while more frequently they are only in small quantities. The
rice sold in Kúkawa is wild rice, the refuse of the elephants, and of a
very inferior description.
The fatigue to be undergone in the market is such that I have very often
seen my servants return in a state of the utmost exhaustion. Most of the
articles which are sold at the great Monday fair may also be found in the
small afternoon markets or durríya, but only in small quantity, and at
a higher price, and some articles will be sought for there in vain. But
while there is certainly a great deal of trouble in the market of Kúkawa,
it must be acknowledged that the necessaries of life are cheaper there
than in any other place which I have visited in Central Africa, almost
half as cheap again as in Kátsena and Sókoto, a third cheaper than in
Kanó, and about a fourth cheaper than in Timbúktu. About the cheapness
of meat and corn in the latter place, which is indeed a very remarkable
fact, and struck me with the utmost surprise when I first reached that
celebrated town, I shall speak in the proper place. But I must remark
that dukhn, argúm móro, or millet (_Pennisetum typhoïdeum_), is in
greater quantity, and therefore cheaper, in Kúkawa than the durra or
sorghum, “ngáberi,” just as it is in Timbúktu and Kanó, while in Bagírmi
durra is much cheaper. The ngáberi of Bórnu, however, particularly that
kind of it which is called matíya, and which is distinguished by its
whiteness, is most excellent; and the “senásin,” a kind of thin pancake
prepared from this grain, is the lightest and best food for a European in
this country.
Of course the price of corn varies greatly according to the season, the
lowest rates ruling about a month or two after the harvest, when all the
corn in the country has been thrashed, and the highest rates just about
the harvest time. In general, a dollar will purchase in Kúkawa three
ox-loads, “kátkun knémube,” of argúm; a dollar and a half will buy a very
good ox of about six hundred pounds’ weight; two dollars fetch a pack-ox
(“knému”), or a milch cow (“fé mádarabé”); one dollar, two good sheep;
from seventeen to twenty rotls, a “téndu” of butter, containing about
four pounds’ weight. For wheat and rice the general rule in Negroland
is, that they fetch double the price of the native corn. Rice might seem
to be indigenous in Central Africa, growing wild everywhere, as well
in Bághena, in Western Africa, as in Kótoko or Bagírmi. Wheat, on the
contrary, was evidently introduced some hundred years ago, together with
onions, the favourite food of the Arab, to the merits of which the native
African is insensible, although it is a most wholesome article of diet in
this climate, as I shall have repeatedly occasion to state.
Of fruits the most common are—the two sorts of ground-nut, “kólché” and
“gángala,” the former of which is a very important article of food,
though by no means on so large a scale as in the eastern parts of
Ádamáwa; the “bíto,” the fruit of the hajilíj or _Balanites Ægyptiaca_
(which is so much valued by the Kanúri that, according to a common
proverb, a bíto-tree and a milch-cow are just the same,—“Késka bítowa
féwa mádarabé kal”); a kind of _Physalis_, the native name of which I
have forgotten; the bírgim, or the African plum, of which I shall speak
further on; the kórna, or the fruit of the _Rhamnus lotus_; and the fruit
of the dúm-palm, “kírzim” or _Cucifera Thebaïca_.
Of vegetables, the most common in the market are—beans of various
descriptions, which likewise form a very important article of food in
many districts, certainly as much as the third of the whole consumption;
onions, consumed in great quantity by the Arabs, but not by the
natives, who prefer to season their food with the young leaves of the
monkey-bread-tree, “kálu kúka,” or the “karás,” or with a sauce made
from dried fish. There are no sweet potatoes and no yams in this part of
Bórnu, the consequence of which is that the food of the natives is less
varied than in Háusa, Kébbi, or Yóruba. Yams are brought to this country
as rarities, and are given as presents to influential persons.
Camels sell at from eight to twenty dollars. When there is no caravan
in preparation, a very tolerable beast may be about for the former
price; but when a caravan is about to start, the best will fetch as
much as twenty dollars—very rarely more; and a good camel may always
be had for about fifteen dollars. Some camels may be bought for four
or five dollars each, but cannot be relied on. Very strong travelling
horses for servants were during my first visit purchasable for from six
to eight dollars, while an excellent horse would not fetch more than
thirty dollars; but in the year 1854 the price had risen considerably,
in consequence of the exportation of horses, which had formerly been
forbidden, having been permitted, and great numbers having been exported
to the west—chiefly to Múniyo, Kátsena, and Márádi. A first-rate horse of
foreign race, however, is much dearer, and will sometimes fetch as much
as three hundred dollars. I shall have another opportunity of speaking
of the horses of Bórnu, which is rather an interesting and important
subject, as the breed is excellent, and, besides being very handsome and
of good height, they bear fatigue marvellously—a fact of which one of
my own horses gave the best proof, having carried me during three years
of almost incessant fatigue on my expedition to Kánem, to the Músgu
country, to Bagírmi, to Timbúktu, and back to Kanó, where my poor dear
companion died in December 1854: and let it be taken into consideration
that, though I myself am not very heavy, I constantly carried with me
a double-barrelled gun, one or two pairs of pistols, a quantity of
powder and shot, several instruments, my journals, and generally even my
coffee-pot and some little provision.
But to return to the picture of life which the town of Kúkawa presents.
With the exception of Mondays, when just during the hottest hours of the
day there is much crowd and bustle in the marketplace, it is very dull
from about noon till three o’clock in the afternoon; and even during the
rest of the day, those scenes of industry, which in the varied panorama
of Kanó meet the eye, are here sought for in vain. Instead of those
numerous dyeing-yards or máriná full of life and bustle, though certainly
also productive of much filth and foul odours, which spread over the town
of Kanó, there is only a single, and a very poor máriná in Kúkawa; no
beating of tobes is heard, nor the sound of any other handicraft.
There is a great difference of character between these two towns; and,
as I have said above, the Bórnu people are by temperament far more
phlegmatic than those of Kanó. The women in general are much more ugly,
with square short figures, large heads, and broad noses, with immense
nostrils, disfigured still more by the enormity of a red bead or coral
worn in the nostril. Nevertheless they are certainly quite as coquettish,
and, as far as I had occasion to observe, at least as wanton also, as
the more cheerful and sprightly Háusa women. I have never seen a Háusa
woman strolling about the streets with her gown trailing after her on the
ground, the fashion of the women of Kúkawa, and wearing on her shoulders
some Manchester print of a showy pattern, keeping the ends of it in her
hands, while she throws her arms about in a coquettish manner. In a
word, their dress, as well as their demeanour, is far more decent and
agreeable. The best part in the dress or ornaments of the Bórnu women is
the silver ornament (the “fállafálle kélabé”) which they wear on the back
of the head, and which in taller figures, when the hair is plaited in the
form of a helmet, is very becoming; but it is not every woman who can
afford such an ornament, and many a one sacrifices her better interests
for this decoration.
The most animated quarter of the two towns is the great thoroughfare
which, proceeding by the southern side of the palace in the western
town, traverses it from west to east, and leads straight to the sheikh’s
residence in the eastern town. This is the “déndal” or promenade,
a locality which has its imitation, on a less or greater scale, in
every town of the country. This road, during the whole day, is crowded
by numbers of people on horseback and on foot; free men and slaves,
foreigners as well as natives, every one in his best attire, to pay his
respects to the sheikh or his vizier, to deliver an errand, or to sue for
justice or employment, or a present. I myself very often went along this
well-trodden path—this highroad of ambition; but I generally went at an
unusual hour, either at sunrise in the morning, or while the heat of the
mid-day, not yet abated, detained the people in their cool haunts, or
late at night, when the people were already retiring to rest or, sitting
before their houses, beguiling their leisure hours with amusing tales or
with petty scandal. At such hours I was sure to find the vizier or the
sheikh alone; but sometimes they wished me also to visit and sit with
them, when they were accessible to all the people; and on these occasions
the vizier took pride and delight in conversing with me about matters of
science, such as the motion of the earth, or the planetary system, or
subjects of that kind.
CHAPTER XXXI.
THE TSÁD.
My stay in the town was agreeably interrupted by an excursion to Ngórnu
and the shores of the lake.
_Thursday, April 24_:—Sheikh ʿOmár, with his whole court, left Kúkawa in
the night of the 23rd of April, in order to spend a day or two in Ngórnu,
where he had a tolerably good house; and, having been invited by the
vizier to go there, I also followed on the morning of the next day. This
road to Ngórnu, is strongly marked with that sameness and monotony which
characterize the neighbourhood of Kúkawa. At first nothing is seen but
the melancholy “káwo,” _Asclepias procera_ or _gigantea_; then “ngílle,”
low bushes of _Cucifera_, appear, and gradually trees begin to enliven
the landscape, first scattered here and there, further on forming a sort
of underwood. The path is broad and well-trodden, but consists mostly of
deep sandy soil. There are no villages on the side of the road, but a
good many at a little distance. In the rainy season some very large ponds
are formed by its side. Two miles and a half before the traveller reaches
Ngórnu—the trees cease again, being only seen in detached clusters at
a great distance, marking the sites of villages, while near the road
they give way to an immense fertile plain, where beans are cultivated,
besides grain. However, this also is covered at this season of the year
with the tiresome and endless _Asclepias_. Among the sites of former
towns on the east side of the road is that of New Bírni, which was built
by the Sultan Mohammed, when residing in Berberuwá, about the year 1820,
and destroyed by Háj Beshír in the year 1847, and does not now contain a
living soul. Further on is a group of kitchen-gardens belonging to some
grandees, and adorned with two or three most splendid tamarind-trees,
which in this monotonous landscape have a peculiar charm.
It was about one o’clock in the afternoon when I entered Ngórnu, the town
of “the blessing.” The heat being then very great, scarcely anybody was
to be seen in the streets; but the houses, or rather yards, were full
of people, tents having been pitched to accommodate so many visitors,
while fine horses looked forth everywhere over the low fences, saluting
us as we passed by. Scarcely a single clay house was to be seen, with
the exception of the house of the sheikh, which lies at the end of the
déndal; but nevertheless the town made the impression of comfort and
ease, and every yard was neatly-fenced with new “síggedí” mats, and well
shaded by kórna-trees, while the huts were large and spacious.
Having in vain presented myself at the house of the vizier, where the
people were all asleep, and wandered about the town for a good while,
I at length took up my quarters provisionally with some Arabs, till
the cool of the afternoon aroused the courtiers from their long midday
slumber, which they certainly may have needed, inasmuch as they had been
up at two o’clock in the morning. But even after I had the good fortune
to see Háj Beshír, I found it difficult to obtain quarters, and I was
obliged to pitch my tent in a courtyard.
Being tired of the crowd in the town, I mounted on horseback early next
morning in order to refresh myself with a sight of the lake, which
I supposed to be at no great distance, and indulged beforehand in
anticipations of the delightful view which I fondly imagined was soon
to greet my eye. We met a good many people and slaves going out to cut
grass for the horses; and leaving them to their work we kept on towards
the rising sun. But no lake was to be seen, and an endless grassy plain
without a single tree extended to the furthest horizon. At length, after
the grass had increased continually in freshness and luxuriance, we
reached a shallow swamp, the very indented border of which, sometimes
bending in, at others bending out, greatly obstructed our progress.
Having struggled for a length of time to get rid of this swamp, and
straining my eyes in vain to discover the glimmering of an open water in
the distance, I at length retraced my steps, consoling myself with the
thought that I had seen at least some slight indication of the presence
of the watery element, and which seemed indeed to be the only thing which
was at present to be seen here.
How different was this appearance of the country from that which it
exhibited in the winter from 1854 to 1855, when more than half of the
town of Ngórnu was destroyed by the water, and a deep open sea was formed
to the south of this place, in which the fertile plain as far as the
village of Kúkiya lay buried. This great change seems to have happened
in consequence of the lower strata of the ground, which consisted of
limestone, having given way in the preceding year, and the whole shore on
this side having sunk several feet; but even without such a remarkable
accident, the character of the Tsád is evidently that of an immense
lagoon, changing its border every month, and therefore incapable of being
mapped with accuracy. Indeed, when I saw to-day the nature of these
swampy lowlands surrounding the lake, or rather lagoon, I immediately
became aware that it would be quite impossible to survey its shores, even
if the state of the countries around should allow us to enter upon such
an undertaking. The only thing possible would be on one side to fix the
furthest limits reached at times by the inundation of the lagoon, and on
the other to determine the extent of the navigable waters.
Having returned to the town, I related to the vizier my unsuccessful
excursion in search of the Tsád, and he obligingly promised to send some
horsemen to conduct me along the shore as far as Káwa, whence I should
return to the capital.
_Saturday, April 26._—The sheikh, with his court, having left Ngórnu
before the dawn of day, on his return to Kúkawa, I sent back my camel,
with my two men also, by the direct road; and then having waited awhile
in vain for the promised escort, I went myself with Bu-Sád, to look after
it, but succeeded only in obtaining two horsemen, one of whom was the
Kashélla Kótoko, an amiable, quiet Kánemma chief, who ever afterwards
remained my friend, and the other a horseguard of the sheikh’s, of the
name of Sále. With these companions we set out on our excursion, going
north-east: for due east from the town, as I now learned, the lagoon was
at present at more than ten miles’ distance. The fine grassy plain seemed
to extend to a boundless distance, uninterrupted by a single tree, or
even a shrub; not a living creature was to be seen, and the sun began
already to throw a fiery veil over all around, making the vicinity of the
cooling element desirable. After a little more than half an hour’s ride
we reached swampy ground, and began to make our way through the water,
often up to our knees on horseback. We thus came to the margin of a fine
open sheet of water, encompassed with papyrus and tall reed, of from ten
to fourteen feet in height, of two different kinds, one called “méle,”
and the other “bóre,” or “bóle.” The méle has a white tender core, which
is eaten by the natives, but to me seemed insipid; the bóre has a head
like the common bulrush, and its stalk is triangular. The thicket was
interwoven by a climbing plant with yellow flowers, called “bórbuje”
by the natives, while on the surface of the water was a floating plant
called, very facetiously, by the natives, “fánna-billa-bágo” (the
homeless fánna). This creek was called “Ngíruwá.”
Then turning a little more to the north, and passing still through deep
water full of grass, and most fatiguing for the horses, while it seemed
most delightful to me, after my dry and dreary journey through this
continent, we reached another creek, called “Dímbebér.” Here I was so
fortunate as to see two small boats, or “mákara,” of the Búdduma, as they
are called by the Kanúri, or Yédiná, as they call themselves, the famous
pirates of the Tsád. They were small flat boats, made of the light and
narrow wood of the “fógo,” about twelve feet long, and managed by two men
each; as soon as the men saw us, they pushed their boats off from the
shore. They were evidently in search of human prey; and as we had seen
people from the neighbouring villages, who had come here to cut reeds to
thatch their huts anew for the rainy season, we went first to inform them
of the presence of these constant enemies of the inhabitants of these
fertile banks of the lagoon, that they might be on their guard; for they
could not see them, owing to the quantity of tall reeds with which the
banks and the neighbouring land was overgrown.
We then continued our watery march. The sun was by this time very
powerful; but a very gentle cooling breeze came over the lagoon, and made
the heat supportable. We had water enough to quench our thirst—indeed
more than we really wanted; for we might have often drunk with our mouth,
by stooping down a little, on horseback, so deeply were we immersed.
But the water was exceeding warm, and full of vegetable matter. It is
perfectly fresh, as fresh as water can be. It seems to have been merely
from prejudice that people in Europe have come to the conclusion that
this Central African basin must either have an outlet, or must be salt.
For I can positively assert that it has no outlet, and that its water is
perfectly fresh. Indeed I do not see from whence saltness of the water
should arise in a district in which there is no salt at all, and in
which the herbage is so destitute of this element, that the milk of the
cows and sheep fed on it is rather insipid, and somewhat unwholesome.
Certainly, in the holes around the lagoon, where the soil is strongly
impregnated with natron, and which are only for a short time of the year
in connection with the lake, the water, when in small quantity, must
savour of the peculiar quality of the soil; but when these holes are
full, the water in them likewise is fresh.
While we rode along these marshy, luxuriant plains, large herds of
“kelára” started up, bounding over the rushes, and sometimes swimming,
at others running, soon disappeared in the distance. This is a peculiar
kind of antelope, which I have nowhere seen but in the immediate vicinity
of the lake. In colour and size it resembles the roe, and has a white
belly. The kelára is by no means slender, but rather bulky, and extremely
fat; this, however, may not be a specific character, but merely the
consequence of the rich food which it enjoys here. It may be identical
with, or be a variety of the _Antilope Arabica_, and the Arabs, and those
of the natives who understand a little Arabic, call both by the same
name, “el áriyel.”
Proceeding onwards, we reached about noon another creek, which is used
occasionally by the Búdduma as a harbour, and is called “Ngúlbeá.” We,
however, found it empty, and only inhabited by ngurútus, or river-horses,
which, indeed, live here in great numbers, snorting about in every
direction, and by two species of crocodiles. In this quarter there are no
elephants, for the very simple reason that they have no place of retreat
during the night; for this immense animal (at least in Africa) appears
to be very sensible of the convenience of a soft couch in the sand, and
of the inconvenience of mosquitoes too; wherefore it prefers to lie down
on a spot a little elevated above the swampy ground, whither it resorts
for its daily food. On the banks of the northern part of the Tsád, on the
contrary, where a range of low sandhills and wood encompasses the lagoon,
we shall meet with immense herds of this animal.
Ngúlbeá was the easternmost point of our excursion; and turning
here a little west from north, we continued our march over drier
pasture-grounds, placed beyond the reach of the inundation, and, after
about three miles, reached the deeply indented and well-protected creek
called “Ngómarén.” Here I was most agreeably surprised by the sight of
eleven boats of the Yédiná. Large, indeed, they were considering the
shipbuilding of these islanders; but otherwise they looked very small
and awkward, and, resting quite flat on the water, strikingly reminded
me of theatrical exhibitions in which boats are introduced on the stage.
They were not more than about twenty feet long,[47] but seemed tolerably
broad; and one of them contained as many as eleven people, besides a
good quantity of natron and other things. They had a very low waist, but
rather a high and pointed prow. They are made of the narrow boards of the
fógo-tree, which are fastened together with ropes from the dúm-palm, the
holes being stopped with bast.
The Kánembú inhabitants of many neighbouring villages carry on trade with
the islanders almost uninterruptedly, while elsewhere the latter are
treated as most deadly enemies. Two parties of Kánembú happened to be
here with argúm or millet, which they exchange for the natron. They were
rather frightened when they saw us, the Búdduma being generally regarded
as enemies; but the sheikh and his counsellors are well aware of this
intercourse, and, wanting either the spirit or the power to reduce those
islanders to subjection, they must allow their own subjects, whom they
fail to protect against the continual inroads of the Búdduma, to deal
with the latter at their own discretion. It was my earnest wish to go on
board one of the boats, and to examine their make attentively; and, with
the assistance of Kashélla Kótoko, who was well known to the Búdduma, I
should perhaps have succeeded, if Bú-Sád, my Mohammedan companion, had
not behaved like a madman: indeed I could scarcely restrain him from
firing at these people, who had done us no harm. This was certainly
a mere outbreak of fanaticism. When the people in the boats saw my
servant’s excited behaviour, they left the shore, though numerous enough
to overpower us; and we then rode on to another creek called Méllelá,
whence we turned westwards and in about an hour, partly through water,
partly over a grassy plain, reached Maduwári.
Maduwári, at that time, was an empty sound for me—a name without a
meaning, just like the names of so many other places at which I had
touched on my wanderings; but it was a name about to become important in
the history of the expedition, to which many a serious remembrance was to
be attached. Maduwári was to contain another white man’s grave, and thus
to rank with Ngurútuwa.
When I first entered the place from the side of the lake, it made a
very agreeable impression upon me, as it showed evident signs of ease
and comfort, and, instead of being closely packed together, as most of
the towns and villages of the Kanúri are, it lay dispersed in eleven or
twelve separate clusters of huts, shaded by a rich profusion of kórna
and bíto-trees. I was conducted by my companion, Kashélla Kótoko, to
the house of Fúgo ʿAli. It was the house wherein Mr. Overweg, a year
and a half later, was to expire; while Fúgo ʿAli himself, the man who
first contracted friendship with me, then conducted my companion on his
interesting navigation round the islands of the lake, and who frequented
our house, was destined to fall a sacrifice in the revolution of 1854.
How different was my reception then, when I first went to his house on
this my first excursion to the lake, and when I revisited it with Mr.
Vogel in the beginning of 1855, when Fúgo ʿAli’s widow was sobbing at my
side, lamenting the ravages of time, the death of my companion, and that
of her own husband!
The village pleased me so much that I took a long walk through it before
I sat down to rest; and after being treated most sumptuously with fowls
and a roasted sheep, I passed the evening very agreeably in conversation
with my black friends. The inhabitants of all these villages are
Kánembú,[48] belonging to the tribe of the Sugúrti, who in former times
were settled in Kánem, till by the wholesale devastation of that country
they were compelled to leave their homes and seek a retreat in these
regions. Here they have adopted the general dress of the Kanúri; and only
very few of them may at present be seen exhibiting their original native
costume, the greatest ornament of which is the headdress, while the body
itself, with the exception of a tight leathern apron, or “fúno,” is
left naked. This is a remarkable peculiarity of costume, which seems to
prevail among almost all barbarous tribes. The original headdress of the
Sugúrti, that is to say, of the head men of the tribe, consists of four
different articles: first, the “jóka,” or cap, rather stiff, and widening
at the top, where the second article, the “ariyábu” (aliyáfu), is tied
round it; from the midst of the folds of the ariyábu, just over the front
of the head, the “múllefu” stands forth, a piece of red cloth, stiffened,
as it seems, by a piece of leather from behind; and all round the crown
of the head a bristling crown of reeds rises with barbaric majesty to
a height of about eight inches. Round his neck he wears a tight string
of white beads or “kulúlu,” and hanging down upon the breast, several
small leather pockets, containing written charms or láya, while his
right arm is ornamented with three rings, one on the upper arm, called
“wíwi or bíbi,” one made of ivory, and called “chíla,” above the elbow,
and another, called “kúllo,” just above the wrist. The shields of the
Sugurti, at least most of them, are broad at the top as well as at the
base, and besides his large spear or kasákka, he is always armed with
three or four javelins, “bállem.” But besides the Sugúrti there happened
to be just then present in the village some Búdduma, handsome, slender,
and intelligent people, their whole attire consisting in a leathern
apron and a string of white beads round the neck, which, together with
their white teeth, produces a beautiful contrast with the jet-black
skin. They gave me the first account of the islands of the lake, stating
that the open water, which in their language is called “Kalilémma,” or
rather Kálu kemé, begins one day’s voyage from Káya, the small harbour
of Maduwári, stretching in the direction of Sháwi, and that the water is
thenceforth from one to two fathoms deep. I invariably understood from
all the people with whom I spoke about this interesting lake, that the
open water, with its islands of elevated sandy downs, stretches from the
mouth of the Sháry towards the western shore, and that all the rest of
the lake consists of swampy meadow-lands, occasionally inundated. Indeed
Tsád, or Tsáde, is nothing else but another form for Sháry, Shárí, or
sárí. I shall have occasion to speak again about this point when briefly
reporting my unfortunate companion’s voyage on the lake.[49]
Having closed my day’s labour usefully and pleasantly, I lay down under
a sort of shed, but had much to suffer from mosquitoes, which, together
with fleas, are a great nuisance near the banks of the lagoon.
_Sunday, April 27._—Before sunrise we were again in the saddle,
accompanied by Fúgo or Púfo ʿAli, who had his double pair of small drums
with him, and looked well on his stately horse. It was a beautiful
morning, and I was delighted with the scene around. Clear and unbroken
were the lines of the horizon, the swampy plain extending on our right
towards the lake, and blending with it, so as to allow the mind that
delights in wandering over distant regions a boundless expanse to rove
in—an enjoyment not to be found in mountainous regions, be the mountains
ever so distant. For
“’Tis distance lends enchantment to the view.”
Thus we went on slowly northwards, while the sun rose over the patches
of water, which spread over the grassy plain; and on our left the
village displayed its snug yards and huts, neatly fenced and shaded
by spreading trees. We now left Maduwári, and after a little while
passed another village called Dógoji, when we came to a large hamlet
or “berí” of Kánembú cattle-breeders, who had the care of almost all
the cattle of the villages along the shores of the lake, which is very
credibly reported to amount together to eleven thousand head. The herd
here collected—numbering at least a thousand head, most of them of that
peculiar kind, called kúri, mentioned before—was placed in the midst,
while the men were encamped all around, armed with long spears and light
shields; at equal distances long poles were fixed in the ground, on which
the butter was hung up in skins or in “kórió,” vessels made of grass.
Here we had some delay, as Fúgo ʿAli, who was the inspector of all these
villages, had to make inquiries respecting three head of cattle belonging
to the vizier, which had been stolen during the night. On our left the
considerable village of Bínder, which is at least as large as Maduwári,
exhibited an interesting picture; and I had leisure to make a sketch.
Having here indulged in a copious draught of fresh milk, we resumed our
march, turning to the eastward; and having passed through deep water we
reached the creek “Kógorám,” surrounded by a dense belt of tall rushes
of various kinds. We were just about to leave this gulf, when we were
joined by Zíntelma, another Kánemma chief, who ever afterwards remained
attached to me and Mr. Overweg, with five horsemen. Our troop having thus
increased, we went on cheerfully to another creek called Tábirám, whence
we galloped towards Bolé, trying in vain to overtake a troop of kelára
(the antelope before mentioned), which rushed headlong into the water and
disappeared in the jungle. Before, however, we could get to this latter
place, we had to pass very deep water, which covered my saddle, though I
was mounted on a tall horse, and swamped altogether my poor Bú-Sʿad on
his pony; nothing but his head and his gun were to be seen for a time.
But it was worth while to reach the spot which we thus attained at the
widest creek of the lake as yet seen by me,—a fine open sheet of water,
the surface of which, agitated by a light east wind, threw its waves upon
the shore. All around was one forest of reeds of every description, while
the water itself was covered with water-plants, chiefly the water-lily
or _Nymphæa lotus_. Numberless flocks of waterfowl of every description
played about. The creek has an angular form; and its recess, which makes
a deep indentation from E. 30 N. to W. 30 S., is named Nghélle.
Having made our way through the water and rushes, and at length got again
on firm ground, we made a momentary halt to consider what next to do.
Háj Beshír had taught me to hope that it would be possible to reach on
horseback the island Sóyurum, which extends a long way into the lake,
and whence I might have an extensive view over the Kálu kemé and many
of the islands; but my companions were unanimously of opinion that the
depth of the water to be crossed for many miles exceeded the height of my
horse; and although I was quite ready to expose myself to more wetting,
in order to see a greater portion of this most interesting feature of
Central Africa, I nevertheless did not think it worth while to ride a
whole day through deep water, particularly as in so doing I should not
be able to keep my chronometer and my compass dry; for these were now
the most precious things which I had on earth, and could not be replaced
and repaired so easily as gun and pistols. But moreover my horse, which
had never been accustomed to fatigue, and had not been well fed, had
become quite lame, and seemed scarcely able to carry me back to Kúkawa. I
therefore gave up the idea of visiting the island, which in some years,
when the lake does not rise to a great height, may be reached with little
inconvenience,[50] and followed my companions towards the large village
of Káwa.
Passing over fields planted with cotton and beans, but without native
corn, which is not raised here at all, we reached Káwa after an hour’s
ride, while we passed on our left a small swamp. Káwa is a large
straggling village, which seems to enjoy some political pre-eminence
above the other places hereabouts, and on this account is placed in
a somewhat hostile position to the independent inhabitants of the
islands, with which the Kánembú in general keep up a sort of peaceful
intercourse. What to me seemed the most interesting objects were
the splendid trees adorning the place. The sycamore under which our
party was desired to rest in the house of Fúgo ʿAli’s sister was most
magnificent, and afforded the most agreeable resting-place possible,
the space overshadowed by the crown of the tree being enclosed with a
separate fence, as the “fágé,” or place of meeting. Here we were feasted
with a kind of “boló-boló,” or water mixed with pounded argúm or dukhn,
sour milk, and meat, and then continued our march to Kúkawa, where we
arrived just as the vizier was mounting on horseback to go to the sheikh.
Galloping up to him, we paid him our respects; and he expressed himself
well pleased with me. My companions told him that we had been swimming
about in the lake for the last two days, and that I had written down
everything. The whole cavalcade, consisting of eight horsemen, then
accompanied me to my house, where I gave them a treat.
I returned just in time from my excursion; for the next day the caravan
for Fezzán encamped outside the town, and I had to send off two of my men
with it. One of them was the carpenter Ibrahím, a handsome young man,
but utterly unfit for work, of whom I was extremely glad to get rid; the
other was Mohammed el Gatróni, my faithful servant from Múrzuk, whom I
dismissed with heartfelt sorrow. He had had a very small salary; and I
therefore promised to give him four Spanish dollars a month, and to mount
him on horseback; but it was all in vain; he was anxious to see his wife
and children again, after which he promised to come back. I, therefore,
like the generals of ancient Rome, gave him leave of absence—“pueris
procreandis daret operam.”
On the other side, it was well worth a sacrifice to send a trustworthy
man to Fezzán. The expedition had lost its director, who alone was
authorized to act in the name of the Government which had sent us out;
we had no means whatever, but considerable debts, and without immediate
aid by fresh supplies, the surviving members could do no better than to
return home as soon as possible. Moreover, there were Mr. Richardson’s
private things to be forwarded, and particularly his journal, which, from
the beginning of the journey down to the very last days of his life, he
had kept with great care,—more fortunate he, and more provident in this
respect than my other companion, who laughed at me when, during moments
of leisure, I finished the notes which I had briefly written down during
the march, and who contended that nothing could be done in this respect
till after a happy return home. I therefore provided Mohammed, upon
whose discretion and fidelity I could entirely rely, with a camel, and
entrusted to him all Mr. Richardson’s things and my parcel of letters,
which he was to forward by the courier, who is generally sent on by the
caravan after its arrival in the Tébu country.
There were two respectable men with the caravan, Háj Hassan, a man
belonging to the family of el Kánemi, and in whose company Mr. Vogel
afterwards travelled from Fezzán to Bórnu, and Mohammed Titíwi. On the
2nd of May, therefore, I went to pay a visit to these men, but found
only Titíwi, to whom I recommended my servant. He promised to render
him all needful assistance. I had but little intercourse with this man,
yet this little occurred on important occasions, and so his name has
become a pleasant remembrance to me. I first met him when sending off
the literary remains of my unfortunate companion. I at the same time
ventured to introduce myself to Her Majesty’s Government, and to try if
it would so far rely upon me, a foreigner, as to entrust me with the
further direction of the expedition, and to ask for means; it was then
Titíwi again who brought me the most honourable despatches from the
British Government, authorizing me to carry out the expedition just as
it had been intended, and at the same time means for doing so. It was
Titíwi, who on the day when I was leaving Kúkawa on my long adventurous
journey to Timbúktu, came to my house to wish me success in my arduous
undertaking; and it was Titíwi again, who, on the 2nd of August, 1855,
came to the consul’s house, in Tripoli, to congratulate me on my
successful return from the interior.
He was an intelligent man, and being informed that I was about to
undertake a journey to Ádamáwa, the dangers of which he well knew, he
expressed his astonishment that I should make the attempt with a weak
horse, such as I was then riding. My horse, though it had recovered a
little from its lameness, and was getting strength from a course of
dumplings made of the husk of Negro corn mixed with natron, which it had
to swallow every morning and evening, was anything but a good charger;
and having previously determined to look about for a better horse, I was
only confirmed in my intention by the observation of the experienced
merchant.
This was one of the largest slave caravans which departed during my stay
in Bórnu; for, if I am not mistaken, there were seven hundred and fifty
slaves in the possession of the merchants who went with it. Slaves are as
yet the principal export from Bórnu, and will be so till the slave-trade
on the north coast is abolished.
Overweg had not yet arrived, although we had received information
that he was on his way directly from Zínder, having given up his
intention of visiting Kanó. Before I set out on my journey to Ádamáwa,
it was essential that I should confer with him about many things, and
particularly as to what he himself should first undertake, but the rainy
season was fast approaching even here, while in Ádamáwa it had set in
long ago, and it seemed necessary that I should not delay any longer.
In the afternoon of the 5th of May, we had the first unmistakable token
of the rainy season—a few heavy claps of thunder followed by rain. But
I did not tarry; the very same day I bought in the market all that was
necessary for my journey, and the next day succeeded in purchasing a
very handsome and strong grey horse, “keri bul,” for twelve hundred and
seventy rotls, equal at that moment to two-and-thirty Austrian dollars,
while I sold my weak horse which the sheikh had given me for nine hundred
rotls, or twenty-two dollars and a half.
Having also bought an Arab saddle, I felt myself quite a match for
anybody, and hearing in the afternoon that the sheikh had gone to
Gawánge, a place two miles and a half east from the town towards the
lake, I mounted my new steed, and setting off at a gallop, posted
myself before the palace just when ʿOmár was about to come out with the
flourishing of the trumpets, sounding the Háusa word “gashí, gashí,”
“Here he is, here he is.” The sheikh was very handsomely dressed in
a fine white bernús over another of light blue colour, and very well
mounted on a fine black horse “fir kéra.” He was accompanied by several
of his and the vizier’s courtiers, and about two hundred horsemen, who
were partly riding by his side, partly galloping on in advance and
returning again to the rear, while sixty slaves, wearing red jackets over
their shirts, and armed with matchlocks, ran in front of and behind his
horse. The vizier, who saw me first, saluted me very kindly, and sent
Hámza Weled el Góni to take me to the sheikh, who made a halt, and asked
me very graciously how I was going on, and how my excursion to the lake
had amused me. Having then taken notice of my sprightly horse, the vizier
called my servant, and expressed his regret, that the horse which they
had presented to me had not proved good, saying that I ought to have
informed them, when they would have given me a better one. I promised to
do so another time, and did not forget the warning.
_Wednesday, May 7._—Mr. Overweg arrived. The way in which he was
announced to me was so singular as to merit description. It was about an
hour before noon, and I was busy collecting some interesting information
from my friend Ibrahím el Futáwi about Tagánet, when suddenly the little
Maʿadi arrived. This lad, a liberated slave, had been Mr. Richardson’s
servant, and is frequently mentioned in that gentleman’s journal. As he
had been among those of my companion’s people who, to my great regret,
had left Kúkawa the day before I arrived without having their claims
settled, I was very glad when he came back, but could not learn from him
how it happened that he returned; when, after some chat, he told me,
incidentally, that the tabíb (Mr. Overweg) was also come, and was waiting
for me in Kálilwá. Of course it was the latter who, meeting the lad on
the road, had brought him back, and had sent him now expressly to inform
me of his arrival. This dull but good-natured lad, who was afterwards
severely wounded in the service of the mission, is now Mr. Vogel’s chief
servant.
As soon as I fully understood the purport of this important message,
I ordered my horse to be saddled, and mounted. The sun was extremely
powerful, just about noon, shortly before the setting in of the rainy
season, and as I had forgotten, in the hurry and excitement, to wind a
turban round my cap, I very nearly suffered a sunstroke. A traveller
cannot be too careful of his head in these countries.
I found Overweg in the shade of a nebek-tree near Kálilwá. He looked
greatly fatigued and much worse than when I left him, four months ago,
at Tasáwa: indeed, as he told me, he had been very sickly in Zínder—so
sickly, that he had been much afraid lest he should soon follow Mr.
Richardson to the grave. Perhaps the news which he just then heard
of our companion’s death made him more uneasy about his own illness.
However, we were glad to meet again alive, and expressed our hopes to
be able to do a good deal for the exploration of these countries. He
had had an opportunity of witnessing, during his stay in Góber and
Marádi, the interesting struggle going on between this noblest part of
the Háusa nation and the Fúlbe, who threaten their political as well as
religious independence; and he was deeply impressed with the charming
scenes of unrestrained cheerful life which he had witnessed in those
pagan communities; while I, for my part, could assure him that my
reception in Bórnu seemed to guarantee success, although, under existing
circumstances, there seemed to be very little hope that we should ever
be able to make a journey all round the Tsád; but I thought that, with
the assistance of those people in Bínder and Maduwári whom I had just
visited, and who appeared to be on friendly terms with the islanders, it
might be possible to explore the navigable part of the lagoon in the boat.
Mr. Overweg was, in some respects, very badly off, having no clothes with
him except those which he actually wore, all his luggage being still in
Kanó, though he had sent two men to fetch it. I was therefore obliged to
lend him my own things, and he took up his quarters in another part of
our house, though it was rather small for our joint establishment. The
vizier was very glad of his arrival, and, in fulfilment of his engagement
to deliver all the things left by Mr. Richardson as soon as Mr. Overweg
should arrive, he sent all the half-empty boxes of our late companion
in the evening of the next day; even the gun and pistols, and the other
things which had been sold, were returned, with the single exception of
Mr. Richardson’s watch, which, as the sheikh was very fond of it, and
kept it near him night and day, I thought it prudent to spare him the
mortification of returning.
Mr. Overweg and I, having then made a selection from the articles that
remained to us, presented to the vizier, on the morning of the 9th,
those destined for him, and in the afternoon we presented the sheikh
with his share. These presents could not now be expected to please by
their novelty, or to awaken a feeling of gratitude in the receivers, who
had long been in possession of them; but although made to understand by
Mr. Richardson’s interpreters that he alone had been authorized by the
British Government, Mr. Overweg and I not being empowered to interfere,
and that consequently they might regard themselves as legitimate
possessors of our deceased companion’s property, they must yet have
entertained some doubt about the equity of their claim; and as soon as
I arrived, and began to act with firmness, they grew ashamed of having
listened to intriguing servants. In short, though we had put them to
shame, they esteemed us all the better for our firmness, and received
their presents in a very gracious manner.
We now spoke also about the treaty, the negotiation of which, we said,
had been specially entrusted to our companion, but now, by his death,
had devolved on us. Both of them assured us of their ardent desire to
open commercial intercourse with the English, but at the same time they
did not conceal that their principal object in so doing was to obtain
firearms. They also expressed their desire that two of their people might
return with us to England, in order to see the country and its industry,
which we told them we were convinced would be most agreeable to the
British Government. Our conversation was so unrestrained and friendly,
that the sheikh himself took the opportunity of excusing himself for
having appropriated Mr. Richardson’s watch. But the following narrative
will show how European travellers, endeavouring to open these countries
to European intercourse, have to struggle against the intrigues of the
Arabs; who are well aware that as soon as the Europeans, or rather the
English, get access to Negroland, not only their slave-trade, but even
their whole commerce, as they now carry it on, will be annihilated.
We had scarcely re-entered our house when, the rumour spreading through
the Arab quarter of the manner in which we had been received, and of
the matters talked of, el Khodr, a native of Dar-Fúr, and the foremost
of the native traders, went to the sheikh with the news that seven
large vessels of the English had suddenly arrived at Nupe, and that the
natives were greatly afraid of them. This announcement was soon found to
be false, but nevertheless it served its purpose, to cool a little the
friendly and benevolent feeling which had been manifested towards us.
The following day we went to pitch the large double tent, which we had
given to the sheikh, on the open area before his palace in the eastern
town; and having fully succeeded in arranging it, although a few pieces
were wanting, it was left the whole day in its place, and made a great
impression upon the people. At first it seemed rather awkward to the
natives, whose tents, even if of large size, are mere bell-tents; but in
the course of time it pleased the sheikh so much, that when I finally
left the country, he begged me to entreat the British Government to send
him another one like it.
We also paid our respects to the principal of the sheikh’s brothers, as
well as to his eldest son. Having obtained permission, we visited ʿAbd eʾ
Rahmán, the brother and rival of the sheikh, as we could not prudently
be wanting in civility to a person who might soon get the upper hand. We
presented him with a fine white heláli bernús, and sundry small things;
he received us very graciously, and laughed and chatted a good deal with
us on the first as well as on a second visit, when I was obliged to show
him the pictures in Denham’s and Clapperton’s work, and the drawing I
had myself made of his friend, the Kánemma chief, Ámsakay, of which he
had heard; but his manners did not please us very much. His countenance
had a very mild expression, and he manifested little intelligence or
princely demeanour, wrangling and playing the whole day with his slaves.
Besides, we were obliged to be cautious in our dealings with him; for we
had scarcely made his acquaintance, when he sent us a secret message,
begging for poison, with which he most probably wished to rid himself
of his deadly enemy the vizier. Quite a different man was Yúsuf, the
sheikh’s second brother, with whom, during my last stay in Kúkawa, in
the beginning of 1855, I became intimately acquainted. He was a learned
and very religious man, always reading, and with a very acute sense of
justice; but he was not a man of business. As for Bú-Bakr, the eldest
son of ʿOmár, who now unfortunately seems to have the best claim to the
succession, he was a child, devoid of intelligence or noble feelings.
Twice was I obliged to have recourse to his father to make him pay me for
some articles which he had bought of me.
The much-desired moment of my departure for Ádamáwa drew nearer and
nearer. The delay of my starting on this undertaking, occasioned by the
late arrival of Mr. Overweg, had been attended with the great advantage
that, meanwhile, some messengers of the governor of that country had
arrived, in whose company, as they were returning immediately, I was
able to undertake the journey with a much better prospect of success.
The subject of their message was, that Kashélla ʿAlí Ladán, on his late
predatory incursion into the Marghí country, had enslaved and carried
away inhabitants of several places to which the governor of Ádamáwa
laid claim, and it was more in order to establish his right, than from
any real concern in the fate of these unfortunate creatures, that he
was pleased to lay great stress upon the case. Indeed, as the sequel
shows, his letter must have contained some rather harsh or threatening
expressions, to which the ruler of Bórnu was not inclined to give way,
though he yielded[51] to the justice of the specific claim. At first
these messengers from Ádamáwa were to be my only companions besides
my own servants, and on the 21st of May I was officially placed under
their protection in the house of the sheikh by several of the first
courtiers or kokanáwa, among whom were the old Ibrahím Wadáy, the friend
and companion of Mohammed el Kánemi in his first heroical proceedings,
Shítima Náser, Hámza, and Kashélla ʿAli, and the messengers promised to
see me safe to their country, and to provide for my safe return.
Íbrahíma, the head man of these messengers, who were all of rather
inferior rank, was not such a man as I wished for; but fortunately there
was among them another person named Mohámmedu, who, although himself a
Púllo by descent, had more of the social character of the Háusa race, and
was ready to gratify my desire for information. He proved most useful in
introducing me into the new country which I was to explore, and would
have been of immense service to me if I had been allowed to make any stay
there.
After much delay, and having twice taken official leave of the sheikh
in full state, I had at length the pleasure of seeing our little band
ready for starting in the afternoon of Thursday, the 29th May, 1851.
Rather more, I think, with a view to his own interest, than from any
apprehension on my account, the sheikh informed me, in the last interview
which I had with him, that he would send an officer along with me.
This move puzzled me from the beginning, and caused me some misgiving;
and there is not the least doubt, as the sequel will show, that to the
company of this officer it must be attributed that I was sent back by
Mohammed Láwl, the governor of Ádamáwa, without being allowed to stay
any time in the country; but, for truth’s sake, I must admit that if I
had not been accompanied by this man, it is doubtful whether I should
have been able to overcome the very great difficulties and dangers which
obstruct this road.
CHAPTER XXXII.
SETTING OUT ON MY JOURNEY TO ÁDAMÁWA.—THE FLAT SWAMPY GROUNDS OF BÓRNU.
_Thursday, May 29._—At four o’clock in the afternoon I left the “chínna
ánumbe,” the southern gate of Kúkawa, on my adventurous journey to
Ádamáwa. My little troop was not yet all collected. For being extremely
poor at the time, or rather worse than poor, as I had nothing but
considerable debts, I had cherished the hope that I should be able to
carry all my luggage on one camel; but when the things were all packed
up, provisions, cooking utensils, tent, and a few presents, I saw that
the one weak animal which I had was not enough, and bought another of
Mr. Overweg, which had first to be fetched from the pasture-ground. I
therefore left two servants and my old experienced Háusa warrior, the
Mʿallem Katúri, whom, as I have stated above, I had expressly hired for
this journey, behind me in the town, in order to follow us in the night
with the other camel.
Mr. Overweg, attended by a spirited little fellow, named ʿAli, a native
of Ghát, who had brought his luggage from Kanó, accompanied me. But
the most conspicuous person in our troop was Bíllama,[52] the officer
whom the sheikh had appointed to accompany me, a tall, handsome Bórnu
man, mounted on a most splendid grey horse of great size, and of a very
quick pace. He had two servants with him, besides a man of Mʿala Ibrám,
likewise mounted on horseback, who was to accompany us as far as the
Marghí country. The messengers from Ádamáwa, as we proceeded onward,
gradually collected together from the hamlets about, where they had
been waiting for us, and the spearmen among them saluted me by raising
their spears just in my face, and beating their small round hippopotamus
shields; Mohámmedu was armed with a sword and bow and arrows. They had
not been treated so well as, with reference to my prospects, the sheikh
ought to have treated them, and Íbrahíma, instead of a handsome horse
which was promised to him, had received a miserable poor mare, quite
unfit for himself, and scarcely capable of carrying his little son and
his small provision bag.
As soon as I had left the town behind me, and saw that I was fairly
embarked in my undertaking, I indulged in the most pleasant feelings. I
had been cherishing the plan of penetrating into those unknown countries
to the south for so long a time, that I felt the utmost gratification
in being at length able to carry out my design. At that time I even
cherished the hope that I might succeed in reaching Báya, and thus extend
my inquiries even as far as the equator; but my first design was, and had
always been, to decide by ocular evidence the question with regard to the
direction and the tributaries of the great river which flowed through the
country in the south.
Leaving the Ngórnu road to our left, we reached the village Kába at
sunset, but were received so inhospitably, that, after much opposition
from a quarrelsome old woman, we took up our quarters not inside, but
outside, her courtyard, and with difficulty obtained a little fire, with
which we boiled some coffee, but had not firewood enough for cooking a
supper, so that we satisfied our appetite with cold “díggwa,” a sweetmeat
made of meal, honey, and butter. The inhabitants of the villages at no
great distance from the capital are generally very inhospitable; but the
traveller will find the same in any country.
_Friday, May 30._—At an early hour we were ready to resume our march,
not having even pitched a tent during the night. The morning was very
fine; and, in comparison with the naked and bare environs of the capital,
the country seemed quite pleasant to me, although the flora offered
scarcely anything but stunted acacias of the gáwo and kindíl kind, while
dúm-bush and the _Asclepias procera_ formed the underwood, and coarse
dry grass full of “ngíbbu” or _Pennisetum distichum_ covered the ground.
Now and then a fine tamarind-tree interrupted this monotony, and formed
a landmark; indeed both the well which we passed (Tamsúkú-korí) and the
village Tamsúkwá, have received their names from this most beautiful and
useful tree, which in Kanúri is called tamsúku or temsúku.
After only four hours’ march we halted near the village Pírtwa, as Mr.
Overweg was now to return, and as I wished my other people now to come
up. Having long tried in vain to buy some provisions with our “kúngona”
or shells, Mr. Overweg at length succeeded in purchasing a goat with his
servant’s shirt. This article, even if much worn, is always regarded as
ready money in the whole of Negroland; and as long as a man has a shirt
he is sure not to starve. Afterwards the inhabitants of the village
brought us several bowls of “bírri,” or porridge of Negro corn; and we
employed ourselves in drinking coffee and eating, till it was time for
Mr. Overweg to depart, when we separated with the most hearty wishes
for the success of each other’s enterprise: for we had already fully
discussed his undertaking to navigate the lagoon in the English boat.
We then started at a later hour, and, following a more westerly path,
took up our night’s quarters at Dýnnamarí, the village of Dynnama or
Ámade. Instead of this most westerly road, my people had taken the most
easterly; and we at length joined them, a little before noon of the
following day, at the village Úlo Kurá, which, with the whole district,
belongs to the “Mágirá” (the mother of the sheikh), and so forms a
distinct domain called “Mágirári.” But the country for thirty or forty
miles round Kúkawa is intersected by so many paths, that it is very
difficult for parties to meet, if the place of rendezvous has not been
precisely indicated. The country hereabouts at this time of the year
presents a most dreary appearance, being full of those shallow hollows of
deep-black argillaceous soil called “fírki” by the Kanúri, and “ghadír”
by the Arabs, which during the rainy season form large ponds of water,
and when the rainy season draws to an end, and the water decreases,
afford the most excellent soil for the cultivation of the “másakwá,” a
species of holcus (_H. cernuus_), which constitutes a very important
article of cultivation in these alluvial lowlands round the Tsád, or
even for wheat. At a later season, after the grain is harvested, these
hollows, being sometimes of an immense extent, and quite bare and naked,
give the country a most dismal appearance. The water in Úlo Kurá was
extremely disagreeable, owing to this nature of the ground.
Continuing our march in the afternoon, after the heat had decreased, we
passed, after about four miles, the first encampment of Shúwa, or berí
Shúwabe, which I had yet seen in the country. Shúwa is a generic name,
denoting all the Arabs (or rather eastern Arabs) settled in Bórnu, and
forming a component part of the population of the country; in Bagírmi
they are called Shíwa. No Arab from the coast is ever denoted by this
name; but his title is Wásirí, or Wásilí. This native Arab population
appears to have immigrated from the east at a very early period, although
at present we have no direct historical proof of the presence of these
Arabs in Bórnu before the time of Edrís Alawóma, about two hundred and
fifty years ago.
Of the migration of these Arabs from the east, there cannot be the
least doubt. They have advanced gradually through the eastern part of
Negroland, till they have overspread this country, but without proceeding
further towards the west. Their dialect is quite different from the
Mághrebí, while in many respects it still preserves the purity and
eloquence of the language of Hijáz, particularly as regards the final
vowels in the conjugation. Many of their national customs, also, still
point to their ancient settlements, as we shall see further on. I became
very intimate with these people at a later period, by taking into my
service a young Shúwa lad, who was one of my most useful servants on my
journey to Timbúktu. These Shúwa are divided into many distinct families
or clans, and altogether may form in Bórnu a population of from 200,000
to 250,000 souls, being able to bring into the field about 20,000 light
cavalry. Most of them have fixed villages, where they live during the
rainy season, attending the labours of the field, while during the
remaining part of the year they wander about with their cattle. I shall
say more about them in the course of my proceedings, as opportunity
occurs. The clan, whose encampment or berí we passed to-day, are
generally called Kárda by the Bórnu people—I cannot say why,[53]—while
their indigenous name, “Bajáudi,” seems to indicate an intermixture with
the Fúlbe or Felláta, with whom the Shúwa in general are on the most
friendly terms, and may often be confounded with them on account of the
similarity of their complexion and manners. In fact, there is no doubt
that it was the Shúwa who prepared and facilitated the settlement of the
Fúlbe or Felláta in Bórnu.
We took up our quarters for the night in one of the four clusters of
huts which form the village Múngholo Gezáwa, and which, by the neatness
and cleanliness of its yards and cottages, did honour to its lord, the
vizier of Bórnu. It was here that I first observed several small pools
of rain-water, which bore testimony to the greater intensity and the
earlier setting in of the rainy season in these regions. There were also
great numbers of waterfowl seen hereabouts.
_Sunday, June 1._—When we left our quarters in the morning we hesitated a
while as to what road to take, whether that by “Múbiyó,” or that by “Úda”
or “Wúda”; but at length we decided for the latter. The country exhibited
a peculiar but not very cheerful character, the ground consisting, in
the beginning, of white clay, and further on of a soil called “gárga”
by the Kanúri people, and now and then quite arid and barren, while at
other times it was thickly overgrown with prickly underwood, with a
tamarind-tree shooting up here and there. We then came to a locality
covered with a dense forest, which at a later period in the rainy season
forms one continuous swamp, but at present was dry, with the exception
of some deep hollows already filled with water. Here we found some of
the inhabitants of the district, all of whom are Shúwa, busy in forming
watering-places for their cattle, by enclosing circular hollows with low
dykes. One of these people was of a complexion so light as to astonish
me; indeed, he was no darker than my hands and face, and perhaps even a
shade lighter: his features were those of the Shúwa in general, small and
handsome; his figure slender. The general size of these Arabs does not
exceed five feet and a half, but they look much taller, on account of
the peculiar slenderness of their forms; for although I have seen many
specimens of stout Fúlbe, I have scarcely ever seen one robust Shúwa. The
forest was enlivened by numberless flocks of wild pigeons.
We then emerged into a more open country, passing several villages of a
mixed population, half of them being Shúwa, the other half Kanúri. All
their huts have a thatched roof of a perfectly spherical shape, quite
distinct from the general form of huts in this country, the top, or “kógi
ngímbe,” being entirely wanting. One of these villages, called Dásedísk,
is well remembered by the people on account of the sheikh, Mohammed el
Kánemi, having been once encamped in its neighbourhood. At a rather early
hour we halted for the heat of the day in a village called Ménoway, where
an old decrepit Shúwa from Úda, led by his equally aged and faithful
better-half, came to me in quest of medicine for his infirmities. To my
great vexation, a contribution of several fowls was laid by my companions
upon the villagers for my benefit; and I had to console an old blind
man, who stumbled about in desperate search after his cherished hen.
There was a numerous herd of cattle just being watered at the two wells
of the village. Starting again in the afternoon, we reached one of the
hamlets forming the district Magá just in time to avoid the drenching of
a violent storm which broke forth in the evening. But the lanes formed
by the fences of the yards were so narrow that we had the greatest
difficulty in making our camels pass through them—an inconvenience which
the traveller experiences very often in these countries, where the camel
is not the indigenous and ordinary beast of burden. The well here was
nine fathoms deep.
_Monday, June 2._—Starting tolerably early, we reached, after two miles,
an extensive fírki, the black boggy soil of which, now dry, showed a
great many footprints of the giraffe. This I thought remarkable at the
moment, but still more so when, in the course of my travels, I became
aware how very rarely this animal, which roams over the extensive and
thinly inhabited plains on the border of Negroland, is found within the
populous districts. This “fírki” was the largest I had yet seen, and
exceeded three miles in length. Much rain had already fallen hereabouts;
and further on, near a full pond, we observed two wild hogs (gadó), male
(bí) and female (kúrgurí), running one after the other. This also was a
new sight for me, as heretofore I had scarcely seen a single specimen
of this animal in this part of the world; but afterwards I found that,
in the country between this and Bagírmi, this animal lives in immense
numbers. We here overtook a small troop of native traders, or “tugúrchi,”
with sumpter-oxen laden with natron, while another with unloaded beasts
was just returning from Ujé. A good deal of trade is carried on in this
article with the last-named place.
Having gone on in advance of the camels with Bíllama and Mállem Katúri, I
waited a long time under a splendid “chédia,” or “jéja” (the Háusa name),
the caoutchouc-tree, indicating the site of a large town of the Gámerghú,
called Muná (which has been destroyed by the Fúlbe or Felláta), expecting
our people to come up, as we intended to leave the direct track and go
to a neighbouring village, wherein to spend the hot hours of the day;
but as they delayed too long, we thought we might give them sufficient
indication of our having left the road by laying a fresh branch across
it. This is a very common practice in this country; but it requires
attention on the part of those who follow, and may sometimes lead to
confusion. On one occasion, when I had, in like manner, gone on in
advance of my people, a second party of horsemen, who had likewise left
their people behind, came between me and my baggage-train, and, as they
were pursuing a bye-way, they laid a branch across the chief road; my
people, on coming up to the branch, thought that it was laid by me, and,
following the bye-way, caused much delay. Other people make a mark with
a spear. I and my horsemen went to the village and lay down in the cool
shade of a tamarind-tree; but we soon became convinced that our people
had not paid attention to the mark. With difficulty we obtained something
to eat from the villagers.
The heat had been very oppressive; and we had just mounted our horses
when a storm broke out in the south, but fortunately without reaching us.
Proceeding at a swift pace, we found our people encamped in a village
called Íbramrí, and, having roused them, immediately continued our march.
Beyond this village I observed the first cotton-field occurring on this
road. The country was thickly inhabited, and gave evidence of a certain
degree of industry; in the village Bashírorí I observed a dyeing-place.
The country was laid out in cornfields of considerable extent, which had
just been sown. All this district then belonged to Mestréma, as an estate
in fee; but after the revolution of 1854, this man was disgraced and the
estate taken from him.
I had already felt convinced that the kúka, or _Adansonia digitata_, is
one of the commonest trees of Negroland; but all the numerous specimens
which I had hitherto seen of this colossal tree were leafless, forming
rather gloomy and unpleasant objects: here, however, I saw it for the
first time adorned with leaves; and though the foliage seemed to bear
no proportion to the colossal size of the boughs, yet the tree had a
much more cheerful aspect. We took up our quarters for the night in Ujé
Maídugurí, a large and comfortable-looking place, such as I had not yet
met with since I left Kúkawa; but the yard, which was assigned to us by
the slaves of Mestréma, was in the very worst state, and I was obliged
to pitch my tent. However, we were hospitably treated, and fowls and a
sheep, as well as bírri, were brought to us.
We had now reached one of the finest districts of Bórnu, which is
collectively called Ujé, but which really comprises a great many places
of considerable size. This was once the chief province of the Gámerghú,
a tribe often mentioned in the history of Edrís Alawóma, and who, as
their language shows, are closely related to the Wándalá or, as they
are generally called, Mándara.[54] This tribe has at present lost all
national independence, while its brethren in Morá and the places around,
protected by the mountainous character of the country, still maintain
their freedom against the Kanúri and Fúlbe, but, as it seems, will soon
be swallowed up by the latter. While the greater part of the Gámerghú
have been exterminated, the rest are heavily taxed, although the tribute
which they have to deliver to the sheikh himself consists only in
butter. Every large place in this district has a market of its own; but
a market of very considerable importance is held in Ujé, and is from
this circumstance called Ujé Kásukulá—“kásukú” means “the market.” In
Ujé Maídugurí a market is held every Wednesday on the west side of the
town, where a small quadrangular area is marked out with several rows
of stalls or sheds. The place was once surrounded by an earthen wall,
the circumference of which seems to show its greater magnitude in former
times.
Escorted by a troop of Mestréma’s idle servants, we entered, on the
following morning, the fine open country which stretches out on the
south side of Maídugurí. The whole plain appeared to be one continuous
cornfield, interrupted only by numerous villages, and shaded here and
there by single monkey-bread-trees, or Adansonias, and various species of
fig-trees, such as the ngábbore, with their succulent dark-green foliage,
and báure with large fleshy leaves of a bright-green colour. Since I
left Kanó I had not seen so fine a country. The plain is traversed by a
large fiumara or komádugu, which comes from the neighbourhood of Aláwó,
where there is a great collection of water, and reaches the Tsád by way
of Díkowa, Nghála, and Mbulú. At the three latter places I have crossed
it myself in the course of my travels; and between Ujé and Díkowa it has
been visited by Mr. Vogel, but I do not know whether he is able to lay
down its course with accuracy.
We had to cross the watercourse twice before we reached Mábaní, a
considerable place situated on a broad sandy hill, at a distance of
little more than four miles from Maídugurí. To my great astonishment, at
so early an hour in the morning, my party proceeded to take up quarters
here; but the reason was, that the messengers from Ádamáwa had to inquire
hereabouts for some of the people, who, as I have stated before, had been
carried away by Kashélla ʿAli. However, in the absence of the bíllama
or head man of the town, a long time elapsed before we could procure
quarters; but at length we succeeded in obtaining a sort of open yard,
with two huts and two stalls, or “fáto síggidibé,” when I gave up the
huts to my companions, and took possession of the best of the stalls,
near which I pitched my tent. The town covers not only the whole top of
the hill, but, descending its southern slope, extends along its foot and
over another hill of less size. It may contain from nine to ten thousand
inhabitants, and seems to be prosperous; indeed all the dwellings,
despicable as they may appear to the fastidious European, bear testimony
to a certain degree of ease and wealth; and few people here seem
destitute of the necessaries of life. Besides agriculture, there appears
to be a good deal of domestic industry, as the market-place, situated on
the eastern slope of the hill, and consisting of from a hundred and fifty
to two hundred stalls, and a dyeing-place close by it, amply testify. I
have already mentioned in another place the shirts which are dyed in this
district, and which are called “ámaghdí.”
When the heat had abated a little I made a pleasant excursion on
horseback, accompanied by Bíllama and Bú-Sʿad, first in an easterly
direction, through the plain to a neighbouring village, and then turning
northward to the komádugu, which forms here a beautiful sweep, being
lined on the north side by a steep grassy bank adorned with fine trees.
The southern shore was laid out in kitchen-gardens, where, a little
further in the season, wheat and onions are grown. In the bottom of the
fiumara we found most delicious water only a foot and a half beneath the
surface of the sand, while the water which we obtained in the town, and
which was taken from the pools at the foot of the hill, was foul and
offensive. These pools are enlivened by a great number of waterfowl,
chiefly herons and flamingoes.
The forenoon of Wednesday also I gave up to the solicitation of my
Ádamáwa companions, and usefully employed my time in writing “bolíde
Fulfúlde,” or the language of the Fúlbe, and more particularly the
dialect spoken in Ádamáwa, which is indeed very different from the
Fulfúlde spoken in Góber and Kébbi. Meanwhile old Mʿallem Katúri was
bitten by a scorpion, and I had to dress the wound with a few drops of
ammonia, for which he was very grateful.
In the afternoon we pursued our march; and I then became aware that we
had made a great _détour_, Maídugurí, as well as Mábaní, not lying on
the direct route. We had been joined in the latter place by a party of
“pilgrim traders” from the far-distant Másena, or, as in European maps
the name is generally written, Massina, on their home-journey from Mekka,
who excited much interest in me. The chief person among them was a native
of Hamd-Alláhi, the capital of the new Púllo kingdom of Mélle, or Másena,
who carried with him a considerable number of books, which he had bought
in the east more for the purposes of trade than for his own use. He was
mounted on a camel, but had also a pack-ox laden with salt, which he
had been told he might dispose of to great advantage in Ádamáwa. Thus
pilgrims are always trading in these countries. But this poor man was not
very successful; for his books were partly spoiled in crossing the river
Bénuwé, and his camel died during the rainy season in Ádamáwa. However,
he thence continued his journey homewards, while his four companions
returned eastward and met with me once more in Logón, and the last time
on the banks of the Shári. Two of them were mounted on fine asses, which
they had brought with them from Dár-Fúr.
Our way led us through a populous and fertile country, first along the
meandering course of the komádugu, which was here lined with ngábbore
or _ficus_, and with the birgim or diña (as it is called in Háusa), a
tree attaining a height of from thirty to forty feet, but not spreading
wide, with leaves of a darkish green, and fruit like a small plum, but
less soft, and of a black colour, though it was not yet ripe. Here I
was greeted by the cheerful sight of the first corn-crop of the season
which I had yet seen—having lately sprung up, and adorning the fields
with its lively fresh green. Rain had been very copious hereabouts; and
several large pools were formed along the komádugu, in which the boys of
the neighbouring villages were catching small fish three or four inches
long, while in other places the banks of the river were overgrown with
beautifully fresh grass. Having crossed and re-crossed the fiumara, we
ascended its steep left bank, which in some places exhibited regular
strata of sandstone. Here we passed a little dyeing-yard of two or three
pots, while several small patches of indigo were seen at the foot of the
bank, and a bustling group of men and cattle gathered round the well.
Villages were seen lying about in every direction; and single cottages,
scattered about here and there, gave evidence of a sense of security.
The cornfields were most agreeably broken by tracts covered with the
bushes of the wild gónda, which has a most delicious fruit, of a fine
cream-like taste, and of the size of a peach, a great part of which,
however, is occupied by the stone. The country through which we passed
was so interesting to me, and my conversation with my Háusa mʿallem about
the labours of the field so animated, that we made a good stretch without
being well aware of it, and took up our quarters in a place called
Pálamarí when it was already dark. However, our evening rest passed less
agreeably than our afternoon’s ride, owing to a violent conjugal quarrel
in an adjoining cottage, the voices of the leading pair in the dispute
being supported by the shrill voices of village gossips.
_Thursday, June 5._—In riding through the village, as we set out in
the morning, I observed that the yards were unusually spacious, and
the cottages very large; but it struck me that I did not see a single
“bóngo,” or hut of clay walls, and I thought myself justified in drawing
the conclusion that the inhabitants must find shelter enough under their
light thatched walls, and consequently that the rainy season is moderate
here.
We had scarcely emerged from the narrow lanes of the village, when I was
gratified with the first sight of the mountainous region; it was Mount
Deládebá or Dalántubá, which appeared towards the south, and the sight
of which filled my heart with joyous anticipations not unlike those with
which, on my first wandering in 1840, I enjoyed the distant view of the
Tyrolean Alps from the village Semling, near Munich. But our march was
but a pretence; we had not been a full hour on the road, crossing a
country adorned chiefly with the bushes of the wild gónda, when Bíllama
left the path and entered the village Fúgo Mozári. The reason was, that
to-day (Thursday) the market was held in the neighbouring Ujé Kasúkulá,
and it was essential that some of our party should visit, or (to use
their expression) “eat” this market.
However, I did not stay long in our quarters, which, though comfortable,
were rather close, and of an extremely labyrinthine character, being
divided into several small yards separated from each other by narrow
passages enclosed with high síggedí mats. After a brief delay I
mounted again with Bíllama and Bú-Sʿad and after two miles reached the
market-town, crossing on our path a shallow branch of the komádugu,
overgrown with succulent herbage, and exhibiting a scene of busy life.
The market was already well attended, and answered to its fame. As it is
held every Thursday and Sunday, it is visited not only by people from
Kúkawa, but also from Kanó, for which reason European as well as Háusa
manufactures are often cheaper in Ujé than in Kúkawa. This we found
to be the case with common paper, “tre lune.” The articles with which
the market is provided from Kúkawa are chiefly natron and salt; and I
myself bought here a good supply of this latter article, as it has a
great value in Ádamáwa, and may be used as well for buying small objects
as for presents. Ujé, however, derives also great importance from the
slave-trade, situated as it is on the border of several pagan tribes; and
I have often heard it said that in the neighbourhood of Ujé a husband
will sell his wife, or a father his child, when in want of money; but
this may be an exaggeration. It is true, however, that slaves who have
run away from Kúkawa are generally to be found here. There might be
from five to six thousand customers; but there would be many more, if
any security were guaranteed to the visitors, from the many independent
tribes who are living round about, especially the Marghí, Bábir, and
Kerékeré. But, as it is, I did not see a single individual in the market
who by his dress did not bear testimony to his Mohammedan profession.
Making several times the round of the market, I greatly excited the
astonishment of the native traders, who had never seen a European. I
then started with Bíllama on an excursion to Aláwó, the burial place of
the great Bórnu king Edrís Alawóma, although the weather was extremely
sultry, and the sun almost insupportable. The whole country is densely
inhabited; and my companion, who had formerly been governor of the
district, was everywhere kindly saluted by the inhabitants, particularly
the women, who would kneel down by the roadside to pay him their
respects. However, I was prevented from seeing the sepulchre itself
by an immense morass extending in front of the town of Aláwó, and the
turning of which would have demanded a great circuit. Numberless flocks
of waterfowl enlivened it, while rank herbage and dense forest bordered
it all round.
We therefore thought it better to return, particularly as a storm was
evidently gathering; but we first went to an encampment of Shúwa, where
we found a numerous family engaged, under the shade of a wide-spreading
ngábbore, in all the various occupations of household work; but we were
very inhospitably received when we begged for something to drink. I
shall often have occasion to mention the inhospitality of these people,
whom I was sometimes inclined to take for Jews by descent, rather than
real Arabs. Passing then the village Pálamarí, and keeping along the
lovely bed of the fiumara, bordered by fine wide-spreading trees, and
richly overgrown with succulent grass, upon which numbers of horses were
feeding, we reached our quarters just in time; for shortly afterwards the
storm, which had been hanging in the air the whole day, and had made the
heat about noon more insupportable than I ever felt it in my life, came
down with considerable violence. The consequence was that I was driven
from the cool shed which I had occupied in the morning, into the interior
of a hut, where flies and bugs molested me greatly. The sheds or stalls,
which are often made with great care, but never waterproof, have the
great inconvenience in the rainy season, that while they do not exclude
the rain, they retain the humidity, and at the same time shut out the air
from the huts to which they are attached.
In the course of the day we obtained the important news, that Mohammed
Láwl, the governor of Ádamáwa, had returned from his expedition
against the Bána, or rather Mbána, a tribe settled ten days’ march
north-eastward from Yóla, but at less distance from Ujé. Bíllama gave me
much interesting information about the country before us, chiefly with
reference to Sugúr, a powerful and entirely independent pagan chief in
the mountains south from Mándará. With regard to this latter country, I
perceived more clearly, as I advanced, what a small province it must be,
comprehending little more than the capital and a few hamlets lying close
around. There came to me also an intelligent-looking Púllo merchant, who
was trading between Kanó and Ujé along the route indicated above; but
unluckily he did not call on me until sunset, just as the prayer of the
almákárifú was approaching, and he did not return in the evening as I
wished him to do.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE BORDER-COUNTRY OF THE MARGHI.
_Friday, June 6._—We now commenced travelling more in earnest. Íbrahíma
had been busy looking after his master’s subjects, who had been carried
away into slavery, all about the villages in the neighbourhood, but with
very little success. Our road passed close by Ujé Kásukulá, which to-day
looked quite deserted; and then through a populous country with numerous
villages and fine pasture-grounds, where I saw the plant called “wálde”
by the Fúlbe.
I had taken great pains in Kúkawa, while gathering information about the
country whither I was going, to ascertain from my informants whether snow
ever lies there on the tops of the mountains or not; but I could never
get at the truth, none of the natives whom I interrogated having ever
visited North Africa, so as to be able to identify what he saw on the
tops of the mountains in his country with the snow seen in the north.
Áhmedu bel Mejúb, indeed, knew the Atlas, and had seen snow on some of
the tops of that range; but he had paid little attention to the subject,
and did not think himself justified in deciding the question. Now this
morning, when we obtained once more a sight of Mount Dalántubá, marking
out, as it were, the beginning of a mountainous region, we returned again
to the subject; and all that my companions said led me to believe that I
might really expect to see snow on the highest mountains of Ádamáwa. But
after all I was mistaken; for they were speaking of clouds. Unfortunately
Bíllama had taken another path, so that to-day I had no one to tell me
the names of the villages which we passed. Some geographers think this
a matter of no consequence—for them it is enough if the position of the
chief places be laid down by exact astronomical observation; but to me
the general character of a country, the way in which the population is
settled, and the nature and character of those settlements themselves,
seem to form some of the chief and most useful objects of a journey
through a new and unknown country.
Having marched for more than two hours through an uninterrupted scene
of agriculture and dense population, we entered a wild tract covered
principally with the beautiful large bush of the tsáda, the fruit of
which, much like a red cherry, has a pleasant acid taste, and was eaten
with great avidity, not only by my companions, but even by myself.
But the scene of man’s activity soon again succeeded to this narrow
border of wilderness; and a little before we came to the village Túrbe,
which was surrounded by open cultivated country, we passed a luxuriant
tamarind-tree, in the shade of which a blacksmith had established his
simple workshop. The group consisted of three persons, the master heating
the iron in the fire; a boy blowing it with a small pair of bellows, or
“búbutú,” and a lad fixing a handle in a hatchet. On the ground near them
lay a finished spear. Riding up to salute the smith, I asked him whence
the iron was procured, and learnt that it was brought from Madégelé, in
Búbanjídda. This is considered as the best iron hereabouts; but a very
good sort of iron is obtained also in Mándará.
We halted for the hot hours of the day near a village belonging to the
district Shámo, which originally formed part of the Marghí country, but
has been separated from it and annexed to Bórnu, its former inhabitants
having either been led into slavery or converted to Islám—that is to say,
taught to repeat a few Arabic phrases, without understanding a word of
them. The inhabitants of the village brought us paste of Guinea-corn
and milk, which, mixed together, make a palatable dish. From this place
onward, ngáberi, or holcus, prevails almost exclusively, and argúm móro,
or _Pennisetum typhoïdeum_, becomes rare.
Some native traders, armed with spears and driving before them asses
laden with salt, here attached themselves to our troop; for the road
further on is so much infested by robbers, that only a large body of
men can pass it in safety. The country which we now entered bore but
too evident proofs of the unfortunate condition to which it is reduced,
forming a thick forest, through which nevertheless, here and there, the
traces of former cultivation and the mouldering remains of huts are to be
seen. According to Bíllama, as late as a few years ago a large portion
of this district was inhabited by Kanúri and Gámerghú, the latter, most
probably, having taken possession of the lands abandoned by the Marghí;
but ʿAli Déndal, who has ruled it for Abú Bakr, the son of ʿOmár, a youth
without intelligence, and only anxious to make the most of his province,
has ruined it by his rapacity: he, however, was soon to be ruined
himself. There was a small spot where the forest had been cleared away
for cultivation,—a proof that the natives, if they were only humanely
treated by the government, would not be wanting in exertion.
The forest was partly filled up by a dense jungle of reed-grass, of such
a height as to cover horse and rider. The soil is of a black, boggy,
argillaceous nature, and full of holes, which make the passage through
this tract extremely difficult in the latter part of the rainy season.
My companions also drew my attention to the bee-hives underground, from
which a peculiar kind of honey is obtained, which I shall repeatedly have
occasion to mention in the course of my narrative.
After three hours’ march through this wild and unpleasant country, we
reached a small village called Yerímarí, which, according to Bíllama,
had formerly been of much greater size; at present it is inhabited by a
few Marghí Mohammedan proselytes. There being only one hut in the yard
assigned to us, I preferred pitching my tent, thinking that the storm
which had threatened us in the afternoon had passed by, as the clouds had
gone westwards. However, I soon learned that, in tropical climes, there
is no certainty of a storm having passed away, the clouds often returning
from the opposite quarter.
We had already retired to rest when the tempest burst upon us with
terrible fury, threatening to tear my weak little tent to pieces.
Fortunately the top-ropes were well fastened; and, planting myself
against the quarter from whence the wind blew, I succeeded in keeping it
upright. The rain came down in torrents; and, though the tent excluded
it tolerably well from above, the water rushed in from below and wetted
my luggage. But as soon as it fairly begins to rain, a traveller in a
tolerable tent is safe; for then the heavy gale ceases. Sitting down upon
my camp-stool, I quietly awaited the end of the storm, when I betook
myself to the hut, where I found Mʿallem Katúri and Bú-Sʿad comfortably
stretched.
_Saturday, June 7._—We set out at a tolerably early hour, being all very
wet. The rain had been so heavy that the labours of the field could be
deferred no longer; and close to the village we saw a couple sowing
their little field, the man going on in advance, and making holes in
the ground at equal distances with a hoe of about five feet long (the
“kíski kúllobe”), while his wife, following him, threw a few grains of
seed into each hole. These people certainly had nothing to lose; and in
order not to risk their little stock of seed, they had waited till the
ground was thoroughly drenched, while some people commit their grain to
the ground at the very setting in of the rainy season, and risk the loss
of it if the rains should delay too long. After we had passed a small
village called Keríkasáma, the forest became very thick; and for a whole
hour we followed the immense footprints of an elephant, which had found
it convenient to keep along the beaten path, to the great annoyance of
succeeding travellers, who had, in consequence, to stumble over the deep
holes made by the impression of its feet.
About eleven o’clock we reached the outskirts of Molghoy, having passed,
half an hour before, a number of round holes, about four feet wide and
five feet deep, made intentionally, just at the spot where the path was
hemmed in between a deep fiumara to the left and uneven ground to the
right, in order to keep off a sudden hostile attack, particularly of
cavalry. Molghoy is the name of a district rather than of a village; as
the pagan countries, in general, seem to be inhabited, not in distinct
villages and towns, where the dwellings stand closely together, but in
single farms and hamlets, or clusters of huts, each of which contains
an entire family, spreading over a wide expanse of country, each
man’s fields lying close around his dwelling. The fields, however, of
Molghoy had a very sad and dismal aspect, although they were shaded and
beautifully adorned by numerous karáge-trees. Though the rainy season had
long set in, none of these fine fields were sown this year, but still
presented the old furrows of former years; and all around was silent
and inert, bearing evident signs, if not of desolation, at least of
oppression.
I had already dismounted, being a little weak and fatigued after my last
sleepless night’s uncomfortable drenching, hoping that we should here
pass the heat of the day; but there seemed to be nothing left for us to
eat, and after some conversation with a solitary inhabitant, Bíllama
informed me that we were to proceed to another village, which likewise
belongs to Molghoy. We therefore continued our march, and soon after
entered a dense forest, where we had more enjoyment of wild fruits,
principally of one called “fóti,” of the size of an apricot, and with
three large kernels, the pulp of which was very pleasant. Behind the
little hamlet Dalá Dísowa I saw the first specimen of the sacred groves
of the Marghí—a dense part of the forest surrounded with a ditch, where,
in the most luxuriant and widest-spreading tree, their god “Tumbí” is
worshipped.
It was one o’clock in the afternoon when we reached the village where
we expected to find quarters. It also is called Molghoy, and is divided
into two groups by a watercourse or komádugu (as the Kanúri, dílle as
the Marghí call it) about twenty-five yards wide, and enclosed by steep
banks. My kashélla, deprived of his former irresistible authority, was
now reduced to politeness and artifice; and having crossed the channel,
which at present retained only a pool of stagnant water, and was richly
overgrown with succulent grass, we lay down on its eastern bank in the
cool shade of some luxuriant kúrna-trees, the largest trees of this
species I have ever seen, where we spread all our luggage, which had been
wetted the preceding night, out to dry, while the horses were grazing
upon the fresh herbage. In this cool and pleasant spot, which afforded a
view over a great part of the village, I breakfasted upon “chébchebé,” a
light and palatable Kanúri sweatmeat, and upon “núfu,” or habb’ el azíz,
dug up in large quantities almost over the whole of Bórnu.
By-and-by, as another storm seemed impending, we looked about for
quarters, and I with my three servants and Mʿallem Katúri took possession
of a small courtyard enclosed with a light fence four feet high composed
of mats and thorny bushes, which contained four huts, while a fifth,
together with the granary, had fallen in. The huts, however, were rather
narrow, encumbered as they were with a great deal of earthenware, besides
the large “gébam” or urn, containing the necessary quantity of corn
for about a week, and the “bázam” or the water-jar; and the doors—if
doors they could be called—were so extremely small, while they were
raised about a foot from the ground, that a person not accustomed to the
task had the greatest difficulty to creep in. These narrow doors were
direct proofs of the great power of the rains in these climes, against
which the natives have to protect themselves, as well as the raised and
well-plastered floors of the huts, while reed is still the prevalent and
almost exclusive material for the whole building. As for my own hut, it
had the advantage of a contrivance to render the passage of the opening
a little more easy, without diminishing the protection against the
inclemency of the weather; for that part of the front of the hut which
intervened between the doorway and the floor of the hut was movable, and
made to fold up. Each family has its own separate courtyard, which forms
a little cluster of huts by itself, and is often a considerable distance
from the next yard. This kind of dwelling has certainly something very
cheerful and pleasant in a simple and peaceable state of society, while
it offers also the great advantage of protecting the villages against
wholesale conflagrations, but it is liable to a very great disadvantage
in a community which is threatened continually by sudden inroads from
relentless enemies and slave-hunters.
The storm luckily passing by, I walked through the village, and visited
several courtyards. The inhabitants, who, at least outwardly, have become
Mohammedans, go entirely naked, with the exception of a narrow strip
of leather, which they pass between the legs and fasten round their
waist. But even this very simple and scanty covering they seem to think
unnecessary at times. I was struck by the beauty and symmetry of their
forms, which were thus entirely exposed to view, and by the regularity
of their features, which are not disfigured by incisions, and in some
had nothing of what is called the Negro type; but I was still more
astonished at their complexion, which was very different in different
individuals, being in some of a glossy black, and in others of a light
copper, or rather rhubarb colour, the intermediate shades being almost
entirely wanting. Although the black shade seemed to prevail, I arrived
at the conclusion that the copper colour was the original complexion of
the tribe, the black shade being due to intermixture with surrounding
nations. But the same variety of shades has been observed in many other
tribes, as well on this continent as in Asia.
[Illustration]
Being allowed to stray about at my leisure, I observed in one house
a really beautiful female in the prime of womanhood, who, with her
son, a boy of about eight or nine years of age, formed a most charming
group, well worthy of the hand of an accomplished artist. The boy’s
form did not yield in any respect to the beautiful symmetry of the most
celebrated Grecian statues, as that of the praying boy, or that of the
_diskophóros_. His legs and arms were adorned with strings of iron beads,
such as I shall have occasion to describe more distinctly further on,
made in Wándalá, which are generally worn by young people; his legs
were as straight as possible: his hair, indeed, was very short, and
curled, but not woolly. He, as well as his mother and the whole family,
were of a pale or yellowish-red complexion, like rhubarb. His mother,
who was probably twenty-two years of age, was a little disfigured by a
thin pointed metal plate about an inch long, of the figure represented
here, which was stuck through her under lip. This kind of barbarous
ornament is called in the language of these people “seghéum,” and is very
differently shaped, and generally much smaller than that worn by this
woman; indeed it is often a mere thin tag. It is possible that its size
varies according to the character of the females by whom it is worn.
However small it may be, it can hardly be fastened in the lip without
being very inconvenient, and even painful, at least at first; at any
rate it is less monstrous than the large bone which is worn by the Músgu
women in the same way. These simple people were greatly amused when they
saw me take so much interest in them; but while they were pleased with
my approval, and behaved very decently, they grew frightened when I set
about sketching them. This is the misfortune of the traveller in these
regions, where everything is new, and where certainly one of the most
interesting points attaches to the character of the natives,—that he will
very rarely succeed in persuading one of them to stand while he makes
an accurate drawing of him. The men are generally tall, and, while they
are young, rather slender; some of the women also attain a great height,
and in that state, with their hanging breasts, form frightful objects in
their total nakedness, especially if they be of red colour.
In another courtyard, I saw two unmarried young girls busy at housework:
they were about twelve years of age, and were more decently clad, wearing
an apron of striped cotton round their loins; but this was evidently a
result of Mohammedanism. These also were of copper colour; and their
short curled hair was dyed of the same hue by powdered camwood rubbed
into it. They wore only thin tags in their under lips, and strings of red
glass beads round their neck. Their features were pleasing, though less
handsome than those of the woman above described. They were in ecstasies
when I made them some little presents, and did not know how to thank me
sufficiently.
I had scarcely returned from my most interesting walk when the
inhabitants of the neighbouring yards, seeing that I was a good-natured
sort of man who took great interest in them, and hearing from my people
that in some respects I was like themselves, sent me a large pot of
their intoxicating beverage, or “komíl,” made of Guinea-corn, which,
however, I could not enjoy, as it was nothing better than bad muddy
beer. Instead of confusing my brains with such a beverage, I sat down
and wrote about two hundred words in their own language, which seemed to
have no relation to any of the languages with which I had as yet become
acquainted, but which, as I found afterwards, is nearly related to, or
rather only a dialect of the Bátta language, which is spread over a large
part of Ádamáwa or Fúmbiná, and has many points of connection with the
Músgu language, while in certain general principles it approaches the
great South African family. Having received, besides my home-made supper
of mohámsa, several bowls of “déffa,” or paste of Guinea-corn, from the
natives, I had a long pleasant chat in the evening with the two young
girls whom I have mentioned above, and who brought two fowls for sale,
but were so particular in their bartering, that the bargain was not
concluded for full two hours, when I at length succeeded in buying the
precious objects with shells, or kúngona, which have no more currency
here than they had since we left Kúkawa, but which these young ladies
wanted for adorning their persons. They spoke Kanúri with me, and their
own language between themselves and with some other women who joined
them after a while. In vain I tried to get a little milk; although the
inhabitants in general did not seem to be so badly off, yet they had
lost all their horses and cattle by the exactions of Bórnu officers.
Indeed it is really lamentable to see the national wellbeing and humble
happiness of these pagan communities trodden down so mercilessly by their
Mohammedan neighbours. The tempest which had threatened us the whole
afternoon discharged itself in the distance.
_Sunday, June 8._—We set out at a tolerably early hour, to pass a forest
of considerable extent. In the beginning it was rather light, such as the
Kanúri called “dírridé,” and at times interrupted by open pasture-ground
covered with the freshest herbage, and full of the footprints of
elephants of every age and size. Pools of stagnant water were seen in all
directions, and flowers filled the air with a delicious fragrance; but
the path, being full of holes, and of a miry consistence, became at times
extremely difficult, especially for the camels. As for ourselves we were
well off, eating now and then some wild fruit, and either sucking out the
pulp of the “tóso,” or devouring the succulent root of the “katakírri.”
The tóso is the fruit of the _Bassia Parkii_, called kadeña by the Háusa
people, and consists almost entirely of a large kernel of the colour and
size of a chestnut, which is covered with a thin pulp inside the green
peel: this pulp has a very agreeable taste, but is so thin that it is
scarcely worth sucking out. The tree in question, which I had lost sight
of entirely since I left Háusa, is very common hereabouts; and the people
prepare a good deal of butter from the kernel, which is not only esteemed
for seasoning their food, but also for the medicinal qualities ascribed
to it, and which I shall repeatedly have occasion to mention. As for the
katakírri, it is a bulbous root, sometimes of the size of a large English
potato, the pulp being not unlike that of a large radish, but softer,
more succulent, and also very refreshing and nutritious. The juice has a
milky colour. A man may easily travel for a whole day with nothing to eat
but this root, which seems to be very common during the rainy season in
the woody and moist districts of Central Africa—at least as far as I had
occasion to observe. It is not less frequent near the Niger and in Kébbi
than it is here; but I never observed it in Bórnu, nor in Bagírmi. It
requires but little experience to find out where the bulbous root grows,
its indication above ground being a single blade about ten inches high;
but it sometimes requires a good deal of labour to dig up the roots, as
they are often about a foot or a foot and a half under ground.
The soil gradually became worse; the trees were of a most uniform
description, being all mimosas, and all alike of indifferent growth,
while only here and there a large leafless _Adansonia_ stretched forth
its gigantic arms as if bewailing the desolation spread around, where
human beings had formerly subsisted: for the kúka or baobab likes the
dwelling of the Negro, and he, on the other hand, can scarcely live
without it; for how could he season his simple food without the baobab’s
young fresh leaves, or sweeten and flavour his drink without the slightly
acid pulp wherein the kernels are imbedded? The herbage was reduced
to single tufts of coarse grass four or five feet high; and the path
became abominable, not allowing a moment’s inattention or thoughtful
abstraction, from fear of being thrown off, the next minute, into a
swampy hole.
Thus we went on cheerlessly, when about eleven o’clock the growth of
the trees began to improve, and I observed a tree, which I did not
remember to have seen before, of middle size, the foliage rather thin
and of light-green colour; it is called “kamándu” in Kanúri, and “bóshi”
in Háusa. The country, however, does not exhibit a single trace of
habitation, either of the past or present time; and on our right no
village was said to be nearer than Díshik at the distance of half a
day’s journey, and even that was reported to be now deserted by its
inhabitants. At length the monotonous gloomy forest gave way to scattered
clusters of large trees, such as generally indicate the neighbourhood
of man’s industry, and we soon after emerged upon beautiful green
meadow-lands stretching out to the very foot of the Wándalá mountains,
the whole range of which, in its entire length from north to south, lay
open to view. It was a charming sight, the beautiful green of the plain
against the dark colour of the mountains, and the clear sunny sky; and I
afterwards regretted deeply that I had not made a slight sketch of the
country from this spot, as near the village the same wide horizon was no
longer visible.
It was one o’clock in the afternoon when we reached the first cluster
of huts belonging to the village or district or Ísge, or Íssege, which
spread to a considerable extent over the plain, while horses and sheep
were feeding on the adjacent pastures, and women were cultivating the
fields. A first glance at this landscape impressed me with the conviction
that I had at length arrived at a seat of the indigenous inhabitants,
which, although it had evidently felt the influence of its overbearing
and merciless neighbours, had not yet been altogether despoiled by
their hands. Vigorous and tall manly figures, girt round the loins
with a short leathern apron, and wearing, besides their agricultural
tools, the “danísko” (handbill), or a spear, were proudly walking about
or comfortably squatting together in the shade of some fine tree, and
seemed to intimate that this ground belonged to them, and that the
foreigner, whoever he might be, ought to act discreetly. As for their
dress, however, I almost suspected that, though very scanty, it was put
on only for the occasion; for, on arriving at the first cluster of huts,
we came abruptly upon a hollow with a pond of water, from which darted
forth a very tall and stout bronze-coloured woman, totally naked, with
her pitcher upon her head,—not only to my own amazement, but even to that
of my horse, which, coming from the civilized country of Bórnu, which is
likewise the seat of one of the blackest races in the interior, seemed to
be startled by such a sight. However, I have observed that many of those
simple tribes deem some sort of covering, however scanty it might be,
more essential for the man than the woman.
We first directed our steps towards the western side of the village,
where in a dense cluster of huts was the dwelling of the nominal
“bíllama,” that is to say, of a man who, betraying his native country,
had placed himself under the authority of the Bórnu people, in the hope
that, with their assistance, he might gratify his ambition by becoming
the tyrant of his compatriots. Here we met Íbrahíma, who with his
countryman had arrived before us. Having obtained from the important
bíllama a man who was to assign us quarters, we returned over the wide
grassy plain towards the eastern group, while beyond the quarter which we
were leaving I observed the sacred grove, of considerable circumference,
formed by magnificent trees, mostly of the _ficus_ tribe, and surrounded
with an earthen wall.
At length we reached the eastern quarter; but the owners of the
courtyards which were selected for our quarters, did not seem at all
inclined to receive us. I had cheerfully entered with Bú-Sad the
courtyard assigned to me, in order to take possession of it, and my
servant had already dismounted, when its proprietor rushed furiously in,
and, raising his spear in a most threatening attitude, ordered me to
leave his house instantly. Acknowledging the justice of his claims to
his own hearth, I did not hesitate a moment to obey his mandate; but I
had some difficulty in persuading my servant to go away peaceably, as he
was more inclined to shoot the man. This dwelling in particular was very
neatly arranged; and I was well able to sympathize with the proprietor,
who saw that his clean yard was to be made a stable and littered with
dirt. The yards contained from five to seven huts, each of different
size and arrangement, besides a shed, and gave plain indications of an
easy and comfortable domestic life.
Bíllama, that is to say, my guide, who seemed not to have been more
fortunate than myself in his endeavour to find a lodging, being rather
crestfallen and dejected, we thought it best to give up all idea of
sheltered quarters, and, trusting to our good luck, to encamp outside.
We therefore drew back altogether from the inhabited quarter, into the
open meadow, and dismounted beneath the wide-spreading shade of an
immense kúka, or “bokki,” at least eighty feet high, the foliage of
which being interwoven with numbers of climbing plants, such as I very
rarely observed on this tree, formed a most magnificent canopy. While
my tent was being pitched here, a number of natives collected round us,
and squatting down in a semicircle eyed all my things very attentively,
drawing each other’s attention to objects which excited their curiosity.
They were all armed; and as there were from thirty to forty, and
hundreds more might have come to their assistance in a moment, their
company was not so agreeable as under other circumstances it might have
been. The reason, however, why they behaved so inhospitably towards me
evidently was, that they took me for an officer of the king of Bórnu:
but this impression gave way the longer they observed my manners and
things; indeed, as soon as they saw the tent, they became aware that it
was not a tent like those of their enemies, and they came to the same
conclusion with regard to the greater part of my luggage. In many places
in Negroland I observed that the bipartite tent-pole was a most wonderful
object to the natives, and often served to characterize the Christian.
This time, however, we did not come to friendly terms; but the reader
will be gratified to see how differently these people treated me on my
return from Fúmbiná.
While our party was rather quietly and sullenly sitting near the tent,
a number of Fúlbe, who had been staying in this district for some time,
came to pay their respects to me. They were a very diminutive set of
people, and, excepting general traits of resemblance and language,
were unlike those proud fellow countrymen of theirs in the west; but
I afterwards found that the Fúlbe in the eastern part of Ádamáwa are
generally of this description, while those about the capital have a far
more noble and dignified appearance. I think this may be not so much a
mark of a difference of tribe, as a consequence of the low circumstances
of those settled at a great distance from the seat of government, who,
being still engaged in struggling for their subsistence, have not raised
themselves from their original condition of humble cattle-breeders, or
“berroróji,” to the proud rank of conquerors and religious reformers.
Their colour certainly was not the characteristic rhubarb-colour of the
Fúta Púllo, nor the deep black of the Toróde, but was a greyish sort of
black, approaching what the Frenchmen call the _chocolat-au-lait_ colour,
while their small features wanted the expressiveness which those of the
light Púllo generally have. They all wore shirts, which however were
deficient in that cleanliness which in general is characteristic of this
race. These simple visitors might perhaps have proved very interesting
companions, if we had been able to understand each other; but as they
spoke neither Arabic, nor Háusa, nor Kanúri, while I was but a beginner
in their language, our conversation flowed but sluggishly.
I had observed in all the dwellings of the natives a very large species
of fish laid to dry on the roofs of the huts; and being not a little
astonished at the existence of fish of such a size in this district,
where I was not aware that there existed any considerable waters, I
took the earliest opportunity of inquiring whence they were brought,
and, having learnt that a considerable lake was at no great distance,
I intimated to Bíllama my wish to visit it. I therefore mounted on
horseback with him in the afternoon, and then passing behind the eastern
quarter of Íssege, and crossing a tract covered with excellent herbage,
but so full of holes and crevices that the horses had great difficulty in
getting over it, we reached a fine sheet of water of considerable depth,
stretching from west to east, and full of large fish. All along the way
we were met by natives returning from fishing, with their nets and their
spoil. The fish measure generally about twenty inches in length, and
seem to be of the same kind as that caught in the Tsád. The banks of the
water, except on the west side, where we stood, were so hemmed in with
rushes that I could not form a satisfactory estimate of its magnitude
and real character; but it seems to be a hollow which is filled by the
rivulet or torrent which I surveyed in its upper course the following
day, and which seems to pass at a short distance to the east of this
lake. The latter, however, is said always to contain water, which, as far
as I know, is not the case with the river; but certainly even the lake
must become much shallower in the dry season.
A small torrent joins the lake near its south-western corner; and on the
banks of this torrent I observed a rounded mass of granite rising to the
height of about fifteen feet, this being the only eminence in the whole
plain. Though it was not elevated enough to allow me a fair survey of
the plain itself, it afforded a splendid and interesting panorama of the
mountains. The whole range of mountains, which forms the western barrier
of the little country of Wándalá, lay open before me at the distance of
about twenty miles, while behind it, towards the south, mountains of more
varied shape, and greater elevation, became more visible. It was here
that I obtained the first view of Mount Méndefi, or Míndif, which, since
it was seen by Major Denham on his adventurous expedition against some of
the Felláta settlements to the south of Morá, has become so celebrated
in Europe, giving rise to all sorts of conjectures and theories. It
might, indeed, even from this point be supposed to be the centre of a
considerable mountain mass, surrounded as it is by several other summits
of importance, particularly the Mechíka and Umshi, whilst it is in
reality nothing more than a detached cone starting up from a level plain,
like the Mount of Mbutúdi on a smaller scale, or that of Tákabéllo, with
both of which Íbrahíma used to compare it, or the Alantíka on a larger
scale. Its circumference at the base certainly does not exceed probably
from ten to twelve miles, as it is partly encompassed by the straggling
village of the same name, which seems to stretch out to a considerable
length, or rather to be separated into two or three distinct clusters.
The place has a market every Friday, which is of some importance.
From my position the top of the mount presented the shape here
delineated; and even through the telescope the Míndif, as well as the
singular mount of Kamálle, of which I shall soon have to speak, seemed to
be of a whitish or greyish colour, which led me to the conclusion that
it consisted of a calcareous rock. It was not till a much later period
that I learnt, from a native of the village of Míndif, that the stone
was originally quite black, not only on the surface, but all through,
and extremely hard, and that the white colour is merely due to immense
numbers of birds, which habitually frequent it, being nothing else than
guano. I think, therefore, that this mount will eventually prove to be a
basaltic cone, an ancient volcano—a character which seems to be indicated
by the double horn of its summit. Its height scarcely exceeds five
thousand feet above the surface of the sea, or less than four thousand
feet above the plain from which it rises.
[Illustration]
But while my attention was engaged by this mountain, on account of
its having been so much talked of in Europe, another height attracted
my notice much more, on account of its peculiar shape. This was Mount
Kamálle, which just became visible behind the continuous mountain-chain
in the foreground, like a columnar pile rising from a steep cone; it
likewise seemed of a greyish colour. Between this remarkable peak and
Mount Míndif several cones were descried from a greater distance, while
west from the latter mountain the elevated region seemed to cease.
The highest elevation of the Wándalá range, which is called Magár, I
estimated at about three thousand feet, while the chain in general did
not rise more than two thousand five hundred feet above the level of the
sea, or about one thousand five hundred feet above the plain. This part
of the mountain-chain forms the natural stronghold of a pagan king whom
my Kanúri companion constantly called “Mai Sugúr,” but whose proper name
or title seems to be “Lá.”
Overjoyed at having at length reached the region of the famous Míndif,
and full of plans for the future, I remounted my horse. While returning
to our encampment, my companion, who was altogether a sociable and
agreeable sort of person, gave me some more information with regard to
the Marghí, whom he represented as a numerous tribe, stronger even at
the present time than the Manga, and capable of sending thirty thousand
armed men into the field. He told me that it was their peculiar custom
to mourn for the death of a young man, and to make merry at the death
of an old one—an account which I found afterwards confirmed, while his
statement that they buried the dead in an upright position together with
their weapons, furniture, and some paste of Indian corn, did not prove
quite correct. In many respects they claim great superiority over their
neighbours; and they practise even to a great extent inoculation for
small-pox, which in Bórnu is rather the exception than the rule.
Fortunately for us in our out-of-doors encampment, the sky remained
serene; and while, after a very frugal supper, we were reclining on
our mats in the cool air of the evening, an interesting and animated
dispute arose between Bíllama, Mʿallem Katúri, and Mohámmedu—the Ádamáwa
messenger whom I have represented above as a very communicative, sociable
person—about the water of Íssege, whence it came, and whither it flowed.
Mohámmedu, who notwithstanding his intelligence and sprightliness was not
free from absurd prejudices, contended, with the utmost pertinacity, that
the water in question issued from the river Bénuwé at Kobére and ran into
the Sháry, a river with which he was acquainted only by hearsay. But my
prudent and experienced old Mʿallem contested this point successfully,
demonstrating that the river rose in the mountains far to the north of
the Bénuwé. Thus we spent the evening quite cheerfully; and the night
passed without any accident, all the people sleeping in a close circle
round my tent.
_Monday, June 9._—At an early hour we set out on our journey, being
joined by several of the Fúlbe, who had come the day before to salute me,
while only one of our caravan remained behind, namely the horseman of
Malá Ibrám. This whole district had formerly belonged to the last-named
person; but he had lately ceded it to Abú-Bakr, the son of Sheikh ʿOmár:
but we have seen what a precarious possession it was. The country through
which we passed was varied and fertile, although the sky was overcast;
and I was struck with the frequency of the poisonous euphorbia, called
“karúgu” by the Kanúri. Further on, the crop stood already a foot high,
and formed a most pleasant object. We then entered a dense forest,
where the danger became considerable, an evident proof of the lawless
state of the country being seen in the village Yésa, which was in some
degree subject (“imána,” as the people call it, with an Arabic name)
to the Sheikh ʿOmár, but had been ransacked and burnt about forty days
previously by the tribe of the Gulúk. It was the first village on this
road the huts of which were entirely of the construction called by the
Kanúri “bóngo.”
Having stopped here a few minutes to allow the people to recruit
themselves, we pushed on with speed, and soon passed the site of another
village, which had been destroyed at an earlier period, having close
on our left a fertile plain in a wild state, over which the mountain
chain was still visible, with a glance now and then at the Míndif and
Kamálle. Suddenly there was visible on this side a river from thirty to
forty yards broad, and enclosed by banks about twelve feet high, with a
considerable body of water, flowing through the fine but desolate plain
in a northerly direction, but with a very winding course and a moderate
current; and it henceforth continued on our side,—sometimes approaching,
at others receding, and affording an agreeable cool draught, instead of
the unwholesome stagnant water from the pools, impregnated with vegetable
matter, and very often full of worms, and forming certainly one of the
chief causes of disease to the foreign traveller. In this part of the
forest the karáge was the most common tree, while besides it there was
a considerable variety,—the tosó or kadeña, the koráwa, the kabúwi, the
zíndi, and the acacia-like paipáya; the fruit of the tóso, or rather
its thin pulp, and the beautiful cream-fruit of the gónda-bush (_Annona
palustris?_) remaining our favourite dainties.
Suddenly the spirit of our little troop was roused; some naked pagans
were discovered in the bushes near the stream, and so long as it was
uncertain whether or not they were accompanied by a greater number, my
companions were in a state of fright; but as soon as it was ascertained
that the black strangers were but few, they wanted to rush upon and
capture them as slaves; but Íbrahíma, with a dignified air, cried out,
“Imána, imána,” intimating that the tribe was paying tribute to his
master the governor of Yóla; and whether it was true or not, certainly
he did well to keep these vagabonds from preying upon other people while
their own safety was in danger.
At a quarter past eleven o’clock we reached the outskirts of Kófa, a
village, which had been ransacked and destroyed entirely by Kashélla
ʿAli,—the very act which had given rise to the complaints on the side
of the governor of Ádamáwa, who claimed the supremacy over this place.
Several huts had been already built up again very neatly of bongo; for
this had now become the general mode of architecture, giving proof of our
advancing into the heart of the tropical climes. And as the dwellings
were again rising, so the inhabitants were likewise returning to their
hearths.
A most interesting and cheerful incident in these unfortunate and
distracted lands, where the traveller has every day to observe
domestic happiness trodden under foot, children torn from the breasts
of their mothers, and wives from the embraces of their husbands, was
here exhibited before us. Among the people recovered from slavery by
Íbrahíma’s exertions was a young girl, a native of this village, who, as
soon as she recognized the place from which she had been torn, began to
run as if bewildered, making the circuit of all the huts. But the people
were not all so fortunate as to see again those whom they had lost; there
were many sorrowful countenances among those who inquired in vain for
their sons or daughters. However, I was pleased to find that Bíllama was
saluted in a friendly way by the few inhabitants of the place, proving,
as I thought, that, when governor of this southernmost district of Bórnu,
he had not behaved so cruelly.
The country hereabouts showed a far more advanced state of vegetation
than that from whence we had come, the young succulent grass reaching to
the height of a foot and a half, while the corn (dáwa, or holcus) in one
field measured already thirty inches in height. The fresh meadow grounds
were interspersed with flowers; and a beautiful specimen of the “kangel,”
measuring eight inches in diameter, was brought to me by Bíllama, being
the only specimen which I have ever observed of this peculiar flower.
Mr. Vogel, however, told me afterwards that he had occasionally observed
it in Mándará (Wándalá).
Having dismounted under a tamarind-tree for the hot hours of the day,
Bíllama, with the assistance of my old Mʿallem, gave me a list of
some of the larger places in the Marghí country. West-south-west from
the Marghí live the Bábur or Bábir, scattered in small hamlets over a
mountainous basaltic district, with the exception of their principal
seat Biyú, which is called after the name, or probably rather the title,
of their chief. This place is said to be as far from Kófa as Kúkawa is
from the same place, and is reported to be of large size. The Bábur have
in certain respects preserved their independence, while in others, like
the Marghí, they have begun to yield to the overwhelming influence of
their Mohammedan neighbours. But the Marghí claim superiority over their
kinsmen in point of personal courage; for of their relationship there can
be no doubt.
When the sun began to decline, we pursued our march, in order to reach
Laháula, where we were to pass the night. The unsafe state of the country
through which we were passing was well indicated by the circumstance
that even the circumspect Íbrahíma mounted the poor mare given to him by
Sheikh ʿOmár, which he had spared till now. He moreover exchanged his
bow for a spear. A thick tempest was gathering on the Wándalá mountains,
while our motley troop wound along the narrow path,—at times through
forest or underwood, at others through fine cornfields; but the country
afforded a wilder and more varied aspect after we had crossed a little
watercourse,—rocks projecting on all sides, sandstone and granite being
intermixed, while in front of us a little rocky ridge, thickly overgrown
with trees and bushes, stretched out, and seemed to hem in our passage.
Suddenly, however, a deep recess was seen opening in the ridge, and a
village appeared, lying most picturesquely in the natural amphitheatre,
thus formed by the rocks and trees protruding everywhere from among the
granite blocks, and giving a pleasant variety to the whole picture.
This was Laháula; but we had some difficulty in getting into it, the
entrance to the amphitheatre being closed by a strong stockade, which
left only a very narrow passage along the cliffs on the eastern side, not
nearly large enough for camels; and while our troop, pushing forward in
vain, fell into great confusion, the storm came on, and the rain poured
down upon us in torrents. Fortunately, the shower, although heavy, did
not last long, and we succeeded at length in getting in, and soon reached
the first huts of the village; but our reception was not propitious.
The first person who came to meet us was a mother, roused by the hope
of seeing her son return as a free man from Kúkawa, where he had been
carried into slavery, and filling the whole village with her lamentations
and curses of the Kanúri, when she heard that her beloved had not come
back, and that she should never see him again. This of course made a
bad impression upon the inhabitants, and while ʿAshi, their chief, a
man who, after an unsuccessful struggle with my companion Bíllama, when
governor of these districts, had submitted to the sheikh, received us
with kindness and benevolence, his son, in whose recently and neatly
built hut the old man wished to lodge me, raised a frightful alarm, and
at length, snatching up his weapon, ran off with the wildest threats. I
therefore thought it best not to make use of the hut unless forced by
another storm, and notwithstanding the humidity, I took up my quarters
under a shed before the hut, spreading my carpet and jirbíye—woollen
blanket from Jirbi—over a coarse mat of reed, as unfortunately at that
time I had no sort of couch with me. There was an object of very great
interest in our courtyard. It was a large pole about nine feet high
above the ground, with a small cross pole which sustained an earthen
pot of middling size. This was a “sáfi,” a sort of fetish, a symbolic
representation, as it seems, of their god “féte,” the sun. It was a pity
that we were not placed in a more comfortable position, so as to be
enabled to make further inquiries with regard to this subject.
ʿAshi was kind enough to send me a large bowl of honey-water, but I was
the only one of the caravan who received the least proof of hospitality;
and I made myself quite comfortable, though we thought it best to look
well after our firearms. During the night we were alarmed by a great
noise, proceeding from the frightful shrieks of a man; and, on inquiry,
we found that he had been disturbed in his sleep by a hyæna catching hold
of one of his legs. Íbrahíma informed us the next morning, that a very
large party among the inhabitants had entertained the design of falling
during the night upon our troop and plundering us; and that nothing but
the earnest representations of ʿAshi had restrained them from carrying
out their intention,—the old man showing them how imprudent it would
be, by one and the same act to draw upon themselves the vengeance of
their two overwhelming neighbours, the sheikh of Bórnu in the north,
and the governor of Fúmbiná in the south. Altogether the night was not
very tranquil; and a storm breaking out at some distance, I crept into
the hut, but there was no rain, only thunder and lightning. All the huts
here are provided with a serír, or diggel, made of branches, upon which a
coarse mat of reeds is spread.
The village seems not to be very large, containing certainly not
more than about five hundred single huts, but the situation is very
advantageous, enabling the inhabitants in an instant to retire upon the
natural fortress of blocks overhead. They possess scarcely a single cow,
but seem to prepare a great deal of vegetable butter. At least large
heaps of the chestnut-like kernels of the _Bassia Parkii_ were lying
about in the courtyards. They have also a great deal of excellent honey.
_Tuesday, June 10._—Leaving our quarters early, and emerging from the
rocky recess by the same opening through which we had entered it the
preceding evening, we halted a short time in order that the whole
caravan might form closely together, for we had now the most dangerous
day’s march before us, where stragglers are generally slain or carried
into slavery by lurking enemies. Our whole troop was not very numerous,
consisting of five horsemen and about twenty-five armed men on foot, with
three camels, six sumpter-oxen, and three asses, our strength consisting
entirely in my four muskets and four pairs of pistols. It was a very
fine morning, and after the last night’s storm the whole country teemed
with freshness and life. Moreover, it was of a varied nature, the ground
consisting, at times, of bare granite, with large blocks of quartz, at
others covered with black vegetable soil, with ironstone here and there,
and torn by numerous small periodical watercourses descending from the
rocky chain on our right, and carrying the moisture of the whole region
towards the river, which still flowed on the left of our track; while
granite-blocks and small ridges projected everywhere, the whole clothed
with forest more or less dense, and with a great variety of foliage.
Having kept on through this kind of country for about two miles and a
half, we reached the deserted “ngáufate,” or encampment of Bú-Bakr, a
brother of Mohammed Láwl, the governor of Ádamáwa, who had last year made
an expedition into these districts, and stationing his army on this spot,
had overrun the country in all directions. The encampment consisted of
small round huts made of branches and grass, such as the guro-caravan
generally erects daily on its “zango” or halting-place. Here we began to
quicken our pace, as we were now at the shortest distance from the seats
of the Báza, a powerful and independent pagan tribe, with a language, or
probably dialect, of their own, and peculiar customs, who live at the
foot of the eastern mountain-chain, while we left on our right Kibák
and some other Marghí villages. In order to lessen a little the fatigue
of the march, my attentive companion Bíllama brought me a handful of
“gaude,” a yellow fruit of the size of an apricot, with a very thick
peel, and, instead of a rich pulp, five large kernels filling almost the
whole interior, but covered with a thin pulp of a very agreeable taste,
something like the gónda.
At half-past nine, when the forest was tolerably clear, we obtained
a view of a saddle-mount at some distance on our right, on the other
side of which, as I was informed, the village Womde is situated:
further westward lies Úgu, and, at a still greater distance, Gáya.
Meanwhile we pushed on with such haste—the old Mʿallem and Bú-Sʿad,
on horseback, driving my two weak camels before them as fast as they
could—that the line of our troop became entirely broken; the fatáki, or
tugúrchi, with their pack-oxen, and several of the dangarúnfu—namely the
little tradesmen who carry their small parcels of merchandise on the
head—remaining a great distance behind; but although I wished several
times to halt, I could not persuade my companions to do so; and all
that I was able to do for the safety of the poor people who had trusted
themselves to my protection, was to send Bíllama to the rear with orders
to bring up the stragglers. I shall never forget the euphonious words
of the old Mʿallem with which he, though usually so humane, parried my
entreaties to give the people time to come up; mixing Háusa with Kanúri,
he kept exclaiming, “Awennan karága babu dádi” (“This is by no means a
pleasant forest”), while he continued beating my poor camels with his
large shield of antelope’s hide. At length, having entered a very dense
thicket, where there was a pond of water, we halted for a quarter of an
hour, when Bíllama came up with the rear, bringing me, at the same time,
a splendid little gónda-fruit, which he knew I was particularly fond of.
Continuing then our march with our wonted expedition, we reached a little
before one o’clock cultivated fields, where the slaves—“field hands,” as
an American would say—of the people of Úba were just resting from their
labour in the shade of the trees. As the slaves of Mohammedans, they all
wore the leathern apron. Here we began to ascend, having a small rocky
eminence on our right, and a more considerable one on our left, while in
the distance, to the west, various mountain groups became visible. This
line of elevation might seem to form the water partition between the
basin of the Tsád and that of the Great River of Western Africa, but I am
not sure of it, as I did not become distinctly aware of the relation of
the rivulet of Múbi to that of Báza.
Be this as it may, this point of the route probably attains an elevation
of about two thousand feet, supposing that we had ascended about eight
hundred feet from Ujé, the elevation of which is twelve hundred feet
above the level of the sea. Having then crossed, with some difficulty,
on the part of the camels, a rugged defile, enclosed by large granite
blocks, we began to descend considerably, while Mohámmedu drew my
attention to the tree called “bijáge” in Fulfúlde, which grows between
the granite blocks, and from which the people of Fúmbiná prepare the
poison for their arrows. However I was not near enough to give even the
most general account of it; it seemed to be a bush of from ten to twelve
feet in height, with tolerably large leaves of an olive colour.
Emerging from this rocky passage, we began gradually to overlook the
large valley stretching out to the foot of the opposite mountain chain,
which seemed from this place to be uninterrupted. Its general elevation
appeared to be about eight hundred feet above the bottom of the valley.
We then again entered upon cultivated ground, and turning round the spur
of the rocky chain on our right, on the top of which we observed the huts
of the pagans, we reached the wall of Úba at two o’clock in the afternoon.
The eastern quarter of this town, the northernmost Púllo settlement
in Ádamáwa on this side, consisting of a few huts scattered over a
wide space, has quite the character of a new and cheerless colony in
Algeria; the earthen wall is low, and strengthened with a light double
fence of thorn bushes. The western quarter, however, is more thickly
and comfortably inhabited; and each cluster of huts, which all consist
of bongo, or rather búkka bongo, “jwarubokáru,” is surrounded with a
little corn-field. It was pleasant to observe how the fences of mats,
surrounding the yards, had been strengthened and enlivened by young
living trees of a graceful slender appearance, instead of dull stalks,
giving to the whole a much more cheerful character than is generally the
case with the villages in other parts of Negroland, particularly in Bórnu
proper, and promising in a short time to afford some cool shade, which is
rather wanting in the place.
Passing the mosque, the “judírde,” a spacious quadrangular building,
consisting entirely of halls built of mats and stalks, which must be
delightfully cool in the dry season, but extremely damp during the rains,
and including a large open space, we reached the lamórde (the house of
the governor, or lámido); it lies on one side of a small square, or
“belbel.” Bíllama and Bú-Sʿad having here fired a couple of rounds, we
were soon shown into our quarters. These were of rather an indifferent
description, but lying at the northern border of the inhabited quarter,
and not far from the foot of the rocky ridge, they had the advantage of
allowing us freedom of movement.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
ÁDAMÁWA.—MOHAMMEDAN SETTLEMENTS IN THE HEART OF CENTRAL AFRICA.
We had now reached the border of Ádamáwa, the country after which I
had been panting so long, and of which I had heard so many interesting
accounts, a Mohammedan kingdom engrafted upon a mixed stock of pagan
tribes,—the conquest of the valorous and fanatic Púllo chieftain, Ádama,
over the great pagan kingdom of Fúmbiná.
I was musing over the fate of the native races of this country, when
the governor, with a numerous suite, came to pay me a visit. Neither he
nor any of his companions were dressed with any degree of elegance, or
even cleanliness. I had endeavoured in vain to obtain information from
my companions as to the period when the Fúlbe had begun to emigrate into
this country; but they were unable to give me any other answer, than that
they had been settled in the country from very ancient times, and that
not only the fathers but even the grandfathers of the present generation
had inhabited the same region as cattle-breeders, “berroróji.” Neither
the governor nor any of his people were able to give me more precise
information, so that I was obliged to set my hopes upon the capital,
where I was more likely to find a man versed in the history of his tribe.
I then communicated to my visitor my wish to ascend the ridge, which
overlooks the place, and on the top of which, according to Mohámmedu, a
spring bubbled up between the rocks. The governor advised me to defer
the excursion till the morrow, but as the weather was fine at the time,
and as at this season it was very doubtful whether it would be so the
next morning, I expressed a wish to obtain at once a view at least over
the opposite mountain-chain. He then told me that I might do as I liked,
and followed me with his whole suite. The ridge, on this side at least,
consisted entirely of enormous blocks of granite heaped one upon the
other in wild confusion, and making the ascent extremely difficult, nay,
impossible, without ropes, so that, with the utmost trouble, we reached
the height of a little more than a hundred feet, which gave me, however,
an advantageous position for obtaining a view over the broad valley and
the mountain range beyond, of which, on my return journey, I made a
sketch, which is represented in the woodcut on page 429.
Some of the governor’s people, however, were very agile in climbing
these blocks, and they need to be so if they wish to subject the native
inhabitants, who, when pursued, retire to these natural strongholds,
which are scattered over nearly the whole of this country.
We had scarcely returned to our quarters, when a storm broke out, but
it was not accompanied with a great quantity of rain. Our cheer was
indifferent; and we passed our evening in rather a dull manner.
_Wednesday, June 11._—Seeing that the weather was gloomy, and being
afraid of the fatigue connected with the ascent of the ridge even along
a more easy path, as I was well aware how much my constitution had been
weakened, I preferred going on, and gave orders for starting. On leaving
the western gate of the town, which is formed of very large trunks of
trees, we entered on a tract of cornfields in a very promising condition,
while at the same time a number of young jet-black slave girls, well fed,
and all neatly dressed in long aprons of white clean gábagá, and having
their necks adorned with strings of glass beads, were marched out to
their daily labour in the field.
[Illustration]
The town formerly extended much further in this direction, till it
was ransacked and plundered by Ramadan, a slave and officer of the
sheikh Mohammed el Kánemi. Before the Fúlbe occupied these regions, the
slave-hunting expeditions of the people of Bórnu often extended into
the very heart of Ádamáwa. The Fúlbe certainly are always making steps
towards subjugating the country, but they have still a great deal to
do before they can regard themselves as the undisturbed possessors of
the soil. Even here, at no great distance beyond the little range which
we had on our right, an independent tribe called Gílle still maintains
itself, and on my return journey I shall have to relate an unsuccessful
expedition of the governor of Úba against the Kilba-Gáya.
[Illustration]
Our camels, “gelóba,” began now to be objects of the greatest curiosity
and wonder to the natives; for it happens but rarely that this animal is
brought into the country, as it will not bear the climate for any length
of time. This is certainly a circumstance not to be lost sight of by
those who contemplate trade and intercourse with the equatorial regions;
but of course the European, with his energy and enterprise, might easily
succeed in acclimatizing the camel by preparing himself for great losses
in the beginning.
[Illustration]
When the range on our right terminated, our view extended over a great
expanse of country, from which several mountain groups started up,
entirely detached one from the other and without any connecting chain,
and I sketched three of them, which are represented above. Of the names
of the first two, my companions were not quite sure; but they all agreed
in calling the last Kilba-Gáya. In front of us a considerable mountain
mass called Fingting developed itself, and behind it another with the
summits Bá and Yaurogúdde. Keeping along the plain, sometimes over fine
pasture-grounds, at other times over cultivated fields, and crossing
several little streams, we at length came to a brook or rivulet of a
somewhat larger size, which is said to issue from Mount Gúri towards the
south-east, and receiving another brook coming from Mount Dáwa, runs
westward.
[Illustration]
Having here considered whether we should go on or take up our quarters
in Múbi, which was close by, we decided upon the latter, and entered
the place. But we had to wait a long while in front of the governor’s
house, and were at length conducted into quarters so insufficient that
we preferred encamping outside the town, and pitched our tent near a
tree, which promised to afford us a shady place during the hot hours
of the day. But we had scarcely made ourselves comfortable when the
governor’s servants came and requested me most urgently to come into the
town, promising us good lodgings; I therefore gave way, and told them
that I would go to my promised quarters towards night. As long as the
weather was dry, the open air was much more agreeable; and I turned our
open encampment to account by taking accurate angles of all the summits
around; but a storm in my small and weak tent was a very uncomfortable
thing, and I gladly accepted the offer of good quarters for the night.
In the course of the afternoon almost the whole population of the
town came out to see me and my camels, and the governor himself came
on horseback, inviting me into his own house, when I showed him my
chronometer, compass, and telescope, which created immense excitement,
but still greater was the astonishment of those particularly who knew how
to read, at the very small print in my Prayer-Book. The amiable side of
the character of the Fúlbe is their intelligence and vivacity, but they
have a great natural disposition to malice, and are not by any means so
good-natured as the real Blacks; for they really are—certainly more in
their character than in their colour—a distinct race between the Arab and
Berber on the one side and the Negro stock on the other, although I would
not suppose that the ancients had taken their prototype of Leucæthiopes
from them. However striking may be the linguistic indications of a
connection of this tribe with the Kaffers of South Africa, there can be
no doubt that historically they have proceeded from the west towards the
east. But of this more on another occasion.
I stayed out till the sun went down, and before leaving my open dwelling
sketched the long range of mountains to the east, together with the
Fingting.
Between Mount Meshíla and Mount Kírya a road leads to the seats of the
Komá.
The whole plain affords excellent pasture, and the town itself is a
straggling place of great extent. That part of the governor’s house which
he assigned to me consisted of a courtyard with a very spacious and cool
hut, having two doors or openings, and the ground-floor was strewn with
pebbles instead of sand, which seems to be the custom here throughout the
rainy season. My host spent a great part of the evening in our company. I
made him a present of ten sheets of paper, which, as a learned man in a
retired spot who had never before seen so much writing material together,
caused him a great deal of delight, though he seemed to be of a sullen
temper. He informed me that the Fúlbe settled here belonged to the tribe
of the Híllega.
_Thursday, June 12._—Although the weather was very gloomy, we set out
in the morning through the rich grassy plain, which only round the
settlements was laid out in cultivated fields; we crossed and re-crossed
the river of the day before, which keeps meandering through the plain.
When we reached the village Bagma, which was cheerfully enlivened by a
numerous herd of cattle, I was struck with the size and shape of the
huts, which testified to the difference of the climate which we had
entered, not less than to the mode of living of the inhabitants. Some of
these huts were from forty to sixty feet long, about fifteen broad, and
from ten to twelve high, narrowing above to a ridge, and thatched all
over, no distinction being made between roof and wall; others had a very
peculiar shape, consisting of three semicircles.
[Illustration]
The reason for making the huts so spacious is the necessity of sheltering
the cattle, particularly young cattle, against the inclemency of the
weather. Some of them were nothing better than stables, while others
combined this distinction with that of a dwelling-house for the owner.
The village is separated into two quarters by the river, and is inhabited
entirely by Mohammedans. The news of a marvellous novelty soon stirred
up the whole village, and young and old, male and female, all gathered
round our motley troop, and thronged about us in innocent mirth, and
as we proceeded the people came running from the distant fields to see
the wonder; but the wonder was not myself, but the camel, an animal
which many of them had never seen, fifteen years having elapsed since
one had passed along this road. The chorus of shrill voices, “gelóba,
gelóba,” was led by two young wanton Púllo girls, slender as antelopes,
and wearing nothing but a light apron of striped cotton round their
loins, who, jumping about and laughing at the stupidity of these enormous
animals, accompanied us for about two miles along the fertile plain.
We passed a herd of about three hundred cattle. Gradually the country
became covered with forest, with the exception of patches of cultivated
ground, and we entered between those mountains which had been during the
whole morning in front of us; here also granite prevailed, and all the
mountains were covered with underwood.
About nine o’clock the path divided, and my companions for a long
time were at a loss to decide which of the two they should follow;
Bíllama having some objection to pass the night in Mbutúdi, which he
thought was only inhabited by pagans, and preferring Múglebú, where he
had acquaintances; but at length the people of Ádamáwa carried their
point, and we chose the westernmost road, which passes by Mbutúdi. The
wilderness now gave way to open pastures, and we passed some cornfields
when we came to the farm of a wealthy Púllo named Alkáso, who in the
midst of a numerous family was leading here the life of a patriarch.
Hearing that a stranger from a far-distant country was passing by, the
venerable old man came out of his village to salute me, accompanied by
his sons, and two of the latter, who had evidently no idea of the heresy
of the Christian religion, ran a long distance by the side of my horse,
and did not turn back till I had given them my blessing. Pleasant as was
their innocent behaviour, showing a spirit full of confidence, I was
rather glad when they were gone, as I wished to take some angles of the
mountains which appeared scattered through the wild and gloomy plain on
our right.
After a while the low chain of hills on our left was succeeded by a range
of higher mountains attached to the broad cone of the Fáka. A little
before we had obtained a view of the rocky mount of Mbutúdi, and we now
observed the first gigiña (“dugbi” in Fulfúlde), or deléb-palm, the kind
of _Hyphæna_ which I have already occasionally mentioned as occurring
in other localities, but which distinguishes this place in a most
characteristic way. The ground was covered with rich herbage, from which
numerous violets peeped forth.
We had now reached Mbutúdi, a village situated round a granite mount
of about six hundred yards’ circumference, and rising to the height of
about three hundred feet. It had been a considerable place before the
rise of the Fúlbe, encompassing on all sides the mount, which had served
as a natural citadel; but it has been greatly reduced, scarcely more
than one hundred huts altogether now remaining; and were it not for the
picturesque landscape—the steep rocky mount overgrown with trees, and the
slender deléb-palms shooting up here and there, and forming some denser
groups on the south-east side,—it would be a most miserable place.
My companions were greatly astonished to find that, since they went
to Kúkawa, some Fúlbe families had settled here: for formerly none
but native pagans lived in the village. It was, therefore, necessary
that we should address ourselves to this ruling class; and after we
had waited some time in the shade of some caoutchouc-trees, a tall,
extremely slender Púllo, of a very noble expression of countenance, and
dressed in a snow-white shirt, made his appearance, and after the usual
exchange of compliments, and due inquiry on the part of my companions
after horse, cattle, mother, slaves, and family[55], conducted us to
a dwelling not far from the eastern foot of the rock, consisting of
several small huts, with a tall gigiña in the middle of its courtyard,
which was never deserted by some large birds of the stork family,—most
probably some European wanderers. However, it had the great disadvantage
of being extremely wet, so that I preferred staying outside; and going
to some distance from the huts, I laid myself down in the shade of a
tree, where the ground was comparatively dry. The weather had been very
cool and cheerless in the morning, and I was glad when the sun at length
came forth, increasing the interest of the landscape, of which I took a
view.[56]
I here tried, for the first time, the fruit of the deléb-palm, which
were just ripe; but I did not find it worth the trouble, as it really
requires a good deal of effort to suck out the pulp, which is nothing
but a very close and coarse fibrous tissue, not separating from the
large stone, and having a mawkish taste, which soon grows disagreeable.
It cannot be at all compared with the banana, and still less with the
fruit of the gónda-tree. It is, when full grown, from six to eight inches
long and four inches across, and of a yellowish-brown colour; the kernel
is about two inches and a half long and one inch thick. However, it is
of importance to the natives, and, like the fruit of the dúm-palm, it
yields a good seasoning for some of their simple dishes. They make use
of the stone also, breaking and planting it in the ground, when, in a
few days, a blade shoots forth with a very tender root, which is eaten
just like the kelingoes; this is called “múrrechi” by the Háusa people,
“báchul” by the Fúlbe, both of whom use it very extensively. But it is to
be remarked that the gigiña, or deléb-palm, is extremely partial in its
local distribution, and seems not at all common in Ádamáwa, being, as my
companions observed, here confined to a few localities, such as Láro and
Song; while in the Músgu country it is, according to my own observation,
the predominant tree; and, from information, I conclude this to be the
case also in the southern provinces of Bagírmi, particularly in Sómray
and Day. However, the immense extension of this palm, which, probably,
is nearly related to the _Borassus flabelliformis_, through the whole
breadth of Central Africa, from Kordofán to the Atlantic, is of the
highest importance.
While resting here I received a deputation of the heads of families of
the Fúlbe, who behaved very decently, and were not a little excited by
the performances of my watch and compass. I then determined to ascend the
rock, which commands and characterises the village, although, being fully
aware of the debilitated state of my health, I was somewhat afraid of any
great bodily exertion. It was certainly not an easy task, as the crags
were extremely steep, but it was well worth the trouble, although the
view over an immense expanse of country was greatly interrupted by the
many small trees and bushes which are shooting out between the granite
blocks.
After I had finished taking angles I sat down on this magnificent rocky
throne, and several of the natives having followed me, I wrote from their
dictation a short vocabulary of their language, which they call “Záni,”
and which I soon found was intimately related to that of the Marghí.
These poor creatures seeing, probably for the first time, that a stranger
took real interest in them, were extremely delighted in hearing their
words pronounced by one whom they thought almost as much above them as
their god “féte,” and frequently corrected each other when there was a
doubt about the meaning of the word. The rock became continually more and
more animated, and it was not long before two young Fúlbe girls also,
who from the first had cast a kindly eye upon me, came jumping up to me,
accompanied by an elder married sister. One of these girls was about
fifteen, the other about eight or nine years of age. They were decently
dressed as Mohammedans, in shirts covering the bosom, while the pagans,
although they had dressed for the occasion, wore nothing but a narrow
strip of leather passed between the legs, and fastened round the loins,
with a large leaf attached to it from behind; the women were, besides,
ornamented with the “kadáma,” which is the same as the seghéum of the
Marghí, and worn in the same way, stuck through the under lip, but a
little larger. Their prevailing complexion was a yellowish-red, like that
of the Marghí, with whom, a few centuries ago, they evidently formed one
nation. Their worship, also, is nearly the same.
At length I left my elevated situation, and with a good deal of trouble
succeeded in getting down again; but the tranquillity which I had before
enjoyed was now gone, and not a moment was I left alone. All these poor
creatures wanted to have my blessing; and there was particularly an old
blacksmith, who, although he had become a proselyte to Islám, pestered
me extremely with his entreaties to benefit him by word and prayer.
They went so far as to do me the honour, which I of course declined,
of identifying me with their god “féte,” who, they thought, might have
come to spend a day with them, to make them forget their oppression and
misfortunes. The pagans, however, at length left me when night came
on, but the Fúlbe girls would not go, or if they left me for a moment,
immediately returned, and so stayed till midnight. The eldest of the
unmarried girls made me a direct proposal of marriage, and I consoled
her by stating that I should have been happy to accept her offer if it
were my intention to reside in the country. The manners of people who
live in these retired spots, shut out from the rest of the world, are
necessarily very simple and unaffected; and this poor girl had certainly
reason to look out for a husband, as at fifteen she was as far beyond her
first bloom as a lady of twenty-five in Europe.
_Friday, June 13._—Taking leave of these good people, the girl looking
rather sorrowful as I mounted my horse, we resumed our march the
following morning, first through cornfields,—the grain here cultivated
being exclusively géro or _Pennisetum_,—then over rich and thinly wooded
pastures, having the mountain-chain of the “Fálibé” constantly at some
distance. The atmosphere was extremely humid, and rain-clouds hung upon
the mountains. Further on the ground consisted entirely of red loam, and
was so torn up by the rain, that we had great difficulty and delay in
leading the camels round the gaps and ravines. Dense underwood now at
times prevailed, and a bush called “baubaw,” producing an edible fruit,
here first fell under my observation; there was also another bulbous
plant, which I had not observed before. The karáge here, again, was very
common. Gradually the whole country became one continuous wilderness,
with the surface greatly undulating, and almost hilly; and here we passed
a slave village, or “rúmde,” in ruins, the clay-walls being all that
remained.
[Illustration]
The country wore a more cheerful appearance after nine o’clock, when
we entered on a wide extent of cultivated ground, the crops standing
beautifully in the fields, and the village or villages of Segéro
appearing higher up on the slope of the heights, in a commanding
situation. Segéro consists of two villages separated by a ravine, or
hollow with a watercourse, the northernmost of them, to which we came
first, being inhabited jointly by the conquering tribe of the Fúlbe and
the conquered one of the Holma, while the southern village is exclusively
occupied by the ruling race. To this group we directed our steps, passing
close by the former, where I made a hasty sketch of the outlines of Mount
Holma.
The lámido, or mayor, being absent at the time, we dismounted under the
public shade in front of his house, till a comfortable spacious shed
in the inner courtyard of his dwelling was placed at my disposal; and
here I began immediately to employ my leisure hours in the study of the
Fulfúlde, as I became fully aware that the knowledge of this language
was essential to my plans, if I wished to draw all possible advantage
from my proceedings. For these simple people, who do not travel, but
reside all their life long in their secluded homes, with the exception of
a few predatory expeditions against the pagans, know no other language
than their own; several of them, however, understand the written Arabic
tolerably well, but are unable to speak it. Meanwhile, a large basketful
of ground-nuts, in the double shell, just as they came from the ground,
was placed before us; and after a while, three immense calabashes of a
thick soup, or porridge, made of the same material, were brought in for
the refreshment of our whole troop.
Ground-nuts form here a very large proportion of the food of the people,
just in the same proportion as potatoes do in Europe, and the crops of
corn having failed the last year, the people had very little besides.
Ground-nuts, that is to say the species of them which is called “kolche”
in Kanúri, and “biríji” in Fulfúlde, which was the one grown here, as it
seems, exclusively, I like very much, especially if roasted, for nibbling
after supper, or even as a substitute for breakfast on the road, but I
should not like to subsist upon them. In fact, I was scarcely able to
swallow a few spoonfuls of this sort of porridge, which was not seasoned
with honey; but I must confess that the spoons, which the people here use
for such purposes, are rather large, being something like a scoop, and
made likewise of a kind of gourd; the half of the _Cucurbita lagenaria_
split in two, so that the handle at the same time forms a small channel,
and may be used as a spout. Nature in these countries has provided
everything; dishes, bottles, and drinking-vessels are growing on the
trees, rice in the forest, and the soil without any labour produces
grain. The porridge can certainly be made more palatable by seasoning;
and, if boiled with milk, is by no means disagreeable. The other kind
of ground-nut, the “gángala,” or “yerkúrga,” which is far more oily,
and which I did not see at all in Ádamáwa, I do not like; though the
people used to say that it is much more wholesome than the other kind.
For making oil it is evidently the more valuable of the two. I will
only add, that on this occasion I learned that the Fúlbe in this part
of the country make also a similar porridge of sesamum, which they call
“marasíri,” and even of the habb el ʿazíz, or the gojíya of the Háusa—the
nebú of the Bórnu people. Sesamum I have frequently eaten in Negroland as
a paste, or hasty pudding, but never in the form of a porridge.
The reason why the corn had failed was, that most of the men had gone to
the war last year; the turbulent state of the country thus operating as
a great drawback upon the cultivation of the ground. I must also observe
how peculiarly the different qualities of the soil in neighbouring
districts are adapted for different species of grain; while in Mbutúdi,
as I said, millet, géro, or _Pennisetum typhoïdeum_, was cultivated
almost exclusively, here it was the dáwa, “báiri” in Fulfúlde, or
sorghum, and principally the red sort, or “báiri bodéri.” Having restored
our vital strength with this famous pap of ground-nuts, and having filled
our pockets, and the nose-bags of the horses too, with the remains of
the great basket, we set out again on our journey in the afternoon,
for it appeared to me evident that none of my companions was fond of a
strict ground-nut diet, and hence would rather risk a storm than a supper
of this same dish. It had become our general rule to finish our day’s
journey in the forenoon, as the tempest generally set in in the afternoon.
The fields were well cultivated; but the corn on the more elevated spots
stood not more than a foot high. The ground-nuts are cultivated between
the corn, the regular spaces which are left between each stalk being
sufficient for growing a cluster of nuts underground; just in the same
way as beans are cultivated in many parts of Negroland. The fields were
beautifully shaded and adorned by the butter-tree, “tóso,” or, as the
Fúlbe call it, “kárehi,” in the plural form “karéji,” which was here the
exclusively predominant tree, and of course is greatly valued by the
natives. Everywhere the people were busy in the fields; and altogether
the country, enclosed by several beautifully shaped mountain ranges and
by detached mountains, presented a most cheerful sight, all the patches
of grass being diversified and embellished with a kind of violet-coloured
lily.
We now gradually approached the foot of Mount Holma, behind which
another mountain began to rise into view; while on our left we passed
a small “rúmde,” or slave-village, and then entered a sort of defile.
We were greatly afraid lest we should be punished for the gastronomic
transgression of our travelling rule, as a storm threatened us from
behind; but we had time to reach Badaníjo in safety. Punished, however,
we were, like the man who despised his peas; for, instead of finding here
full bowls of pudding, we could not even procure the poor ground-nuts;
and happy was he who had not neglected to fill his pockets from the full
basket in Segéro.
We had the utmost difficulty in buying a very small quantity of grain
for the horses; so that they also came in for a share in the remains of
the ground-nuts of Segéro; and my host especially was such a shabby,
inhospitable fellow, that it was painful to speak a word to him.
However, it seemed that he had reason to complain, having been treated
very harshly by oppressive officers, and having lost all his cattle
by disease. Not a drop of milk was to be got in the village, all the
cattle having died. The cattle, at least those of the large breed, which
apparently has been introduced into the country by the Fúlbe, seem not
yet quite acclimatized, and are occasionally decimated by disease.
Badaníjo is very picturesquely situated in a beautiful irregularly shaped
valley, surrounded on all sides by mountains, which are seen from the
interior of the valley. The scarcity of provisions was entirely due to
the great expedition of last year, which had taken away all hands from
the labours of the field; for the land around here is extremely fertile,
and at present, besides sorghum or holcus, produced dánkali, or sweet
potatoes, góza, or yams, manioc, and a great quantity of gunna, a large
variety of calabash (_Fueillea trilobata_, _Cucurbita maxima_?). Badaníjo
is also interesting and important to the ethnologist, as being the
northernmost seat of the extensive tribe of the Falí, or Farí, which,
according to the specimens of its language which I was able to collect,
is entirely distinct from the tribe of the Bátta and their kinsmen the
Záni and Marghí, and seems to have only a remote affinity with the
Wándalá and Gámerghú languages. At present the village is principally,
but not exclusively, inhabited by the ruling race, and I estimated the
population at about three thousand.
_Saturday, June 14._—After we had left the rich vegetation which
surrounds the village, we soon entered a wild and hilly district, and
while passing over the spur of a rocky eminence on our left, observed
close to the brink of the cliffs overhanging our heads the huts of the
pagan village Búggela, and heard the voices of the natives, while at some
distance on our right detached hills, all of which seemed to consist of
granite, rose from the rugged and thickly wooded plain. The rugged nature
of this country increases the importance of Badaníjo in a strategical
point of view. The country became continually more rocky and rugged, and
there was scarcely a narrow path leading through the thick underwood, so
that my friend the pilgrim from Mélle, who rode his tall camel, had the
greatest possible trouble to make his way through; however, I had reason
to admire his dexterity. All through Negroland, where so many extensive
tracts are covered with forest, travelling on camel’s back is very
troublesome. It was certainly very lucky for us that for the last five
days scarcely any rain had fallen, otherwise the path would have been
extremely difficult.
However, when we reached the village Kurúlu, the country improved,
spreading out into wide pastures and cultivated fields, although it
remained hilly and rather rugged; even close to the village a lower range
appeared, and granite masses projected everywhere. A short distance
further on I sketched Mount Kurúlu and the heights near it.
[Illustration]
Several of our party had gone into the village, and obtained some cold
paste, made of a peculiar species of sorghum, of entirely red colour.
This red grain, “ja-n-dáwa,” or “báiri bodéri,” which I have already had
occasion to mention, is very common in the southern parts of Negroland,
below the tenth degree of latitude, and in some districts, as in the
Músgu country, seems to prevail almost exclusively; but it was at the
time new to me, and I found it extremely nauseous. The paste of white
durra, “fári-n-dáwa,” or “báiri dhannéri,” is generally so well cooked in
Ádamáwa, being formed into large rolls of four inches in length, and from
two to three inches thick in the middle, that even when cold it is quite
eatable, and in this state generally formed my breakfast on the road; for
my palatable chébchebé from Kúkawa, like all nice things in the world,
were soon gone.
Gradually we entered another rugged wilderness, from which we did not
emerge till a quarter before ten o’clock, when a máriná, or dyeing-place,
indicated the neighbourhood of a centre of civilization unusual in this
country. A few minutes more, and we reached the northern village of
Saráwu, which is inhabited almost exclusively by Bórnu people, and is
therefore called Saráwu Beréberé. On the side from which we arrived the
village is open, and does not seem to be thickly inhabited, but further
to the south the population is denser. Having halted some time on a
small open space in the middle of the village in the shade of a small
terebinth, we were conducted into very excellent quarters, which seem to
deserve a short description.
[Illustration]
It was a group of three huts, situated in the midst of a very spacious
outer yard, which was surrounded by a light fence of corn-stalks. The
huts consisted of clay walls with a thatched roof of very careful
workmanship, and were joined together by clay walls. The most spacious
of these huts (_a_), of about twelve feet in diameter, formed the
entrance-hall and the parlour, being furnished with two doors or
openings, one on the side of the outer, and the other on the side of the
inner courtyard, from which the two other huts (_b_ and _c_), destined
for the women, had their only access. The outer opening or door of the
chief hut (_a_), therefore, although rather small according to our ideas,
was very large considering the general custom of the country, measuring
three feet and a half in height, and sixteen inches in the widest part,
its form being that of an egg.
In this hut there was only one very large couch measuring seven feet and
a half in length by five in width, and raised three feet above the floor,
made of clay over a frame of wood, on the right side of the door, where
the landlord used to receive his guests, the remaining part of the hut
being empty, and capable of receiving a good many people. Between the
couch and the door there was a fireplace, or fúgodí, or fúgo kánnurám
in Kanúri, “hobbunírde” in Fulfúlde, formed by three stones of the same
size. Of this airy room I myself took possession, spreading my carpet
upon the raised platform, while the Mállem, my servants, and whosoever
paid me a visit, found a place on the floor. The wall, which was rather
thicker than usual, was all coloured with a reddish-brown tint, and upon
this ground several objects had been so unartistically delineated, that,
with the exception of wooden tablets, “alló,” such as the boys here use
in learning to write, it was impossible to tell what they were intended
for.
The hut opposite this parlour (_b_), which was smaller than (_a_) but
larger than (_c_), seemed intended for the ordinary dwelling of the
landlady, being ornamented in the background with the “gángar,” as it is
called in Kanúri, “nanne” in Fulfúlde, a raised platform or sideboard
for the cooking utensils; here four large-sized new jars were placed, as
in battle array, surmounted by smaller ones. With regard to the other
arrangements the two huts were of similar construction, having on each
side a couch, one for the man and the other for his wife. In both the
woman’s couch was the better one, being formed of clay on a wooden frame,
and well protected from prying eyes by a thin clay wall, about five feet
high, and handsomely ornamented in the following way: running not only
along the side of the door, but enclosing also half of the other side, it
excluded all impertinent curiosity; while the man’s couch, which was less
regular and comfortable, reached to the very border of the door, and on
this side had the protection only of a thin clay wall, without ornaments.
With the privacy thus attained, the size of the doors was in entire
harmony, being of an oval shape, and very small, particularly in (_c_),
measuring only about two feet in height, and ten inches in width, a size
which I am afraid would refuse a passage to many a European lady; indeed,
it might seem rather intended to keep a married lady within doors, after
she had first contrived to get in.
[Illustration]
Notwithstanding the scanty light falling into the interior of the hut,
through the narrow doorway, it was also painted, (_c_) in this respect
surpassing its sister hut in the harmony of its colours, which formed
broad alternate bands of white and brown, and gave the whole a very
stately and finished character. The whole arrangement of these two huts
bore distinct testimony to a greatly developed sense of domestic comfort.
In the wall of the courtyard, between (_b_) and (_c_), there was a
small backdoor, raised above the ground, and of diminutive size (_r_),
apparently intended for admitting female visitors, without obliging them
to pass through the parlour, and at the same time showing much confidence
in the discretion of the female department. In the courtyard were two
large-sized jars, (_g_) the larger one being the bázam or corn-jar, and
the smaller (_d_) the gébam or water-jar. In the corner, formed between
the hut (_a_) and the wall of the courtyard, was the “fúgodí,” or
kitchen, on a small scale.
The house belonged to a private man, who was absent at the time. From the
outer courtyard, which, as I have observed, was spacious, and fenced only
with corn-stalks, there was an interesting panorama over a great extent
of country to the south, and I was enabled to take a great many angles.
From this place also I made the sketch of a cone (page 442) which seemed
to me very picturesque, but the exact name of which I could not learn.
Saráwu is the most elevated place on the latter part of this route,
although the highest point of the water-partition, between the basin
of the Tsád and that of the so-called Niger, as I stated before, seems
to be at the pass north of Úba. The difference between the state of
the corn here and in Múbi and thereabout was very remarkable. The crop
stood here scarcely a few inches above the ground.[57] The soil also
around the place is not rich, the mould being thin upon the surface of
the granite, which in many places lies bare. The situation of Saráwu
is very important on account of its being the point where the road from
Logón and all the north-eastern part of Ádamáwa, which includes some very
considerable centres of industry and commerce, particularly Fátawel, the
_entrepôt_ of all the ivory trade in these quarters, joins the direct
road from Kúkawa to the capital. Cotton is cultivated here to some
extent. Ádamáwa is a promising country of colonies.
[Illustration]
Saráwu, too, was suffering from dearth from the same reason which I have
explained above; the second crop, which is destined to provide for the
last and most pressing period, while the new crop is ripening, not having
been sown at all last year on account of the expedition, so that we had
great difficulty in obtaining the necessary corn for our five horses.
It would, however, have been very easy for me to obtain a sufficient
supply if I had demanded a small fee for my medical assistance, as I had
a good many patients who came to me for remedies; but this I refrained
from doing. I had here some very singular cases, which rather exceeded my
skill; and among others there was a woman who had gone with child full
two years, without any effort on the part of her imaginary offspring
to come forth, and who came to me now with full confidence that the
far-famed stranger would be able to help her to motherhood. Among the
people who visited me there was also a Tébu, or rather Tedá, who in his
mercantile rambles had penetrated to this spot; indeed these people
are very enterprising, but in general their journeys lie more in the
direction of Wándalá, where they dispose of a great quantity of glass
beads. This man had resided here some time, but was not able to give me
much information. He, however, excited my curiosity with regard to two
white women, whom I was to see in Yóla, brought there from the southern
regions of Ádamáwa, and who he assured me were at least as white as
myself. But, after all, this was not saying much; for my arms and face
at that time were certainly some shades darker than the darkest Spaniard
or Italian. I had heard already several people speak of these women, and
the natives had almost made them the subject of a romance, spreading
the rumour that my object in going to Yóla was to get a white female
companion. I shall have occasion to speak about a tribe of lighter colour
than usual in the interior, not far from the coast of the Cameroons, and
there can be no doubt about the fact. My short and uncomfortable stay in
the capital of Ádamáwa deprived me of the opportunity of deciding with
regard to the exact shade of these people’s complexion, but I think it is
a yellowish-brown.
_Sunday, June 15._—Having been busy in the morning writing Fulfúlde, I
mounted my horse about ten o’clock, accompanied by Bíllama and Bú-Sʿad,
in order to visit the market, which is held every Thursday and Sunday,
on a little eminence at some distance from the Bórnu village, and close
to the south-east side of Saráwu Fulfúlde, separated from the latter
by a ravine. The market was furnished with thirty-five stalls made of
bushes and mats, and was rather poorly attended. However, it must be
taken into consideration, that during the season of field-labours all
markets in Negroland are much less considerable than at other seasons of
the year. There were a good many head of cattle for sale, while two oxen
were slaughtered for provision, to be cut up and sold in small parcels.
The chief articles besides were ground-nuts, butter, a small quantity
of rice, salt, and soap. Soap, indeed, is a very important article in
any country inhabited by Fúlbe, and it is prepared in every household;
while very often, even in large places inhabited by other tribes, it is
quite impossible to obtain this article, so essential for cleanliness. No
native grain of any kind was in the market,—a proof of the great dearth
which prevailed throughout the country. A few túrkedí were to be seen;
and I myself introduced a specimen of this article, in order to obtain
the currency of the country for buying small matters of necessity.
The standard of the market is the native cotton, woven, as it is, all
over Negroland, in narrow strips called “léppi,” of about two inches
and a quarter in width, though this varies greatly. Shells (“kurdí,”
or “chéde”) have no currency. The smallest measure of cotton is the
“nánandé,” measuring ten “drʿa” or “fóndudé” (_sing._ “fóndukí”), equal
to four fathoms, “káme” or “nándudé” (_sing._ “nándukí”). Seven nánandé
make one “dóra”—meaning a small shirt of extremely coarse workmanship,
and scarcely to be used for dress; and from two to five dóra make one
thób or “gaffaléul” of variable size and quality. The túrkedí which I
introduced into the market, and which I had bought in Kanó for 1800
kurdí, was sold for a price equivalent to 2500 shells, which certainly is
not a great profit, considering the danger of the road. However, it must
be borne in mind that what I bought for 1800, a native certainly would
have got for 1600, and would perhaps have sold for 2800 or more.
Having caused some disturbance to the usual quiet course of business
in the market, I left Bú-Sʿad behind me to buy some articles which we
wanted, and proceeded with my kashélla towards the ravine, and ascending
the opposite bank, entered the straggling quarter of the Fúlbe, which,
in a very remarkable manner, is adorned with a single specimen of the
charming gónda-tree, or “dukúje” (the _Carica papaya_), and a single
specimen of the gigiña or dugbi, the _Hyphæna_ which I have frequently
mentioned; at all events not more than these two specimens are seen
rearing their tapering forms above the huts and fences. Then we directed
our steps towards the dwelling of the governor, which impressed me by its
magnificence when compared with the meanness of the cottages around. A
very spacious oblong yard, surrounded with a high clay wall, encircled
several apartments, the entrance being formed by a round cool hut of
about twenty-five feet diameter, the clay walls of which, from the ground
to the border of the thatched roof, measured about ten feet in height,
and had two square doors of about eight feet in height, one towards
the street, and the other on the inside,—altogether a splendid place in
the hot season. Here, too, the floor was at present thickly strewn with
pebbles.
But the master of this noble mansion was an unhappy blind man, who,
leaning upon the shoulders of his servants, was led into the room
by a mʿallem or módibo, one of the finest men I have seen in the
country, and more like a European than a native of Negroland, tall
and broad-shouldered, and remarkably amiable and benevolent. The
governor himself, also, was remarkably tall and robust for a Púllo. The
módibo, who spoke Arabic tolerably well and officiated as interpreter,
had heard a good deal about me, and was most anxious to see those
curious instruments which had been described to him; and as I wore the
chronometer and compass constantly attached to my waist, I was able to
satisfy his curiosity, which, in so learned a man, was less vain and more
interesting than usual. But the poor blind governor felt rather uneasy
because he could not see these wonders with his own eyes, and endeavoured
to indemnify himself by listening to the ticking of the watch, and by
touching the compass. But he was more disappointed still when I declared
that I was unable to restore his sight, which after all the stories he
had heard about me, he had thought me capable of doing; and I could only
console him by begging him to trust in “Jaumiráwo” (the Lord on High).
As, on setting out, I did not know that we were going to pay our respects
to this man, I had no present to offer him except a pair of English
scissors, and these of course, in his blindness, he was unable to value,
though his companion found out immediately how excellent they were for
cutting paper. The governor is far superior in power to his neighbours,
and besides Saráwu, Kurúndel, or Korúlu, and Bíngel are subject to his
government.
While recrossing the ravine on my return to Saráwu Beréberé, I observed
with great delight a spring of water bubbling up from the soil, and
forming a small pond—quite a new spectacle for me. After I had returned
to my quarters I was so fortunate as to make a great bargain in cloves,
which I now found out was the only article in request here. The Bórnu
women seemed amazingly fond of them, and sold the nánandé of léppi for
thirty cloves, when, seeing that they were very eager to buy, I raised
the price of my merchandise, offering only twenty-five. I had also the
luck to buy several fowls and sufficient corn for three horses, with a
pair of scissors; and as my mʿallem Katúri had several old female friends
in the village who sent him presents, we all had plenty to eat that day.
But nevertheless my old friend the mʿallem was not content, but, in the
consciousness of his own merits, picked a quarrel with me because I
refused to write charms for the people, while they all came to me, as the
wisest of our party; and had I done so, we might all have lived in the
greatest luxury and abundance.
In the evening, while a storm was raging outside, Bíllama gave me a list
of the most important persons in the capital of the country which we
were now fast approaching. Mohammed Láwl, the son of Mʿallem Ádama, has
several full-grown brothers, who all figure occasionally as leaders
of great expeditions, and also others of more tender age. The eldest
of these is Bú-bakr (generally called Mʿallem Bágeri), who last year
conducted the great expedition towards the north; next follows Aíjo;
then Mʿallem Mansúr, a man whom Bíllama represented to me as of special
importance for me, on account of his being the favourite of the people,
and amicably disposed towards Bórnu, ʿOmáro, Zubéru, Hámidu. Of the other
people, he represented to me as the most influential—Móde Hassan, the
kádhi; Móde ʿAbdallahi, the secretary of state; and the Ardo Ghámmawa, as
commander of the troops. As the most respectable Háusa people settled in
Yóla, he named Káiga Hámma Serkí-n-Góber, Mai Konáma, Mágaji-n-Hadder,
Mai Hadder, and Búwári (Bokhári). I introduce this notice, as it may
prove useful in case of another expedition up the river Bénuwé.
_Monday, June 16._—Starting at an early hour we passed the market-place,
which to-day was deserted, and then left the Púllo town on one side. The
country being elevated, and the path winding, we had every moment a new
view of the mountains around us; and before we began to descend I made
the accompanying sketch of the country behind us, stretching from N. 30
E. to E. 20 N.
[Illustration]
The country continued rugged and rocky, though it was occasionally
interrupted by cultivated ground, and a mountain group of interesting
form, called Kónkel, stood out on our right.
Having entered at eight o’clock upon cultivated ground of great extent,
we reached a quarter of an hour afterwards Bélem, the residence of
Mʿallem Dalíli, a man whom I had heard much praised in Saráwu. Bíllama
wished to spend the day here, but I was very anxious to proceed, as
we had already lost the preceding day; but at the same time I desired
to make the acquaintance of, and to pay my respects to, a person
whom every one praised for his excellent qualities. I therefore sent
forward the camels with the men on foot, while I myself entered the
village with the horsemen. Crossing a densely inhabited quarter, we
found the mʿallem sitting under a tree in his courtyard, a venerable
and benevolent-looking old man, in a threadbare blue shirt and a green
“báki-n-záki.” We had scarcely paid our respects to him, and he had asked
a few general questions in Arabic, when an Arab adventurer from Jedda,
with the title of sheríf, who had roved a good deal about the world, made
his appearance, and was very inquisitive to know the motives which had
carried me into this remote country; and Bú-Sʿad thought it prudent to
pique his curiosity, by telling him that we had come to search for the
gold and silver in the mountains. Old Mʿallem Dalíli soon after began to
express himself to the effect that he should feel offended if I would not
stay with him till the afternoon; and I was at length obliged to send for
the camels, which had already gone on a good way.
[Illustration]
A rather indifferent lodging being assigned to me, I took possession
of the shade of a rími, or béntehi,—the bentang-tree of Mungo Park
(_Eriodendron Guineense_), of rather small size, and there tried to
resign myself quietly to the loss of another day, while in truth I burned
with impatience to see the river which was the first and most important
object of my journey. However, my quarters soon became more interesting
to me, as I observed here several peculiarities of arrangement, which,
while they were quite new to me, were most characteristic of the
equatorial regions which I was approaching. For while in Bórnu and Háusa
it is the general custom to expose the horses, even very fine ones, to
all changes of the weather,—which on the whole are not very great,—in
these regions, where the wet season is of far longer duration and the
rains much heavier, it is not prudent to leave the animals unsheltered,
and stables are built for them on purpose,—round spacious huts with
unusually high clay walls; these are called “debbíru” by the Fúlbe of
Ádamáwa, from the Háusa word “débbi.” Even for the cattle there was here
a stable, but more airy, consisting only of a thatched roof supported by
thick poles, and enclosed with a fence of thorny bushes.
The vegetation in the place was very rich, and an experienced botanist
might have found many new species of plants, while to me the most
remarkable circumstance was the quantity of _Palma Christi_ scattered
about the place, a single specimen of the gónda-tree, and the first
specimen of a remarkable plant which I had not observed before on my
travels,—a smooth soft stem about ten inches thick at the bottom, and
shooting up to a height of about twenty-five feet, but drawn downwards
and inclined by the weight and size of its leaves, which measured six
feet in length and about twenty inches in breadth. The Háusa people gave
it the name “alléluba,” a name generally given to quite a different
tree which I have mentioned in speaking of Kanó. The plant bears some
resemblance to the _Musa_, or banana; fruits or flowers it had none at
present.
I had been roving about for some time when the sheríf, whom I mentioned
above, came to pay me a visit, when I learned that he had come to this
place by way of Wadáy and Logón, and that he had been staying here
already twenty days, being engaged in building a warm bath for the
mʿallem, as he had also done for the sultan of Wadáy.
The reader sees that these wandering Arabs are introducing civilization
into the very heart of this continent, and it would not be amiss if they
could all boast of such accomplishments; but this rarely happens. Even
this very man was a remarkable example of these saintly adventurers so
frequently met with in Negroland, but who begin to tire out the patience
of the more enlightened princes of the country. He brought me a lump of
native home-made soap, with which, as he said, I might “wash my clothes,
as I came from the dirty, _soapless_ country of Bórnu.” This present
was not ill-selected, although I hope that the reader will not thence
conclude that I was particularly dirty,—at least, not more so than an
African traveller might be fairly expected to be. I had laid in a good
store of cloves, which, as I have had already occasion to mention, are
highly esteemed here, so I made him very happy by giving him about
half-a-pound weight of them.
More interesting, however, to me than the visit of this wandering son of
the East was the visit of two young native noblemen, sons of the Ardo
Jídda, to whom belongs the country between Sugúr and Wándalá or Mándará,
and the younger of whom was a remarkably handsome man, of slender form,
light complexion, and a most agreeable expression of countenance. This,
however, is a remark which I have often made on my travels, that the
males among the Fúlbe are very handsome till they reach the age of
about twenty years, when they gradually assume an apish expression of
countenance, which entirely spoils the really Circassian features which
they have in early life. As for the females, they preserve their beauty
much longer. While these young men were giving unrestrained vent to their
admiration of my things, the old mʿallem came with a numerous suite
of attendants; whereupon they drew shyly back, and sat silently at a
distance. In this part of the world there is a great respect for age.
The mʿallem and his companions were not only astonished at my
instruments, but manifested much curiosity about the map of Africa,
which I unfolded before their eyes, being greatly struck by the extent
of the continent towards the south, of which they had previously no
idea. I shall show in another part of this work how far the Fúlbe have
become acquainted with the regions about the equator, and how a faint
rumour of the strong pagan kingdom of Muropúwe has spread over the
kingdoms of North Central Africa. Their esteem for me increased when
I showed them my little Prayer-Book, which I wore in a red case slung
round my shoulders, just as they wear their Kurán; indeed a Christian
can never be more sure of acquiring the esteem of a Moslim—at least of
a learned one—than when he shows himself impressed with the sentiments
of his religion; but he must not be a zealous Roman Catholic, nor broach
doctrines which seem to deny the Unity of God. He took great delight in
hearing a psalm of the well-known “nebí Dáúd” (David) read in English.
He, as well as almost all his companions, spoke Arabic; for, as Saráwu
Beréberé is a colony of Bórnu people, Bélem is a pure Arabic colony,
that is to say, a colony of the Sálamát, a tribe widely scattered over
Bórnu and Wadáy. Mʿallem Óro, or, as he is popularly called, on account
of his humility and devotedness, Mʿallem Dalíli, was born in Wadáy, but
settled in Bórnu, from whence at the time of the conquest of the country
by the Fúlbe or Felláta (in the year 1808) he fled to avoid famine and
oppression, like so many other unfortunate inhabitants of that kingdom,
and founded a village in this promising region. This is the country for
colonies, and I do not see why a colony of the liberated slaves of Sierra
Leone might not be advantageously established here. All these people wear
indigo-coloured shirts, and in this manner, even by their dress, are
distinguished from the Fúlbe. They are tolerated and protected, although
a Púllo head man has his residence here, besides the mʿallem.
We were to start in the afternoon; but my stupid Fezzáni servant,
Mohammed ben Habíb, had almost killed himself with eating immoderately
of ground-nuts, and was so seriously ill that I was reduced to the
alternative either of leaving him behind or waiting for him. Choosing the
latter, I made a day of feasting for the whole of my little company, the
mʿallem sending me a goat for my people, a couple of fowls for myself,
and corn for my horses; besides which, I was so fortunate as to buy a
supply of rice. In consideration of his hospitable treatment, I sent
the old mʿallem a bit of camphor and a parcel of cloves. Camphor is a
most precious thing in these regions, and highly esteemed by the nobler
classes, and I cannot too strongly recommend a traveller to provide
himself with a supply of it. It is obvious that a small quantity, if well
kept, will last him a long time. He may find an opportunity of laying a
man of first-rate importance under lasting obligations by a present of a
small piece of camphor.
_Tuesday, June 17._—We at length set out to continue our journey. The
morning was beautifully fresh and cool after the last night’s storm, the
sky was clear, and the country open and pleasant. A fine grassy plain,
with many patches of cultivated ground, extended on our right to the
very foot of Mount Kónkel, which as I now saw is connected by a lower
ridge with Mount Holma. We passed the ruins of the village Bíngel, the
inhabitants of which had transferred their settlement nearer to the
foot of the mountains. Then followed forest, interrupted now and then
by cornfields. My friends, the young sons of Ardo Jídda, accompanied me
for full two hours on horseback, when they bade me a friendly farewell,
receiving each of them, to his great delight, a stone-set ring, which I
begged them to present to their ladies as a memorial of the Christian
traveller. I now learnt that the young men were already mixing a good
deal in politics; the younger brother, who was much the handsomer, and
seemed to be also the more intelligent of the two, had till recently
administered the government of his blind father’s province, but had been
deposed on account of his friendly disposition towards Wándalá, having
married a princess of that country, and the management of affairs had
been transferred to his elder brother.
Forest and cultivated ground alternately succeeded each other; a
little after nine o’clock we passed on our left a small “rúmde,” or
slave-village, with ground-nuts and holcus in the fields, and most
luxuriant pasture all around. The country evidently sloped southwards,
and at a little distance beyond the village I observed the first
watercourse, running decidedly in that direction; on its banks the corn
stood already four feet high. The country now became quite open to the
east and south, and everything indicated that we were approaching the
great artery of the country which I was so anxious to behold. In the
distance to the west a range of low hills was still observable, but was
gradually receding. About ten o’clock we passed the site of a straggling
but deserted village, called Melágo, the inhabitants of which had
likewise exchanged their dwelling-place in this low level country for a
more healthy one at the foot of the mountains, where there is another
village called Kófa, homonymous with that in the Marghí country; for this
district belongs to the country of the Bátta, a numerous tribe nearly
related, as I have stated above, to the Marghí. All the ruins of the
dwellings in Melágo were of clay, and the rumbú or rumbúje—the stacks of
corn—were of a peculiar description; fine cornfields spread around and
between the huts.
Having rested about noon for a little more than two hours on a rather
damp and gloomy spot near a dirty pond, we continued our march, the
country now assuming a very pleasant park-like appearance, clothed in
the most beautiful green, at times broken by cornfields, where the
corn—_Pennisetum_ or géro—stood already five feet high. We soon had to
deliberate on the very important question which way to take, as the road
divided into two branches, the northern or western one leading by way
of Búmánda, while the southern or eastern one went by way of Sulléri.
Most of my companions were for the former road, which they represented
as much nearer, and as I afterwards saw, with the very best reason; but
fortunately the more gastronomic part of the caravan, headed by Bíllama,
who was rather fond of good living, rejected Búmánda, as being inhabited
by poor inhospitable pagans, and decided for the promising large
dishes of Mohammedan Sulléri. This turned out to be a most fortunate
circumstance for me, although the expectations of my friends were most
sadly disappointed. For if we had followed the route by Búmánda, we
should have crossed the Bénuwé lower down, and I should not have seen the
“Tépe,” that most interesting and important locality, where the Bénuwé
is joined by the Fáro, and swelled to that majestic river which is at
least equal in magnitude to the Kwára. Of this circumstance I was then
not aware, else I should have decided from the beginning for the route
by Sulléri. Unfortunately, owing to my very short stay in the country,
I cannot say exactly where Búmánda lies; but I should suppose that it
is situated about ten miles lower down, at a short distance from the
river, like the place of the same name near Hamárruwa,[58] and I think
it must lie opposite to Yóla, so that a person who crosses the river at
that place goes over directly to the capital, without touching either at
Ribáwo, or at any of the neighbouring places.
Having, therefore, chosen the eastern road, we soon reached the broad,
but at present dry sandy channel of the Máyo Tíyel, which runs in a
south-westerly direction to join the Bénuwé; water was to be found close
underneath the surface of the sand, and several women heavily laden with
sets of calabashes, and belonging to a troop of travellers encamped on
the eastern border of the watercourse, were busy in scooping a supply of
most excellent water from a shallow hollow or “kénkenu.” The banks of the
river, or rather torrent, were lined with luxuriant trees, amongst which
I observed the dorówa or meráya (_Parkia_) in considerable numbers.
Forest and cultivated ground now succeeded alternately, till we reached
a beautiful little lake called “gére[59] Páriyá” by the Bátta, and
“barre-n-dáke” by the Fúlbe, at present about fourteen hundred yards
long, and surrounded by tall grass, everywhere impressed with tracks of
the hippopotami or “ngábba,” which emerge during the night from their
watery abode to indulge here quietly in a rich pasturage. This is the
usual camping-ground of expeditions which come this way. A little beyond
this lake a path branched off from our road to the right, leading to
Ródi, a place of the Bátta, whose villages, according to Mohámmedu’s
statement, are all fortified with stockades, and situated in strong
positions naturally protected by rocky mounts and ridges.
There had been a storm in the afternoon at some distance; but when the
sun was setting, and just as we began to wind along a narrow path through
a thick forest, a black tempest gathered over our heads. At length we
reached the fields of Sulléri, and, having stumbled along them in the
deepest darkness, illumined only at intervals by flashes of lightning, we
entered the place and pushed our way through the narrow streets, looking
round in vain for Íbrahíma, who had gone on to procure quarters.
To our great disappointment we found the house of the governor shut up;
and notwithstanding our constant firing and knocking at the door, nobody
came to open it, while the heavy clouds began to discharge their watery
load over our heads. At length, driven to despair, we turned round, and
by force entered his son’s house, which was situated opposite to his
own. Here I took possession of one side of the spacious, clean, and cool
entrance-hall, which was separated from the thoroughfare by a little
balustrade raised above the floor. Spreading my mat and carpet upon
the pebbles with which, as is the general custom here, it was strewn, I
indulged in comfort and repose after the fatiguing day’s march, while
outside the tempest, and inside the landlord, were raging; the latter
being extremely angry with Bíllama on account of our forced entry.
Not the slightest sign of hospitality was shown to us; and instead of
regaling themselves with the expected luxurious dishes of Sulléri, my
companions had to go supperless to bed, while the poor horses remained
without anything to eat, and were drenched with the rain.
CHAPTER XXXV.
THE MEETING OF THE WATERS.—THE BÉNUWÉ AND FÁRO.
_Wednesday, June 18._—At an early hour we left the inhospitable place of
Sulléri. It was a beautiful fresh morning, all nature being revived and
enlivened by the last night’s storm. My companions, sullen and irritated,
quarrelled among themselves on account of the selfish behaviour of
Íbrahíma. As for me, I was cheerful in the extreme, and borne away by an
enthusiastic and triumphant feeling; for to-day I was to see the river.
The neighbourhood of the water was first indicated by numbers of high
ant-hills, which, as I shall have occasion to observe more fully in the
course of my narrative, abound chiefly in the neighbourhood of rivers:
they were here ranged in almost parallel lines, and afforded a very
curious spectacle. We had just passed a small village or rúmde, where
not a living soul was to be seen, the people having all gone forth to
the labours of the field, when the lively Mohámmedu came running up to
me, and exclaimed, “Gashí! gashí! dútsi-n-Alantíka kè nan” (“Look! look!
that is Mount Alantíka”). I strained my eyes and saw, at a great distance
to the south-west, a large but insulated mountain mass, rising abruptly
on the east side, and forming a more gradual slope towards the west,
while it exhibited a rather smooth and broad top, which certainly must be
spacious, as it contains the estates of seven independent pagan chiefs.
Judging from the distance, which was pretty well known to me, I estimated
the height of the mountain at about eight thousand feet above the plain,
or about nine thousand feet of absolute elevation; but it may be somewhat
less.
Here there was still cultivated ground, exhibiting at present the finest
crop of masr, called “bútalí” by the Fúlbe of Ádamáwa; but a little
further on we entered upon a swampy plain (the savannas of Ádamáwa),
overgrown with tall rank grass, and broken by many large hollows full of
water, so that we were obliged to proceed with great caution. This whole
plain is annually (two months later) entirely under water. However, in
the middle of it, on a little rising ground which looks as if it were an
artificial mound, lies a small village, the abode of the ferrymen of the
Bénuwé, from whence the boys came running after us—slender, well-built
lads, accustomed to fatigue and strengthened by daily bathing; the
younger ones quite naked, the elder having a leathern apron girt round
their loins. A quarter of an hour afterwards we stood on the bank of the
Bénuwé.[60]
It happens but rarely that a traveller does not feel disappointed when
he first actually beholds the principal features of a new country, of
which his imagination has composed a picture from the description of
the natives; but although I must admit that the shape and size of the
Alantíka, as it rose in rounded lines from the flat level, did not
exactly correspond with the idea which I had formed of it, the appearance
of the river far exceeded my most lively expectations. None of my
informants had promised me that I should just come upon it at that most
interesting locality—the Tépe[61]—where the mightier river is joined
by another of very considerable size, and that in this place I was to
cross it. My arrival at this point, as I have stated before, was a most
fortunate circumstance. As I looked from the bank over the scene before
me, I was quite enchanted, although the whole country bore the character
of a desolate wilderness; but there could scarcely be any great traces of
human industry near the river, as, during its floods, it inundates the
whole country on both sides. This is the general character of all the
great rivers in these regions, except where they are encompassed by very
steep banks.
The principal river, the Bénuwé, flowed here from east to west, in a
broad and majestic course, through an entirely open country, from which
only here and there detached mountains started forth. The banks on our
side rose to twenty-five, and in some places to thirty feet, while
just opposite to my station, behind a pointed headland of sand, the
Fáro rushed forth, appearing from this point not much inferior to the
principal river, and coming in a fine sweep from the south-east, where it
disappeared in the plain, but was traced by me, in thought, upwards to
the steep eastern foot of the Alantíka. The river, below the junction,
keeping the direction of the principal branch, but making a slight bend
to the north, ran along the northern foot of Mount Bágelé, and was there
lost to the eye, but was followed in thought through the mountainous
region of the Báchama and Zína to Hamárruwa, and thence along the
industrious country of Korórofa, till it joined the great western river
the Kwára or Niger, and, conjointly with it, ran towards the great ocean.
On the northern side of the river another detached mountain, Mount Taife,
rose, and behind it the Bengo, with which Mount Fúro seemed connected,
stretching out in a long line towards the north-west. The bank upon which
we stood was entirely bare of trees, with the exception of a solitary and
poor acacia, about one hundred paces further up the river, while on the
opposite shore, along the Fáro and below the junction, some fine clusters
of trees were faintly seen.
I looked long and silently upon the stream; it was one of the happiest
moments in my life. Born on the bank of a large navigable river, in a
commercial place of great energy and life, I had from my childhood a
great predilection for river-scenery; and although plunged for many
years in the too exclusive study of antiquity, I never lost this native
instinct. As soon as I left home, and became the independent master of
my actions, I began to combine travel with study, and to study while
travelling, it being my greatest delight to trace running waters from
their sources, and to see them grow into brooks, to follow the brooks,
and see them become rivers, till they at last disappeared in the
all-devouring ocean. I had wandered all around the Mediterranean, with
its many gulfs, its beautiful peninsulas, its fertile islands—not hurried
along by steam, but slowly wandering from place to place, following the
traces of the settlements of the Greeks and Romans around this beautiful
basin, once their _terra incognita_. And thus, when entering upon the
adventurous career in which I subsequently engaged, it had been the
object of my most lively desire to throw light upon the natural arteries
and hydrographical network of the unknown regions of Central Africa.
The great eastern branch of the Niger was the foremost to occupy my
attention; and although for some time uncertain as to the identity of
the river of Ádamáwa with that laid down in its lower course by Messrs.
W. Allen, Laird, and Oldfield, I had long made up my mind on this point,
thanks to the clear information received from my friend Ahmed bel Mejúb.
I had now, with my own eyes, clearly established the direction and nature
of this mighty river; and to an unprejudiced mind there could no longer
be any doubt that this river joins the majestic watercourse explored
by the gentlemen just mentioned.[62] Hence I cherish the well-founded
conviction, that along this natural highroad European influence and
commerce will penetrate into the very heart of the continent and abolish
slavery, or rather those infamous slave-hunts and religious wars,
destroying the natural germs of human happiness, which are spontaneously
developed in the simple life of the pagans, and spreading devastation and
desolation all around.
We descended towards the place of embarkation, which at this season of
the year changes every week, or even more frequently. At present it
was at the mouth of a small, deeply worn channel, or dry watercourse,
descending from the swampy meadow-grounds towards the river, and filled
with tall reed-grass and bushes. Here was the poor little naval arsenal
of the Tépe, consisting of three canoes, two in good repair, and a third
one in a state of decay, and unfit for service.
It was now that for the first time I saw these rude little shells,
hollowed out of a single trunk—for the boats of the Búdduma are more
artificial, being made of a number of boards joined together: and I soon
began to eye these frail canoes with rather an anxious feeling, as I was
about to trust myself and all my property to what seemed to offer very
inadequate means of crossing with safety a large and deep river. They
measured from twenty-five to thirty feet in length, and only from a foot
to a foot and a half in height, and sixteen inches in width; and one of
them was so crooked, that I could scarcely imagine how it could stem the
strong current of the river.
On the river itself two canoes were plying; but, notwithstanding our
repeated hallooing and firing, the canoemen would not come to our side
of the river; perhaps they were afraid. Roving about along the bushy
watercourse, I found an old canoe, which being made of two very large
trunks joined together, had been incomparably more comfortable and
spacious than the canoes now in use; although the joints being made
with cordage just like the stitching of a shirt, and without pitching
the holes, which were only stuffed with grass, necessarily allowed the
water to penetrate continually into the boat; it, however, had the great
advantage of not breaking if it ran upon a rock, being in a certain
degree pliable. It was about thirty-five feet long, and twenty-six inches
wide in the middle; but it was now out of repair, and was lying upside
down. It was from this point, standing upon the bottom of the boat, that
I made the sketch of this most interesting locality.
The canoemen still delaying to come, I could not resist the temptation
of taking a river bath, a luxury which I had not enjoyed since bathing
in the Eurymedon. The river is full of crocodiles; but there could be
little danger from these animals after all our firing and the constant
noise of so many people. I had not yet arrived at the conviction, that
river-bathing is not good for a European in a tropical climate, but this
was the first and last time that I bathed voluntarily, with a single
exception, for when navigating the river of Logón on a fine day in March
1852, I could not help jumping overboard, and on my return from Bagírmi,
in August 1853, I was obliged to do it.
The bed of the river, after the first foot and a half, sloped down very
gradually, so that at the distance of thirty yards from the shore I had
not more than three feet and a half of water, but then it suddenly became
deep. The current was so strong, that I was unable to stem it; but my
original strength, I must allow, was at the time already greatly reduced.
The only advantage which I derived from this feat was that of learning
that the river carries gold with it; for the people, as often as I dipped
under water, cried out that I was searching for this metal, and when I
came out of the water, were persuaded that I had obtained plenty of it.
However, the river was already too full for investigating this matter
further.
At length a canoe arrived, the largest of the two that were actually
employed, and a long bargaining commenced with the eldest of the
canoemen, a rather short and well-set lad. Of course, as the chief of
the caravan, I had to pay for all, and, there being three camels and
five horses to be carried over, it was certainly a difficult business.
It cannot, therefore, be regarded as a proof of exorbitant demands, that
I had to pay five “dóras,” a sum which in Kúkawa would buy two ox-loads
of Indian corn. I allowed all the people to go before me, in order to
prevent the canoemen from exacting something more from them.
There was considerable difficulty with my large camel-bags, which were
far too large for the canoes, and which several times were in danger of
being upset; for they were so unsteady that the people were obliged to
kneel down on the bottom, and keep their equilibrium by holding with both
hands on the sides of the boat. Fortunately I had laid my tent-poles at
the bottom of the canoe, so that the water did not reach the luggage;
but owing to the carelessness of the Hajji’s companions, all his books
were wetted, to his utmost distress, but I saw him afterwards shedding
tears while he was drying his deteriorated treasures on the sandy beach
of the headland. The horses as they crossed, swimming by the sides of
the canoe, had to undergo great fatigue; but desperate was the struggle
of the camels, which were too obstinate to be guided by the frail
vessels, and had to be pushed through alone, and could only be moved by
the most severe beating; the camel of the Hajji was for a while given
up in despair by the whole party. At length they were induced to cross
the channel, the current carrying them down to a great distance, and our
whole party arrived safe on the sandy beach of the headland, where there
was not a bit of shade. This whole headland for two or three months every
year is covered with water, although its chief part, which was overgrown
with tall reed-grass, was at present about fifteen feet above the surface.
The river, where we crossed it, was, at the very least, eight hundred
yards broad, and in its channel generally eleven feet deep, and was
liable to rise, under _ordinary_ circumstances, at least thirty, or even
at times fifty feet higher. Its upper course at that time was known to
me as far as the town of Géwe on the road to Logón; but further on I had
only heard from the natives that it came from the south, or rather from
the south-south-east.
It was a quarter before one o’clock when we left the beach in order to
cross the second river, the Fáro, which is stated to come from Mount
Lábul, about seven days’ march to the south. It was at present about
six hundred yards broad, but generally not exceeding two feet in depth,
although almost all my informants had stated to me that the Fáro was
the principal river. The reason of this mistake was, I think, that they
had never seen the two rivers at this place, but observed the Fáro near
Gúrin, where, a little later in the season, it seems to be of an immense
breadth, particularly if they crossed from Bundang; or they were swayed
by the great length of the latter river, which they were acquainted with
in its whole course, while none of them had followed the upper course of
the Bénuwé.
Be this as it may, the current of the Fáro was extremely violent, far
more so than of the Bénuwé, approaching, in my estimation, a rate of
about five miles, while I would rate the former at about three and a
half miles an hour, the current of the Fáro plainly indicating that the
mountainous region whence it issued was at no great distance. In order to
avoid the strongest part of the current, which swept along the southern
shore, we kept close to a small island, which, however, at present could
still be reached from this side with dry feet. We then entered upon low
meadow-land, overgrown with tall reed-grass, which a month later is
entirely inundated to such a depth that only the crowns of the tallest
trees are seen rising above the water, of which they bore unmistakable
traces, the highest line thus marked being about fifty feet above the
present level of the river; for of course the inundation does not always
reach the same height, but varies according to the greater or less
abundance of the rains. The information of my companions, as well as the
evident marks on the ground, left not the least doubt about the immense
rise of these rivers.[63]
For a mile and a half from the present margin of the river, near a large
and beautiful tamarind-tree, we ascended its outer bank, rising to the
height of about thirty feet, the brink of which is not only generally
reached by the immense inundation, but even sometimes overflowed, so that
the people who cross it during the height of the inundation, leaving the
canoes here, have still to make their way through deep water, covering
this highest level.
My companions from Ádamáwa were almost unanimous in spontaneously
representing the waters as preserving their highest level for forty days,
which, according to their accounts, would extend from about the 20th of
August till the end of September. This statement of mine, made not from
my own experience, but from the information of the natives, has been
slightly, but indeed very slightly, modified by the experience of those
eminent men who, upon the reports which I forwarded of my discovery, were
sent out by Her Majesty’s Government in the _Pleiad_ and who succeeded in
reaching the point down to which I had been able to delineate the course
of the river with some degree of certainty. That the fall of the river at
this point of the junction begins at the very end of September, has been
exactly confirmed by these gentlemen, while with regard to the forty days
they have not made any distinct observation, although there is evidence
enough that they experienced something confirmatory of it.[64]
On leaving the outer bank of the river, our way led through a fine
park-like plain, dotted with a few mimosas of middling size, and clear of
underwood. The sides of the path were strewn with skeletons of horses,
marking the line followed by the late expedition of the governor of Yóla,
on its return from Lére, or the Mbána country. Having then entered upon
cultivated ground, we reached the first cluster of huts of the large
straggling village Chabajáure, or Chabajáule, situated in a most fertile
and slightly undulating tract; and having kept along it for a little
less than a mile and a half, we took up our quarters in a solitary and
secluded cluster of huts, including a very spacious courtyard.
It was a sign of warm hospitality that, although the whole caravan had
fallen to the charge of a single household, sufficient quantities not
only of “nyíro,” the common dish of Indian corn, but even of meat,
were brought to us in the evening. While passing the village, I had
observed that all the corn on the fields was “geróri,” or _Pennisetum_
(millet—dukhn), a kind of grain originally, it would seem, so strange to
the Fúlbe, that they have not even a word of their own for it, having
only modified a little the Háusa word “géro”; not a single blade of
“baíri,” or sorghum, was to be seen. The scarcity was less felt here than
in the northern districts of the country, and we brought some grain for
our horses as a supply for the next day.
_Thursday, June 19._—We started early in the morning, continuing along
the straggling hamlets and rich cornfields of Chabajáule for a mile and
a half; when we passed two slave villages, or “rúmde,” belonging to a
rich Púllo, of the name of Hanúri. All the meadows were beautifully
adorned with white violet-striped lilies. We then entered a wooded tract,
ascending at the same time considerably on the hilly ground which juts
out from the foot of Mount Bágelé, and which allowed us a clearer view
of the geological character of the mountain. Having again emerged from
the forest upon an open, cultivated, and populous district, we passed
the large village of Dulí, and, having descended and reascended again
we obtained a most beautiful view near the village Gúroré, which lies
on rising ground, surrounded by a good many large monkey-bread-trees,
or bodóje (_sing._ bokki). For from this elevated spot we enjoyed a
prospect over the beautiful meadow-lands sloping gently down towards the
river, which from this spot is not much more than five miles distant,
taking its course between Mounts Bengo and Bágelé, and washing the foot
of the latter, but not visible to us. The country continued beautiful
and pleasant, and was here enlivened by numerous herds of cattle, while
in the villages which we had passed I had seen none, as the Fúlbe drive
their cattle frequently to very distant grazing grounds.
While marching along at a good pace, Mohámmedu walked up to me, and
with a certain feeling of pride showed me his fields, “gashí gonakína.”
Though a poor man, he was master of three slaves, a very small fortune
in a conquered and newly colonized country, like Ádamáwa, based entirely
upon slavery, where many individuals have each more than a thousand
slaves. I was greatly surprised to see here a remarkable specimen of a
bokki or monkey-bread-tree, branching off from the ground into three
separate trunks; at least, I never remember to have seen anything like
it, although the tree is the most common representative of the vegetable
kingdom through the whole breadth of Central Africa. All the ground to
the right of the path is inundated during the height of the flood.
We had now closely approached the Bágelé, the summit of which, though
not very high, is generally enveloped in clouds, a fact which, when
conveyed to me in the obscure language of the natives, had led me to
the misconception, while writing in Kúkawa my report of the provisional
information I had obtained of the country whither I was about to proceed,
that this mountain was of volcanic character. It seems to consist
chiefly of granite, and has a very rugged surface, strewn with great
irregular blocks, from between which trees shoot up. Nevertheless,
stretching out to a length of several miles from south-south-east to
north-north-west, it contains a good many spots of arable land, which
support eighteen little hamlets of independent pagans. These, protected
by the inaccessible character of their strongholds, and their formidable
double spears, have not only been able hitherto to repulse all the
attacks which the proud Mohammedans, the centre of whose government is
only a few miles distant, have made against them, but, descending from
their haunts, commit almost daily depredations upon the cattle of their
enemies.[65] One of their little hamlets, perched on the top of steep
cliffs, we could plainly distinguish by the recently thatched roofs
of the huts, the snow-white colour of which very conspicuously shone
forth from the dark masses of the rock. The country was always gaining
in interest as we advanced, the meadow-lands being covered with living
creatures of every description, such as cattle, horses, asses, goats,
and sheep, and we reached the easternmost cluster of huts of the large
straggling village or district of Ribáwo or Ribágo,[66] stretching out
on our left on a little rising ground. The district is not only rich in
corn and pasturage, but also in fish, which are most plentiful in a large
inlet or backwater, “illágul,” as it is called by the Fúlbe, branching
off from the river along the north-east foot of the Bágelé, and closely
approaching the village. In this shallow water the fish are easily caught.
Numbers of inquisitive people of every age and sex gathered round us
from the neighbouring hamlets; but while hovering round me and the
camels with great delight, they behaved very decently and quietly. They
followed us till we took up our quarters a little before ten o’clock,
with a friend of Bíllama’s, in a large group of huts lying close to the
path, and shaded by most luxuriant trees. Although there were several
clean huts, I preferred the cool and ventilated entrance hall of the same
description as I have mentioned above, and remained here even during the
night, although a most terrible storm, which broke out at six o’clock
in the evening, and lasted full four hours, flooded the whole ground,
and rendered my resting-place rather too cool. I would advise other
travellers not to follow my example during the rainy season, but rather
to make themselves comfortable in the warm interior of a well-protected
hut.
In our last march through these rich low grounds, which are every
year flooded by the river, I had not observed the least traces of the
cultivation of rice, for which they seem to be so marvellously adapted,
the cultivation round Ribágo being almost exclusively limited to maiwa
or maiwári, a peculiar species of sorghum called “matëa” in Kanúri.
On inquiring why these people did not grow rice, I learnt that the
Fúlbe hereabouts had all migrated from Bórnu after the downfall of
their jemmára and dominion in that country, when not only were the new
political intruders repulsed, but even the old settlers, who had been
established in that country from very ancient times, were obliged to
emigrate. In Bórnu, however, as I have had occasion to mention before, no
rice is cultivated, so that these people, although at present established
in regions where rice would probably succeed much better than millet
and Indian corn, abstain entirely from its cultivation. On the other
hand, in the western parts of Adamáwa and in Hamárruwa, whither the
Fúlbe had migrated from Háusa, rice is cultivated to a considerable
extent. On a former occasion I have already touched on the question,
whether rice be indigenous in Negroland or not. It has evidently been
cultivated from time immemorial in the countries along the middle course
of the Ísa, or Kwára, from Kébbi up to Gágho, or Gógó; but this might
seem to be in consequence of a very ancient intercourse between those
regions and Egypt, which I hope to be able to establish in the course of
my narrative. It grows, however, wild in many parts, from the southern
provinces of Bórnu, Bagírmi, and Wadáy, as far north as el Haúdh and
Bághena, on the border of the western desert.
Another important point of which I here became aware was, that the Bátta
language, which, among the numerous languages of Ádamáwa, or rather
Fúmbiná, is the most extensively spoken, has two very different dialects;
for, being anxious to finish my small vocabulary of this language, which
I had commenced in Kúkawa with the assistance of Mohámmedu, I soon found
that the dialect spoken here differed considerably from that of which I
had previously written specimens. The Bátta language, as I have stated
above, is intimately related to the Marghí and Záni idiom, and bears
several points of resemblance to the Músgu language, which is itself
related to the various dialects of Kótoko. All these languages have some
general points of affinity to the South African languages.
At present, however, the indigenous population is almost totally extinct
in this district, which is exclusively inhabited by the conquerors, who
have here found an abode remarkably suited to their mode of living. The
whole place has not less than six thousand inhabitants.
_Friday, June 20._—We started early in order to reach the capital, if
possible, before noon, and passed through several hamlets, all belonging
to the extensive village or district of Ribágo, and interrupted here and
there by projecting masses of schistose rock, while the concavity between
this rising ground and Mount Bágelé was fast filling with the flood
from the river, and presented already a considerable sheet of water.
The country, after we had passed this populous district, became thickly
wooded, which I had not expected to find so near the capital; and, on
account of some ravines which intersect it, and of the neighbourhood of
the inlet of the river, it certainly cannot afford a very easy passage
towards the end of the rainy season. Here also the rock projects above
the plain in many places.
About eight o’clock, when we had travelled round the south-western foot
of Mount Bágelé, we passed through a number of small hamlets, which
however did not exhibit any traces of cultivation, and then again entered
upon a wild tract, while we obtained a glance at a picturesquely seated
place before us, which I unhesitatingly took for Yóla, but which proved
to be a small village situated at a considerable distance from the
capital. Before we reached it, we had to cross a sheet of water nearly
five feet deep, and called by my companions “Máyo Bínti,” which caused
us a great deal of trouble and delay, and wetted almost all my luggage.
The water, which at present had no current, skirts the foot of the rocky
slope on which the village is situated, the name of which is Yebbórewó.
Here our camels created an extraordinary interest, and a great many
women, although we did not attend to their wish to stop, managed to pass
under the bellies of these tall creatures, in the hope of obtaining their
blessing, as they thought them sacred animals.
Having kept along the rising ground, and passed several little hamlets
adorned with monkey-bread-trees, we had to cross very difficult swampy
ground, which, a little later in the season, must be avoided by a long
circuit. Two months later Mount Bágelé must look almost like an island,
so surrounded is it on all sides by deep inlets and swamps. The detached
cone of Mount Takabéllo, rising to a height of about a thousand feet
above the plain, for some time formed a conspicuous object in front of
us on our winding path, till at length, a little before noon, we reached
the outskirts of the capital in a state of mind not exempt from anxious
feeling.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
MY RECEPTION IN YÓLA.—SHORT STAY.—DISMISSAL.
At length I had reached the capital of Ádamáwa, having had altogether a
very lucky and successful journey; but now all depended upon the manner
in which I should be received in this place: for although it was quite
enough to have successfully penetrated so far, after having discovered
and crossed the upper course of that large river, about the identity of
which with the Chadda there could be little doubt, I entertained the
hope that I might be allowed to penetrate further south, and investigate
at least part of the basin of the river. I had heard so much about the
fertile character of those regions, that I was intensely desirous to see
something of them.
It was an unfavourable circumstance that we arrived on a Friday, and just
during the heat of the day. The streets were almost deserted; and no
person met us in order to impart to us, by a friendly welcome, a feeling
of cheerfulness and confidence.
Yóla is a large open place, consisting, with a few exceptions, of conical
huts surrounded by spacious courtyards, and even by cornfields, the
houses of the governor and those of his brothers being alone built of
clay. Keeping along the principal street, we continued our march for a
mile and a quarter before we reached the house of the governor, which
lies on the west side of a small open area, opposite the mosque, a flat
oblong, building, or rather hall, enclosed with clay walls, and covered
with a flat thatched roof a little inclined on one side. Having reached
this place, my companions fired a salute, which, considering the nature
of Bíllama’s mission, and the peculiar character of the governor, which
this officer ought to have known, and perhaps also since it happened to
be Friday, was not very judicious.
Be this as it may, the courtiers or attendants of the governor, attracted
by the firing, came out one after another, and informed us that their
master must go to the mosque to say his midday prayers[67] before he
could attend to us or assign us quarters. We therefore dismounted and sat
down in the scanty shade of a jéja or caoutchouc-tree, which adorns the
place between the palace and the mosque, while a great number of people,
amounting to several hundreds, gradually collected, all eager to salute
me and shake hands with me. Fortunately, it was not long before Láwl came
out of his palace and went into the mosque; and then I obtained a few
moments’ respite, the people all following him, with the exception of the
young ones, who very luckily found the camels a worthier object of their
curiosity than me. It had been my intention to salute the governor when
he was crossing the place, but I was advised not to do so, as it might
interfere with his devotional feelings.
The prayer was short; and when it was over I was surrounded by much
larger numbers than before, and, being fatigued and hungry, I felt
greatly annoyed by the endless saluting and shaking of hands. At length
we were ordered to take up our quarters in the house of Ardo Ghámmawa,
a brother of our fellow-traveller Íbrahíma; but this being close to the
east end of the town, we were not much pleased with the arrangement, as
it not only obliged us for the moment to return the whole way we had
come, but also for the future deprived us of an unreserved and friendly
intercourse with the governor. This was not calculated to inspire us with
confidence as to the success of our proceedings.
It was past two o’clock in the afternoon when at length I reached my
quarters and took possession of a large, well-ventilated, and neat
“záure,” or hall, the walls of which were all painted. In the inner
courtyard there was also a very neat and snug little hut, but that was
all, and we had great trouble in obtaining quarters for Bú-Sʿad and the
Mʿallem in some of the neighbouring courtyards. I felt rather fatigued
and not quite at my ease, and therefore could not much enjoy a dish of an
extremely good pudding of bairi or sorghum, with excellent clear butter,
and a large bowl of milk; but nevertheless, although a storm, accompanied
with much rain, broke out in the evening and rendered the air rather
humid, I remained the whole night where I was, instead of retiring into
the well-protected though rather sultry hut.
_Saturday, June 21._—In the morning I selected my presents for the
governor, the principal part of which consisted of a very handsome red
cloth bernús, which we had found among the things left by the late Mr.
Richardson; but when we were ready to go we received the information
that Láwl was in his fields, and that we could not see him. Meanwhile
I received a visit from an Arab from the far-distant west, with whom I
had made acquaintance in Kúkawa, and who had given me some very valuable
information. It was el Mukhtár, of the tribe of the Idésan in Bághena,
who had previously paid a visit to Ádamáwa, and was well acquainted with
the country. It is always very pleasant for a traveller to meet another
roving spirit somewhere again, particularly in a country like Central
Africa. Having acknowledged his visit by the gift of a knife and a little
frankincense, I presented our host, the Ardo Ghámmawa, with a fine “ríga
gíwa” (an “elephant-shirt”)—that is to say, one of those enormous wide
black shirts made only in Núpe, and which was one of the few articles
which I had been able to provide in Kanó for the furtherance of my
plans. The family of the Ardo had formerly been settled in Ghámmawa, in
the south-western province of Bórnu, but, when the Fúlbe were driven
back from that country, emigrated and settled here. But this man still
bears the title “Ardo Ghámmawa”—“the mayor of (the Fúlbe community of)
Ghámmawa.”
Having been told that the governor had returned to his palace, we mounted
on horseback about ten o’clock, and, preceded by the Ardo Ghámmawa,
returned the long way to the lamórde or palace; but after waiting on
the damp ground, exposed to the sun for more than an hour, we were told
that we could not see him, and were obliged to return with our present.
I was greatly vexed, and felt, in consequence, my fever increasing,
especially as another very heavy storm broke out in the afternoon, when
the air became quite chilly. However, I was somewhat cheered by making
acquaintance in the afternoon with an Arab from Mokha, of the name of
Mohammed ben Áhmed, who styled himself sheríf, most probably rather
pleonastically; but, apart from such pretension, he was an amiable and
most interesting man, who had travelled for many years over the whole
eastern coast of the continent between Mombása and Sofála. He was the
first to satisfy my curiosity with a description of the celebrated Lake
Nyassa as an eyewitness. He had even visited Bombay and Madras.
_Sunday, June 22._—In consequence of the information received from Ardo
Ghámmawa that to-day we were certainly to see the governor, we got ready
at an early hour, taking with us also a present for his brother Mansúr,
who had made himself expressly a candidate for a present, by sending me,
the day before, a small pot of honey. While we were passing his house,
he was coming out to pay his respects to his brother. We made a short
halt and exchanged compliments with him; and when, on reaching the area
before the governor’s house, we had dismounted and were sitting down in
the shade of the tree, he walked most benignly and frankly up, and sat
down in front of me. We then entered the palace; and having waited a
short time in the segífa or záure, which here was formed by a spacious
flat-roofed room supported by massive square pillars, we were called into
the presence of the governor.
[Illustration]
Mohammed Láwl, son of Mʿallem Ádama, was sitting in a separate hall,
built of clay, and forming, for this country, quite a noble mansion.
From without especially, it has a stately, castle-like appearance, while
inside, the hall was rather encroached upon by quadrangular pillars two
feet in diameter, which supported the roof, about sixteen feet high, and
consisting of a rather heavy entablature of poles in order to withstand
the violence of the rains. The governor was very simply dressed, and had
nothing remarkable in his appearance, while his face, which was half
covered by a somewhat dirty shawl, had an indifferent expression. Besides
him there were none present but Mansúr and a mállem.
Having, as the first European that had ever visited his country with
the distinct purpose to enter into friendly relations with him, paid
him my respects on behalf of my countrymen, I delivered my letter of
introduction from Sheikh ʿOmár, who in a few but well-chosen lines
introduced me to him as a learned and pious Christian, who wandered
about to admire the works of the Almighty Creator, and on this account
cherished an ardent desire to visit also Adamáwa, of the wonders of which
I had heard so much. Láwl read it, and, evidently not quite displeased
with its contents, although he took umbrage at some of the expressions,
handed it silently over to the mállem and Mansúr. Hereupon Bíllama
delivered his letters, of which not only the contents, but even the very
existence had been totally unknown to me. They were three in number, one
from the sheikh himself, one from Malá Ibrám, the former possessor of the
southern province of Bórnu, and one from Kashélla ʿAli Déndal, or Ladán,
the officer who by his late predatory incursion had given grounds for
complaint.
As soon as these various letters were read, all of which laid claim,
on the side of Bórnu, to the territory of Kófa and Kóbchi, a storm
arose, and in a fit of wrath Láwl reproached my companion with daring to
come forward with such pretensions—he, who was himself well acquainted
with the country and with the point in dispute. If Sheikh ʿOmár wished
for discord, well: he was ready; and they would harass each other’s
frontier-provinces by reciprocal incursions. Having given vent to his
feelings towards Bíllama, his anger turned upon me; and he told me to
my face that I had quite different reasons for coming into his country
from those stated in Sheikh ʿOmár’s letter; referring to some ambiguous
words in Malá Ibrám’s writing in which that officer stated “that, with
regard to me, the objects of my journey to Ádamáwa were a perfect secret
to him.” Now I must confess, after all my acquaintance with the politics
of these people, and notwithstanding all Háj Beshír’s kindness and
benevolence towards me, that I think the Bórnu diplomatists quite capable
of a little double dealing; that is to say, I suspect that they were
willing to make use of me to frighten the governor of Ádamáwa. Perhaps
also they were afraid lest, if I should succeed in Ádamáwa, I might not
return to their country. I shall have to mention similar circumstances
on my journey to Bagírmi. Viewing matters in this light, I wrote from
Kúkawa, requesting Her Majesty’s Government to inform the Sheikh of Bórnu
that it was their distinct desire that we should penetrate onwards,
and that he would confer an obligation upon them by facilitating the
execution of our plans.
Be this as it may, after a long dispute with regard to the boundaries,
in which my friend from Mokha, and a learned native of Wadáy, Móde ʿAbd
Alláhi, who was employed by Láwl as a sort of secretary of state for
foreign affairs, took part, I, with my party, was ordered to withdraw
for a time. After sitting for full two hours on the damp ground outside,
we received an intimation that we might return home. Thus I had to
return with my presents a second time to my quarters; and of course I was
greatly vexed. However, several people who saw my emotion endeavoured
to console me; and Mansúr, who before we left came out of his brother’s
audience-hall, entered into conversation with me, and assured me that
this unkind treatment in no way related to me, but that it was only
intended for Bíllama, the officer of Bórnu. There was present also the
very amiable mʿallem whom I had met in Saráwu Fulfúlde, and who had
come after us; and I felt sorry that I was not disposed to answer his
well-meant discourse in the manner it deserved.
When we reached Mansúr’s house he invited us to dismount, and entering
the interior of his wide and neat dwelling we had a long and animated
conversation, when I explained to him in a deliberate manner that such
treatment did not offend me on my own account, but on account of the
Government—the very first and most powerful in the world—which had sent
me; that instead of coming with hostile intentions, as was imputed to
me, I had come with the friendly design of paying my respects to the
governor on behalf of the British sovereign, and to present him with a
few specimens of our products and manufactures; that I had, no doubt,
at the same time an intense desire to see their country, as it was the
avowed purpose of Europeans in general, and of the English in particular,
to become acquainted, and to open intercourse, with all parts of God’s
creation.
Mansúr explained to me, in return, that they well knew that I had not
come to make war upon them, although Láwl, in the first fit of his anger,
scarcely seemed to suspect anything less than that, “but that they were
vexed because I had come to them under the protection of the Bórnu
people, their enemies.” A letter from the Sultan of Stambúl, or even from
my own sovereign, would have recommended me much more advantageously.
The sheikh had expressly designated me as one recommended and protected
by the Porte, and Bú-Sʿad had mentioned, with a slight disregard of the
real facts, that through inadvertence only I had left both letters, as
well that from the Sultan of Stambúl, as from the English sovereign, in
Kúkawa. Now I certainly had with me a treaty written in Arabic, such
as it was desirable that the governor of Ádamáwa should subscribe; but
to produce this under existing circumstances would have been absurd,
especially as it did not emanate directly from the Government, and was
not authenticated, either by seal or in any other way, and I thought it
better not to mention it. It was no bad policy on the part of Bú-Sʿad to
represent me as sent on a special mission by the British Government to
the Fúlbe princes, and as obliged only by the death of my companion to
deviate from my intended course, in order to supply his place in Kúkawa.
Meanwhile it was past midday; and after a stormy night the sun shone
forth with overpowering force, while we sat all the while in an open
courtyard without the least protection. On reaching my quarters, I was
so exhausted and ill that I thought I could do nothing better than take
without delay a powerful emetic, after which I felt much better, but
rather weak. Having somewhat restored my spirits by a conversation with
Mohammed ben Áhmed, I retired into the close hut, and had a sound sleep.
Monday having passed quietly, with the exception of a great many people
calling for “laiya” or charms, and for medicines, Tuesday the 24th
arrived, when it was my destiny to leave this country, which I had but
just entered, and to retrace my steps over the long and infested road
which I had lately travelled.
I felt tolerably well in the morning, but afterwards became very ill,
and unfortunately took too weak a dose of medicine. In this state I had
a visit from two very handsome and amiable young Fúlbe, and in my rather
morose mood refused their urgent request, made in the most simple and
confidential way, to say the “fat-ha,” or the opening prayer of the
Kurán, with them. I have always regretted my refusal, as it estranged
from me a great many people; and although many Christians will object to
repeat the prayer of another creed, yet the use of a prayer of so general
an import as the introductory chapter to the Kurán ought to be permitted
to every solitary traveller in these regions, in order to form a sort of
conciliatory link between him and the natives.
After some other visitors had come and gone, I received, about ten
o’clock, a formal visit from Móde ʿAbdalláhi, the foreign secretary, and
my friend from Mokha, in the name of the governor. Having moistened their
organs with a cup of coffee, they acquitted themselves of their message
in the following terms: “The sultan”—all these provincial governors bear
the title of sultan—“had ordered them,” they said, “to beg me to accept
his most respectful regards, and to inform me that he was nothing but
a slave of the sultan of Sókoto, and that I was a far greater man than
himself. As such a man had never before come to his country, he was
afraid of his liege lord, and begged me to retrace my steps whither I had
come; but if in course of time I should return with a letter from Sókoto,
he would receive me with open arms, would converse with me about all our
science, and about our instruments, without reserve, and would show me
the whole country.”
To this message, which was certainly couched in very modest and
insinuating terms, I answered that Mohammed Láwl, so far from being a
slave of the sultan of Sókoto, was renowned far and wide as the almost
independent governor of a large province; that the fame of his father
Ádama, as a nobly born, learned Púllo, extended far and wide throughout
Tekrúr, or Negroland, and had even reached our own country; that it
was absurd to argue that I was greater than himself, and that on this
account he could not receive me on his own responsibility, but was
obliged to refer my suit to his liege lord in Sókoto. I brought forward
the examples of Kátsena and Kanó, especially the latter place, in which,
though it was the seat of a governor dependent on the Emír el Múmenín,
in the same way as the governor of Ádamáwa, I had long resided, without
any representations being made to the sovereign lord. “Oh! but the
relations of Kátsena and Kanó,” said the messengers of the governor, “are
entirely different from those of this province. These are large and busy
thoroughfares for all the world, while Ádamáwa is a distant territory
in the remotest corner of the earth, and still a fresh unconsolidated
conquest.” There was certainly some truth in this last remark; and
whatever I might say to the contrary, the question was decided, and all
reasoning was vain.
The two messengers having gone through their business in this way,
informed me that they were only the forerunners of the real messenger,
Mansúr, the brother of the governor. This was very pleasant news to
me; and although, after this shock of disappointment, I felt extremely
ill and weak, I rose from my couch, and went to receive Mansúr when he
arrived at the door of the hut. He then officially, and in a very feeling
manner, confirmed all that Móde ʿAbdalláhi and the sheríf Mohammed had
said, and expressed his deep regret that I was not allowed to stay. When
he was going, I handed to his servants the little present destined for
him, which consisted of twenty-five drʿa of striped Manchester, a pair of
English razors, scissors, a looking-glass, a parcel of cloves, a little
jáwi, or benzoin, and a small piece of camphor.
Mansúr had been gone a little while when I received information that
the governor had sent me a horse and two slaves as a present, with the
intimation that I might likewise let him have the present which I had
brought with me for him. But this I refused to do, declaring that I could
not, under the present circumstances, either accept from him or give him
anything, not having come as a merchant, to barter with him, but as the
messenger of another powerful sovereign, to treat with him on friendly
terms. My servant, Bú-Sʿad, who, in the covetousness of his heart,
already fancied himself in the possession of the two slaves, whom he
knew well I myself could not accept, but whom he thought I would give up
to him, went so far as to declare that, as the present had come from my
sovereign, I had no alternative but to bestow it. But seeing that I was
firm, the messengers went away, and soon after a horseman arrived with
the order for me to leave the town instantly.
Meanwhile, during all this negotiation and dispute, I had become
extremely weak, and the excitement had brought on a very severe fit
of fever. Indeed, I scarcely thought that I should be able to sit on
horseback, and to bear the sun, it being then just noon, and the sun
shining forth with great power. Nevertheless I got my things ready; but
having left my quarters a little too soon, and being obliged to wait
some time for the other people, I became so weak that I could no longer
keep on my feet, but lay down on the ground till my companions arrived.
Sitting then firmly in my large Arab stirrups, and holding on to the
pommel, I proceeded; and though I fainted twice, I soon regained some
strength, a slight breeze having arisen, which greatly mitigated the
burning heat.
Numbers of people accompanied me, expressing their grief and sorrow at my
abrupt departure. By my refusing to write laiya, or to say the fat-ha, I
had estranged many a friendly disposed native, and by my obstinacy I had
incurred the displeasure of their master; yet many of the people openly
disapproved of his conduct towards me.
An immense quantity of rain having fallen during my stay here, the
country appeared to me much more beautiful now than when we came, and
full of fine cattle; and I felt so refreshed that I considered myself
able to go as far as Ribágo, a ride of six hours, at a slow rate.
Bíllama behaved exceedingly well; for when my treacherous servant
Bú-Sʿad, who was afraid lest Mohammed Láwl should wreak his anger upon
me on the road, intimated to him that, “if anything of that sort should
happen, they of course were Moslemín”—thus indicating that they could not
defend me against those of their own creed, but should leave me to my
fate,—he indignantly left his company, and rode up to me. Thus, without
any accident, except that all my luggage was once more wetted through
while passing the deep water of the Máyo Bínti, we reached the friendly
village, where without ceremony I took up my quarters in the well-known
courtyard of our former host. But, before proceeding further on my
journey back, I must try to make the reader better acquainted with the
country, though the abrupt way in which I was obliged to leave it allows
me only, in most cases, to speak from the information of the natives.
Yóla is the capital of an extensive province, called by foreigners
generally, and by the conquering Fúlbe in diplomatic language, Ádamáwa,
but the real name of which is Fúmbiná. Indeed Ádamáwa is quite a new name
given to the country (exactly as I stated in my report sent to Europe
some years ago) in honour of Mʿallem Ádama, the father of the present
governor, who succeeded in founding here a new Mohammedan empire on the
ruins of several smaller pagan kingdoms, the most considerable of which
was that of Kókomi. Whether what the people used to say be true, that the
name of the wife of this officer was Ádama too, I am not able positively
to decide.[68]
Yóla is quite a new settlement, called by this name after the princely
quarter of the town of Kanó,—the former capital, of which Denham’s
expedition heard some faint report, being Gúrin. Yóla is situated in
a swampy plain, and is bordered on the north side by an inlet of the
river, the inundation of which reaches close to that quarter where I
was living. The town is certainly not less than three miles long from
east to west. It seems probable that there are different names for the
different quarters; but my stay was too short to allow me to learn them.
The courtyards are large and spacious, but often contain only a single
hut, the whole area being sown with grain during the rainy season. All
the huts are built with clay walls, on account of the violence of the
rains, and are tolerably high. Only the governor and his elder brothers
possess large establishments, with dwellings built entirely of clay.
Notwithstanding its size, the place can hardly contain more than twelve
thousand inhabitants.
It has no industry; and the market, at least during the time of my stay
there, was most insignificant and miserably supplied; but certainly
during the season of field labours, as I have already had occasion to
observe, all the markets in Negroland are less important than at other
times of the year. The most common objects in the market, which find
ready sale, are túrkedí, beads, and salt,[69] while other articles,
such as striped Manchester, calico, cloth bernúses, are generally sold
privately to the wealthier people. The only articles of export at present
are slaves and ivory. Four good túrkedí, bought in Kanó for 1800 or 2000
kurdí each, will generally purchase a slave; and a túrkedí will often buy
an elephant’s tusk of tolerable size.
Slavery exists on an immense scale in this country; and there are many
private individuals who have more than a thousand slaves. In this
respect the governor of the whole province is not the most powerful
man, being outstripped by the governors of Chámba and Kóncha—for this
reason, that Mohammed Láwl has all his slaves settled in rúmde or
slave-villages, where they cultivate grain for his use or profit, while
the above-mentioned officers, who obtain all their provision in corn
from subjected pagan tribes, have their whole host of slaves constantly
at their disposal; and I have been assured that some of the head slaves
of these men have as many as a thousand slaves each under their command,
with whom they undertake occasional expeditions for their masters. I have
been assured also that Mohammed Láwl receives every year in tribute,
besides horses and cattle, about five thousand slaves, though this seems
a large number.
The country of Fúmbiná is about two hundred miles long in its greatest
extent, running from south-west to north-east, while its shortest
diameter seems to reach from north-west to south-east, and scarcely ever
exceeds seventy or eighty miles; but this territory is as yet far from
being entirely subjected to the Mohammedan conquerors, who in general
are only in possession of detached settlements, while the intermediate
country, particularly the more mountainous tracts, are still in the hands
of the pagans. The people in this part of the country are engaged in
constant warfare. While the country north from the Bénuwé, between Yóla
and Hamárruwa, is entirely independent, and inhabited by warlike pagan
tribes, the best-subjected tract seems to be that between the Wándalá
and the Músgu country, where the settlements of the conquering tribe are
very compact. I must observe, however, that I am not quite clear as to
the exact manner in which those distant settlements are dependent on the
governor of Ádamáwa. That part of the country seems to deserve a great
deal of interest, and to be destined to become a province by itself.
It is sometimes designated by the special name of “Jemmára,” a name
certainly of general import, and meaning nothing but “the congregation”—a
corruption, in short, of Jemmáá.
The country is certainly one of the finest of Central Africa, irrigated
as it is by numerous rivers, among which the Bénuwé and the Fáro are
the most important, and being diversified with hill and dale. In
general, however, it is flat, rising gradually towards the south, from
an elevation[70] of about eight hundred feet, along the middle course of
the Bénuwé, to fifteen hundred feet or more, and broken by separate hills
or more extensive groups of mountains; but, as far as I know, there is
not here a single example of large mountain masses. Mount Alantíka, of
which I had a fine view from several points, though at a considerable
distance, is considered as the most massive and elevated mountain in the
whole country; and this is an entirely detached mountain, at the utmost
fifty miles in circumference, and elevated certainly not more than eight
thousand five hundred or nine thousand feet above the plain from which
it rises. No doubt the Bénuwé may be presumed to have its sources in a
mountainous tract of country; but of the uppermost course of this river I
was not able to obtain the least information, while I have been able to
lay down its lower course with great approximative certainty.[71] Yet,
although the elevation of the country is in general the same, the nature
of the different districts varies greatly: thus in Chámba, apparently
on account of the neighbourhood of Mount Alantíka, which attracts the
clouds, the rainy season is said to set in as early as January, so that
by the end of April or beginning of May the first crop is ripe, while in
Yóla, and in the country in general, the rains rarely begin before March.
The grain most commonly grown in the country is _Holcus sorghum_; but
in this respect also there is a great difference between the districts.
Thus, the country of the Mbúm round Ngáundere scarcely produces anything
but rógo, or yams, which form the daily, and almost sole food of the
inhabitants. Meat is so dear there that a goat will often fetch the price
of a female slave. Ground-nuts (_Arachis hypogæa_) are plentiful both in
the eastern and the western districts. A tolerable quantity of cotton
called “póttolo” in Ádamáwa, is cultivated: but indigo or “chachári” is
very rare, and is hardly cultivated anywhere but in Saráwu and Máruwa;
and this is very natural, as the Fúlbe do not value coloured shirts.
With regard to exuberance of vegetation, Tibáti seems to be one of the
richest places; there both kinds of the banana, or ayabáje, the gónda,
or papaya, “du-kúje,” several species of the gúro tree, the _Pandanus_,
the _Kajilia_, the monkey-bread tree, or _Adansonia_, the “rími,” or
_Bombax_, and numerous other kinds are found. Of the palm tribe, the
deléb-palm, or gigiña, and the _Elaïs Guineensis_, are frequent, but
strictly limited to certain localities, while the date-tree (called by
the Fúlbe of Ádamáwa by the beautiful name “tannedaráje”[72]) is very
rare, and, except a few specimens in Yóla and Búndang, scarcely to be met
with. Among the bushes, the _Palma Christi_ or _Ricinus_, is extremely
common. Altogether, the predominant tree in the southern provinces of
Ádamáwa seems to be the banana. There are hot springs in the country of
the Bakr Yemyem, about three days’ south from Kóncha, which are said to
issue from the west foot of a mountain stretching from east to west, and
to have a very high temperature; the water is reported to be palatable.
Of animals, the elephant is exceedingly frequent, not only the black or
grey, but also a yellow species. The rhinoceros is often met with, but
only in the eastern part of the country. East from the Bénuwé the wild
bull is very common. The most singular animal seems to be the ayú, which
lives in the river, and in some respects resembles the seal;[73] it comes
out of the river in the night, and feeds on the fresh grass growing on
its banks.
With regard to domestic animals, cattle were evidently introduced by
the Fúlbe some two or three hundred years ago. There is an indigenous
variety of ox, but quite a distinct species, not three feet high, and of
dark-grey colour; this is called máturú. The native horse is small and
feeble; the best horses are brought from the northern districts, chiefly
from Úba.
I now proceed to mention the names of the most powerful Fúlbe
governors of the country, to which I shall subjoin a list of
the native tribes, over which the conquerors are gradually
extending their sway, and which they may even partially succeed
in exterminating. Of those who are bound to the governor of
Ádamáwa in due allegiance—that is to say, who send him a
certain present and assist him in his warlike expeditions,
the governors of Chámba and Kóncha take the first rank. The
present governor of Chámba, Ámba (properly Mohammed) Sámbo,
who is now a very old man, has made himself extremely famous
by his daring and distant expeditions, and more especially
that to the Íbo country and to Mbáfu, which he undertook three
years ago, and through which he has succeeded in extending not
only the influence, but even the dominion of the conquerors,
in a certain degree, as far as the Bight of Benín. I have some
reason to suspect that it was partly owing to this expedition,
which brought the Fúlbe into contact with tribes on the coast,
who, on account of their dress, furniture, and many of their
customs, were regarded by them as Christians, that Mohammed
Láwl looked upon my presence with distrust; for there were
still some hundreds of slaves of those so-called Christian
tribes scattered over Ádamáwa. Mohammed dan Jóbdi also, the
governor of Kóncha, has made some very interesting expeditions,
the itineraries of some of which I shall give in the Appendix.
More powerful certainly than these two, and in a state of
quasi-dependence on the governor of Yóla only, though at
present in open hostility with him, is Búba, the governor of
Búbanjídda. The name of this province also is entirely new, and
is formed in a very remarkable way, being compounded of the
name of the conqueror himself (Búba) and of that of his mother
(Jídda). Búbanjídda is an extensive province, including the
districts on the upper course of the Bénuwé; and its capital is
called Ray-Búba. The governor is so powerful that, having in
vain solicited the Emír el Múmenín, his sovereign lord, to make
him a chief vassal, like the governor of Hamárruwa, so as to be
independent of the governor of Ádamáwa, he has placed himself
in open opposition to both. It is also very remarkable that
Ray-Búba (that is to say, the town which at present bears this
name) was, with the exception of Tibáti, the only walled town
which the Fúlbe found in the country; and it took them three
months of continual fighting to get possession of it. I have
already mentioned, in another place, that this country produces
the best sort of iron; and it is not improbable that the more
warlike spirit of its inhabitants, the Dáma, is in some degree
connected with this circumstance.
Less powerful than the three governors just mentioned, but
nevertheless mighty vassals, and most of them valiant champions
of the faith, are the following chiefs: Bákari (properly
Bú-Bakr), governor of Ribágo, north from Búbanjídda; Ardo
Badéshi, governor of the territories of the Falí; Mʿallem
Sudé, governor of Holma; Mʿallem Hámma, governor of Song; the
governor of Súmmo;[74] Mahmúd, governor of Kílba; Mʿallem
Dáuraka, governor of the large settlement of Máruwa or Marba;
Mʿallem Yúsufa, the pious old governor of Bínder; Mʿallem
Ádama, the dashing governor of Agúrma in the territory of
the Dáma; Ardo ʿOmáro, seignior of Sabóngi, near Búbanjídda;
Mʿallem Mústafa, the pious old lord of Míndif; Ardo Gári, the
energetic and learned master of Bógo, whose people joined the
Bórnu army on the expedition to Músgu which I shall describe
later; the lord of Kafta-Báudi; Húrsu, or Khúrsu, master of
Pédde or Fétte.
The dominion of the Fúlbe is generally centred in single
settlements, which are of various descriptions, comprising not
only large towns, where a numerous host of these intruders, and
a powerful chief, reside, but also more private settlements,
such as country seats of governors, “ribádo” or “ribágo”; seats
of mere petty chiefs, or “jóro”; farm villages, or “úro”; slave
villages, or “rúmde.” But the Fúlbe are continually advancing,
as they have not to do with one strong enemy, but with a number
of small tribes without any bond of union. It remains to be
seen whether it be their destiny to colonize this fine country
for themselves, or in the course of time to be disturbed by
the intrusion of Europeans. It is difficult to describe how a
Christian government is to deal with these countries, where
none but Mohammedans maintain any sort of government. It cannot
be denied that they alone here succeed in giving to distant
regions a certain bond of unity, and in making the land more
accessible to trade and intercourse.
The most numerous among the native tribes, as I have already
stated above, are the Bátta, whose prince, Kókomi, was,
previous to the conquest of the Fúlbe, the most powerful chief
in the country. They are divided into several great families,
speaking also various dialects, which in some cases differ from
each other very widely, and are closely related to the Marghí.
Many of the names of their districts serve to designate the
territories as well as the tribes settled in them, of which
several are still entirely independent of the Fúlbe.
The Bátta inhabit not only all the country on the middle course
of the Bénuwé and along the Fáro for some distance beyond
Mount Alantíka, but also the whole region north from these
rivers as far as the southern boundaries of Bórnu. It is in
their language that the river has received the name Bé-noë, or
Bé-nuwé, meaning “the Mother of Waters.”
The tribe which ranks next in number and importance is the
Falí, settled between the upper course of the Bénuwé and
the southern provinces of Bagírmi, of whose families and
territories (the same name generally indicating both) I learnt
the following names: Safaláwa, Yamyam (probably not an original
name), Gidér, Débba, Múndam, with the chief place Lére, the
residence of the powerful pagan prince (kówa) Gónshomé, Mámbay,
Dáma, Láme, Láka, Durú, Nánigi, not far east from Chámba, and
Bóka. Their idiom seems to be quite distinct from that of the
Bátta; but it shows some affinity with other neighbouring
tongues.[75] Among the few people belonging to this tribe
with whom I came into contact, I observed some of very light
colour. Then follow the Mbúm, living to the south from the
Bátta and south-west from the Falí, and partly subjected,
the Fúlbe conquerors being principally established in the
place called Ngáundere. There is another large place, called
Bére. As separate divisions of the Mbúm, I learnt the names
of the Máiwa, Wúna, and Buté. South-east from the Mbúm live
the Yángeré, and still further on in that direction the Báya.
In what relation the Chámba, after whom the large place at
the southern foot of Mount Alantíka is called, stand to the
above-named tribes, I cannot say. The Chámba are said to have
driven from these seats the Kóttofo, who dwell at present
further south. Then there are several other tribes, ranked by
my informants as separate nations, the independence or relation
of which to the rest I am not able to determine, as I have not
obtained specimens of their languages. These are the Holma, the
Zummáwa, the Gudá, the Kílba, Honá, Búza, the Bá, Múchelár,
Hína, Búla, Múkubá,[76] all of whom live in the mountainous
region to the south-west from Mount Míndif, and no doubt are
partially cognate with other tribes; but in order to group
them, it is necessary to collect specimens of their languages.
Around Ádamáwa, partly within, partly beyond its boundaries,
but in a certain degree of subjection, are the following
tribes: the Tikár (by this name, at least, they are called
by the Fúlbe, though they have, probably, another name for
themselves, as by this they do not seem to be known near the
coast), the Yétem,[77] the Dókaka, the Batí, a tribe of rather
light colour, the Dáka, the Wére, the Díngding (partly armed
with muskets, and regarded by the Fúlbe as Christians), the
Mbáfu. Then the Wága, the Yángur, and the Róba. With most of
these tribes the reader will be brought into nearer contact
by the itineraries subjoined in the Appendix, where I shall
have occasion to add a few remarks with regard to information
obtained by Europeans near the coast. Here, however, it will
be not without interest to compare with this list of tribes
the following list of languages spoken in Ádamáwa which
Mohámmedu gave me: Battanchi,[78] Damanchi, the idiom spoken
in the province of Búbanjídda; Falanchi, Bumanchi, or perhaps
more correctly Mbumanchi, the language of the Mbúm and of the
people of Báya; Butanchi, Tekarchi, Mundanchi, Marghanchi,[78]
Kilbanchi, Yangurchi, Gudanchi, Chambanchi, Kotofanchi,
Weranchi, Duranchi, Wokanchi, Toganchi, Lekamchi, Parparchi,
Kankamchi, Nyangeyárechi, Musganchi,[78] Mandaranchi,[78] or
rather “Ára Wándalá,” Gizaganchi, Rumanchi, Giderchi, Dabanchi,
Hinanchi, Muturwanchi, Zinanchi, Zaninchi, Momoyëenchi,
Faninchi, the idiom of Fani, the dominion of Hajji Ghálebu,
Nyaganchi, Dewanchi, Lallanchi, Doganchi, Longodanchi.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
MY JOURNEY HOME FROM ÁDAMÁWA.
Having made these few remarks with regard to the interesting work of
conquest and colonization which is going on in Ádamáwa, I now return to
my quarters in Ribágo, in order to carry the reader with me on my journey
back from that country to Kúkawa.
_Wednesday, June 25._—Our luggage had been so wetted on the preceding
afternoon, while crossing the Máyo Bínti, that we were obliged to stay
in Ribágo the whole morning, in order to dry it. The horseman who had
escorted me out of the town had returned; and in his stead Íbrahíma,
with a companion on foot, had made his appearance, with orders from the
governor to escort me to the very frontiers of the country. In order to
render him a more sociable companion, I thought it well to make him a
present of a túrkedí. My mʿallem had not come along with us; and I could
not be angry with him for not desiring to return to Kúkawa, where he had
been detained against his will. The horse on which I had mounted him he
had well deserved for his trouble, Íbrahíma told me that Katúri had come
after me as far as Yébborewó, thinking that I would pass the night there,
but that the governor would not let him go further.
Before starting in the afternoon, I made our landlady, the wife of the
Ardo of Ribágo, very happy by a few presents, as an acknowledgment of her
hospitality in having twice entertained us in her house. After a short
march of a few miles, we took up our quarters for the night in Duló,
where the landlord, who a few days ago had been deprived of his office of
mayor, received us at first rather unkindly, but afterwards assigned me
a splendid hut, where the ganga or large drum, the ensign of his former
authority, was still hanging from the wall. I was greatly in want of
rest, and was obliged to keep my head always wet, and to abstain entirely
from food.
_Thursday, June 26._—I thought we should certainly cross the Bénuwé
to-day; but, as if in defiance of the governor of the country, Bíllama
desired to move on as slowly as possible, and took us to our well-known
quarters in Chabajáure. But this slow progress was certainly better for
me, as I had this day arrived at a crisis, and was dreadfully weak.
Taking small doses of quinine the whole of the afternoon, I strengthened
myself for the next day’s work, when after five miles’ march we reached
the Tépe.
_Friday, June 27._—The Fáro had only risen a little more than twenty
inches since the 18th—that is to say, two inches and a half per day;
nevertheless we had great difficulty in fording it. The Bénuwé had risen
more rapidly; and of course in July both rivers rise at a very different
rate. When the rainy season is at its height, the sandy beach of the
headland at the junction is almost completely under water; and this was
the case with our old place of embarkation on the northern bank of the
Bénuwé, so that I was obliged to creep up the steep bank.
In order to withstand the fatigue, I continued taking quinine the whole
day long, and was glad when in the evening we reached Sulléri, where, to
my astonishment, we were this time exceedingly well received. The mayor
of the place would not allow me to start the following day, although my
camels were already laden, and a beautiful fine morning invited us to
travel. After a good deal of resistance, I at length gave way to his
entreaties, under the condition that he would construct for me a cool
shed wherein to spend the heat of the day; and in twenty minutes a lofty
hall had risen from the earth. Thus I spent the day very comfortably; and
although I was unable to alleviate the pains suffered by my host from an
arrow-wound in one of his eyes, or to give him a charm to prevent the
death of his cattle, I was so fortunate as to effect a splendid cure on
one of his sons, which procured me great fame.
_Saturday, June 28._—On leaving Sulléri in the morning, we took a
different route from that previously traversed, and which proved
infinitely more interesting, although in the morning, after we had passed
a small farm-village where all the field-labourers were at work, we had
to cross a very extensive forest, and I became greatly exhausted. Having
passed about noon several villages, which proved to be all slave-villages
with the exception of one, which contained a lord’s mansion of neat
appearance, suddenly the character of the country changed entirely, and
we came to a wide depression or hollow, from one hundred to one hundred
and twenty feet deep, which, winding round on our left, formed a fine
green vale, bordered on the other side by a picturesque cone[79] rising
abruptly, and forming on the east side a wooded terrace, while on the
west it displayed a steep bare rocky bank of horizontal strata, and
on this side, after a small interruption, a low ridge attached to it
encircling the hollow on all sides.
Having reached the south-eastern foot of the cone by a gradual ascent,
we obtained a view over the varied and rich scenery before us, a
luxuriant mass of vegetation broken at intervals by comfortable-looking
little hamlets, and bounded in the distance by a cone stretching out
to a great length. Having crossed a small watercourse, and wound along
between erractic blocks of granite, scattered about in wild disorder, and
interrupted, wherever the ground offered a small level, by rich crops of
grain, we reached the first hamlet of this most picturesque locality. It
is one of the chief seats of the Démsa, or rather comprises two distinct
villages, namely, Démsa-Póha and Démsa-Mésu.
[Illustration]
It was indeed a most charming sight when we made our way along a broad
well-trodden path, surrounded on both sides by neatly fenced clusters of
large huts, encompassed by waving corn and picturesque clusters of trees.
Thus we reached the “lamórde,” the residence of the governor, which is
situated at a short distance from the southern foot of the large granitic
cone; but he was absent, having gone on an expedition against the Fúri,
an independent pagan tribe in the neighbourhood, and we had to wait some
time before his servants undertook to assign us quarters, when we had to
retrace our steps to the southern part of the village. It was half-past
four in the afternoon when, feverish and extremely weak as I was, I at
length found rest, but while reclining at full length in a cool shade,
I listened with delight to Íbrahíma’s chat, who, in order to cheer my
spirits, gave me an account of that famous expedition to the far south
which the Fúlbe of Ádamáwa undertook a few years ago, and to which I have
already alluded.
This memorable campaign having proceeded from Búbanjídda, none of the
people of Ádamáwa, whose acquaintance I was able to make during my short
stay in the country, had participated in it, so that all the accounts
which I received of it were extremely vague. The expedition, after a
march of almost two months, is said to have reached an unbounded expanse
of unbroken plain, and, having kept along it for a day or two, to have
arrived at an immense tree, in the shade of which the whole host found
sufficient room. Here they found two natives of the southern regions,
who informed them that they were the subjects of a powerful queen that
resided in a vast town of two days’ march in circumference. These people,
they say, were of short stature, and wore long beards. Frightened by
these reports, and by the waterless tract before them, the expedition
retraced their steps. Similar reports with regard to a very powerful
female sovereign towards the south are also current in Bagirmi and
all the adjacent country; but I am not able to determine whether they
originate in faint rumours, spread so far north, of the powerful kingdom
of Muata-ya-Nvo, or—of Queen Victoria.
To my great satisfaction, we were obliged to stay here the next day, in
order to await the arrival of the lámido, when, feeling greatly recruited
by a good night’s and half-a-day’s rest, I crept out of my well-polished
round little clay hut in the afternoon, and, crossing the neatly fenced
promenade of the straggling village, ascended a neighbouring eminence
formed by an irregular mass of granite blocks, to the north of our
quarters. Here I spent two delicious hours in the tranquil contemplation
of the picturesque scenery, which I thought the most interesting I had
yet seen in this quarter of the world. The view I took presents but a
very faint idea of its peculiar features; but I hope it will give some
conception of the nature of this country in general, which enables the
pagan natives between this district and Hamárruwa to defend their liberty
and independence against the Mohammedan intruders. These tribes are,
after the Démsa, who seem to form a tolerably numerous body, first, the
Mbulá, probably the same who have given their name to the place situated
at some distance from Mount Míndif, and mentioned above; then, further
west, or north-west, the Báchama, and still further west the Tángalé,
with both of whom Mr. Vogel, on his recent journey from Yákuba to
Hamárruwa, has come in contact.
_Tuesday, July 1._—We made a short but highly interesting march to the
place of our old friend the Mʿallem Delíl. The scenery was rich and
beautiful, the crops of Guinea-corn standing from four to five feet
high, alternating with fields where góza, a kind of yams, were grown,
and adorned with fine spreading trees, amongst which the tármu and the
kúka or monkey-bread-tree predominated; even the rocky eminences were
all overgrown with fresh vegetation. We then passed a sort of shallow
river, or sél, which is called by the Kanúri “ngáljam,” and forms a
characteristic feature of Démsa, while on our right it expanded to a
conspicuous sheet of water, bordered by blocks and masses of rocks full
of vegetation. It was overgrown with rank reed at the spot where we
crossed it.
Only a few minutes beyond this almost stagnant water on green
meadow-land, we crossed the broad and clear torrent of the Máyo Tíyel,
rushing ahead over a gravelly bottom, and at times rolling along a
considerable quantity of water. According to my guides, it is formed by
three branches, one issuing from Báses towards the north-east, the other
coming from the neighbourhood of Bélem, and the third from the north-west
from Bíngel. Only a few hundred yards further on, we passed on our left
another broad sheet of water, apparently of great depth, which is said
to preserve the same level at all times of the year. It is full of
crocodiles, and bordered by the richest vegetation, and, being apparently
quite isolated, has a very curious appearance. Perhaps it is fed by
subterranean sources. It is surrounded by beautiful pasture-grounds.
We then traversed a fine open country, passing some villages, while the
road was enlivened by a troop of travellers (colonists from Bórnu), among
whom there were some remarkably handsome women mounted on bullocks, who
bore sufficient testimony to the fact that the more elevated districts of
Ádamáwa are salubrious and favourable for man. We reached Bélem at about
two o’clock; but before we arrived there a circumstance happened which I
must not omit to mention, as it is rather characteristic: for suddenly
two of Mohammed Láwl’s servants appeared with the horse which Bíllama had
sold to the governor for the price of twenty slaves, returning it under
some pretext, but in reality for no other reason than because he was
afraid lest it might operate by way of charm, and injure him. Bíllama was
to have received the slaves in the towns still before us.
We stayed in Bélem this day and the following; and I was pestered a
little by the family of old Mʿallem Delíl, but particularly by his
daughter, rather a handsome person, who had been divorced from her former
husband (I think Mansúr, the younger brother of Mohammed Láwl), and
wanted me by all means to write her a charm to get her another husband
after her heart’s desire. She was a very passionate sort of woman, and
when smelling, against my wish, from my phial of hartshorn, was seized
with such violent convulsions, that she was carried senseless out of
my tent, and remained in this state for nearly an hour. The stay here
was the more disagreeable to me as it was caused partly by the trading
propensities of my servant Bú-Sʿad; and not only did he buy ivory, which
he had the insolence to add to the loads of my weak camels, but even
three slaves, so that I was obliged to dismiss him instantly from my
service, although I had nothing wherewith to pay him off. It is extremely
difficult for a single European to proceed in these countries with hired
servants, as he loses all control over them. This man, who had been the
late Mr. Richardson’s servant as well as mine, turned out like Mukni, Mr.
Richardson’s interpreter, a great slave-dealer, and in 1855, when I was
leaving Central Africa, collected a numerous gang of slaves in this very
country, which he had before visited as my servant.
_Thursday, July 3._—We at length resumed our journey, but only to reach
Saráwu Beréberé, where we took up our quarters in the comfortable
courtyard which I have described on our outward journey. I will only
record the pleasing fact, that, as soon as the news spread in the town of
my having returned, a man whom I had cured of disease during my former
stay brought me a handsome gazelle-skin as an acknowledgment.
The next day we followed our ancient road by Badaníjo, and reached
Segéro; but on Saturday, after having passed Mbutúdi without any other
delay than that of buying with beads a little milk from our Fúlbe
friends, we took a more easterly path, which brought us to Múglebú, a
village which exhibited to us an interesting picture of the exuberance
that reigns in these regions at this time of the year. The huts were
scarcely visible, on account of the rich crops of grain which surrounded
them on all sides, while _Palma Christi_ formed thick clusters of bushes,
and a few specimens of a remarkable tree which I had never observed
before, besides isolated bananas, rose above the rich mass of vegetation,
and gave to the whole the charm of novelty; but the weather was so wet
that I could make but a very slight sketch, and was wholly prevented from
rambling about, the rain continuing the whole of the afternoon. Besides,
all my energy was required to assist my three servants, who were all
severely ill; and while I administered to two of them emetics, I had to
soothe ʿAbdallah with a dose of laudanum. It was very fortunate indeed
that I myself felt a little better. In short, our stay here was anything
but agreeable, and I was worried by several people with demands which
exceeded my power—such as to drive out devils, relieve impotency, and so
on; but the mayor sent me a goat, fowls, milk, and a little butter. The
village, which consisted of about two hundred huts, seemed to be in good
circumstances.
_Sunday, July 6._—When we started at a tolerably early hour in the
morning, the weather was clear and favourable; but after we had crossed
the little mountain-chain which surrounds the village of Múglebú at some
distance to the east and north, and reached a small hamlet presenting
signs of very careful cultivation, and numerous herds of cattle, we
were drenched by a heavy shower. It is generally supposed that storms
in the tropical climes break forth in the afternoon, or in the course
of the night—and this certainly is the general rule; but if there has
been a storm the day before, or during the night, and the weather has
not cleared up, there can be no certainty that it will not come on
again in the course of the morning. It is rather a rare phenomenon in
these regions for a storm to gather in the morning on a clear sky;
but nevertheless several examples even of this will be found in my
meteorological tables. The natives are not at all insensible to rain;
and while the Kánembú who had attached themselves to our caravan in
Badaníjo were protecting their persons with their light wooden shields,
the natives of the country collected thick bushes, and formed a sort of
natural umbrella over their heads. To protect the head at least from
wet is most essential in these climes. On another occasion, when I come
to speak about the prevailing kinds of disease, I shall have to mention
how dreadfully the Fulbe sometimes suffer from the maladies of the rainy
season, when employed on their warlike expeditions.
Early in the morning we reached Múfi or Múbi, but were received so
inhospitably that we had great difficulty in obtaining quarters, for
which we were obliged to keep fighting the whole day, as a quarrelsome
mʿallem wished to dislodge me from the hut of which I had taken
possession. Fortunately his better half bore the inconvenience with more
equanimity; and I put up cheerfully with the little trouble which she
gave me from time to time by calling at the door and begging me to hand
to her some little articles of her simple household furniture. My three
people were so sick that they lay like so many corpses on the ground; and
their condition prevented us from setting out even the following day,
notwithstanding the inhospitable manner in which we were treated here,
so that I had ample leisure to study minutely the architecture of my
residence, of which I subjoin a ground-plan.
[Illustration]
The hut, measuring about twelve feet in diameter, was built in the
manner most usual in these regions—namely, of clay walls, with a thatched
roof. The door, a little elevated above the floor, was three feet high,
and fifteen inches wide, and not at all adapted for very stout persons.
From the wall at the right of the door (_a_) ran another wall, “gáruwel
súdo,” of the same height, but unconnected with the roof, right across
the hut in an oblique line, to the length of about six feet, separating
one part of the dwelling, and securing to it more privacy. In this
compartment was the bed (_c_), consisting of a frame made of branches,
and spread over pilasters of clay about three feet high. In the most
sequestered part of the hut, in the corner formed by the round enclosing
wall and the oblique one, at the top of the bed—“kéla kagá,” as the
Kanúri say—stood the corn-urn (_a_), about six feet high, and, in its
largest part, two feet wide, destined to keep a certain provision of corn
always at hand; besides this, there was a smaller one (_fe_) at the foot
of the bed—“shí kagá.” At the side of this smaller urn were two small
pedestals of clay (_g_), serving the purpose of a sideboard, in order
to place upon them pots or other articles. Then followed the kitchen,
“defforíde” (_h_), still under cover of the oblique wall, but exactly on
a line with it, so that the smoke might more easily find its way through
the door, and consisting of a narrow place enclosed on each side by a low
wall, to protect the fire, between which three stones, or rather small
clay mounds like fire-bricks, supported the cooking-pot, while a small
wooden footstool (_i_) accommodated the industrious landlady when busy
with her most important culinary employment. While to all this part of
the hut a certain degree of privacy was secured by the oblique wall, a
considerable space to the left of the door remained unprotected; and here
stood the large water-urn (_j_), which, always remaining in its place, is
filled by means of smaller portable urns or pitchers.
[Illustration]
_Tuesday, July 8._—It seemed almost as if we were destined to stay
another day in this place; for just when we were about to start, a most
violent shower came down, and lasted full two hours. When at length we
were able to set out on our road to Úba, it was excessively wet, the
streams greatly swollen, and the weather still anything but bright and
clear. At Úba, again, we remained much longer than I wished. In the
evening, after our arrival, the governor went on an expedition against
the Kílba-Gáya. Falling suddenly upon the poor pagans at early dawn, he
captured a good many slaves; but the persecuted natives rallied, and,
taking advantage of a defile through which he had to pass on his return
to his residence, suddenly attacked him, and succeeded in rescuing all
their countrymen from the hands of their relentless enemies. During my
absence the corn had almost ripened; and the fields afforded a spectacle
of the utmost exuberance. Almost all the grain here is sorghum, and
mostly of the white kind; the average height of the stalks was from
nine to ten feet. The whole area of the town was clothed in the richest
vegetation, of great variety, where a botanist might have made a numerous
collection.
_Thursday, July 10._—Íbrahíma, the principal of the two men whom Mohammed
Láwl had appointed to escort me to the frontier of his province,
accompanied me a short distance when we left Úba. This man, who, perhaps
because he was not well treated in Kúkawa, behaved rather sullenly on our
journey to Ádamáwa, had become infinitely more amiable after the governor
of that country had sent me back. He not only manifested on every
occasion his heartfelt sorrow on account of my having been disappointed
in the expectation of travelling over that interesting country in every
direction, but he still more lamented that his countrymen had been
deprived, by the imprudence of their ruler, of the advantage of my
presence in the country. I have had occasion to observe repeatedly, that
there is a great deal of republican spirit in Fúlbe, and that they have
in general the air and manners of freeborn men, though I shall have to
dwell upon the deterioration of this original character in the case of
the inhabitants of Sókoto.
The commencement of our march through the unsafe and infested
boundary-district from Úba northward was not very auspicious; and I was
almost afraid lest, after having been allowed to reach the frontier
unmolested, we were doomed to some insidious treachery in these lawless
lands. The original arrangement was, that some other people should
succeed to Íbrahíma, in order to see me safe to Íssege; but they never
made their appearance, and we had scarcely parted from Íbrahíma when
all sorts of alarms frightened and disturbed our little band. First a
dreadful noise was heard from above the rocks at the foot of which lay
our road; but it was found to proceed only from a countless multitude
of birds of prey enjoying their liberty in noisy mirth. Then, when we
reached the fields of corn within this rocky passage, which on our
outward journey we had seen under cultivation, we were prevented by armed
men from passing through them, and were obliged to make a long circuit.
A little further on, people came running after us, and attempted to take
away by force two of the slaves whom some of our companions were leading
along; and when resisted, they raised a dismal cry for help, which was
heard resounding to a great distance through the wild country. Serious
quarrels seemed imminent; but fortunately no one came to their assistance.
About thirty travellers, all of them armed either with spears or with
bows and arrows, had attached themselves to our troop. I got ready all
my cartridges; and we were well on our guard. We had advanced about five
miles from Úba, and were in the middle of the forest, when a more serious
alarm arose, several people being seen lurking among the trees,—an
unmistakable proof that they meditated an attack, if we should exhibit
any signs of weakness. We therefore rallied a moment, and formed in
front, the most sturdy of our spearmen gathering round me, and begging
me to take steady aim when they should point out to me the chief men.
But the natives, belonging most probably to the tribe of the Báza, who
always infest this road, seeing that we were prepared to receive them,
did not dare to quit their ambush; and having continued awhile along the
path, we thought it wiser to leave it, and struck off to the west into
the thickest covert of the wood, where the camels with their luggage had
some difficulty in passing through, especially as the soil was cracked
and rent in all directions. Having trudged on in this way for about two
hours, and feeling sure that we were not pursued, we returned to the
path, but left it again about noon, and, pursuing another track, reached
Laháula, a village of unlucky memory, on the western side. But this time
we were well received, not only by ʿAisha, but also by his wild and
passionate son, who became a great friend of mine, and, having received
from me a present of a knife, brought me three fowls in return, while his
father sent túwo for all my people. I sketched the danísko, or handbill
of my friend, which was of a peculiarly regular shape.
[Illustration]
_Friday, July 11._—On leaving Laháula in the morning, we again preferred
the covert to the beaten path; but after we had gone round Kófa, which
Bíllama thought it better to avoid, we returned to our well-known road
parallel to the river and the mountain-chain beyond, and reached Íssege
without any accident, early in the afternoon. There, too, my reception
was very different from that which I had experienced on my going; and
I was received with the utmost kindness and hospitality into the house
of a wealthy family at the northern end of the village, and quartered
in a neat little hut, the walls of which consisted of thatch, like
the roof, but were plastered over with clay. The little hut, which
scarcely measured seven feet in diameter, contained two couches, one
raised above the ground to the right, and the other on the level of the
ground on the left of the entrance. Three spears, a common shield, and
a large shield called “chággo” by the Marghí, “kutufáni” by the Kanúri,
consisting of a thick texture of reed, and big enough to protect two
or three persons, a basket and a net, “úturu,” hanging from the roof,
formed the furniture of this little dwelling, which was the apartment
of the youngest son of the family, a fine, tall, and slender young man,
with a very pleasant expression of countenance. Except that he wore the
“funó,” a small leathern apron, round his waist, he was quite naked, but
loaded with coquettish ornaments. Round his neck he wore a double string
of red beads, a little lower another set of three strings of corals,
and still lower again a set of two strings of iron beads; on his left
shoulder he wore four broad iron rings, or “kégelá;” on his elbow two
other narrow iron rings (barachággo) very neatly worked like beads; on
his wrist six narrow and one broad iron ring, or “únzo,” and above them
an ivory ring, or “yécho.” The right arm was not so richly endowed with
ornaments, having only four iron rings at the upper part, and two on the
wrist. Below his knee he wore a chain of cotton very neatly twisted—this
is called “shishídderi,”[80]—and on his foot-joint a narrow iron ring
called “míltedo.” However, I observed afterwards, that this young man
did not wear all the national ornaments of his tribe; for I saw others
who wore in addition an iron chain round their loins, which is called
“shushú.” All these iron articles are very neatly made by the people of
Wándalá, Morá being only two days’ march from this; and I only regret
that I was not able to bring some of these articles home as specimens of
the industry of the natives, as well as of the excellent quality of iron
which they possess. This young man did not wear the “sér,” as they call
it, a small reed or feather in the left ear.
I delighted my youthful host by the present of a mirror; and I gave a
knife to his father, when he returned from the labour of the field.
My little hut was not without a crowd of visitors the whole of the
afternoon, all the friends of my host coming to see me. They were
admitted in a regular way, five at a time, and behaved very decently,
while they admired the few curious things which I had to show them. I
was greatly amused by the simplicity of my young host and one of his
brothers, who, when I presented them with small bits of sugar, gradually
nibbled them away, and at the same time compared their size continually,
till they were reduced to very diminutive morsels, when they agreed
between them to give the remnants to a sister.
The language of these people, which, as I have stated, is intimately
related to that of the Bátta, seems to show that they belong rather to
the family of South African tribes, than to the group of neighbouring
tribes of Central Negroland.
We had plenty of good fare in the evening, the Bórnu titular mayor of
the place sending me a sheep, besides corn for the horses, and our hosts
preparing a fowl for myself, and several dishes of hasty-pudding, with
fish-sauce, for my people. The evening being clear, and illuminated by
splendid moonlight, I sat a long time outside—perhaps too long in my
precarious state of health—enjoying the sound of music and dancing which
came from the opposite quarter of the village; but I was not a little
astonished when I heard from my young friend, whom I asked why he did not
go to join in the merriment, that it was not an ordinary amusement, but
a religious dance to celebrate the death of an old man; for if a person
in old age dies, his death is deemed a cause of satisfaction and mirth,
while that of a young one is lamented with tears.
I have already noticed some peculiar customs of the Marghí; but I must
say a few words about their curious ordeal on the holy granite rock of
Kóbshi. When two are litigating about a matter, each of them takes a cock
which he thinks the best for fighting; and they go together to Kóbshi.
Having arrived at the holy rock, they set their birds a-fighting, and
he whose cock prevails in the combat is also the winner in the point
of litigation. But more than that, the master of the defeated cock is
punished by the divinity, whose anger he has thus provoked; and on
returning to his village he finds his hut in flames.
It is evident that this tribe, as well as many of the neighbouring ones,
venerate their forefathers, in which respect they closely resemble the
South African tribes, although the Berbers also seem originally to have
had this sort of worship as well as the Háusa people. The Marghí do not
practise circumcision; but, what seems very remarkable, they practise
inoculation for the small-pox, at least to a considerable extent.
As I was sitting outside the courtyard, by degrees a great many natives
collected round me, when a young man took me aside and entreated me
earnestly to give him a remedy against the dislike of people. I, however,
soon succeeded in making him confess that he meant only the dislike of
one girl, who, he said, did not relish his haughty demeanour, and that
he was reduced to a state of desperation, and wished for nothing but to
die in battle. This example shows that even these simple people have some
sentiment of love.
_Saturday, July 12._—I had some difficulty in persuading Bíllama to leave
this hospitable place; but I was ashamed to cause these good people, who
had been robbed and despoiled a short time ago by Kashélla ʿAlí, any more
trouble. We took a more easterly path than that by which we had travelled
before, but nearly of the same character—full of holes and crevices,
and covered with thick forest, while the nutritive root “katakírri”
employed the several members of our caravan continually, particularly a
Púllo pilgrim from the far west near the coast, who was indefatigable in
digging as well as in eating. We had only proceeded a few miles when we
met a troop of Marghí, who were going to perform a sacrifice in the holy
grove of Íssege, one of them carrying a sheep and another a fowl. One of
them had ornamented his shield with red lines, which on the black ground
of the elephant’s hide were quite becoming; but I do not think that this
custom is general; perhaps it had some connection with the sacrifice.
[Illustration]
After a march of eight hours, we reached the first cluster of huts of the
Northern Molghoy, where we wished to find quarters; but the unfortunate
people, by the recent exactions and contributions levied on them by the
Kanúri, were driven to a state of despair, and obstinately refused to
receive us. There remained, therefore, no alternative but to continue
our march, and to try to reach Yerímarí; but the effort was too much for
me, and had the worst consequences in my reduced state of health. I was
for some time quite senseless when, after a ride of thirteen hours, I
succeeded in reaching the well-known place, and threw myself flat upon
the ground of my little hut. Scarcely had my luggage arrived, when a
storm, which the whole afternoon had been hanging over our heads, broke
forth, and continued till midnight with unabated violence.
Man as well as beast was so exhausted that we remained here the
following day, when I felt strength enough to walk out a little into the
fields. There was an extraordinary difference between the advanced state
in which I had left the crops in Ádamáwa and that in which I found them
here. The reader will remember that the fields round this place were just
being sown on the day of my leaving it; and during the time of my absence
rain must have been rather scanty, so that the crops were scarcely twenty
inches above the ground. In the afternoon, Bíllama, who was always
obliging, gave me some information with regard to the adjacent country.
_Monday, July 14._—We continued our march, and, with a halt during the
hot hours, reached Ujé Kasúkulá in the evening. The aspect of the country
offered unmistakable proof of our advance northwards. Even the grass
here was barely an inch or two above the ground; the crops, where most
advanced, were ten or twelve inches high, while other fields were still
covered with the tunfáfia, or _Asclepias gigantea_,—a sure proof that
they had not yet been brought under cultivation. We passed a good many
cotton-fields. I reached the place in a state of the utmost exhaustion,
and was obliged to stay here three days to recruit my strength, taking
hardly any food but quinine, and placing a plaster of cantharides on my
chest. The governor of the place, Kashélla ʿAlí Aláwó, treated my party
very hospitably and kindly, and showed sincere compassion for my feeble
condition. I learnt from him, to my great satisfaction, that Mr. Overweg
had really embarked in the boat on the Tsád, and was gone to the Búdduma.
_Friday, July 18._—At length we set out again; but though I felt a little
better, I was glad when, after a short march of three hours through a
very pleasant and populous country, we took up our quarters in a place
called Gúlfo, a great proportion of the inhabitants of which are Shúwa.
Having passed the hot hours in a spacious and cool hut, I enjoyed for a
while the freshness of the evening outside, in my courtyard, delighted at
the same time by the sight of the herds of cattle returning from their
pastures.
Shortly before we reached Gúlfo, we had passed a village entirely
inhabited by Shúwa, and even called Shúwarám.
Though we had now reached the monotonous alluvial plains of Bórnu proper,
yet the following day’s march in the company of my friend Bíllama, who,
after we had become better acquainted, was anxious to gratify my desire
for information in every respect, was highly interesting. Although the
vegetation was very poor in comparison with that of the more southern
districts, yet there was plenty of underwood, and we observed the small
bush called “kúmkum,” the berries of which taste very like coffee, and
which in reality may be a kind of _Coffea_. On our right we left a path
leading by Yámaké, Tangállanda, and Kirbáje, to Kabé-Ngáwa, a place
famous on account of its neighbourhood affording the “fógo,”—wood from
which the shields (ngáwa) of the Kánembú are made: it lies on the road
to Díkowa, passing by a place called Ájowa. The spears of the natives
(kasékka) are made from the root of the kindíl or talha, but the javelin
(béllam) from that of the kúrna; the shafts of arrows are made from the
“kabílla”-bush, which hereabouts grows in great abundance. Cultivated
and pasture-ground alternately succeeded each other, and I was astonished
to see that the produce of this district was exclusively argúm móro, or
_Pennisetum_, while ngáberi, or _Holcus sorghum_, is a much more general
grain in Bórnu, with the exception of the country of the Koyám. A little
before eleven o’clock we finished our day’s march in a small village
called Múnghono-Mabé, where I took possession of a large hut constructed
in the peculiar style of the Shúwa, the roof being of an oval shape,
without the characteristic top or head, the “kogí ngímbe,” and supported
by a pole, “dúngulis,” in the middle of the hut, while the thatch is
made in a very irregular and hasty manner, the compactness of wickerwork
being insufficiently supplied by a heap of reeds thrown upon the roof and
fastened with ropes.
_Sunday, July 20._—I felt much better; and after a beautiful moonlight
night, we started earlier than usual, “dúnia kéte.” The morning was
very fine; but the sun soon became rather powerful and troublesome. We
passed a considerable pool of stagnant water surrounded by fine trees,
tamarinds, and sycamores, such as in this district, where stunted
mimosas form the predominant feature of the vegetation, are only seen in
very favoured spots; it is called “kúlugu Hámtigu.” On the path itself
also, deeply cut as it was in the sandy soil, there was a good deal of
water. We passed the site of a large town named Dóngo, which had been
destroyed by the Fúlbe or Felláta some forty years ago, but of which the
circumference of the wall was still visible, the gate being marked by a
colossal monkey-bread-tree or _Adansonia_, the constant follower of human
society, spreading its gigantic branches out like an immense candelabrum.
Bíllama brought me the berries of a bush called “búlte,” the taste of
which was very much like currants; and further on he presented me with
a “fitó,” a red fruit looking exactly like red pepper, with numbers of
small kernels, and of a somewhat acidulous taste.
We rested a little more than three hours, during the heat of the day,
near a pond of stagnant water, in a district rich in pastures, where,
among numerous herds of the Shúwa, the cattle of Háj Beshír were
also grazing. But the ground hereabouts seemed to be nothing but one
continuous world of ants, which did not allow us a moment’s undisturbed
repose, and even during our short stay they made several successful
attacks not only upon part of our luggage, but even of my dress.
When we set out again, at an early hour in the afternoon, numerous pools
of water along the road testified to the presence of the rainy season;
and the village Máska, which we passed soon afterwards, was surrounded
with corn and cotton-fields as well as by rich green pasture-grounds.
The path was well frequented. We met first a horseman of the sheikh sent
as a messenger to Ujé, with the order to call in the numerous horse of
that district; and Bíllama was of opinion that his master had thoughts
of arranging the affairs of Khadéja. Further on we met a troop of Shúwa
women, who, in a mournful song, lamented the death of one of their
companions. They passed us too rapidly to allow the words of their song
to be distinctly heard.
The country on our left, and that on our right, showed a remarkable
contrast; for while, on our left, cornfields, fine pasture-grounds, and
villages succeeded each other, on the right an immense ghadír, or fírki,
still dry, and only sparingly covered here and there with a little coarse
herbage, stretched out to an immeasurable distance. At an early hour
in the afternoon, deviating a little from the path, we turned into the
village of Káliluwá Grémarí, which belongs to ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán, the second
brother of Sheikh ʿOmár, and found the male inhabitants of the village
sitting in the shade of a chédia or caoutchouc-tree, busily employed in
making wicker-work. However, they proved too clearly that we had entered
the inhospitable zone in the neighbourhood of the capital; observing,
with great coolness, that the sun was as yet high, and would enable us
still to make a good march to some other place, they would hear nothing
of our quartering in their village. But Bíllama was not the man to be
laughed at; and, riding through the midst of them, he took possession
for me of one of the best huts. I could not, in truth, approve of this
despotical mode of dealing; but I was too weak to run the risk of
spending a night in my tent on the damp ground. The villagers seemed to
be drained to the utmost by their gracious lord, and did not possess a
single cow; even fowls were scarcely to be seen.
In the evening I was greatly amused, at first, by the noisy hum of a
“mákaranchí,” or school, close to my hut, where, round a large fire,
some six or seven boys were repeating, at the highest pitch of their
voices, and with utter disregard of the sense, a few verses of the Kurán,
which in the daytime they had been taught to read by their master, who,
doubtless, understood them as little as the boys themselves; but by
degrees the noise became almost insupportable. It is generally thought in
Europe, that a schoolboy is too much tormented; but these poor African
boys, for the little they learn, are worried still more—at least, I
have often found them in the cold season, and with scarcely a rag of a
shirt on, sitting round a miserable fire as early as four o’clock in the
morning, learning their lessons. Besides, they have to perform all sorts
of menial service for the master, and are often treated no better than
slaves.
_Monday, July 21._—The country which we passed in the morning presented
more pasture-grounds than cultivated lands; and after a little while I
turned, with my companion, out of our path, to the left, towards a small
encampment or “berí Shúwabe” of the Kohálemí, a Shúwa or Arab tribe,
where, for three large beads, called “nejúm,” we bought a little fresh
milk. On this occasion I learned from Bíllama, that the Shúwa or native
Arabs settled in the district of Ujé belong to the tribe of the Sáraji,
while the Sugúla and the Sálamát have their camping-grounds further east.
The country became rather dreary, black “fírki”-ground and sandy soil
alternately succeeding each other; and traffic there was none. But when
we reached the well of Maira, a considerable place which we passed on our
left hand, the path became animated from an interesting cause, a whole
village or “berí” of wandering Arabs passing through in search of fresh
pasture-grounds to the west. Each mistress of a family was sitting on
the top of her best household furniture, which was carefully packed on
the backs of the cattle, and covered with hides, while a female slave
followed her, sitting astride on the less valuable gear and the poles
with pots and other such utensils; but, distinguished above all by the
harness of her bullock, the neat arrangement of her seat, a leather
tent-like covering over her head, and the stoutness of her own person,
sat the wife of the chief. Most of these women, however, were rather
slender than otherwise, testifying to the sound and well-preserved
national taste of these Arabs. They never veil the face, and their dress
is simple and decent; but they are not nearly so tidy as the Fulfúlde
ladies. Most of the men followed at a great distance with the flocks of
goats and sheep.
When this interesting procession had passed by, the monotony of the
country was more intensely felt. The proud Kanúri of the towns mock the
inhabitants of these districts, who have nothing but a few cattle and
goats, with the verse: “Sémma bíllani—berí kaní” (“This is the whole of
my town—cattle and goats;” or, in other words, “The town and moat, two
cows and a goat”). The poor stunted mimosas had been cut down in many
places, in order that the whole tract being changed into a quagmire or
swamp, it might be sown with the peculiar kind of holcus called “másakwá”
(_Holcus cernuus_); and then these black, dismal-looking plains become
one field of life and wealth. This remarkable change in the aspect of the
country, and this second harvest, which takes place in the middle of the
cold season, and by which the fírki, or fírgi, becomes a fírgi mosogábe
(másakwábe), I shall have to describe in another place.
We then entered a well-cultivated and thickly inhabited district called
Yelé, where it was a novelty to be obliged to draw water from the well or
barrem Yelé; for since reaching Ujé on our journey out we had constantly
met waterpools or small rivulets, from which we took our supply, and
even the well at Maira was rendered quite superfluous by a large tank
close by. However, I have already had occasion to observe that the
water from these stagnant pools is anything but wholesome, particularly
after the rainy season, when they receive no further supply; and I have
no doubt that the drinking of such water is the principal, if not the
only cause of that dreadful and widespread disease (the “fárantít” or
“ʿarúg”—“ngíduwí” in Kanúri—“the misery”) which disables the working
man, and makes him a poor wretched being—the guineaworm, which is sure
to be met with in at least one out of three persons who travel a great
deal through the whole of Central Africa. I never met with an instance of
this disease in a woman. It seemed to me, too, as if the pagans, whose
nakedness exposed all their limbs to view, suffered less from it.
There seemed to be no superfluous supply of water in the district through
which our road then lay, which appeared as dry as I had left it, only
thinly scattered and lonely blades of grass shooting up here and there;
but yet there was a favoured spot where the road from Márte to Alárge
crossed our path, adorned with fine wide-spreading tamarind-trees, and
rain-clouds were approaching from the east to fertilize the soil, and
make it capable of production. We therefore hurried on, and took shelter
in the village Mʿallem-Shíshi, in order to let the storm pass over; our
hut, however, was so incapable of resisting heavy rain, that as soon as
the storm broke out we were almost swamped. The carelessness with which
the houses of the natives are built in this region is an unmistakable
evidence of the difference of the climate; on the other side, we have
seen the neat huts of the people of Fúmbiná, and we shall see those of
the despised pagan natives of Músgu. The people assured me that this
was the first regular rain which they had had this year, the first
preparatory shower having fallen thirty days ago, and the second two days
ago.
The clouds having taken a southerly direction, we started forth in the
afternoon, after some hesitation, but had scarcely been an hour on the
march, and were just in the middle of a wide dismal-looking ghadír or
fírki, when the clouds, having gathered again over our heads, poured
down violent torrents of rain, so that in a few moments the whole
country looked like a lake, and our progress was excessively difficult.
At length, after an hour and a half, in the most uncomfortable state
we reached the village Kiryúmmuwa, where I was quartered in a rather
magnificent but as yet unfinished hut of clay, and endeavoured to dry my
wet clothes as well as I could.
We were now only one day’s march from Kúkawa; and we started early the
next morning, in order to reach home before night. The neighbourhood of
the capital had been sufficiently indicated already during the last day’s
march by the dúm-bushes, which, with the melancholy _Asclepias gigantea_,
might well decorate the scutcheon of Kúkawa—with more justice, indeed,
than the kúka, or monkey-bread-tree, from which the name was taken, but
of which but a few poor stunted specimens are to be seen in the courtyard
of the palace in the eastern town.
[Illustration]
We had scarcely gone a mile when we met the first body of Shúwa, men
and women, who were returning with their unloaded pack-oxen from the
great Monday market of the capital; and then the string of market-people
on their way to their respective homes was almost uninterrupted. While
our people followed the road, Bíllama and I turned off a little to the
left, in order to pay a visit to the mayor of Múnghono and obtain a cool
drink; for since I had had the fever I suffered greatly from thirst, and
the water from the wells in general, as preserving a mean temperature
of about eighty degrees, was quite tepid. The place lies in an elevated
position; and on its south side there is a hollow, where wheat and onions
are cultivated after the rainy season, while another cavity surrounding
it on the north and east sides, and where at present only small separate
water-pools are collecting, forms, later in the season, one continuous
lake. There is a great deal of iron-stone, “kau súwa,” hereabouts; and
it is used by the native blacksmiths, though it affords but an inferior
sort of metal—far inferior to the excellent iron, the “sú-búltu,” of
Búbanjídda. While passing through the place, I was greatly struck with
the variety which the roofs of the huts exhibited, and made a slight
sketch of them (see previous page).
Múnghono, which is likewise the name of the whole district, has been
a place of importance from early times, and is often mentioned in the
history of the Bórnu kings. After the richness of natural forms which
I had beheld in Ádamáwa, the country seemed extremely monotonous,
there being nothing whatever to cheer the eye except the blossom of
the mimosas, which spread a sweet scent all around. We encamped during
the hot hours of the day near the well of Káine, where we had great
difficulty in supplying ourselves with water from the well, while a
little later in the season a large lake is formed here: for Africa is the
region of contrasts as well in nature as in human life.
When we set out again from this place, people from the town, who had
been informed of our approach, came to meet us; and I heard, to my
great satisfaction, that the crafty Arab Mohammed el Mughárbi, whom I
had already met in Gúmmel, had at length arrived with the merchandize
confided to his care, the nominal value of which was one hundred pounds
sterling, so that there was at least some hope of being able to carry on
the mission on a small scale.
But I could not but feel pleased with my reception on returning to
headquarters in this part of the world; for when we approached the
southern gate of the town, three horsemen, who were stationed there,
came galloping up to me, and having saluted me with their spears raised,
placed themselves in front, and in stately procession led me through the
town to my house, where I was soon regaled with a plentiful supper sent
by the vizier. I afterwards perceived that he had expected me to pay him
my respects the same evening; but, as I felt very weak, I deferred the
visit till the next morning, when, on his return from an early visit to
the sheikh, he gave me an audience in the presence of all the people.
Having expressed his sorrow at my reduced state, and having inquired how
I had been received in Ádamáwa, he entered, with apparent delight, into a
long conversation with me respecting the form of the earth and the whole
system of the world. On being asked what I now intended to do, I replied
that it was my design, after having made the tour of the lake, to try to
penetrate into the regions south of Bagírmi. He immediately expressed his
doubts as to the possibility of going round the lake as far as the Bahar
el Ghazál, but promised to further my plans as far as possible, although
he thought that I had done enough already, and should rather think of
returning home safely with the results of my labours; for seeing me so
weak during the first rainy season which I was spending in these regions,
he was afraid that something might happen to me.
Well satisfied with this audience, I returned to my quarters and wrote
a short report to H.M.’s Government, of the results of my journey,
informing them that my most deeply cherished hopes with regard to that
river in the south had been surpassed, and requesting them to send an
expedition in order to verify its identity with the so-called Chadda.
This report, which was sent off by a courier a day or two before Mr.
Overweg’s return from his navigation of the lake, and which was overtaken
by a messenger with a short account of his survey, created general
satisfaction in Europe, and procured for me the confidence of H.M.’s
Government. Meanwhile I endeavoured to arrange the pecuniary affairs of
the mission as well as I could.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
RAINY SEASON IN KÚKAWA.
I had left Kúkawa on my journey to Ádamáwa in the best state of health,
but had brought back from that excursion the germs of disease; and
residence in the town, at least at this period of the year, was not
likely to improve my condition. It would certainly have been better for
me had I been able to retire to some more healthy spot; but trivial
though urgent business obliged me to remain in Kúkawa. It was necessary
to sell the merchandize which had at length arrived, in order to keep
the mission in some way or other afloat, by paying the most urgent debts
and providing the necessary means for further exploration. There was
merchandize to the value of one hundred pounds sterling; but, as I was
obliged to sell the things at a reduced rate for ready money, the loss
was considerable; for all business in these countries is transacted
on two or three months’ credit, and, after all, payment is made, not
in ready money, but chiefly in slaves. It is no doubt very necessary
for a traveller to be provided with those various articles which form
the presents to be made to the chiefs, and which are in many districts
required for bartering; but he ought not to depend upon their sale for
the supply of his wants. Altogether it is difficult to carry on trade
in conjunction with extensive geographical research, although a person
settling quietly down in a place, and entering into close relations with
the natives, might collect a great deal of interesting information,
which would probably escape the notice of the roving traveller, whose
purpose is rather to explore distant regions. Besides, I was obliged
to make numerous presents to my friends, in order to keep them in good
humour, and had very often not only to provide dresses for themselves and
their wives, but even for their domestic retainers; so that, all things
considered, the supply of one hundred pounds’ worth of merchandize could
not last very long.
I have remarked that, when I re-entered Kúkawa, the cultivation of the
ground had not yet begun; indeed, the whole country was so parched, that
it became even a matter of perplexity to find sufficient fodder for the
horses; for the whole stock of dry herbage was consumed, and of young
herbage none was to be had. It is stated in my memoranda, that on the 5th
of August I paid twelve rotl for a “kéla kajímbe,” or large bundle of
dry grass; an enormous price in this country, and sufficient to maintain
a whole family for several days; but that was the most unfavourable
moment, for in a few days fresh herbage sprang up and made good all
deficiencies. While speaking on this subject, I may also mention, that
the herbage of Kúkawa, being full of “ngíbbi,” or _Pennisetum distichum_,
horses brought from other countries generally fare but badly on it, as
they are reluctant to fill their mouths with its small prickles.
Rain was very plentiful this year (1851), and I am sure would, if
measured, have far exceeded the quantity found by Mr. Vogel in 1854.
Indeed, there were twelve very considerable falls of rain during the
month of August alone, which together probably exceeded thirty inches.
It must be borne in mind, moreover, that the fall of rain in Kúkawa does
not constitute the rule for the region, but is quite exceptional, owing
to the entire absence of trees and of heights in the neighbourhood.
Hence, the statement of Mr. Vogel in one of his letters, that the line
of tropical rains only begins south of Kúkawa, must be understood with
some reserve; for if he had measured the rain in the woody country north
of that capital, between Dáwerghú and Kalíluwá, he would, in my opinion,
have obtained a very different result. It is evident that all depends
upon the meaning of the expression, tropical rain. If it imply a very
copious fall of rain, Kúkawa certainly does not lie within the limit of
tropical rain; but if we are to understand by it the regularly returning
annual fall of rain, produced by the ascending currents of heated air, it
certainly does. There was a very heavy fall of rain on the night of the
3rd of August, which not only swamped our courtyard, but changed my room,
which lay half a foot lower, and was protected only by a low threshold,
into a little lake, aggravating my feverish state very considerably, and
spoiling most of my things.
On the 5th of August rain fell for the first time unaccompanied by
a storm, though the rainy season in general sets in with dreadful
tornadoes. The watery element disturbed the luxurious existence of the
“kanám galgálma,” the large termites, which had fed on our sugar and
other supplies, and on the 6th they all of a sudden disappeared from the
ground, and filled the air as short-lived winged creatures, in which
state they are called by the people “tsútsu,” or “dsúdsu,” and, when
fried, are used as food. Their tenure of life is so precarious, and they
seem to be so weak, that they become very troublesome, as they fall in
every direction upon man and his food. Of each swarm of these insects
only one couple seems destined to survive; all the rest die a violent
death.
The town now began to present quite a different appearance; but while it
was agreeable to see the dryness relieved, and succulent grass and fresh
crops springing up all around, and supplanting the dull uniformity of the
_Asclepias gigantea_, on the other hand, the extensive waterpools formed
everywhere in the concavities of the ground, were by no means conducive
to health, more especially as those places were depositories of all sorts
of offal, and of putrefying carcasses of many kinds. The consequence
was that my health, instead of improving, became worse, although I
struggled hard, and as often as possible rode out on horseback. All the
people were now busy in the labours of the field, although cultivation
in the neighbourhood of the town is not of a uniform, but of a varied
character; and a large portion of the ground, consisting of “ánge” and
“fírki,” is reserved for the culture of the masákuwá (_Holcus cernuus_),
or winter-corn, with its variety the kérirám.
On the 8th of August the neighbourhood presented a very animated
spectacle, the crownlands in Gawánge being then cultivated by a great
number of people, working to the sound of a drum. Their labours continued
till the 15th; on which day Mr. Overweg had the honour of presenting his
Búdduma friends to the sheikh of Bórnu. All nature was now cheerful;
the trees were putting forth fresh leaves, and the young birds began
to fledge. I took great delight in observing the little household of a
family of the feathered tribe; there were five young ones, the oldest and
most daring of which began to try his strength on the 12th of August,
while the other four set out together on the 14th.
Marriages are not frequent about this time, on account of the dearness of
corn; but matches are generally made after the harvest has been got in,
and while corn is cheap. I shall speak in another place of the marriage
ceremonies of this country.
On the 5th of September we obtained the first specimen of new “argúm
móro,” white Negro millet, which is very pleasant to the taste when
roasted on the fire; but this is regarded as a rarity, and new corn is
not brought into the market in any great quantities before the end of
November, or rather the beginning of December, when all the corn, which
has been for a long time lying in the fields in conical heaps, called
“búgga,” is threshed out.
My friend, the vizier, whose solicitude for my health I cannot
acknowledge too warmly, was very anxious that I should not stay in the
town during the rainy season; and knowing that one of our principal
objects was to investigate the eastern shore of lake Tsád, sent me
word, on the 11th of August, that I might now view the Bahar el Ghazál,
an undertaking which, as I have already mentioned, he had at first
represented as impossible. The news from Kánem, however, was now
favourable; but as I shall speak in another place of the political state
of this distracted country, and of the continual struggle between Bórnu
and Wadáÿ, I need only mention here that the Welád Slimán, who had become
a mercenary band attached to the vizier, had been successful during their
last expedition, and were reported on the very day of my return from
Ádamáwa to have made a prize of one hundred and fifty horses and a great
many camels, which, however, was a great exaggeration.
We were well acquainted with the character of these people, who are
certainly the most lawless robbers in the world; but as it was the
express wish of the British Government that we should endeavour to
explore the regions bordering on the lake, there was no course open to
us, but to unite our pursuits with theirs; besides, they were prepared
in some measure for such a union, for, while they inhabited the grassy
lands round the great Syrtis, they had come into frequent contact with
the English. We had no choice, for all the districts to the north-east
and east of the Tsád were at present in a certain degree dependent on
Wadáÿ, then at war with Bórnu, and we were told at the commencement that
we might go anywhere except to Wadáÿ. Instead of fighting it out with his
own people, which certainly would have been the most honourable course,
the vizier had ventured to make use of the remnant of the warlike, and at
present homeless, tribe of the Welád Slimán, in the attempt to recover
the eastern districts of Kánem from his eastern rival; or at least to
prevent the latter from obtaining a sure footing in them; for this object
he had made a sort of treaty with these Arabs, undertaking to supply them
with horses, muskets, powder and shot. Thus, in order to visit those
inhospitable regions, which had attracted a great deal of attention
in Europe, we were obliged to embrace this opportunity. Under these
circumstances, on the 16th of August, I sent the vizier word that I was
ready to join the Welád Slimán in Búrgu; whereupon he expressed a wish
that Mr. Overweg might likewise accompany us; the stay in Kúkawa during
the rainy season being very unhealthy.
Mr. Overweg had returned on the 9th to Maduwári from his interesting
voyage on the Tsád, of which every one will deeply regret that he himself
was not able to give a full account. Traversing that shallow basin in
the English boat, which we had carried all the way through the unbounded
sandy wastes and the rocky wildernesses of the desert, he had visited
a great part of the islands, which are dispersed over its surface, and
which, sometimes reduced to narrow sandy downs, at others expanding to
wide grassy lowlands, sustain a population in their peculiar national
independence, the remnant of a great nation which was exterminated by
the Kanúri. It was a little world of its own with which he had thus come
into contact, and into which we might hope to obtain by degrees a better
insight. He enjoyed excellent health, far better than when I saw him
before, on his first rejoining me in Kúkawa; and as he was well aware of
the strong reasons which our friend the vizier had for wishing us not to
stay in the swampy lowlands round the capital during the latter part of
the rainy season, he agreed to join me on this adventurous expedition to
the north-east.
Those regions had, from the very beginning of our setting out from
Múrzuk, attracted Mr. Overweg’s attention, and while as yet unacquainted
with the immense difficulties that attend travelling in these
inhospitable tracts, he had indulged in the hope of being able, at
some future time, to ramble about with our young Tébu lad, Mohammed el
Gatróni, among the fertile and picturesque valleys of Búrgu and Wajánga.
For this reason, as well as on account of my debility, which left me,
during the following expedition, the exercise of only a small degree of
my natural energy, it is greatly to be regretted that my unfortunate
companion, who seemed never fully aware that his life was at stake,
did not take into consideration the circumstance that he himself might
not be destined to return home, in order to elaborate his researches.
If all the information which he occasionally collected were joined to
mine, those countries would be far better known than they now are; but
instead of employing his leisure hours in transcribing his memoranda
in a form intelligible to others, he left them all on small scraps of
paper, negligently written with lead pencil, which, after the lapse of
some time, would become unintelligible even to himself. It is a pity that
so much talent as my companion possessed was not allied with practical
habits, and concentrated upon those subjects which he professed to study.
The political horizon of Negroland during this time was filled with
memorable events, partly of real, partly of fictitious importance.
Whatever advantages Bórnu may derive from its central position, it owes
to it also the risk of being involved in perpetual struggles with one or
other of the surrounding countries. And hence it is that, under a weak
government, this empire cannot stand for any length of time; it must
go on conquering and extending its dominion over adjacent territories,
or it will soon be overpowered. Towards the north is the empire of the
Turks, weak and crumbling in its centre, but always grasping with its
outlying members, and threatening to lay hold of what is around; towards
the north-west, the Tuarek, not forming a very formidable united power,
but always ready to pounce upon their prey whenever opportunity offers;
towards the west, the empire of Sókoto, great in extent, but weak beyond
description in the unsettled state of its loosely connected provinces,
and from the unenergetic government of a peacefully disposed prince; for
while one provincial governor was just then spreading around him the
flames of sedition and revolt, towards the south another vassal of this
same empire was disputing the possession of those regions whence the
supply of slaves is annually obtained; and towards the east, there is an
empire strong in its barbarism, and containing the germs of power, should
it succeed in perfectly uniting those heterogeneous elements of which it
is composed—I mean Wadáÿ.
With regard to the Turks, the state of affairs at this time was peculiar.
Bórnu, as we have seen in the historical account of that empire, once
embraced the whole region as far as Fezzán,—nay, even the southern
portion of Fezzán itself, and even Wadán; but since the decline of the
empire in the latter half of the last century these limits had been
abandoned, and the communication with the north had, in general, become
extremely unsafe. This state of things is necessarily disadvantageous
to a country which depends for many things on the supplies conveyed
from the north; and the authorities naturally wish that, since they
themselves, in their present condition, are unable to afford security
to this important communication, somebody else may do it. Hence it was
that, after my arrival in April, when the vizier was conversing with me
about the prospects of a regular commercial intercourse with the English,
he declared that he should be much pleased if the Turks would occupy
Kawár, and more particularly Bilma; and by building a fort and keeping a
garrison near the salt-mines of that place, exercise some control over
the Tuarek of Aír, and make them responsible for robberies committed
on the Fezzán road. It was in consequence of this communication that I
begged Her Majesty’s Government to enter into communication upon this
point with the Porte.
But the matter was of a very delicate nature with regard to Bórnu.
Indeed, it seemed questionable whether the Turks, if once firmly
established in Bilma, would not think fit to exercise some control over
the latter country. Nay, it was rather to be feared that they might try
to obtain there a firm footing, in order to extend their empire; and when
the news arrived in Bórnu that the ambitious Hassan Bashá had returned
to his post as governor of Fezzán, with very ample instructions, the
whole court of Bórnu became alarmed. The effect of this news upon the
disposition of the sheikh and the vizier to enter into friendly relations
with the British Government was remarkable. On the 5th of August they
were not able to conceal their fear lest a numberless host of Englishmen
might come into their country, if, by signing the treaty, access was
once allowed them, as proposed by Her Majesty’s Government. For although
they were conscious of the poverty of their country in comparison with
Europe, at times they were apt to forget it. In the afternoon of the 6th
the courier arrived, and the same evening Háj Beshír sent me word that
they were ready to sign the treaty; and afterwards they were very anxious
that the English Government should endeavour to prevent the governor of
Fezzán from carrying out the ulterior objects of his ambition. At that
time I had assured myself that a northern road through the desert was not
suitable for European commerce, and that a practicable highroad, leading
several hundred miles into the interior of the continent and passing to
the south of Kanó, the great commercial _entrepôt_ of Central Africa, and
only about two hundred miles in a straight line to the south of Kúkawa,
had been found in the river Bénuwé.
With regard to the empire of Sókoto, there happened at this time a
catastrophe which, while it was an unmistakable proof of the debility of
that vast agglomeration of provinces, proved at the same time extremely
favourable to Bórnu. For on the 1st of August the news arrived that
Bowári or Bokhári, the exiled governor of Khadéja, who had conquered
the town and killed his brother, had thrown back, with great loss, an
immense army sent against him by ʿAlíyu, the emperor of Sókoto, under
the command of his prime minister, ʿAbdu Gedádo, and composed of the
forces of the provinces of Kanó, Báuchi, Katágum, Mármar, and Bobéru,
when several hundreds were said to have perished in the komádugu, or the
great fiumara of Bórnu. In the spring, while Mr. Overweg was staying in
Góber, the Mariadáwa and Goberáwa had made a very successful expedition
into Zánfara; and the emperor of Sókoto could take no other revenge upon
them, than by sending orders to Kanó that my friends the Asbenáwa, many
of whose brethren had taken part in the expedition, should be driven out
of the town, which order was obeyed, while only the well-known Kandáke,
the same man whom Mr. Richardson, on his former journey into the desert,
has so frequently mentioned, was admitted into the town through the
intercession of the people of Ghadámes.
The immediate consequence of these circumstances was, that the court of
Bórnu tried to enter into more friendly relations with the Asbenáwa, or
the Tuarek of Asben, with whom at other times they were on unfriendly
terms, and the prisoners whom they had made on the last expedition
were released. The coalition extended as far as Góber; and the most
ardent desire of the vizier was to march straight upon Kanó. To conquer
this great central place of commerce was the great object of this
man’s ambition; but for which he did not possess sufficient energy
and self-command. However, the governor of that place, terrified by
the victory of Bokhári, who was now enabled to carry on his predatory
expeditions into that rich territory without hindrance, distributed sixty
bernúses and three thousand dollars among the Mʿallemín, to induce them
to offer up their prayers to Allah for the public welfare.
We have seen above, that the Bórnu people had given to their relations
with Ádamáwa a hostile character; but from that quarter they had nothing
to fear, the governor of their province being too much occupied by the
affairs of his own country.
I will now say a word about Wadáÿ. That was the quarter to which the
most anxious looks of the Bórnu people were directed. For, seven years
previously, they had been very nearly conquered by them, and had employed
every means to get information of what was going on there. But from
thence also the news was favourable. For although the report of the death
of the Sultan Mohammed Sheríf, in course of time, turned out to be false,
still it was true that the country was plunged into a bloody civil war
with the Abú-Senún, or Kodoyí, and that numbers of enterprising men had
succumbed in the struggle. The business of the town went on as usual,
with the exception of the ʿaid el fotr, the ngúmerí ashám, the festival
following the great annual fast, which was celebrated in a grand style,
not by the nation, which seemed to take very little interest in it, but
by the court. In other places, like Kanó, the rejoicings seem to be more
popular on this occasion; the children of the butchers or “masufauchi”
in that great emporium of commerce mounting some oxen, fattened for the
occasion, between the horns, and managing them by a rope fastened to the
neck, and another to the hind leg. As for the common people of Bórnu,
they scarcely took any other part in this festivity than by putting on
their best dresses; and it is a general custom in larger establishments
that servants and attendants on this day receive a new shirt.
I also put on my best dress, and mounting my horse, which had recovered
a little from the fatigue of the last journey, though it was not yet
fit for another, proceeded in the morning to the eastern town or “billa
gedíbe,” the great thoroughfare being crowded with men on foot and
horseback, passing to and fro, all dressed in their best. It had been
reported that the sheikh was to say his prayers in the mosque, but we
soon discovered that he was to pray outside the town, as large troops of
horsemen were leaving it through the north gate or “chinna yalábe.” In
order to become aware of the place where the ceremony was going on, I
rode to the vizier’s house, and met him just as he came out, mounted on
horseback, and accompanied by a troop of horsemen.
At the same time several cavalcades were seen coming from various
quarters, consisting of the kashéllas, or officers, each with his
squadron, of from a hundred to two hundred horsemen, all in the most
gorgeous attire, particularly the heavy cavalry; the greater part being
dressed in a thick stuffed coat called “degíbbir,” and wearing over it
several tobes of all sorts of colours and designs, and having their heads
covered with the “búge,” or casque, made very nearly like those of our
knights in the middle age, but of lighter metal, and ornamented with most
gaudy feathers. Their horses were covered all over with thick clothing
called “líbbedí,” with various coloured stripes, consisting of three
pieces, and leaving nothing but the feet exposed, the front of the head
being protected and adorned by a metal plate. Others were dressed in a
coat of mail, “síllege,” and the other kind called “komá-komí-súbe.” The
lighter cavalry was only dressed in two or three showy tobes and small
white or coloured caps; but the officers and more favoured attendants
wore bernúses of finer or coarser quality, and generally of red or yellow
colour, slung in a picturesque manner round the upper part of their body,
so that the inner wadding of richly coloured silk was most exposed to
view.
All these dazzling cavalcades, amongst whom some very excellent horses
were seen prancing along, were moving towards the northern gate of the
“bílla gedíbe,” while the troop of the sheikh himself, who had been
staying in the western town, was coming from the south-west. The sight
of this troop, at least from a little distance, as is the case in
theatrical scenery, was really magnificent. The troop was led by a number
of horsemen; then followed the livery slaves with their matchlocks; and
behind them rode the sheikh, dressed as usual in a white bernús, as
a token of his religious character, but wearing round his head a red
shawl. He was followed by four magnificent chargers clothed in líbbedí
of silk of various colours, that of the first horse being striped white
and yellow, that of the second white and brown, that of the third white
and light green, and that of the fourth white and cherry-red. This was
certainly the most interesting and conspicuous part of the procession.
Behind the horses followed the four large álam or ensigns of the sheikh,
and the four smaller ones of the musketeers, and then a numerous body of
horsemen.
This cavalcade of the sheikh’s now joined the other troops, and the whole
body proceeded in the direction of Dawerghú to a distance of about a mile
from the town. Here the sheikh’s tent was pitched, consisting of a very
large cupola of considerable dimensions, with blue and white stripes, and
curtains, the one half white and the other red; the curtains were only
half closed. In this tent the sheikh himself, the vizier, and the first
courtiers were praying, while the numerous body of horsemen and men on
foot were grouped around in the most picturesque and imposing variety.
Meanwhile I made the round of this interesting scene, and endeavoured to
count the various groups. In their numbers I was certainly disappointed,
as I had been led to expect myriads. At the very least, however, there
were three thousand horsemen, and from six thousand to seven thousand
armed men on foot, the latter partly with bow and arrow. There were
besides a great multitude of spectators. The ceremony did not last long;
and as early as nine o’clock the ganga summoned all the chiefs to mount,
and the dense mass of human beings began to disperse and range themselves
in various groups. They took their direction round the north-western
corner of the east town, and entered the latter by the western gate; but
the crowd was so great that I chose to forego taking leave of the sheikh,
and went slowly back over the intermediate ground between the two towns
in the company of some very chevalieresque and well-mounted young Arabs
from Ben-Gházi, and posted myself at some distance from the east gate of
the western town, in order to see the kashéllas, who have their residence
in this quarter, pass by. There were twelve or thirteen, few of whom had
more than one hundred horsemen, the most conspicuous being Fúgo ʿAlí,
ʿAlí Marghí, ʿAlí Déndal, ʿAlí Ladán, Belál, Sálah, Kandíl, and Jerma.
It was thought remarkable that no Shúwa had come to this festivity;
but I think they rarely do, although they may sometimes come for the
ʿAíd-el-kebír, or the “ngumerí layábe.” It is rather remarkable that even
this smaller festivity is celebrated here with such _éclat_, while in
general, in Mohammedan Negroland, only the “láya” is celebrated in this
way; perhaps this is due to Egyptian influence, and the custom is as old
at least as the time of the King Edris Alawóma.
I had the inexpressible delight of receiving by the courier, who arrived
on the 6th of August, a considerable parcel of letters from Europe,
which assured me as well of the great interest which was generally
felt in our undertaking, although as yet only very little of our first
proceedings had become known, as that we should be enabled to carry out
our enterprise without too many privations. I therefore collected all
the little energy which my sickly state had left me, and concluded the
report of my journey to Ádamáwa, which caused me a great deal of pain,
but which, forwarded on the 8th of August, together with the news of Mr.
Overweg’s successful navigation, produced a great deal of satisfaction
in Europe. Together with the letters and sundry Maltese portfolios, I
had also the pleasure of receiving several numbers of the _Athenæum_,
probably the first which were introduced into Central Africa, and which
gave me great delight.
Altogether our situation in the country was not so bad. We were on the
best and most friendly terms with the rulers; we were not only tolerated,
but even respected by the natives, and we saw an immense field of
interesting and useful labour open to us. There was only one disagreeable
circumstance besides the peculiar nature of the climate; this was the
fact, that our means were too small to render us quite independent of
the sheikh and his vizier, for the scanty supplies which had reached us
were not sufficient to provide for our wants, and were soon gone. We
were scarcely able to keep ourselves afloat on our credit, and to supply
our most necessary wants. Mr. Overweg, besides receiving a very handsome
horse from them, had also been obliged to accept at their hands a number
of tobes, which he had made presents of to the chiefs of the Búdduma,
and they looked upon him as almost in their employment. He lost a great
deal of his time in repairing, or rather trying to repair, their watches
and other things. Such services I had declined from the beginning, and
was therefore regarded as less useful; and I had occasionally to hear
it said, “ʿAbd el Kerím faidanse bágo,”—“ʿAbd el Kerím is of no use
whatever;” nevertheless, I myself was not quite independent of their
kindness, although I sacrificed all I could in order to give from time to
time a new impulse to their favour by an occasional present.
The horse which they had first given me had proved incapable of such
fatigue as it had to undergo, and the animal which I had bought before
going to Ádamáwa had been too much knocked up to stand another journey so
soon: and after having bought two other camels and prepared myself for
another expedition, I was unable, with my present means, to buy a good
horse. Remembering, therefore, what the vizier had told me with regard to
my first horse, I sent him word that he would greatly oblige me by making
me a present of one, and he was kind enough to send me four animals from
which to choose; but as none of these satisfied me, I rejected them
all, intimating very simply that it was impossible, among four _nags_,
“kádara,” to choose one _horse_, “fir.” This hint, after a little further
explanation, my friend did not fail to understand, and in the evening of
the 7th of September he sent me a horse from his own stable, which became
my faithful and noble companion for the next four campaigns, and from
which I did not part till, after my return from Timbúktu, in December
1854, he succumbed to sickness in Kanó.
He was the envy of all the great men, from the Sultan of Bagírmi to the
chiefs of the Tademékket and Awelímmiden, near Timbúktu. His colour was
a shade of grey, with beautiful light leopard-like spots; and the Kanúri
were not unanimous with regard to the name which they gave it, some
calling it “shéggará,” while others thought the name “kerí sassarándi”
more suitable to it. In the company of mares he was incapable of walking
quietly, but kept playing in order to show himself off to advantage. The
Bórnu horses in general are very spirited and fond of prancing. He was
an excellent “kerísa” or marcher, and “doy” or swift in the extreme, but
very often lost his start by his playfulness. Of his strength, the extent
of the journeys which he made with me bears ample testimony, particularly
if the warlike, scientific, and victualling stores which I used to carry
with me are taken into account. He was a “ngírma,” but not of the largest
size. Mr. Overweg’s horse was almost half a hand higher; but, while mine
was a lion in agility, my companion’s horse was not unlike a hippopotamus
in plumpness.
With such a horse I prepared cheerfully for my next expedition, which I
regarded in the light both of an undertaking in the interests of science,
and as a medicinal course for restoring my health, which threatened to
succumb in the unhealthy region of Kúkawa. Besides two Fezzáni lads, I
had taken into my service two Arabs belonging to the tribe of the Welád
Slimán, and whose names were Bú-Zéd and Hasén ben Hár.
CHAPTER XXXIX
EXPEDITION TO KÁNEM.
_Thursday, Sept. 11._—Having decided upon leaving the town in advance of
the Arabs, in order to obtain leisure for travelling slowly the first
few days, and to accustom my feeble frame once more to the fatigues of
a continual march, after a rest of forty days in the town, I ordered
my people to get my luggage ready in the morning. I had plenty of
provisions, such as zummíta, dwéda or vermicelli, mohámsa, and nákia, a
sort of sweetmeat made of rice with butter and honey; two skins of each
quality. All was stowed away with the little luggage I intended taking
with me on this adventurous journey, in two pairs of large leathern
bags or kéwa, which my two camels were to carry. When all was ready, I
went to the vizier, in order to take leave of him and arrange with my
former servant, Mohammed ben Sʿad, to whom I owed thirty-five dollars.
Háj Beshír, as usual, was very kind and amiable; but as for my former
servant, having not a single dollar in cash, I was obliged to give him a
bill upon Fezzán, for seventy-five dollars. There was also a long talk on
the subject of an enormous debt due to the Fezzáni merchant Mohammed eʾ
Sfáksi; and as it was not possible to settle it at once, I was obliged to
leave its definite arrangement to Mr. Overweg.
All this disagreeable business, which is so killing to the best hours,
and destroys half the energy of the traveller, had retarded my departure
so long that the sun was just setting when I left the gate of the
town. My little caravan was very incomplete; for my only companion on
emerging from the gate into the high waving fields of Guinea-corn, which
entirely concealed the little suburb, was an unfortunate young man whom
I had not hired at all, my three hired servants having stayed behind
on some pretext or other. This lad was Mohammed ben Áhmed, a native of
Fezzán, whom I wanted to hire, or rather hired, in Gúmmel, in March
last, for two Spanish dollars a month, but who, having been induced, by
his companions in the caravan with which he had just arrived from the
north, to forego the service of a Christian, had broken his word, and
gone on with the caravan of the people from Sókna, leaving me with only
one useful servant. But he had found sufficient leisure to repent of his
dishonourable conduct, for, having been at the verge of the grave in
Kanó, and being reduced to the utmost misery, he came to Kúkawa, begging
my pardon, and entreating my compassion; and, after some expostulation,
I allowed him to stay without hiring him, and it was only on seeing his
attachment to me in the course of time, that I afterwards granted him a
dollar a month, and he did not obtain two dollars till my leaving Zínder,
in January 1853, on my way to Timbúktu, when I was obliged to augment the
salary of all my people. This lad followed me with my two camels.
All was fertility and vegetation, though these fields near the capital
are certainly not the best situated in Bórnu. I felt strengthened by
the fresh air, and followed the eastern path, which did not offer any
place for an encampment. Looking round, I saw at length two of my men
coming towards us, and found to the left of the track, on a little sandy
eminence, a convenient spot for pitching my tent. I felt happy in having
left the monotony and closeness of the town behind me. Nothing in the
world makes me feel happier than a wide, open country, a commodious tent,
and a fine horse. But I was not quite comfortable; for, having forgotten
to close my tent, I was greatly annoyed by the mosquitoes, which
prevented my getting any sleep. The lake being very near, the dew was so
heavy that next morning my tent was as wet as if it had been soaked with
water.
_Friday, Sept. 12._—Notwithstanding these inconveniences, I awoke in the
morning with a grateful heart, and cared little about the flies, which
soon began to attack me. I sat down outside the tent to enjoy my liberty:
it was a fine morning, and I sat for hours tranquilly enjoying the most
simple landscape (the lake not being visible, and scarcely a single tree
in sight) which a man can fancy. But all was so quiet, and bespoke such
serenity and content, that I felt quite happy and invigorated. I did not
think about writing, but idled away the whole day. In the evening my
other man came, and brought me a note from Mr. Overweg, addressed to me
“in campo caragæ Æthiopiensis” (karága means wilderness).
_Saturday, Sept. 13._—I decided late in the morning, when the dew had
dried up a little, upon moving my encampment a short distance, but had to
change my path for a more westerly one, on account of the large swampy
ponds, formed at the end of the rainy season in the concavity at the foot
of the sandhills of Dawerghú. The vegetation is rich during this season,
even in this monotonous district. Having at length entered the corn, or
rather millet-fields of Dawerghú, we soon ascended the sandhills, where
the whole character of the landscape is altered; for, while the dum-bush
almost ceases, the rétem, _Spartium monospermum_, is the most common
botanical ornament of the ground where the cultivation of the fields has
left a free spot, whilst fine specimens of the mimosa break the monotony
of the fields. Having passed several clusters of cottages forming an
extensive district, I saw to the right an open space descending towards a
green sheet of water, filling a sort of valley or hollow where, a short
time afterwards, when the summer harvest is over, the peculiar sort of
sorghum called másakwá is sown. Being shaded by some fine acacias, the
spot was very inviting, and, feeling already tired, sick and weak as I
was, though after a journey of only two hours, I determined to remain
there during the heat of the day. I had scarcely stretched myself on
the ground, when a man brought me word that a messenger, sent by Ghét,
the chief of the Welád Slimán, had passed by with the news that this
wandering and marauding tribe had left Búrgu and returned to Kánem. This
was very unpleasant news, as, from all that I had heard, it appeared to
me that Búrgu must be an interesting country, at least as much so as
Asben or Aír, being favoured by deep valleys and ravines, and living
sources of fine water, and producing, besides great quantities of
excellent dates, even grapes and figs, at least in some favoured spots.
The morning had been rather dull, but before noon the sun shone forth,
and our situation on the sloping ground of the high country, overlooking
a great extent of land in the rich dress of vegetable life, was very
pleasant. There was scarcely a bare spot: all was green, except that
the ears of the millet and sorghum were almost ripe, and began to
assume a yellowish-brown tint; but how different is the height of the
stalks, the very largest of which scarcely exceeds fifteen feet, from
those I saw afterwards on my return from Timbúktu, in the rich valleys
of Kébbi. Several Kánembú were passing by, and enlivened the scenery.
When the heat of the sun began to abate, I set my little caravan once
more in motion, and passed on through the level country, which in the
simplicity of my mind I thought beautiful, and which I greatly enjoyed.
After about an hour’s march, we passed a large pond or pool, situated
to the left of the road, and formed by the rains, bordered by a set of
trees of the acacia tribe, and enlivened by a large herd of fine cattle.
Towards evening, after some trouble, we found a path leading through the
fields into the interior of a little village, called Alairúk, almost
hidden behind the high stalks of millet. Our reception was rather cold,
such as a stranger may expect to find in all the villages situated near
a capital, the inhabitants of which are continually pestered by calls
upon their hospitality. But, carrying my little residence and all the
comforts I wanted with me, I cared little about their treatment; and my
tent was soon pitched in a separate courtyard. But all my enjoyment was
destroyed by a quarrel which arose between my horseman and the master of
the dwelling, who would not allow him to put his horse where he wished:
my horseman had even the insolence to beat the man who had received us
into his house. This is the way in which affairs are managed in these
countries.
_Sunday, Sept. 14._—After a refreshing night I started a little later
than on the day previous, winding along a narrow path through the fields,
where, besides sorghum, karás (_Hibiscus esculentus_) is cultivated,
which is an essential thing for preparing the soups of the natives, in
districts where the leaves of the kúka, or monkey-bread-tree, and of the
hajilíj, or _Balanites_, are wanting; for though the town of Kúkawa has
received its name from the circumstance that a young tree of this species
was found on the spot where the Sheikh Mohammed el Kánemi, the father
of the ruling sultan, laid the first foundation of the present town,
nevertheless scarcely any kúka is seen for several miles round Kúkawa.
The sky was cloudy, and the country became less interesting than the
day before. We met a small troop of native traders, with dried fish,
which forms a great article of commerce throughout Bórnu; for, though
the Kanúri people at present are almost deprived of the dominion, and
even the use, of the fine sheet of water which spreads out in the midst
of their territories, the fish, to which their forefathers have given
the name of food (bú-ni, from bú, to eat), has remained a necessary
article for making their soups. The fields in this part of the country
were not so well looked after, and were in a more neglected state; but
there was a tolerable variety of trees, though rather scanty. Besides
prickly underwood of talhas, there were principally the hajilíj or bíto
(_Balanites Ægyptiaca_), the selím, the kórna, the serrákh, and the
gerredh or _Mimosa Nilotica_. Further on, a short time before we came
to the village Kalíkágorí, I observed a woman collecting the seeds of
an eatable _Poa_, called “kréb” or “kashá,” of which there are several
species, by swinging a sort of basket through the rich meadow-ground.
These species of grasses afford a great deal of food to the inhabitants
of Bórnu, Bagírmi, and Wadáÿ, but more especially to the Arab settlers
in these countries, or the Shúwa; in Bórnu, at least, I have never seen
the black natives make use of this kind of food, while in Bagírmi it
seems to constitute a sort of luxury even with the wealthier classes. The
reader will see, in the course of my narrative, that in Máseñá I lived
principally on this kind of _Poa_. It makes a light palatable dish, but
requires a great deal of butter.
After having entered the forest and passed several small waterpools, we
encamped near one of these, when the heat of the sun began to make itself
felt. This district abounded in mimosas of the species called gerredh,
úm-el-barka, or “kingar,” which affords a very excellent wood for saddles
and other purposes, while the coals prepared from it are used for making
powder. My old talkative, but not very energetic companion Bu-Zéd, was
busy in making new pegs for my tent, the very hard black ground of Bórnu
destroying pegs very soon, and in the meantime, assisted by Hosén ben
Hár, gave me a first insight into the numerous tribes living in Kánem
and round the Bahar el Ghazál. The fruits of the gerredh, which in their
general appearance are very like those of the tamarind-tree, are a very
important native medicine, especially in cases of dysentery; and it is,
most probably, to them that I owed my recovery when attacked by that
destructive disease during my second stay in Sókoto in September 1854.
The same tree is essential for preparing the water-skins, that most
necessary article for crossing the desert. The kajíji was plentiful in
this neighbourhood. The root of this little plant, which is about the
size of a nut, the natives use in the most extensive way for perfuming
themselves with.
Late in the afternoon we continued our journey through the forest, which
was often interrupted by open patches. After having pursued the path for
some miles, we quitted it, and travelled in a more easterly direction
through a pleasant hilly country, full of verdure, and affording
pasturage to a great many cattle; for the Kánembú, like the Fúlbe, go
with their herds to a great distance during certain seasons of the year,
and all the cattle from the places about Ngórnu northwards is to be found
in these quarters during the cold season. But not being able to find
water here, we were obliged to try the opposite direction, in order to
look for this element so essential for passing a comfortable night. At
length, late in the evening, traversing a very rugged tract of country,
we reached the temporary encampment, or berí, of a party of Kánembú with
their herds, whilst a larger berí was moving eastward. Here also we were
unable to find water, and even milk was to be got but sparingly.
_Monday, Sept. 15._—Before we were ready to move, the whole nomadic
encampment broke up, the cattle going in front, and the men, women,
and children following with their little households on asses. The most
essential or only apparatus of these wandering neatherds are the tall
sticks for hanging up the milk to secure it; the “sákti” or skins for
milk and water, the calabashes, and the kórió. The men are always armed
with their long wooden shields, the “ngáwa fógobe,” and their spears,
and some are most fantastically dressed, as I have described on a former
occasion. After having loaded our camels, and proceeded some distance,
we came to the temporary abode of another large herd, whose guardians
at first behaved unfriendly, forbidding our tasting a drop of their
delicious stuff; but they soon exchanged their haughty manners for the
utmost cordiality when Mʿadi, an elder brother of Fúgo ʿAlí, our friend
in Maduwári, recognized me. He even insisted on my encamping on the
spot, and staying the day with him; and it was with difficulty that he
allowed me to pursue my march, after having swallowed as much delicious
milk as my stomach would bear. Further on we joined the main road, and
found to the left of it a handsome pool of muddy water, and filled two
skins with it. Certainly there is nothing worse for a European than this
stagnant dirty water; but during the rainy season, and for a short time
afterwards, he is rarely able to get any other.
Soon after, I had another specimen of the treatment to which the natives
are continually exposed from the king’s servants in these countries; for,
meeting a large herd of fine sheep, my horseguard managed to lay hold of
the fattest specimen of the whole herd, notwithstanding the cries of the
shepherd, whom I in vain endeavoured to console by offering him the price
of the animal. During the heat of the day, when we were encamped under
the scanty shade of a few gáwo, my people slaughtered the sheep; but, as
in general, I only tasted a little of the liver. The shade was so scanty,
and the sun so hot, that I felt very weak in the afternoon when we went
on a little.
_Tuesday, Sept. 16._—I felt tolerably strong. Soon after we had started,
we met a great many horses which had been sent here for pasturage, and
then encountered another fish kafla. My horseman wanted me all at once to
proceed to the town of Yó, from whence he was to return; and he continued
on without stopping, although I very soon felt tired, and wanted to
make a halt. The country, at the distance of some miles south from the
komádugu, is rather monotonous and barren, and the large tamarind-tree
behind the town of Yó is seen from such a distance that the traveller,
having the same conspicuous object before his eyes for such a length
of time, becomes tired out before he reaches it. The dúm-palm is the
principal tree in this flat region, forming detached clusters, while the
ground in general is extremely barren.
Proceeding with my guardian in advance, we at length reached the town, in
front of which there is a little suburb; and being uncertain whether we
should take quarters inside or outside, we entered it. It consisted of
closely packed streets, was extremely hot, and exhaled such an offensive
smell of dried fish, that it appeared to me a very disagreeable and
intolerable abode. Nevertheless we rode to the house of the shitíma, or
rather, in the full form, Shitíma Yóma (which is the title the governor
bears), a large building of clay. He was just about taking another
wife; and large quantities of corn, intended as provision for his new
household, were heaped up in front of it.[81] Having applied to his men
for quarters, a small courtyard with a large hut was assigned to us in
another part of the town, and we went there; but it was impossible for me
to make myself in any way comfortable in this narrow space, where a small
gáwo afforded very scanty shade. Being almost suffocated, and feeling
very unwell, I mounted my horse again and hastened out of the gate, and
was very glad to have regained the fresh air. We then encamped about six
hundred yards from the town, near a shady tamarind tree; and I stretched
my feeble limbs on the ground, and fell into a sort of lethargy for some
hours, enjoying a luxurious tranquillity; I was so fatigued with my
morning’s ride, that I thought with apprehension on what would become of
me after my companions had joined me, when I should be obliged to bear
fatigue of a quite different description.
As soon as I felt strong enough to rise from my couch, I walked a few
paces in order to get a sight of the river or “komádugu.” It was at
present a fine sheet of water, the bed entirely full, “tsimbúllena,” and
the stream running towards the Tsád with a strong current; indeed, I then
scarcely suspected that on another occasion I should encamp for several
days in the dry bed of this river, which, notwithstanding the clear and
undoubted statements of the members of the former expedition with regard
to its real character, had been made by Captain W. Allen to carry the
superfluous waters of the Tsád into the Kwára. The shores of the komádugu
near this place are quite picturesque, being bordered by splendid
tamarind-trees, and “kínzim,” or dúm-palms, besides fine specimens of the
acacia tribe on the northern shore. At the foot of the tamarind-trees a
very good kind of cotton is grown, while lower down, just at this season
of the year, wheat is produced by irrigating regularly laid out grounds
by way of the shadúf or “lámbuna.” Cotton and small quantities of wheat
are the only produce of this region, besides fish and the fruit of the
_Cucifera_ or dúm-palm, which forms an essential condiment for the
“kunú,” a kind of soup made of Negro millet; for the place is entirely
destitute of any other _Cerealia_, and millet and sorghum are grown only
to a small extent. Cattle also are very scarce in Yó; and very little
milk is to be procured. Fish is the principal food of the inhabitants, of
which there are several very palatable species in the river, especially
one of considerable size, from eighteen to twenty inches long, with a
very small mouth, resembling the mullet.
I saw also a specimen of the electric-fish, about ten inches long, and
very fat, which was able to numb the arm of a man for several minutes. It
was of an ashy colour on the back, while the belly was quite white; the
tail and the hind fins were red. Mr. Overweg made a slight sketch of one.
During the night a heavy gale arose, and we had to fasten the ropes
attached to the top of the pole; but the storm passed by, and there was
not a drop of rain; indeed the rainy season, with regard to Bórnu, had
fairly gone by.
_Wednesday, Sept. 17._—Enjoyed in the morning the scenery and the fresh
air of the river. Men were coming to bathe, women fetching water, and
passengers and small parties were crossing the river, swimming across
with their clothes upon their heads, or sitting on a yoke of calabashes
with the water up to their middle. A kafla or “karábka” of Tébu people
from Kánem had arrived the day before, and were encamped on the other
side of the river, being eager to cross; but they were not allowed to do
so till they had obtained permission; for, during several months, this
river or valley forms annually a sort of quarantine line, whilst, during
the other portion of the year, small caravans, at least, go to and fro at
their pleasure.
The only boat upon the water was a mákara, formed by several yokes of
calabashes, and of that frail character described by me in another
part of this work, in which we ourselves were to cross the river.
Unfortunately it was not possible to enjoy quietly and decently the
beautiful shade of the splendid tamarind-trees, on account of the number
of waterfowl and pelicans which reside in their branches.
On removing some of my luggage, I found that the white ants were busy
destroying, as fast as possible, my leather bags and mats; and we
were accordingly obliged to remove everything, and to place layers of
branches underneath. There are great numbers of ants hereabouts; but only
moderately sized ant-hills are seen; nothing like the grand structures
which I afterwards saw in Bagírmi.
_Thursday, Sept. 18._—About two hours after midnight Mr. Overweg arrived,
accompanied by one of the most conspicuous of the Welád Slimán, of the
name of Khálef-Allah, announcing the approach of our little troop; which
did not, however, make its appearance until ten o’clock in the morning,
when the most courageous and best mounted of them galloped up to my tent
in pairs, brandishing their guns. There were twenty-five horsemen, about
a dozen men mounted upon camels, and seven or eight on foot, besides
children. They dismounted a little to the east of our tents, and formed
quite an animated encampment; though of course quarrels were sure to
break out soon.
Feeling a little stronger, I mounted with my fellow-traveller in the
afternoon, in order to make a small excursion along the southern shore of
the river, in a westerly direction. The river, in general, runs from west
to east; but here, above the town, it makes considerable windings, and
the shore is not so high as at the ford. The vegetation was beautiful;
large tamarind-trees forming a dense shade above, whilst the ground was
covered with a great variety of plants and herbs just in flower. On
the low promontories of the shore were several small fishing villages,
consisting of rather low and light huts made of mats, and surrounded by
poles for drying the fish, a great many of which, principally of the
mullet kind, were just suspended for that purpose. Having enjoyed the
aspect of the quiet river-scenery for some time, we returned round the
south side of the town. The ground here is hilly; but I think the hills,
though at present covered with verdure, are nothing more than mounds of
rubbish formed in the course of time round the town, which appears to
have been formerly of greater extent.
_Friday, Sept. 19._—Overweg and I, accompanied by Khálef-Allah and a
guide, made an excursion down the river, in order, if possible, to
reach its mouth; but the experiment proved that there is no path on
the southern shore, the track following the northern bank: for on that
side, not far from the mouth, lies a considerable Kánembú place called
Bóso, though, in the present weak state of the Bórnu kingdom, much
exposed to the incursions of the Tuarek. Having penetrated as far as a
village, or rather a walled town, named Fátse, the walls of which are
in a decayed state, and the population reduced to a dozen families, we
were obliged to give up our intended survey of the river. As for myself,
I was scarcely able to make any long excursion; for on attempting to
mount my horse again, I fainted, and fell senseless to the ground, to
the great consternation of my companions, who felt convinced my end was
approaching. We therefore returned to our encampment. In the evening I
had a severe attack of fever.
_Saturday, Sept 20._—It had been determined the day before that we
should cross the river to-day, and the governor’s permission had been
obtained; but as the vizier’s messenger had not yet arrived, we decided
upon waiting another day. Feeling a little better, I made a rough sketch
of the town, with the dúm-palms around it, and prepared myself, as well
as I was able, for the fatiguing march before me. We had a good specimen
to-day of the set of robbers and freebooters we had associated with in
order to carry out the objects of the mission. The small Tébu caravan,
which I mentioned above as having arrived from Kánem, and which had
brought the news that the people of Wadáÿ had made an alliance with all
the tribes hostile to the Welád Slimán, in order to destroy the latter,
had not been allowed to cross the river until to-day. They were harmless
people, carrying very little luggage (chiefly dates) upon a small number
of oxen; but as soon as they had crossed, our companions held a council,
and, the opinion of the most violent having gained the upper hand, they
fell upon the poor Tébu, or Kréda, as they call them, and took away
all their dates by force. The skins were then divided: and the greater
part of them had already been consumed or carried away, when an old
Arab arrived, and, upbraiding his companions with their mean conduct,
persuaded them to collect what remained, or that could be found, and
restore it to the owners. In the evening the vizier’s messenger arrived,
and the crossing of the river was definitely fixed for the next day.
_Monday, Sept. 22._—Rose early, in order to get over in time, there being
no other means of crossing than two mákara, each consisting of three
yokes of calabashes. The camels, as is always the case, being the most
difficult to manage, had to cross first; and after much trouble and many
narrow escapes (owing principally to the unevenness of the bottom of the
valley, the water channel having formed a deep hollow—at present from
ten to eleven feet deep—near the southern shore, while in the middle the
bottom rises considerably, leaving a depth of only six or seven feet)
they all got safely over, and were left to indulge in the foliage of the
beautiful mimosas which embellish the northern border of the river. The
horses followed next, and lastly we ourselves with the luggage.
About nine o’clock in the morning I found myself upon the river on my
three-yoked “mákara,” gliding through the stream in a rather irregular
style of motion, according as the frail ferry-boat was drawn or pushed
by the two black swimmers yoked to it. It was a beautiful day, and the
scenery highly interesting; but, having been exposed to the sun all
the morning, I was glad to find a little shade. When all the party had
successively landed, and the heat of the day had abated, we loaded our
camels and commenced our march. We were now left entirely to the security
and protection which our own arms might afford us; for all the country
to the north of the komádugu has become the domain of freebooters, and
though nominally Sheikh ʿOmár’s dominion stretches as far as Berí, and
even beyond that place, nevertheless his name is not respected here,
except where supported by arms.
The country through which we were passing bore the same character as that
for some miles round the capital; a very stiff, black soil, clothed with
short grass and a few trees far between. Having encountered a flock of
sheep, our friends gave chase; and after they had laid hold of three fat
rams, we decided to encamp.
_Tuesday, Sept. 23._—For the first four hours of our march the character
of the surrounding country remained nearly the same; it then opened, and
became better cultivated; and soon after we saw the clay walls of Báruwa,
though scarcely to be distinguished, owing to the high mounds of rubbish
imbedding them on all sides. Near the south-west gate of the town the
road leads over the high mound (which destroys entirely the protection
the wall might otherwise afford to the inhabitants), and lays its whole
interior open to the eyes of the traveller. It consists of closely packed
huts, generally without a courtyard, but shaded here and there by a
mimosa or kúrna, and affords a handsome specimen of a Central African
dwelling-place. The inhabitants, whose want of energy is clearly seen
from the nature of the mounds, do not rely upon the strength of their
walls; and to the disgrace of the sheikh of Bórnu, who receives tribute
from them, and places a governor over them, they likewise pay tribute to
the Tuarek. They belong in general to the Kánembú tribe; but many Yédiná,
or Búdduma, also are settled in the town. Their principal food and only
article of commerce is fish, which they catch in great quantities in
the lake, whose nearest creeks are, according to the season, from two
to three miles distant, and from which they are not excluded, like the
inhabitants of Ngórnu and other places, on account of their friendly
relations with the warlike pirates of the lake. As for corn, they have
a very scanty supply, and seem not to employ the necessary labour to
produce it, perhaps on account of the insecure state of the country,
which does not guarantee them the harvest they have sown. Cotton they
have none, and are obliged to barter their fish for cotton strips or
articles of dress. Indeed, gábagá or cotton strips, and kúlgu or white
cotton shirts, are the best articles which a traveller, who wants to
procure fish for his desert journey by way of Bilma (where dry fish is
the only article in request), can take with him.
At the well on the north side of the town, which does not furnish very
good water, the horsemen belonging to our troop awaited the camels. Only
a few scattered hajilíj (_Balanites Ægyptiaca_) and stunted talha-trees
spread a scanty shade over the stubble-fields, which were far from
exhibiting a specimen of diligent cultivation; and I was very glad when,
having taken in a small supply of water, we were again in motion. We
soon left the scanty vestiges of cultivation behind us, and some bushes
of the siwák (_Capparis sodata_) began to enliven the country. At eleven
o’clock, having mounted a low range of sand-hills, we obtained a first
view of the Tsád, or rather of its inundations. The whole country now
began to be clothed with siwák. Having kept for about half-an-hour along
the elevated sandy level, we descended, and followed the lower road,
almost hidden by the thickest vegetation. This lower road, as well as
our whole track to Ngégimi, became entirely inundated at a later period
(in 1854), and will perhaps never more be trodden: in consequence, when
I came this way in 1855 we were obliged to make a circuit, keeping along
the sandy level nearer to the site of the ancient town of Wúdi.
Shortly afterwards we encamped, where the underwood had left a small
open space, at the eastern foot of a low hill. The prickly jungle was
here so dense that I searched a long time in vain for a bare spot to lie
down upon, when, to my great satisfaction, I found Bú-Zéd clearing me
a place with his axe. The swampy shore of the lake was only about four
hundred yards from our resting-place; but the spot was not well chosen
for an encampment, and it was found necessary to place several watches
during the night, notwithstanding which, a skin of mine, full of water,
disappeared from the stick upon which it was suspended, and the Arabs
tried to persuade me that a hungry hyæna had carried it off; but it was
most probable that one of themselves had been in want of this necessary
article of desert travelling.
_Wednesday, Sept. 24._—We continued our march through the luxuriant
prickly underwood, full of the dung and footsteps of the elephant. Here
and there the _capparis_ had been cut away, and large fireplaces were to
be seen, where the roots had been burnt to ashes. The tripods, of which
several were lying about, are used for filtering the water through these
ashes, which takes from them the salt particles which they contain. This
water is afterwards boiled, and thus the salt obtained. This salt is then
taken to Kúkawa by the Kánembú whilst those who prepare it are Búdduma.
On our return from Kánem we met large numbers of this piratical set
of islanders; and on my home journey in 1855, I saw them in the full
activity of their labours. This salt, weak and insipid as it is, is at
least of a better quality than that which the people in Kótoko prepare
from neat-dung. In Míltu, on the Upper Shári, or Bá-busó, salt of a
tolerable quality is obtained from a peculiar species of grass growing in
the river. The Músgu, as we shall see, prepare this necessary article (or
at least something like it) from the ashes of the stalks of millet and
Indian corn.
After we had emerged from the underwood into the open country, we passed
a considerable salt manufactory, consisting of at least twenty earthen
pots. Large triangular lumps of salt were lying about, which are shaped
in moulds made of clay. Several people were busy carrying mud from an
inlet of the lake which was close at hand, in order to make new moulds.
Keeping close along the border of the latter, and enjoying the fresh
breeze which had before been kept from us by the forest, we halted early
in the afternoon. A small Tébu caravan was also encamped here, no doubt
with the intention of passing the night; but they did not like the
neighbourhood of our friends, and, loading immediately, started off.
Our path now lay through fertile pasture-grounds, with a line of
underwood to our left. It was a fine cool morning. We passed a large
pool of fresh water, frequented by great numbers of waterfowl of
various species. Overweg, on his fine and tall, but rather heavy and
unwieldy charger, made an unsuccessful attempt to overtake a pair of
kelára (_Antilope Arabica?_ _Aigocerus ellipsiprymnus?_), who scampered
playfully away through the fine grassy plain. At nine o’clock we reached
the far-famed place Ngégimi, and were greatly disappointed at finding an
open, poor-looking village, consisting of detached conical huts, without
the least comfort, which, even in these light structures, may well be
attained to a certain degree. The hungry inhabitants would not receive
anything in exchange for a few fowls which we wanted to buy, except
grain, of which we ourselves, in these desolate regions, stood too much
in need to have given it away without an adequate substitute.
The situation of this place is very unfavourable, since the ruler of
Bórnu has restricted his real dominion within the border of the komádugu,
and the poor inhabitants are constantly in fear of being molested by
a ghazzia of the Tuarek. Indeed, two years later, this village was
plundered by these freebooting hordes; and some months afterwards, in
the year 1854, the remainder of the population, who had not been carried
away into captivity, were obliged, by the high floods of the lagoon, to
leave their old dwelling-place altogether, and build a new village on the
slope of the sand-hills, where I found it at the end of May 1855. As for
Wúdi (a large place, once an occasional residence of the Bórnu kings)
and Lári, both mentioned by Denham and Clapperton, they have long been
deserted, Wúdi having been taken and ransacked by the Tuarek in the year
1838, and Lári a little later. At present only a few palm-trees (said to
yield a kind of date far superior to the little black Kánem dates) in the
sand-hills about eight miles south-west from Ngégimi, indicate the site
of the once celebrated Wúdi. Ngégimi was then nominally under the control
of Kashélla Hasen or Hassan.
Plunged into sad reflections on the fate of this once splendid empire
of Kánem, and the continued progress of the Berber race into the heart
of Sudán, I hung listlessly upon my horse, when, on leaving this
uncomfortable dwelling-place, we took our course over the unbroken plain,
once no doubt the bottom of the lake, and soon to become once more a
part of it. Sometimes it was dry and barren, at others clothed with rich
verdure, while on our left it was bordered by a range of sand-hills, the
natural limit of the lagoon. At a little before noon we came to a deep
inlet of the lake, spreading the freshest verdure all around in this now
desolate country. Having watered our horses, and taken in a sufficient
supply of this element for the night, we crossed the plain, here not more
than a thousand yards wide, and ascended a broad promontory of the range
of sand-hills, where we encamped.
It was a delightful spot, where the heart might have expanded in the
enjoyment of freedom. In front of us to the south-east, the swampy lands
of the lagoon, one immense ricefield (as it ought to be at least), spread
out to the borders of the horizon; but no “white water,” or open sea,
was to be seen, not even as much as connected channels, nothing but one
immense swampy flat, stretching out as far as the eye could reach. To the
south the green pasturages, along which we had come, extended far beyond
Ngégimi. It was a picture of one of the most fertile spots of the earth
doomed to desolation. But there was a feeble spark of hope in me that it
would not always be so; and I flattered myself that my labours in these
new regions might contribute to sow here the first germs of a new life, a
new activity.
My companions and friends did not seem to share in my feelings: for,
wholly intent upon mischief, they had been roving about, and having
fallen in with some Kánembú cattle-breeders, they had plundered them not
only of their milk, but also of the vessels which contained it; and in
the afternoon some respectable old men applied to Mr. Overweg and myself,
the only just people they were sure to find amongst this wild band of
lawless robbers, for redress, and we were happy, not only to restore to
them their vessels, but also to make them a few small presents.
_Thursday, Sept. 25._—Descending from our lofty encampment, we continued
our march in the narrow grassy plain, between the sand-hills to the
north, and another blue inlet of the lake to the south, where the rich
pasture-grounds extended further into the lake. It was about seven
o’clock in the morning when we had the good fortune to enjoy one of the
most interesting scenes which these regions can possibly afford. Far to
our right was a whole herd of elephants, arranged in regular array, like
an army of rational beings, slowly proceeding to the water. In front
appeared the males, as was evident from their size, in regular order;
at a little distance followed the young ones; in a third line were the
females; and the whole were brought up by five males of immense size. The
latter (though we were at some distance, and proceeding quietly along)
took notice of us, and some were seen throwing dust into the air; but we
did not disturb them. There were altogether ninety-six.
The fine fresh pasture-grounds some time afterwards gave way to a drier
plain, covered with a species of heath, and the country presented rather
a melancholy appearance. A little before ten o’clock we came to a large
herd of cattle or “berí,” collected round a small hamlet or dawar,
consisting of light, high-topped huts of corn-stalks, fastened together
by three rings of straw, and lightly plastered with a little cowdung. But
although we obtained some milk, some of our friends, not content with
filling their stomachs, laid hold of a fine pony and carried it off,
under the pretext that it belonged to the Búdduma, who, as they asserted,
were the enemies of the sheikh; and when we had started again, and
encountered a small caravan of oxen laden with dates, not only were all
the skins containing the dates taken, but another ruffian laid hold of
one of the beasts of burden and dragged it away with him, notwithstanding
the lamentations of its owner. And yet the people who were thus treated
were subjects of the king of Bórnu, and the Welád Slimán were his
professed friends and hirelings.
Fine fresh pasture-grounds, and melancholy tracts clothed with nothing
but heath, succeeded each other, whilst not a single tree broke the
monotony of the level country. At length we encamped near a deserted
village of cattle-breeders, consisting of about twenty small conical
huts, built in the form of a large circle. We had scarcely begun to make
ourselves comfortable, when a noisy quarrel arose about the dates so
unjustly taken from their owners, and some of the Arabs concerned in the
dispute came to my tent in order to have their claims settled, when the
whole particulars of the shameless robberies committed in the course of
the day, came under my notice, and especially that of the horse. But this
was a delicate subject, and one that excited the angry passions of those
concerned—so much so that one of them, named Ibrahím, came running with
his loaded gun straight into my tent, threatening to blow out the brains
of anybody who spoke of injustice or robbery. As for Bakhér, and ʿAbd eʾ
Rahmán, who were the actual possessors of the horse, they were about to
leave by themselves.
The violent proceedings of our protectors had spread such terror
throughout these almost desolate regions, that in the evening, solely
from fear, two oxen and a quantity of milk were sent from a neighbouring
berí as presents. The night was fresh, but not cold, and a very heavy dew
fell.
_Friday, Sept. 26._—Reached about noon the first large cluster of huts of
the village of Berí, after having followed a very numerous and fine herd
of cattle (one of the finest I saw in the interior of the continent) for
awhile, with the urgent desire of obtaining a drink of fresh milk, and
then crossed a tolerably deep inlet of the lagoon. Here we encamped on a
terribly hot sandy spot, without any shade, some two hundred yards from
the village, which stretches in a long line from north to south.
Berí is a place of importance, at least since the date of the greatest
splendour of the Bórnu kingdom, and is frequently mentioned in the
history of the great king Edrís Alawóma, written during his lifetime by
his chief Imám Ahmed. Its situation is such as to render it of great
importance as a station; for here the army proceeding from Bórnu to the
interior of Kánem leaves the shore of the lagoon, and has generally to
make a long stay, in order to regain strength for the ensuing march, and
to supply itself with fresh provisions. Till a few years previously, a
Bórnu governor of the name of Shitíma Aba had been residing here; but he
had given up the place, and preferred living in the capital.
But here I must add, that there are two places called Berí, distant
from each other a few miles, the one where we were encamped being
called Berí-kurá, the Great Berí, the other with the surname “futé”
(the western), from its more westerly situation; but it is at present
greatly reduced, and we had left it unobserved on one side. The greater
part of the inhabitants of Berí are Kánembú, and belong to the clan of
the Sugúrti, a large division of that tribe, which, however, in the last
struggle of the old dynasty, suffered greatly. Besides these, a good many
Búdduma are settled here.
I was very glad when, after another severe quarrel, the young horse was
at length given up by the robbers, as likewise the beast of burden. One
of the oxen sent yesterday as a present was slaughtered to-day, and
divided amongst the whole band. As for myself, I made merry on a little
fresh milk; for though the people are, and appear to have been from their
birth (for “berí” means cattle-herd), in possession of numerous herds
of cattle, nevertheless, in the village, as is often the case, there is
very little milk—only just as much as is required for the use of the
owners themselves—the cattle being at a great distance. Very little can
be obtained here, and corn is scarcely cultivated, owing to the insecure
and desperate state of the country. The inhabitants are in continual
intercourse with the Yédiná, that section of the Kótoko who inhabit the
islands in the lake, and who are generally called Búdduma. But of course
the distance of their village from the lagoon varies considerably; and
the nearest branch or inlet at present was that which we had crossed in
the morning, and from which the inhabitants supplied themselves with
water. The want of firewood is greatly felt; scarcely a single tree is to
be met with in the neighbourhood.
_Saturday, Sept. 27._—We now left the shores of the lake, ascending a
little, but had a difficult march this morning in order to avoid the many
small boggy inlets and natron-lagoons which are formed by the lake, and
wind along through the sand-hills. With regard to these natron-lakes,
which, after the report of Major Denham, have led to many erroneous
conjectures respecting Lake Tsád, I have to observe that the natron or
soda is not originally contained in the water, but in the ground, and
that all the water of Lake Tsád is fresh; but when a small quantity
of water, after the lake has retired from the highest point of its
inundation, remains in a basin the soil of which is filled with soda, the
water of course becomes impregnated with this quality. The consequence
is, that there are many basins round Lake Tsád which, according to the
season, are either fresh or brackish; for the soda contained in the
ground has very little effect so long as the basin is deep, and does
not begin to make itself felt till the water becomes shallow. Of this
same character seems to be Lake Bóro in Kánem, which I shall mention
hereafter. I here remind the reader of what I have stated above with
regard to the importance of the natron-trade between Bórnu and Núpe or
Nýffi.
Having no guide—for who would willingly trust himself in the hands of
such lawless robbers as our companions?—we found it rather difficult work
to get out of this labyrinth of lagoons; and after a few miles we came to
a narrow but very boggy inlet, which it was thought necessary to cross.
Riding a lively horse, an excellent “sayár,” I was rather in advance,
and had only three horsemen in front of me; on coming to the bog,
the nature of which it was easy to perceive, we rode one after the
other,—Khálef-Allah being in front of me. The first horseman went in,
made a few steps, and then came down; but he got his horse upon his legs
again, went on, and again sunk into the bog, but being near the firm
ground, got over tolerably well. As soon as those who were before me saw
this they stopped their horses short, and wanted to return, pressing my
horse upon his side, who, being annoyed by the morass, made a vacillating
movement forward, and fell upon his knees; upon being raised he made
some wild exertions to get through, but after two or three ineffectual
attempts, he again fell on his side, and I under him. The morass here
was about four feet deep; and I received several smart blows from the
forelegs of my horse, upon the head and shoulders, before I was fortunate
enough to extricate myself from this interesting situation. Being clad in
a white bernús over a Nýffi tobe, with a pair of pistols in my belt, my
appearance may be easily conceived when, after a great deal of labour,
I succeeded in reaching firm ground. I had still the difficult task of
extricating my horse, which, after wild and desperate exertions, lay
motionless in the bog. I had on this occasion a good specimen of the
assistance we were likely to receive from our companions in cases of
difficulty; for they were looking silently on without affording me any
aid. Mr. Overweg was some distance behind, and, when he came up, was
enabled to supply me with dry clothing.
The spot would have been quite interesting but for this accident, as
there was here, favoured by the rich soil and this very morass, a
beautiful plantation of red ngáberi or sorghum, of that peculiar kind
called mósogá, or rather, másakwá, in the highest state of exuberance,
and just beginning to ripen; it was the finest specimen I saw on my whole
journey. Fortunately the sun was moderately warm, as I began to feel very
chilly after my involuntary bath. We continued our march at first along
another hollow containing fresh water, and then, ascending a little, came
upon a sandy level well clothed with herbage and trees of the mimosa
kind. Here we seemed to be entirely out of reach of the lake; and great
was our astonishment when, a little after nine o’clock, we came close
upon another fine sheet of fresh, blue water. It was a great satisfaction
to me, in the state I was in, that we encamped at so early an hour on its
northern border, where some serrákh afforded a tolerable shade. I was
busy drying my clothes, arms, saddle-cloths, and journals, when there
appeared certain indications of an approaching storm; and in order to
avoid being wetted twice in the same day, I got my tent pitched. After
a curious gale the rain poured down, and about a dozen of my companions
took refuge in my small, frail dwelling; but all were not so fortunate as
to escape a wetting, for the rain, being very heavy, came in at the door.
The storm lasted more than an hour; and everything, including horses and
camels, being thoroughly soaked, it was decided to remain here for the
night.
_Sunday, Sept. 28._—For some reason or another, but chiefly in order
to slaughter the other ox, divide it, and cut it up into “gedíd,” we
remained here the whole morning; and the sun had long passed into zawál
(past noon) when we started through the sandy and slightly undulating
country full of herbage, principally of the plant called “nesí,” besides
bú rékkebah or _Avena Forskalii_, the bur-feathered prickle (_Pennisetum
distichum_), and various kinds of mimosa, chiefly consisting of the
talha, and úm-el-barka (_Mimosa Nilotica_.) Our companions found several
ostrich-eggs, and met a large troop of gazelles. The country then became
more thickly wooded, and, where we encamped for the night, presented
a very interesting character; but the danger from wild beasts was
considerable, and the roar of a lion was heard throughout the greater
part of the night.
_Monday, Sept. 29._—Started early: the character of the country continued
the same as yesterday, and presented beautiful specimens of the mimosa,
here breaking down from age, at another place interwoven with creepers,
one species of which produces the red juicy fruit called “fito” by the
Kanúri, and has been mentioned by me before. It was nearly eight o’clock
when, proceeding in groups, two of our horsemen, on passing near a very
large and thick gherret, suddenly halted, and with loud cries hastened
back to us. We approached the spot, and saw a very large snake hanging
in a threatening attitude from the branches of the tree; on seeing us
it tried to hide itself; but after firing several balls, it fell down,
and we cut off its head. It measured 18 ft. 7 in. in length, and at the
thickest part 5 in. in diameter, and was of a beautifully variegated
colour. Two natives, who had attached themselves to our troop the day
before, cut it open and took out the fat, which they said was excellent.
The ride was truly interesting; but by degrees it became too much for me,
and after seven hours’ march I was so utterly exhausted as to be obliged
to halt, and lie down. Most of the Arabs remained with us; others, with
ʿAli ben ʿAisa, went on to the well. When we pursued our march in the
afternoon, the country for the first three hours was more level, but
then became very hilly; and at five o’clock we ascended a considerable
elevation to our left, the highest point in the whole country, but
perhaps not more than six or seven hundred feet above the level of the
Tsád. From here we crossed two very pretty valleys, or dells, especially
the second one, where there were very curious hilly projections of a
calcareous stone. But these valleys were very poor indeed, in comparison
with the valley or hénderi Fóyo, situated at some distance from the
well where we encamped for the night; for its bottom presented one
uninterrupted mass of vegetation, impenetrable in many spots. Here the
botanist might be sure to find some new species, although the principal
trees were the kúrna (_Cornus_), serrákh, úm-el-barka or _Mimosa
Nilotica_, hajilíj or _Balanites_, and the talha (_M. ferruginea_), but
all interwoven with creepers, and offering the most delightful shade.
These valleys, which afford the only watering-places, must of course
be very dangerous during the night, on account of the wild beasts,
principally lions, of which there are great numbers hereabouts. Here our
companions received a messenger from Ghét, the young chief of the Welád
Slimán.
_Tuesday, Sept. 30._—We remained in the forenoon and during the heat of
the day in our encampment. While stretched out in the shade of a fine
mimosa, I obtained some valuable information regarding the various tribes
dwelling in Kánem, and the districts of their settlements. But it will
be better, instead of inserting it here, to collect all the information
I received at different times into one general account, which shall be
given in the Appendix.
In the afternoon the camels and the heavier portion of the troop were
allowed to start in advance, and the horsemen followed about half-an-hour
afterwards, after having watered the horses; but instead of taking care
to follow the footsteps of the camels in a wild country where there was
no regular path, they rode on negligently, and soon became aware that
they had missed the track. There now began a very disorderly riding in
all directions. This fatigued me greatly, for nothing is so vexing to a
weak man as to ramble about without knowing when he is likely to reach
the place of repose so much looked for. After sending scout after scout,
we at length found the track, and reached our men in the dark.
_Wednesday, Oct. 1._—Having set out early, after nearly two hours ride we
were met by a single horseman coming towards us from the encampment of
the Welád Slimán, and bidding us welcome to their wild country. They kept
starting up from the thicket on our right and left, firing their muskets
and saluting us with their usual war-cry, “Yá riyáb, yá riyáb.” Having
thus advanced for about half-an-hour, we came to a halt, in order to
receive in a more solemn form the warlike compliments of a larger troop
of horsemen, led on by a person of some importance.
The dust raised by the horsemen having subsided a little, and the country
being clearer of wood, we now saw before us the whole cavalry of the
Welád Slimán drawn up in a line in their best attire, their chief Ghét
the son of Séf el Nasr ben Ghét, and his uncle ʿOmár the son of Ghét and
brother of ʿAbd el Jelíl, in the midst of them. This stately reception,
not having been anticipated by Overweg and myself, made a great
impression upon us; but we were not left to gaze long, but were desired
by our Arab companions to ride in advance of the line in compliment to
the chiefs. We accordingly put our steeds into a gallop, and riding
straight up to our new friends, saluted them with our pistols. Having
answered our compliments, and bidding us welcome to their wild abode, the
young Ghét galloping along at the head of his squadrons, his sword drawn,
and with the continuous cry “Yá riyáb, yá riyáb,” they led us to the
encampment, and we had a place shown to us where we might pitch our tents.
CHAPTER XL.
THE HORDE OF THE WELÁD SLIMÁN.
We had now joined our fate with that of this band of robbers, who, in
consequence of their restless habits, having been driven from their
original dwelling places in the Syrtis, after a great variety of events
have at length established themselves in this border region between
the desert and the fertile regions of Negroland, under the guidance of
Mohammed the son of ʿAbd el Jelíl, on the ruins of the old kingdom of
Kánem, very much in the same way as in the west the Welád Ammer (Ludamar)
have established themselves on the ruins of the empire of Mélle. At that
time they mustered a considerable force, and being joined by a great
many adventurers from all the Arab tribes from the Ríf as far as Fezzán,
were able to bring into the field from nine hundred to one thousand
horsemen. They then turned their attention towards our friends the
Kél-owí, and began to seize upon their camels, which came to Bilma for
the salt-trade; these, as the reader has seen from my previous account,
are always proceeding in large caravans; but it is almost impossible to
give implicit credit to the statement which was made to us by several
individuals, that the Welád Slimán had taken from the Tuarek more than
thirty thousand camels in the course of two or three years.
If they had continued in this way for a short time, they would have
brought about an immense revolution in the whole of Central Africa;
for the Kél-owí would of course not have been able to provide Háusa
with salt, after having lost their camels, and thus, having no salt for
bartering, would have remained without the most necessary articles of
subsistence: they would accordingly have been obliged either to starve
or to emigrate into, and take possession by force of, the more fertile
districts of Sudán. But before they were driven to this extreme, they
made one energetic effort against their enemies, and succeeded; for,
having summoned the contingents of all the different tribes inhabiting
Aír or Asben, they collected a host of at least seven thousand men,
chiefly mounted on camels, but comprising also a considerable number of
horsemen, and proceeded to attack the lion in his den, in the beginning
of the year 1850.
I am almost inclined to suspect that the people of Bórnu had a hand in
this affair; at least, the existence of such a warlike and restless horde
of men, and mustering considerable forces, as the Welád Slimán were then,
under the guidance of Mohammed, and in such a neighbourhood, could not
be wholly indifferent to any ruler of Bórnu possessed of prudence and
foresight. Of course, since its power had decreased to such a degree that
it could not of itself make the necessary resistance against the daily
encroachments of the Tuarek, it was of great service to Bórnu to have
such a strong and energetic auxiliary to keep them down. But, be this
as it may, the Arabs left their very strong entrenchments at Késkawa
(which, at the first news of the intended expedition, they had formed
on the border of the Tsád, and which the Tuarek themselves confessed
to me they would never have been able to conquer), and separated, not
thinking that their enemies were able to carry out their intention;
for all those tribes which had come to join them, as the Gedádefa, the
Ferján, the Urfílla, the Ftáim, Swási, Temáma, and Dhóhob, after having
enriched themselves with the spoils of the Tuarek, were anxious to carry
away their booty in safety, and proceeded on their home-journey by way
of Kúffara. They were just encamped in the Wady ʿAlála, where my readers
will soon have to accompany me, when a scout brought the news that a very
large host of the Tuarek was close at hand; but they say that his report
did not find credit, and that on this account the Arabs had no time to
make any preparations, but were all on a sudden surrounded on all sides
by the numerous host of their enemy. It is moreover to be understood that
the greater part of this band were merely armed with guns, which are very
useful in a skirmish of horsemen, who can retreat after having fired
them off, but of very little use in close combat; few of them were armed
with pistols, and still fewer with swords. But the Kél-owí, in addition
to their numbers, had also the advantage of superior arms, having spear,
sword, and dagger, even if we do not take into account their muskets,
which they rarely know how to use. The consequence was, that the Arabs,
after having killed a small number of their enemies in the foremost
lines, were soon overpowered and massacred, not half of them succeeding
in making their escape. Their chief Mohammed himself made his way through
the host very severely wounded, and was slain, according to report,
shortly after by a Tébu woman who recognized him. Sáid, the most valiant
of all the Welád Slimán, but also the most violent, was killed on the
spot, together with the bravest champions of the little horde; and a very
considerable booty was made by the Tuarek, not only in camels and slaves,
but also in silver, the chiefs having amassed a great deal of property.
Thus the flower of this troop was destroyed, and only the least brave and
youngest were left.
The vizier of Bórnu then took the young man, to whom very little power
and property were left, under his special protection, entering with him
and the remaining part of the tribe into a contract, to the effect
that he would furnish them with horses and muskets, as far as they
should stand in need of them, on condition of their delivering to him
a certain share of their booty in every expedition. Of course, such a
troop of swift horsemen armed with muskets, if kept in strict subjection
and subordination, might have proved exceedingly useful on the northern
borders of Bórnu, on the one side as a check upon the Tuarek, on the
other upon Wadáy. But the great difficulty, which the vizier appears not
to have overcome, was to subject the predatory excursions of such a set
of people to some sort of political rule.
With this view he sent the young chief, who was scarcely more than twenty
years of age, to Kánem with all that were left of the Welád Slimán,
keeping back in Kúkawa, as hostages for his proceedings, his mother and
the wives and little children of some of the principal men. But from the
beginning there was a strong party against the young chief, who had not
yet achieved any exploit, and whose sole merit consisted in his being the
nearest relation of ʿAbd el Jelíl. ʿOmár, his uncle, who from his youth
had given himself up to a life of devotion, and was called a Merábet,
had a considerable party; and there were, besides, several men who
thought themselves of as much importance as their chief. In the absence
of individual authority in a small band like this, which only numbered
two hundred and fifty horsemen, no great results could be produced.
All the tribes settled in Kánem and the adjacent districts were their
natural enemies: the Nóreá or Nuwárma, and the Shendákóra and Médema,
the Sákerda and Karda in the Bahar el Ghazál, the Búltu, the Woghda, the
Welád Ráshid, the Díggana or Dághana, the Welád Hamíd, the Hommer and
the Máhamíd in Khúrma, all were bent upon their destruction, while none
but the Lasálá or el Asálʿa beyond Kárká, and the Kánembú tribe of the
Fugábú, were attached to them. All the tribes around call them only by
the name Mínnemínne, or Menémené (“the Eaters”), which name, although
it seems to have arisen in the real gluttony of these Arabs, might be
referred appropriately to their predatory habits.
In the course of these broils and petty intrigues the most respectable
among them took to commerce, while others formed the design of returning;
and when I left Bórnu in May 1855, the rest of the little band had
separated into two distinct camps, and the dissolution or ruin of their
community was fast approaching. This was the horde with which, in order
to carry out the objects of our mission to the utmost of our power, Mr.
Overweg and I were obliged to associate our fate; but, unfortunately, we
were unprovided with that most essential article for exciting a more than
common interest in ourselves personally, or the objects of our mission,
namely, valuable presents.
While our people pitched our tents, Mr. Overweg and I went to pay our
compliments to Sheikh Ghét and ʿOmár, and to have a friendly talk with
them before we proceeded to more serious business. They seemed to
expect this compliment, having lain down in the shade of a tree at a
short distance from our place of encampment. Ghét, who was smoking a
long pipe, was a tolerably handsome young man; but his pronunciation
was, very defective, and he had nothing very commanding in his manner.
Having exchanged a few compliments, and asked some general questions,
we withdrew, and soon after received a present of dates and milk. A
great many of the Arabs paid us a visit; and a renegade Tripolitan
Jew, ʿAbdallah, with the surname “el Musulmáni,” who would not leave
us for a moment, kept telling us of his adventures and his importance,
and assuring us of his most disinterested affection for us. Though his
former religion differed from ours, and he had again exchanged this
for another from mere worldly motives, he nevertheless thought himself
entitled to the claim of brotherhood, and was gracious enough to call us
sometimes his cousins (welád ʿamí). There was another man who tried to
make himself as agreeable as possible to us, and endeavoured to obtain
our friendship; this was an Egyptian named Ibrahím, a fine tall man who
evidently belonged originally to a good family; but he had run away from
home, and was now leading, in company with this little horde, a restless,
remorseful, and wearisome life.
When the heat of the day had a little abated, we prepared the small
present we had to give to Sheikh Ghét, and which consisted of a red
cloth bernús of good workmanship, a pound of cloves, a pound of jáwi or
benzoin, and a razor. We were well aware that it was rather a trifling
gift, considering the assistance we required from these people to carry
out our object; but we knew also that it was rather a favour bestowed
upon us by the vizier of Bórnu, who regarded these people as in his
service. Referring therefore to the friendship which existed of old
between their tribe, when still in their old settlements in the Syrtis,
and the English consul in Tripoli, and delivering a letter from Mr.
Frederick Warrington, who was personally well known to the chief men, we
openly professed that the object of our coming was to try, with their
assistance, to visit the eastern shore of the lake, and especially the
Bahar el Ghazál, which had formed a remarkable object of curiosity in our
country for some time. But Sheikh Ghét without hesitation declared it was
impossible for them to take us to that place, the most dangerous locality
in all these quarters, on account of the many predatory expeditions which
were made to that spot from different quarters, and by tribes hostile to
them. After some commonplace talk about the English, we left him, and
went to his uncle with a present of precisely the same kind, and began
here to urge the distinct object of our coming in a more positive way.
I expressed the opinion that, as they would render acceptable service
to the British Government, if they were to enable us to investigate the
connection between the Bahar el Ghazál and the lake, so, on the other
hand, a great portion of the blame, if we should not be able to carry out
our design, would certainly fall upon them, inasmuch as they had always
professed to be under great obligations towards the English. ʿOmár ben
Ghét ben Séf eʾ Nasr acknowledged all this; but he doubted very much if
the band, in its present reduced state, would be able to carry us to
those quarters, which were entirely under the sway of Wadáy. The Bahar
el Ghazál having given an opportunity of speaking about the river-system
between the Tsád and the Nile, our friend came forward with a most
confused statement, which it would not be worth while to explain. But
with regard to that large wady itself we found that he, as well as the
experienced men among these Arabs, asserted that it took its course not
towards, but from the lake.
We then took our leave of ʿOmár, and returned to our tents. The place of
the encampment was a fine, open, sandy, undulating level, commanding the
vale, where are the wells Yongo or Bú-Halíma, covered with verdure, and
richly adorned with scattered mimosas. The tents and sheds of the Arabs
were spread over a great space; and no precaution was taken to obtain
some degree of security by means of fences and stockades. The sun having
set, I lay down outside my tent to enjoy the coolness and tranquillity
of the evening after a hot and troublesome day. All seemed calm and
tranquil, when suddenly a terrible screaming and crying arose from
the women in the west part of the encampment. We hurried to our arms,
thinking that an enemy had entered the place. The cry “ʿAlá eʾ dhahar!
ʿalá eʾ dhahar” (“Mount! mount!”)—properly speaking, “In the saddle! in
the saddle!”—sounded from all sides, and the horsemen hurried past us;
but it was only a small party of freebooters, who, in the twilight of
the evening, had made an attack upon the camels, and after having put
to flight two or three men and killed a horseman, had driven off a part
of the herd. Our friends pursued the robbers at full speed, and soon
overtook them, when they retreated into the thicket, and gave up their
booty. In this way we had a specimen of the character of our present
expedition the very first day we had joined this little horde; and the
lamentations of the females, on account of the man who had been slain,
sounded wofully through the night, and brought before our minds the fate
which, in a very short time, might befall ourselves. Late in the night,
when the alarm had subsided, Sheikh Ghét sent us a heifer as a present.
_Thursday, Oct. 2._—We remained quietly in our encampment, and obtained
a great deal of valuable information respecting the south-eastern part
of the lake and the districts adjacent. Thus the day passed by most
pleasantly. Nothing remarkable happened to us on the following day,
except the arrival of the important news that the Agíd of Wadáy, who had
resided in Máwó, on the report of an attack intended to be made by the
Arabs upon that town, had fled. This news, if it proved true, held out,
of course, a feeble ray of hope that we might be able to penetrate to
the eastern shore of the lake; and the Arabs formed schemes accordingly.
As Háj ʿAbbás, who had come with us in order to raise from the Arabs Háj
Beshír’s share in the spoil of their last predatory excursions, was to
return to Kúkawa in a few days, I wrote a letter to the vizier concerning
the prospect we had of probably not being able to accomplish the whole of
our design. The rest of the day I enjoyed in comfort, stretched quietly
in the shade of a tree; but my tranquillity was a little disturbed by
disputes that arose amongst my men.
_Saturday, Oct. 4._—Very early in the morning, when all was quiet, I
was aroused from my sleep by the mournful song of an Arab, who, between
the different stanzas of his dirge, seemed to give vent to his tears.
The impression made by this song, which was full of deep feeling, among
such a horde of lawless people, where generally only the meanest side of
man was exhibited, was charming; but as the singer was at some distance
from my tent, I could not distinctly make out what was the cause of
his grief, neither was I able to learn it afterwards: the thoughts of
the Arabs were taken up by another affair. The most handsome among the
female slaves who composed part of the spoil that was to be taken to the
vizier by his officer Háj ʿAbbás, had made her escape during the night;
they were eagerly searching from dawn of day, but could not find her. At
length they discovered her necklace and clothes, and the remains of her
bones,—evident proofs that she had fallen a prey to the wild beasts. She
belonged to the Yédiná or Búdduma, and was represented as having been
possessed of considerable charms; and it was supposed that her loss would
affect the vizier greatly, who, as I have before observed, was rather
fond of an ethnological variety of female beauty. There was a great deal
of unpleasant conversation about this affair, the girl not yet having
been delivered up to Háj ʿAbbás when she made her escape.
But there were many other causes of discord among this little horde,
and when the vizier’s officer set out, a great many more of the Arabs
made use of this opportunity to go to Kúkawa than had been agreed upon.
The most serious loss to us was certainly the departure of Sheikh
ʿOmár, Ghét’s uncle, who, on account of his experience and knowledge
of the English, which much exceeded that of his youthful nephew, might
have been of considerable service to us. At any rate he ought to have
informed us of his intention to leave, as by his accepting our present,
it was understood that he undertook the obligation of assisting us in
carrying out our project; and having nothing to spare, we felt rather
disappointed. But although our prospects were not too flattering, at
least we had hopes of moving a little onwards, as our departure from this
place was fixed for the following day.
_Sunday, Oct. 5._—When the camels, guarded by the men on foot, had left
in the morning, we went first with the other horsemen to the well, in
order to water our horses. We had not visited it before, as it was at
some distance from our tents. The vale was of that general wild and
luxuriant character which distinguishes the valleys of Kánem; but it
was even more wild and picturesque than usual, and a chill draught of
air met us proceeding from the richly wooded dale, where the sun’s rays
never penetrated. There were several wells, which exhibited a busy and
interesting scene, the horsemen in their picturesque attire (a mixed
dress of their native abode and their present adopted home) thronging
around these sources and centres of life, in order to water their
poor-looking but persevering nags. When we returned to the place of
our former encampment all was desolate, and loneliness and silence had
succeeded to the animated dwelling-place of a quarrelsome multitude of
people. We hurried on over undulating sandy ground, richly overgrown
with trees, and soon overtook our camels: the place of our destination
was not far off; and at noon we were already encamped on a fine sandy
level, rising over another luxuriant hollow or vale especially rich in
kúrna-trees, whence the well “Bír el Kúrna” has received its name. It was
a spacious encampment, with Arabs and Tébu intermixed, and could not but
be very salubrious, although we found afterwards, just in this elevated
position, the difference between the cold of the night and the heat of
the day extraordinary. Our appetite being rather keen, we indulged in the
luxury of some turtle-soup: for turtles are by no means a rarity in these
districts, although in general they seem to be of a rather small size.
I do not remember to have seen or heard in this quarter of such large
specimens as seem to be common in the country round Aír.
_Monday, Oct. 6._—The day of the ʿAíd el kebír. I went in the morning, as
soon as the sun began to shine forth, to a place in a cool shade a little
south from our encampment, without knowing that this was the very spot
which the Arabs had chosen for their holiday prayers. In general only a
few of them were praying; but to-day the leading persons among them, who
came here with Sheikh Ghét, offered up their prayer with solemnity and
apparent fervour. This proved an unlucky day to us, and very unfavourable
to our design to penetrate into those dangerous districts on the east
side of the lake; for a considerable portion of the tribe (one hundred
and fifty men with about seventy horses) left that day for Kúkawa, to
our great surprise and mortification, and, as it would seem, also to
the mortification of the young chief, a circumstance of which we became
fully aware when we paid him a visit about noon. Of course, with our very
small means, and the poor and insignificant character of our mission,
we could not expect that this unsettled horde should have a scrupulous
regard to our wishes and designs in arranging their affairs. It was
quite evident that their proceeding was the mere effect of a stubborn
sense of independence and jealousy; and it seemed to be done in open
opposition to the wish of their young chief. About one o’clock in the
afternoon they left; and we forwarded a short note with them expressive
of our dissatisfaction at this state of things, which filled us with the
saddest forebodings as to the success of our mission. But while thus
disappointed in more important matters, we felt tolerably well off in
material comforts; for in the morning a party of Fugábú arrived with a
number of sheep for sale, selling two for a dollar, and thus enabled us
to gratify the religious longing of our servants for an extra dish on
this their holiday. In the course of the evening, a numerous caravan of
oxen laden with grain, or rather Negro millet, arrived from Bórnu, which
made provisions a little cheaper. The grain grown in the country, in its
present wild and desolate state, is not sufficient for the population,
though so greatly reduced; and the last season had been rather an
unfavourable one. In consequence of the arrival of this caravan, we not
only had the opportunity of buying corn at a cheaper rate, but we also
got some from the chief as a present.
Everything in Kánem is bought with the common white Bórnu shirts, which
form the general dress of the people, black tobes being worn only by
richer persons. Even the general dress of the Arabs settled here in Kánem
consists of these white tobes and a háík made of the same stuff, only
the wealthier individuals being able to buy a woollen plaid. The dress
of the females, too, is made of these very tobes, which are cut into the
regular oblong pieces of which they consist, and sewn together lengthwise.
_Tuesday, Oct. 7._—Being obliged to remain here without the certain
prospect of doing anything worth while, we at least thought we had some
right to the hospitality of our hosts; and we expressed our desire to
obtain a little more milk, as we ourselves possessed neither cows nor
she-camels. Our request was complied with. Thus we accustomed ourselves
entirely to camel’s milk, and found it by degrees more palatable and
wholesome than the milk of cows. I attribute the recovery of my strength
principally to this sort of diet. There was always some milk brought
into the encampment by the daughters of the Bení Hassan; but this was
generally milk in an unpleasant intermediate state between sweet and
sour, and the vessels (the kórió, made of the leaves of the palm-tree)
in which it was carried had usually a bad smell, which they communicated
to the milk. As the renegade Jew ʿAbdallah (el Musulmáni) was the medium
through which all our business with the chief was transacted, I made him
to-day a present of a red sash, and continued to keep him in good humour
by occasional small presents. This man was a curious specimen of a Jewish
adventurer. He was by birth a Tripolitan, but had been obliged to leave
his native home on account of a murder which he had committed. He then
betook himself to the tribe of the Welád Slimán, exchanging his Jewish
creed for that of Mohammed, and obtained protection. When he had gained
a good deal of property as a silversmith, his new companions stripped
him of his treasures: he then for a time separated from them, and in
company with two other renegade Jews, Músa and Ibrahím, made a journey
to Negroland—a memorable event, as they were the first of their nation
who trod this road. On his receiving news of the prosperity of the Welád
Slimán in Kánem, he once more joined them, and became a freebooter. He
was a very good horseman; but that was all, his horsemanship but badly
supplying his want of courage. However he was useful to us in many
respects, although we had to take care that the people did not confound
us with these Jewish adventurers.
I began this day my little vocabulary of the Tébu language, or rather the
“módi Tedá,” and provisionally that dialect of this language which is
spoken by the inhabitants of Búrgu, and which varies considerably from
the language as it is spoken by the inhabitants of Bilma, and in the
south of Fezzán. Already at that early period I became aware that this
language is nearly related to the Kanúri, while it has scarcely any link
whatever which externally connects it with the Berber language.
_Wednesday, Oct. 8._—The only thing which happened this day worth
mentioning was the arrival of Hallúf, a warlike Tébu chieftain, with
seventeen horsemen of the Fugábú Tébu, who rode up in a very spirited
manner to the tent of Sheikh Ghét. Hallúf, a man of great bodily size
and strength, and renowned in these quarters on account of his valour,
had formerly been the enemy of Bórnu, but had now been won over to its
interest. However, he was still too much afraid of the Bórnu people to
join the Welád Slimán, as long as Háj ʿAbbás the vizier’s messenger was
present; but he came as soon as he heard that he was gone. He was not a
very scrupulous man, as I soon convinced myself, when he with the Fugábú
called upon us, and as soon as he had introduced himself began begging
for poison. We of course cut his demand short. He then sat quietly down
with his companions, and took great delight in the performances of my
musical box, which I really found, together with the watch, the most
useful instrument for demonstrating to the people the great superiority
of European genius and handicraft. These people were not without
sympathy for those lively airs which the little instrument was capable
of performing, and would sit down quietly for a great length of time
enjoying this mysterious music. The rumour soon spread, and Sheikh Ghét
likewise desired to be made acquainted with the mysterious little box.
But the day did not end so harmlessly; for bad tidings arrived. Háj
ʿAbbás, on his way to Bórnu, had seen a troop of Kindín near Ngégimi,
and warned the Arabs to beware of a sudden attack. Thus uneasiness and
anxiety spread through the encampment, and scouts were sent out to scour
the country in every direction.
_Friday, Oct. 10._—News having been brought in the morning that three
Tuarek on horseback, and five on camels, had been seen at a neighbouring
well, an alarm was raised immediately. All the Arabs mounted; and we
followed their example, though I felt extremely weak, while my horse,
having had rest and good food for several days, and seeing so many
companions galloping and capering about, was almost unmanageable. The
whole encampment presented a very warlike appearance; but it turned out
to be a false alarm. We therefore returned into the encampment, and began
to arrange our luggage, as we were to leave here the heaviest part of
our things, and take only as little as possible with us in our progress
further eastward; for the Arabs had conceived the hope of plunder, the
news having been brought that the Khalífa of Wadáy had left his residence
Mʿawó, and that nobody was there to defend that quarter against their
inroads. At the same time, our friends cast a longing look towards
Báteli, the celebrated pasture-grounds in the northern course of the
Bahar el Ghazál, two days’ march beyond Egé, where numbers of camels were
reported to be collected at the time. Of course they did not want it to
become known where they intended to direct their foray, and therefore
spoke now of this, then of that quarter, as likely to be the object of
their expedition.
CHAPTER XLI.
SHITÁTI.—THE EASTERN, MORE FAVOURED, VALLEYS OF KÁNEM.
_Saturday, Oct. 11._—With the rest of our people, and with the remaining
two camels carrying the smaller part of our luggage, we accompanied the
following day the more active part of the horde, while the older men
were left behind for the defence of the encampment, with their families
and property. The country through which our way led was entirely of the
same character as that which I have already described, a sandy level
adorned with trees of moderate size, almost all of the genus _Mimosa_,
and in favourable seasons well adapted for the cultivation of Indian
corn—now and then broken by deep hollows of larger or smaller extent,
generally with a sufficient supply of water to produce fine plantations
or cornfields, and overgrown with more luxuriant vegetation. We crossed a
fine vale of this description about eight miles from our starting-point,
and chose our camping-ground on the higher level commanding the “Bír
el Ftáim.” The hollow, however, which contains this well is rather of
a peculiar kind; for, unlike the other basins, which afford sufficient
space for cultivation, it is extremely narrow, while the encompassing
slopes, at least that on the north side, rise to a greater altitude than
the general level of the country. I made a sketch of it.
On this commanding point there was a village of the Fugábú Kóbber; and
Overweg and I, before we went to our encampment, which was chosen on the
southern slope, paid these people a visit, dismounting under a tree at
some distance from their light huts, and were well received. They brought
us immediately a dish made of the meal of Indian corn and sour milk, and
sat down cheerfully, questioning us as to the difference between their
country and ours, and asking, with regard to the politics of England,
whether we were the friends or enemies of Dár-Fúr and Wadáy (which
countries, together with Bórnu, comprised their political horizon),
and expressed great astonishment at our instruments. They brought us a
lion’s skin, and soon after another very palatable dish of deshíshe made
of wheat, with very good butter, which had nothing of that nasty taste
peculiar to the butter of Bórnu and the surrounding countries: the dish
was seasoned with dates.
It would have been far more instructive and agreeable to us to be in the
constant company and under the protection of these people, the natives of
the country, who would have made us acquainted with its characteristic
features so much better than that band of lawless robbers who took no
real interest in it, except as regarded the booty which it afforded them.
But they had neither power nor authority; and we were satisfied that
where the Arabs were not able to conduct us, these people never could.
Notwithstanding their alliance with the Arabs, they are treated with
contempt by the latter, and the Arabs never omit to add a sneer when they
speak of the “damned” (“ám bú”) Keráda; for so they call the Fugábú.
Of course the intercourse of these two different people can neither be
sincere nor intimate, and the natives were only waiting for their day of
revenge. A storm gathering and threatening to burst upon us, we hastened
away from this spot; but there was only a little rain. In the evening
there arrived two Shúwa from the villages of the Woghda, and were thrown
into irons, in order not to betray the approach of the Arabs.
_Sunday, Oct. 12._—We went on a short distance to another well situated
in a considerable hollow or basin, which might afford, and has once
afforded, a splendid place for cultivation, but which at present
was entirely blocked up and made really impassable by rank and wild
vegetation. With great trouble we penetrated with the first horsemen to
the well. Nobody had made use of it for a long period. The water was very
bad and unwholesome. The Arabs had not encamped at this place for at
least seven years; hence there was a rich abundance of excellent food for
the camels; but the danger from beasts of prey was also very great. The
ground was full of elephants’ dung; and wild pigeons were hovering about
in great numbers.
The place for our encampment was chosen on the level commanding the rich
basin on the eastern side, and descending into it by a steep slope of
from three hundred to four hundred feet. Here I laid myself down in the
cool shade of a luxuriant serrákh not far from the slope, and surveyed
the trains of the Fugábú, who in the course of the day arrived with their
little movable household, having left their former residence near Bír el
Ftáím. In the evening we paid a visit to the sheikh, and as usual were
obliged to give him and his companions some account of European matters,
though it would have been far more interesting for us to listen to their
own stories, so full of incidents of a wild restless life.
_Monday, Oct. 13._—The weather was cool, and a strong north wind made
it rather chilly. Having been told that we were not to leave the next
day, I purchased a ram, with a white tobe which I had bought for about
forty rotl in Kúkawa, receiving, besides the ram, one sʿaa or zékka of
Guinea-corn to complete the bargain. I afterwards got a fine fat goat,
which we slaughtered to-day, and found its meat pretty good. Hallúf came
while I was lying in the shade of my serrákh of the preceding day, which
I had nicely cleaned, and sat down to a chat; he assured me that he was
able to bring us to Kárká or Kargha, the swampy country in the south-east
corner of the lake, which forms an archipelago of small islands, and
would offer his services for that purpose, but that he was afraid
of Sheikh Ghét’s jealousy. He then went with me over my little Tébu
vocabulary, and corrected some slight mistakes. He was quite a sociable
man; but Overweg, as well as I, doubted much whether he could be trusted.
Having consulted what course to take, we went to the sheikh and asked
him whether he really thought Hallúf would be able to take us with any
degree of safety to Kárká. He did not hesitate to declare that Hallúf
was unable to accomplish what he had boasted of, and begged us to have
patience till news should arrive from Bórnu, where he had sent to ask
for advice with regard to our design of visiting the eastern side of the
lake, and respecting his own proceedings. We rather imagined that the
vizier had given him orders, at the same time that he sent us out to
Kánem, to assist us in carrying out our project in every respect; and we
could scarcely hope for any favourable result by their asking advice at
such a distance. We therefore complained to ʿAbdallah of the sheikh’s
lukewarmness; and presuming that he was not content to leave us under
the protection of Hallúf because he expected that the latter would get
some handsome present from us, we told him that even if we were to go
with Hallúf, we should regard ourselves as still under the protection of
the sheikh, to whom we were entirely indebted for Hallúf’s acquaintance,
and would make him a valuable present if we should not fail in our
enterprise. This seemed to take effect; and we received the satisfactory
message in the evening, that we should be allowed to go with Hallúf, but
that we must make a handsome present to the sheikh, besides the large
tent which I had prepared for myself in Tripoli. Being willing to make
any sacrifice in order to carry out the express wish of the Government
who had sent us, and elated by the prospect that something might be
done, we paid another visit to Sheikh Ghét in the evening, but could not
arrive at any definite arrangement. There was a great deal of talk about
a certain Keghámma, who alone had the power to take us to Kárká, while
Hallúf at best was said to be able to conduct us to Máwó; but at that
time we could not make out distinctly who this Keghámma was, except that
we learnt that he resided in a place called Kárafu, in the direction of
Máwó.
_Tuesday, Oct. 14._—The strong wind making it rather uncomfortable
outside, I remained in my tent studying the Tébu language, and conversing
with the fáki ʿOthmán, a man who, by his mild conduct, formed a curious
contrast to the lawless and quarrelsome character of this band of
robbers, besides being possessed of less prejudice and superstition. In
the afternoon several Fugábú paid us a visit; they all behaved well,
and were not troublesome. It was at length decided that we should leave
the second day following, with Hallúf, for the Bahar el Ghazál and
Kárká; and although we were sorry at not having brought the affair to
a more definite conclusion, we yet indulged in the hope that we should
be able to attain our object, when suddenly in the evening we received
information that Hallúf had receded from his engagement, and that
therefore no further idea of our going with him could be entertained.
What the reason was for this sudden change of proceeding I cannot say;
but all our arguments, of course, were faulty, as we were unable to give
them sufficient weight by good presents. That the tidings of the carrying
off of three herds of cattle from a village at a few miles’ distance
from Yó, by the Tuarek, which arrived this evening, could have had any
influence upon this course of policy was rather improbable.
_Wednesday, Oct. 15._—I was so happy as to collect a good deal of
information about the country of Shitáti, which we had now entered,
once densely inhabited in large and populous cities, and passed the day
quietly and usefully. We heard, to our great joy, that we were to go on
the next day with the whole expedition.
_Thursday, Oct. 16._—We had scarcely left the place of our encampment
when we fell in with an elephants’ track, apparently leading to the well,
and followed it for a long distance; it was well trodden, and was an
undoubted proof that these huge animals abounded in this wild deserted
region, where man had left scarcely any trace of his presence. Having
proceeded at a swift rate, we crossed, at the distance of about six
miles, a very fine hollow or vale stretching south and north, and capable
of producing everything, and even at that time exhibiting a few vestiges
of human activity and industry in a small field of wheat, irrigated from
those wells called “kháttatír” by the Arabs, which name is given by them
also to the spot irrigated in this way. Its native name, if I am not
mistaken, is “Yakállogo.”
We then came to another hollow, formed like an ancient circus, and having
its soil richly impregnated with natron; it is called Bérendé. After a
short halt here, we continued our march; and Overweg and I, while our men
and camels followed the direct road, turned off towards the south, and
visited another hollow, called “Bóro,” in whose deep bottom a lake is
formed, which, according to the season and to the quantity of water it
contains, like several other water-basins round the lake, may be termed a
fresh or brackish-water lake.
During the last rainy season but very little rain had fallen in Kánem;
and consequently this lake was of rather small extent, being about
one mile and a half round, and limited to the more deeply depressed
southern corner of the basin, while its northern corner, which is rarely
inundated, was thickly wooded. There was formerly much cultivation here,
and a small village stood on the border of the lake. Now all is desolate;
and our Kánemma guide, Músa Bedé, unwilling to make a longer stay in such
a spot, hurried on, ascending the steep eastern slope, which is at least
three hundred feet high. Here we obtained a view over a great extent of
country; but it was all one desolate wilderness, and nothing particular
to be seen, excepting a party of five men watching our movements, and
keeping parallel with us. We therefore returned to our troop and informed
them of the circumstance; and a body of horsemen were sent in pursuit.
We then, about half an hour before noon, crossed another hollow or vale,
called Towáder, with the dry basin of a lake in its southernmost part, on
whose border were several wells; the ground was thickly overgrown with
underwood. Continuing our march, we reached, after noon, a more extensive
and extremely beautiful vale, richly clothed with vegetation, but not in
so wild a state, and not of the same impenetrable character, as many of
those which we had seen; the reason seemed to be, that it was less deep,
being only about one hundred and fifty feet under the higher level.
Here the troop halted during the heat of the day, the groups being
scattered over the whole extent of the hollow; but it was not a fit
spot for a night’s encampment, as well on account of the wild beasts,
as of the danger of a sudden attack from hostile men. Sweet as repose
was here in the cool shade of a luxuriant serrákh or a kúrna, the ground
was full of scorpions; and my bodyguard, Bú-Zéd, was severely stung by
one. Accordingly, when the dhohor had passed by, the order was given for
decamping, and we kept along the vale and ascended the eastern slope,
when, on an entirely open ground almost bare of trees, we chose a place
for our night’s encampment. The Arabs here brought us a young ostrich
which they had caught in the valley; and we had a long unprofitable
conversation with them in endeavouring to obtain their goodwill.
_Friday, Oct. 17._—We started very early, for a long day’s fatiguing
ride; for, notwithstanding all the care I took of myself, I could not
recover from my sickly state, and was extremely sensitive of fatigue.
The country in the beginning of our march was less adorned with trees
than usual; but it became more densely wooded after we had passed the
vale called Asfúra. This hollow, of small extent, and enclosed all around
by steep slopes, is provided with a great number of wells of excellent
water; but its bottom, being in most parts stony, is almost bare of
vegetation, with the exception of here and there a dúm-bush. While the
men made a short halt for taking in a supply of water, I went a little in
advance with Abdallah; but I soon found that he did not know the road at
all, keeping far too much to the south, and I thought it wiser to return
to our people, and march along with them.
The country here offers a great variety in its configuration; and,
instead of an extensive level, as before, hill and dale succeed each
other. Having passed several smaller concavities, we reached a more
considerable valley, called Jená ú Shelúkko, which contained corn, or
rather durra fields, but they were entirely destroyed by the elephants.
Grain had also been cultivated at the foot of the slope; but it had
failed entirely, on account of the scarcity of rain. There were no
vestiges of human habitations.
Our people had begun to make themselves comfortable in this fine valley
for passing the heat of the day, when suddenly orders were given for
continuing our march. The country now became more hilly. Having passed
_en route_ a hollow provided with wells and called Aghó, once one of the
most famous places of Kánem, we made, after noon, a short halt in the
flat dell called Núndul, in which are several kháttatír, or draw-wells,
and stubble-fields, in order to provide ourselves with water, and also
to water our horses. There was a great bustle and confusion, everybody
wanting to get first to the wells, and proceed with the principal troop,
as we were now approaching a hostile territory. My she-camel, which was
a very fine little animal, but rather too heavily laden for such an
expedition, was among the last that arrived; and, starting after the
others, was soon left behind the whole troop; and I endeavoured in vain
to bring her up.
The country here was more level than it had been in the latter part
of our route; and we left on our right only one vale, which is called
Maínasa. Fortunately for me, the whole host made a longer halt at two
o’clock in the afternoon, in one long line, in order to exhort the little
band to valour, and to give them some instructions in case of a conflict
with the enemy. No quarter was to be given, and any one of them who
should lose his horse or camel was to be indemnified for the loss. But
a great deal was proclaimed besides, which, as I was at the very end of
the line, I could not make out. Two horsemen were galloping along the
line and brandishing white banners, such as I had not observed before.
There was a good deal of parade in the whole scene; and at the end of it
several small troops of horsemen galloped out in advance of the line as
“imán,” that is to say, as bound by an oath either to be victorious or to
die.
At length we pursued our course, the line breaking up into small
irregular detachments, as chance or attachment grouped the people
together; but we soon came to another halt, and much conversation ensued,
in consequence of which, three of the Fugábú horsemen were despatched to
the south, to bring up an experienced guide. Having at length resumed our
march through a fine undulating and well-wooded country, we chose about
sunset an open place for our encampment, where we were told we should
rest till the moon had risen. Strict orders were given not to light a
fire, in order that the enemy might not become aware of our approach. But
as soon as it became dark, very large fires were seen to the south-east,
forming one magnificent line of flame; and as it was clear that these
were not common fires for domestic use, but appeared rather to be
beacons, it was conjectured that the enemy had tidings of our coming, and
were calling together their people. An order was therefore immediately
given to proceed; but scarcely were the loads put upon the camels, and
everything ready for the march, when a counter-order was received, that
we were to remain. We then began to make ourselves comfortable, when a
third order was given to load immediately and to pursue the march.
This ordering and countermanding seemed to arise rather from the bad
organization of a band subject to no strict authority, but where every
man of any experience and a little valour had something to say, than with
the intention of misleading a lurking spy; but, whatever the cause, it
was rather trying, and my two men, Bú-Zéd and Ahmed, neither of whom was
very energetic, could scarcely be persuaded to load a second time, while
all the people were getting ready with great expedition, and marched
off as soon as they were ready. We therefore remained behind from the
beginning. Unfortunately the load was so badly adjusted that several
things soon fell down and had to be replaced; and this happening more
than once, the distance between us and the host became so great, that at
last not even the slightest noise could be heard of the troop before us
to direct our course; but having once noticed the direction by the stars,
I was able to guide my servants. To make matters worse, the ground was
covered with high grass, and it was not easy to proceed at a rapid rate.
Trees were very scanty here.
At length the Arabs became aware of my having been left at a great
distance behind, and about midnight made a halt, when I overtook them.
After having lightened my camel, we proceeded with expedition through
the dark night, illuminated only by the distant fires, which gave a
painful idea of the resistance we were to meet with, till after two
o’clock in the morning of the 18th, when we reached a rising ground, and,
dismounting, lay down near our wearied horses to get an hour’s rest.
We then continued our march with great alacrity for an hour, when we
came to a halt on undulating sandy ground thickly covered with bushes.
The horsemen galloped on in advance, while Overweg and I remained with
the train, consisting of from sixty to seventy camels mounted by young
men, and boys not more than ten years old, who were looking forward with
such avidity for prey that they could scarcely be kept back. At length
we began to proceed slowly, but soon came to another halt, as till now
we had not heard a single shot; but when the day dawned, the greedy
multitude could not be kept back any longer, and on we went.
We here obtained a faint view of an irregular valley-formation ahead of
us, adorned with a few palm-trees, which, in the dubious light of the
dawn, gave to the country an interesting and entirely new appearance.
Crossing this valley-plain, we gradually ascended higher ground, and
reached a small deserted village, consisting of large spacious huts. But
though we turned off from it to the north, in order to prevent our little
troop from dispersing to make booty, the best-mounted and most daring of
them started off on their light mehára to see if something might not have
been left to suit them.
Some little cultivation was to be seen around the village; but in general
the country continued to bear the most evident traces of desolation.
At length its dreary aspect became relieved, and we descended into a
regularly formed valley called Gésgi, about five hundred yards broad, and
enclosed between high cliffs of sandstone. This was the first regular
valley-formation which we saw on our journey to Kánem; for as yet all
depressions in the ground presented rather the character of hollows
without a regular shelving or sloping in any direction. This valley,
on the contrary, extending from north to south, was apparently the
occasional channel of a small torrent, and, on account of the moisture
extending over the whole of it, was adorned with several groups of
palm-trees, and in several places with cornfields.
But while this valley presented great attraction to the European
traveller, it was not less attractive to the covetous Arab freebooter;
and all order ceasing in our little troop, the young inexperienced lads
who composed our _cortége_ dispersed in all directions. Some small flocks
of sheep had been observed in the valley; and they were now pursued by
part of our companions, while others ransacked the huts of a small hamlet
situated on the western brow of the vale. It was very fortunate for us
that no natives were lurking hereabouts, as they might have done immense
mischief to our troop, scattered as it was about the country. Overweg
and I were almost left alone, when, after having looked about in vain
for traces of the footsteps of the horsemen who had gone in advance, we
ascended the eastern slope, which was extremely steep and very difficult
for the camels. Gradually our companions, fearing to expose themselves by
staying behind, collected around us, and we proceeded in a south-easterly
direction, when we soon came to another and more favoured valley, called
Hénderí Síggesí, its bottom adorned with a thicker grove of date-trees
and with beautiful cornfields—that is to say, fields of wheat with their
golden stalks waving in the wind—while the high ground, being elevated
above the bottom of the valley about one hundred and twenty feet, was
planted near the brow with fields of millet, which was just ripe, but
not yet reaped. What with the rich vegetation, the steep cliffs, the
yellowish crop, the burning hamlet, and the people endeavouring to make
their escape, it formed a very interesting scene.
Keeping along the western brow, which in some places, where the rock lay
bare, was extremely steep, we observed that several natives, including
even two or three horsemen, had taken refuge in the thickest part of
the date-grove, watching our motions. A small hamlet of straw huts of
a peculiar shape, not unlike those of the Koyám described on a former
occasion, and lying at the very brink of the steep rocky declivity, had
been set on fire. Our wild, lawless companions now began to descend
into the valley at a spot where the slope was more gradual, raising a
war-cry in order to frighten those people who were hid in the grove.
Five good horsemen would have sufficed to overthrow this whole troop of
young unbearded lads, who were snapping their firelocks without being in
general provided with balls. It was very lucky, indeed, that Overweg and
I with our people kept well together in the foremost part of the train,
for the natives, rushing suddenly out from their hiding place upon the
stragglers, laid hold of two camels, with which they immediately made
good their retreat, their young riders, who a moment before had shown
such courage, having betimes jumped off their animals and run away. Our
companions were now full of gesticulations and warlike threats; but
nobody dared to attack the small body of men, and dispute with them their
booty. We soon reached the level on the eastern side of the valley; but
if we had hesitated before what course to pursue, we were now quite
puzzled to find the whereabouts of the horsemen. Wandering thus up and
down without any distinct direction, we of course, as it was not safe for
us to dismount and take a moment’s rest, suffered great fatigue, after a
whole day and night’s journey. Meanwhile the sun had almost reached the
zenith, and I felt extremely weak and exhausted.
At length some of the horsemen were seen, at a great distance beyond a
more shallow dell, driving before them a herd of cattle; and rescued at
length from the dangerous position in which we had been, destitute as we
were of any sufficient protection, we hastened to cross the valley, and
to join our more warlike and experienced friends. Falling in with them,
we went together to a place a little further down this wide flat valley,
where there were a small hamlet and stubble-fields. Here at length I
hoped to get a little rest, and lay down in the scanty shade of a talha;
but unfortunately there was no well here, and after a very short halt
and a consultation, the order was given to proceed. I was scarcely able
to mount my horse again and to follow the troop. The Arabs called this
valley, which was very flat and produced no date-trees, Wády el Ghazál,
but what its real name is I did not learn; it has of course nothing to
do with the celebrated and larger valley of this name. The well was not
far off, in another fine valley, or rather hollow, deeper than Wády el
Ghazál, but much flatter than either Síggesí or Gésgí, and called Msállat
or Amsállat. It was adorned with a wild profusion of mimosa, and in its
deepest part provided with “kháttatír” or draw-wells, irrigating a fine
plantation of cotton, the first we had yet seen in Kánem.
The Arabs had not made a very considerable booty, the Woghda having
received intelligence of their approach and saved what they could. The
whole result of the expedition was fifteen camels, a little more than
three hundred head of cattle, and about fifteen hundred sheep and goats.
The Arabs were for some time in great anxiety about Ghét, and a party of
horsemen who had gone with him to a greater distance; but he joined us
here, driving before him a large flock of sheep. We were busy watering
our horses, and providing ourselves with this necessary element. But
there was not much leisure; for scarcely had we begun to draw water,
when the alarm was given that the Woghda were attacking us, and three
bodies of horsemen were formed in order to protect the train and the
booty. The main body rushed out of the valley on the south-east side,
and drove the enemy back to a considerable distance; but the intention
of encamping on the slope near this well was given up as too dangerous,
and it was decided to go to a greater distance, though the intention of
penetrating to Mʿawó seemed not as yet entirely to be abandoned. It took
us a considerable time to get out of this wooded valley, the Arabs being
afraid of being attacked and losing their booty.
At length, the cattle and flocks having been driven in advance, we
started, and, leaving the vale, ascended elevated rocky ground, from
which, following a south-westerly direction, we descended, a little
before two o’clock in the afternoon, into the narrower eastern part of
a deep and beautiful valley, which here is adorned by a pretty grove of
date-trees, while its western part expands into fine cultivated ground.
Here we made a halt of about half an hour, in order to water the animals
and replenish our skins; for not even here was it thought advisable to
encamp, as it is regarded as a very inauspicious place, this being the
spot where, in 1850, the Kél-owí fell upon the Welád Slimán and almost
exterminated them. After so short a halt we again pursued our march. I
was now so totally exhausted that I was obliged to dismount at short
intervals and lie down for a moment; and once when left alone, it was
only with the utmost exertion that I was able to mount my horse again;
but nevertheless I managed to drag myself along. At length, about sunset,
we chose a place for our encampment on the brow of the slope descending
into a deep valley. Having now been thirty-four hours on horseback with
only short and insufficient intervals, I fell senseless to the ground,
and was considered by Mr. Overweg and our people as about to breathe my
last. But after an hour’s repose I recovered a little, and, having had a
good night’s rest, felt myself much stronger on the following morning, so
that I could even undergo some exertion which was not exactly necessary.
_Monday, Oct. 20._—Descended with our people into the valley when they
went to fetch water. It is called Áláli Ádia, or Jerád, from a small
hamlet lying on the highest ground, and called Áláli. The well was very
rich and plentiful; but no traces of cultivation appeared at the foot
of the date-trees. The slope was rather steep, and about one hundred
and thirty feet high. The Arabs, who had contracted their encampment or
“dowar” within the smallest possible compass, barricading it with their
baggage, as all the empty bags which they had taken with them on the
expedition were now full of corn from the magazines of the enemy, were
not at all at their ease, and seemed not to know exactly what course
to take, whether to penetrate further in advance or to return. Several
Fugábú and people belonging to Hallúf came to pay their respects to
Sheikh Ghét; and a person of considerable authority, called Keghámma,
or rather Keghámma-futébe (Seraskier of the West), the very man of whom
we before had heard so much talk, came also and paid me a visit in my
tent; for, being in a weak state, I had been obliged, when the sun became
oppressive, to pitch my tent, as there was no shade. There being no other
tent in the encampment, I received visits from several parties who wished
to breakfast a little at their ease, and among others from a man called
Kédel Batrám, Hallúf’s brother. Keghámma stated that he was certainly
able to bring us to Kárká; but this was a mere pretence, and he himself
retracted his promise shortly afterwards before the sheikh. Our cherished
object lay still before us, at a considerable distance; but our friend
Ghét thought that he had brought us already far enough to deserve some
more presents, and plainly intimated as much to us through ʿAbdallah.
Fortunately I had a handsome yellow cloth caftan with me, embroidered
with gold, and towards evening, when I had recovered from a severe fit
of fever which had suddenly attacked me in the afternoon, we went to pay
our compliments to the chief, and begged him to accept of it; at the same
time we told him we should be satisfied if we were enabled to visit the
district belonging to the Keghámma. But the situation of the Arabs soon
became more dangerous, and nothing was thought of but to retrace our
steps westward with the greatest possible expedition.
I was lying sleepless in my tent, in a rather weak state, having scarcely
tasted any kind of food for the last few days on account of my feverish
state, when, in the latter part of the night, a great alarm was raised
in the camp, and I heard the Arabs mount their horses and ride about
in several detachments, raising their usual war-cry, “Yá riyáb, yá
riyáb;” but I remained quietly on my mat, and was not even roused from
my lethargical state when I received the intelligence that a numerous
hostile army, consisting of the Woghda, the Médelé, the Shíri, and
the people of the Eastern Keghámma, was advancing against the camp. I
received this news with that indifference with which a sick and exhausted
man regards even the most important events. Neither did I stir when, with
the first dawn of day on the 21st, the enemy having actually arrived
within a short distance, our friends left the camp in order to offer
battle. I heard about ten shots fired, but did not think that the Arabs
would be beaten. Suddenly Overweg, who had saddled his horse at the very
beginning of the alarm, called out anxiously to me that our friends were
defeated, and, mounting his horse, started off at a gallop. My mounted
servant, Bú Zéd, had long taken to his heels; and thus, while Mohammed
was hastily saddling my horse, I flung my bernús over me, and grasping my
pistols and gun, and throwing my double sack over the saddle, I mounted
and started off towards the west, ordering Mohammed to cling fast to my
horse’s tail. It was the very last moment, for at the same time the enemy
began to attack the east side of the camp. All the people had fled, and I
saw only the chief slave of Ghét, who, with great anxiety, entreated me
to take his master’s state sword with me, that it might not fall into
the hands of the enemy.
But I had not gone a great distance when I heard firing close behind me,
and, turning round, saw the Arab horsemen rallying, and with the cry,
“He keléb, keléb,” turn round against the enemy, who had dispersed in
order to collect the spoil. I went on in order to inform Mr. Overweg,
who, together with the Arabs who were mounted on camels, and even several
horsemen, had fled to some distance and posted themselves on a hill.
Assuring him that the danger was over, I returned with him to the camp,
where we were rather surprised to find that not only all our luggage was
gone, but that not even a vestige of my tent was left.
The enemy, attracted only by the English tent and Sheikh Ghét’s baggage,
had scarcely touched the effects of the other people, but considered my
tent as a fair prize and ran away with it. But the Arabs pursuing them,
we got back most of our things. A leathern English bag of mine which
contained some articles of value had been cut open, just, as it seemed,
at the moment when our friends came up with the enemy. Our chief loss
consisted in our cooking utensils and provisions; I also much regretted
the loss of an English Prayer-Book, which had belonged to Mr. Richardson.
Four of the Arabs had been killed, and thirty-four of the enemy. Mr.
Overweg was busily employed in dressing some severe wounds inflicted on
our friends. The Arabs were furious at the insolence, as they called
it, of the enemy who had dared to attack them in their own encampment,
and they swore they would now go and burn down all their hamlets and
their corn. The horsemen actually left, but returned in the course of
the afternoon rather silently, with a sullen face and unfavourable
tidings; and before sunset they were once more obliged to defend their
own encampment against another attack of the energetic natives; they,
however, succeeded in beating them off. Hallúf distinguished himself
greatly by his valour, killing three or four of the enemy with his own
hand.
But notwithstanding this little victory, the forebodings for the night
were very unfavourable, and our friends would certainly have decamped
immediately if they had not been afraid that in the darkness of the night
the greater part might take to their heels, and that a shameful flight
would be followed by great loss of life and property. Accordingly they
determined to remain till the next morning. But an anxious and restless
night it was; for they had received authentic news that a body of from
thirty to forty Wadáy horsemen were to join their enemies that night
and to make a joint and last attack upon them; and they were well aware
that the enemy had only been beaten from want of horses. All the horses
remained saddled, and the whole night they sounded the watchcry; but the
most restless was the renegade Jew ʿAbdallah, who felt convinced that
this would be his last night, and was most anxious to get a razor in
order to shave his head before the hour of death.
_Wednesday, Oct. 22._—The night passed on without the enemy appearing,
and with the dawn of day the sign for decamping was given, when everybody
endeavoured to get in advance of his neighbour. The enemy, as was
positively stated afterwards, arrived there about an hour later; but
seeing that we were gone, did not choose to pursue us. Thus we left the
most interesting part of Kánem behind us, the country once so thickly
studded with large populous and celebrated towns, such as Njímiye,
Agháfi, and all those places which I shall describe in the Appendix from
the account of the expeditions of Edrís Alawóma, with many rich valleys
full of date-trees.
Keeping first in a westerly, and afterwards in a more south-westerly
direction, through a rather uninteresting country, we arrived about
eight o’clock in the morning in a wide vale called Tákulum, full of rich
succulent herbage and fine trees, where, it being supposed that we were
out of danger, it was decided to give the horses and camels a feed after
having watered them. I, for my part, was extremely thankful for getting
a few hours’ rest in the shade of a venerable acacia, near the gentle
slope surrounding the hollow. But just in the greatest heat of the day we
left this pleasant resting-place, near which is the ordinary residence of
the keghámma, in the valley Kárafu, and followed a more north-westerly
direction, ascending gradually from the vale, and entering a well-wooded
district, where all the grass had recently been burnt, or was still
burning; and in one place it was even with some danger that we found
our way through the flames. This burning of the grass, as I have stated
above, seems to be a general practice all over Negroland. Towards evening
the country became quite open, and ahead of us a small range was seen, at
the western foot of which our resting-place was said to be; but it seemed
very distant, and it was quite dark when we made halt in two separate
encampments, not being able to reach the point of destination. Our supper
was very simple indeed; for, having lost all our provisions at the taking
of the camp at Áláli, we were obliged to content ourselves with a few bad
dates, the only thing we were able to obtain from our friend Sheikh Ghét.
_Thursday, Oct. 23._—While our camels and people kept along the direct
road, together with the train and part of the horsemen, Overweg and I,
following Sheikh Ghét and his troop, took a more northerly direction,
and passed the heat of the day in a fine valley. It was certainly one
of the finest vales we had seen in the country, except that it did not
produce date-trees. But the district of Shitáti, which we again had
entered here, seems not to be favourable for that tree, while Shíri and
the neighbourhood of Mawó is very productive in date-trees. Part of the
bottom was laid out in cornfields, irrigated from Kháttatír, near which
some huts were standing, while a larger village, at present deserted, is
situated on the brow of the slope dominating the valley. It is called
Burka-drússo, or Burka-drústo. Here we enjoyed a few hours of tranquil
repose; but with the exception of this our enjoyment was very scanty,
having nothing to breakfast upon but a handful of dates and some water.
But our material wants were inconsiderable in comparison with the
disappointment which we felt, as we clearly saw that all hope of reaching
the Bahar el Ghazál, or even Mʿawó, was to be given up, and the hope of
attaining those districts had been the only reason which had induced us
to join our fate with this band of freebooters. We had spent all the
property that remained to us to enable us to undertake this expedition,
and our reflections therefore were far from pleasant.
When the heat of the day had passed by, the Arabs pursued their march,
and we followed them, re-ascending the higher level and marching over
a pleasant country well adorned with trees and bushes, while we left a
hollow called Núkko on our left, one of the three vales of Shitáti which
bear this name, and further on crossing another one called Arnánko. When
night approached, our companions began to put their horses into a gallop
in order to arrive betimes, while we preferred going on more slowly.
The country here became more undulating, and afterwards even rugged, and
we made our way as well as we could in the dark, stumbling along over
a rugged ground in a north-westerly direction, and were not a little
delighted when at length we saw the fires of the encampment, which
this time had not been pitched on the highest level, but rather in a
hollow not far from the well. Its name is Bír el Hamésh, or Yégil, or,
as it is generally pronounced, Yíggeli. We were the more delighted to
reach it, as we found here, not only all our people and luggage, but
also provisions, and we were nearly famished. Of course, we were most
cheerfully hailed by those of our servants whom, with the remainder of
the Arabs, we had left at the Bír el Kúrna, and who had felt the greatest
anxiety about our safety, on account of the many unfavourable rumours
which had reached them with regard to the proceedings and sufferings of
our party. They had transported the camp from Bír el Kúrna to this place
several days previously, and were looking forward to our return most
anxiously. We immediately attacked a bowl of camel’s milk, and, thus
materially comforted, rested outside our tents enjoying the freshness of
the evening. The camp or dowar was rather narrow, being encumbered by
the booty which had been taken from the enemy; and the people, dreading
lest the enemy might follow them, all huddled closely together, and kept
strict watch. In such circumstances the wailings of the women over the
dead, which sounded through the night, accompanied by loud, mournful
strokes on the great drum, could not fail to make a deep impression.
However, we passed here tranquilly the following day, and enjoyed rest
and repose the more as the weather was very oppressive.
We received here the positive news that the body of Wadáy horsemen who
had come to the assistance of the Woghda, and had caused the Arabs so
much fear and anxiety the day before, had returned to Mʿawó; and a very
curious story was told with regard to them, which at once shows how
highly these horsemen of Wadáy are respected by the Arabs, and the esteem
which they themselves entertain for the latter. Thirty Wadáy horsemen
were said to have arrived with the Woghda in consequence of their
entreaties, and to have followed with them the traces of our friends, the
Woghda representing to them that many of the latter had been killed. Thus
they arrived in the morning when we had just left the camp at Áláli, and
the dust raised by our host was plainly visible in the distance; but when
the Woghda instigated the Wadáy people to go and attack that host, they
wanted to assure themselves how many of the Arabs had fallen in the last
battle, in which thirty-four of the Woghda were said to have been slain,
and when they found only two tombs, the latter told them that in each
there were ten bodies; but the Wadáy people, being anxious to make sure
of the valour of their friends, had the tombs dug up, and found only two
buried in each. Whereupon they stigmatized the Woghda as liars, and felt
little inclined to follow the valiant robbers who had killed so many of
the enemy, while they had lost so few of their own. But this story may
have been adorned by our friends the Welád Slimán, who could not even
deny that, besides a great deal of other booty from their own camp, which
the enemy had succeeded in carrying away, the chief of the Woghda could
pride himself on the red bernús which we had given as a present to Sheikh
Ghét; nay, he could even boast of four horses taken from the Arabs.
_Sunday, Oct. 26._—This and the following day the Arabs were all busy
in writing, or getting letters written, to Kúkawa, as a courier was
to leave. I myself was almost the only person who did not get a note
ready; for I could not muster sufficient energy to write a letter. Had I
been strong enough, I should have had sufficient leisure to make up the
whole journal of my excursion to the eastern parts of Kánem; but I was
quite unable, and the consequence was, that this part of my diary always
remained in a very rough state. Sheikh Ghét, who thought that we were
greatly indebted to him for having seen so much of the country, sent for
a variety of things; but we were only able to comply with very few of his
wishes. On our telling him that we were not at all satisfied with what we
had seen, and that, in order not to waste more time, we had the strongest
wish to return to Kúkawa as soon as possible, he wanted to persuade us
that he himself was to leave for the capital of Bórnu in five or six
days. But we prudently chose to provide for ourselves, and not rely upon
his promise.
_Monday, Oct. 27._—The courier for Kúkawa left in the morning, and in
the evening a party of freebooters made an attack upon the camels of the
Arabs, but, being pursued by the horsemen, whose great merit it is to be
ready for every emergency, they were obliged to leave their booty, and
be contented to escape with their lives. The vale in which the well is
situated is rather more exuberant than is the case generally, and there
were several pools of stagnant water, from which the cattle were watered.
There was even a real jungle, and here and there the den of a ferocious
lion, who did not fail to levy his tribute on the various species of
animal property of our friends, and evinced rather a fancy for giving
some little variety to his meals; for a horse, a camel, and a bullock
became his prey.
_Tuesday, Oct. 28._—Seeing that there was a caravan of people forming
to go to Kúkawa, while the Arabs intended once more to return to
Burka-drússo, we at once went to the chief to inform him that we had made
up our minds to go with the caravan. A chief of the Haddáda, or rather
Búngo, arrived with offerings of peace on the part of the Shíri, and
came to see us, together with the chief mentioned above, Kédel Batrám
who was the father-in-law of the khalífa of Mʿawó; Kóbber, or rather the
head man of the Kóbber, and other great men of the Fugábú; and I amused
them with my musical box. Overweg and I, disappointed in our expectations
of penetrating further eastward, prepared for our return journey, and
I bought a small skin of tolerable dates for half a túrkedí; while to
ʿAbdallah, who had been our mediator with the chief, I made a present of
a jeríd, in order not to remain his debtor.
All this time I felt very unwell, which I attribute principally to the
great changes of atmosphere, the nights being cool and the days very warm.
_Friday, Oct. 31._—Though we were determined to return to Kúkawa, we
had yet once more to go eastward. The Arabs removed their encampment
to Arnánko, the hollow which we passed on our way from Burka-drússo to
Yégil. There had been a great deal of uncertainty and dispute amongst
them with reference to the place which they were to choose for their
encampment; but though, on the following day, very unfavourable news was
brought with regard to the security of the road to Bórnu, the departure
of the caravan nevertheless remained fixed for the 2nd November; for in
the morning one of the Welád Slimán arrived from Kúkawa, accompanied by
two Bórnu horsemen, bringing letters from the vizier, requesting the
Arabs, in the most urgent terms, to remove their encampment without delay
to Késkawa, on the shore of the lake, whither he would not fail to send
the whole remainder of their tribe who at that time were residing in
Kúkawa; for he had positive news, he assured them, that the Tuarek were
meditating another expedition against them on a large scale.
The report seemed not without foundation; for the three messengers had
actually met, on their road between Bárrowa and Ngégimi, a party of ten
Tuarek, three on foot, and the rest on horseback, and had only escaped
by retreating into the swamps formed by the lake. This news, of course,
spread considerable anxiety amongst the Arabs, who were still more
harassed the same day by information received to the effect that a party
of fifteen Wadáy horsemen were lying in ambush in a neighbouring valley;
and a body of horsemen were accordingly sent out to scour the country,
but returned without having seen anybody.
_Sunday, Nov. 2._—The day of our departure from Kánem at length arrived.
Sorry as we were to leave the eastern shore of the lake unexplored, we
convinced ourselves that the character of our mission did not allow us to
risk our fate any longer by accompanying these freebooters. The camels
we had taken with us on this expedition were so worn out that they were
unable to carry even the little luggage we had left, and Sheikh Ghét
made us a present of two camels, which, however, only proved sufficient
for the short journey to Kúkawa; for the one fell a few paces from the
northern gate on reaching the town, and the other a short distance from
the southern gate on leaving it again on our expedition to Músgu.
The caravan with which we were to proceed was numerous; but the whole of
the people were Kánembú, who carried their little luggage on pack-oxen
and a few camels, while, besides ourselves, there were only two horsemen.
But there were some respectable people among them, and even some women
richly adorned with beads, and, with their fine regular features and
slender forms, forming a strong contrast to the ugly physiognomy and
square forms of the Bórnu females. The difference between the Bórnu
and Kánembú is remarkable, although it is difficult to account for by
historical deduction.
We were so fortunate as to perform our home-journey without any serious
accident, although we had some slight alarms. The first of these occurred
when we approached the town of Berí, and found all the inhabitants
drawn up in battle-array, at a narrow passage some distance from the
town; and at the first moment there was considerable alarm on both
sides: but we soon learned that they had taken us for Tuarek, of whom a
numerous freebooting party, consisting of two hundred camels and about
as many horses, had a short time previously carried away all the cattle
belonging to the place. The state of the country was so insecure that the
inhabitants would not allow Mr. Overweg to stay here, notwithstanding
his earnest protestations, so that he was obliged to make up his mind
to proceed with the caravan, although he was sensible of the danger
connected with such an undertaking; and certainly, if we had met with a
tolerably strong party of the Tuarek, our companions would have afforded
us very little protection. We were so fortunate, however, as to pass
through this infested track just at the time when an expedition, laden
with booty, had returned homewards.
We, however, met more than forty Búdduma half a day’s journey beyond
Ngégimi, armed with spears and shields, and clad in nothing but their
leather apron. They had been occupied in preparing salt from the roots
of the siwák or _Capparis sodata_; and when they saw the first part of
our caravan coming through the thick forest, they commenced an attack,
so that Overweg and I were obliged to fire a few random shots over their
heads, when, seeing that we were stronger than they had supposed, and
recognizing some friends among the Kánembú, they allowed us to pass
unmolested. But our whole march from Ngégimi to Bárrowa, through the
thick underwood with which the shores of the lake are here overgrown,
resembled rather a flight than anything else.
On the 10th we reached the komádugu; and after some lively negotiation
with the governor or shitíma, who resides in the town of Yó, I and my
companion were allowed to cross the river the same afternoon; for it
has become the custom with the rulers of Bórnu to use the river as a
sort of political quarantine, a proceeding which of course they can only
adopt as long as the river is full. During the greater part of the year
everybody can pass at pleasure. Even after we had crossed, we were not
allowed to continue our journey to the capital, before the messenger,
who had been sent there to announce our arrival, had returned with the
express permission that we might go on. The shores round the komádugu
were greatly changed, the river being now at its highest. Extensive
patches were cultivated with wheat, being regularly laid out in small
quadrangular beds of from four to five feet in diameter, which were
watered morning and evening from the river by means of buckets and
channels.
We reached Kúkawa on the 14th, having met on the road a party of about
fifty Welád Slimán, who were proceeding to join their companions in
Kánem. We were well received by our host, the vizier of Bórnu. We had
already heard from the governor of Yó, that the sheikh and his vizier
were about to leave in a few days on an expedition; and, being desirous
of employing every means of becoming acquainted with new regions of this
continent, we could not but avail ourselves of this opportunity, however
difficult it was for us, owing to our entire want of means, to make the
necessary preparations for another campaign, and although the destination
of the expedition was not quite certain.
CHAPTER XLII.
WARLIKE PREPARATIONS AGAINST MÁNDARÁ.
_Tuesday, Nov. 25._—Ten days after having returned to our headquarters,
from the wearisome journey to Kánem, I left Kúkawa again, in order to
join a new warlike expedition. The sheikh and his vizier, with the chief
part of the army, had set out already, the previous Saturday. The route
had not yet been determined upon—it was, at least, not generally known;
but Wándalá, or, as the Kanúri call it, Mándará was mentioned as the
direct object of the march, in order to enforce obedience from the prince
of that small country, who, protected by its mountains, had behaved in a
refractory manner. The chief motive of the enterprise, however, consisted
in the circumstance of the coffers and slave-rooms of the great men being
empty; and, a new supply being wanted, from whence to obtain it was a
question of minor importance. There was just then much talk about a final
rupture between ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán and the vizier, the former having intimate
relations with the prince of Mándará; and it was for that reason that Mr.
Overweg had at first thought it better to remain behind.
My means were scanty in the extreme, and did not allow me to have a
mounted servant, my camp-followers consisting merely of the same naga
or “jíge,” as the Kanúri call the female camel, which had proved of the
highest value to me on the journey to Kánem, and of two very indifferent
Fezzáni lads, weak in mind and body,—Mohammed ben Habíb and Mohammed ben
Ahmed. The weather being temperate, and my spirits excellent, I followed
cheerfully the Ngórnu road, with which I was well acquainted. The country
looked much more interesting now than three months before, on my return
from Ádamáwa. Then all was dry and barren, scarcely a single fresh blade
had started from the ground, and I was obliged to draw with immense
exertion my supply of water from a deep well near Kaine; now the ground
was covered with young herbs, the trees were in foliage, and, near the
very place of Kaine where the sheikh with his camp-followers had rested
the first night, a large lake had been formed by the rains. This lake,
which is surrounded by shady trees, retains its water until two or three
months after the rainy season, when it begins gradually to dry up. I
was therefore enabled to water my horse without any further trouble,
after which I followed my people, who were in advance. Here I met with
my friend Háj Edrís and Shitíma Makarémma, who were just returning from
the camp. They told me that the sheikh had encamped that day at Kúkia,
beyond Ngórnu. I therefore made a short halt at noon on this side of that
town, in order to reach the camp during the evening without staying in
the place; for the city, on all sides, at about an hour’s distance, is
almost entirely surrounded by fields devoid of trees. After I had enjoyed
about an hour’s rest, Overweg arrived with the disagreeable tidings that
his camel, soon after leaving the gate, had fallen, and was unable to
get up again even after the luggage had been removed. He therefore sent
his servant Ibrahím in advance, in order to procure another camel from
the vizier, while he remained with me. When we set out again we took
the direct route to the camp, the road being enlivened by horsemen,
camels, and pedestrians. The country on this side was only cultivated in
some places; we perceived, however, two miles behind Ngórnu a carefully
kept cotton-plantation, and the fields near the village of Kúkia were
well cultivated. The whole of this fertile plain became a prey to the
inundations of the Tsád in the year 1854, caused by a sinking of the
ground, when the whole country was changed in the most marvellous way.
Here we obtained a first view of the camp with its tents; but it made
no remarkable impression upon me, being still in an unfinished state,
including only those people who were in the most intimate connection with
the court.
The “ngáufate” having its fixed arrangements, our place was assigned near
the tents of Lamíno, at some distance east from those of Háj Beshír. As
the greater part of the courtiers were taking at least a portion of their
harím with them to the “kerígu,” a simple tent was not sufficient for
them; but by means of curtains made of striped cotton-stuff, a certain
space is encompassed in order to insure greater privacy. For the sheikh
and the vizier, as long as we remained in the Bórnu territories, at every
new encampment an enclosure of matting was erected; for it is not the
custom, as has been asserted, to separate the royal camp from that of the
rest, at least not on expeditions into a hostile country, nor has it been
so in former times. The common soldiers had no further protection, except
some light and small huts with high gables, which some of them had built
with the tall stalks of the Indian corn, which lay in great abundance on
the stubble-fields.
But I shall first say a few words about our friend Lamíno, whom I have
already occasionally mentioned, and with whom on this expedition we
came into closer contact. This man furnishes an example how in this
country, notwithstanding the immense difference of civilization, in
reality matters take the same course as in Europe, where notorious
rogues and sharpers often become the best police functionaries. Lamíno,
originally “el Amín,” had formerly been a much-dreaded highway-robber,
but had now become _chef de police_, or, as the Háusa people would
say, “serkí-n-karfi,” being, in consequence of his hard-heartedness
and total want of the gentler feelings, of the greatest importance to
the vizier, whose mild character did not allow him personally to adopt
severe measures. Imprisoning people and ordering them to be whipped
constituted one of Lamíno’s chief pleasures. He could, however, at
times be very gentle and amiable; and there was nothing which afforded
greater amusement to my companion and me than to hear him talk in the
most sentimental manner of the favourite object of his affections, a
woman whom he carried with him on this expedition. It caused us also
great delight to witness the terror he felt at our comparing the shape
of the earth to an ostrich’s egg; for he seemed to be quite at a loss to
understand how he should be able to preserve his balance on such a globe,
with his great heaviness and clumsiness.
_Wednesday, Nov. 26._—Early in the morning the signal for the decampment
of the army was given in front of the tent of the sheikh, by the sound
of the great drum; and in broad battle-array (“báta”) the army with its
host of cavalry moved onwards over the plain, which was covered with tall
reeds, and showed only here and there a few signs of cultivation. This
time I still remained with the camels and the train-oxen, which, mixed
with pedestrians and some single horsemen in long unbounded lines, kept
along the road, while single troops of Kánembú spearmen, in their light
fanciful garments, mostly consisting of a small apron of rags, or a hide
tied round the loins, and armed with their light wooden shields, passed
the luggage-train, shouting out in their wild native manner. Thus, after
a march of about eleven miles, we reached the cotton-fields of Yédi, a
town of considerable magnitude, surrounded by a clay wall in a state
of good repair. We passed it on a rising ground to our left, while the
country on the north-western side spread out in one continuous sandy
plain, dotted here and there by a few dúm-bushes (ngílle) and by a few
single dúm-palms. On this side of the town, at about a quarter of an
hour’s distance, after the autumnal rains, a large pond is formed, on
the borders of which gardens of onions are planted by the inhabitants of
Yédi, and irrigated with the aid of khattatír.
The sun was intensely hot; and the heat at noon was very great. Strange
to say, during all this time I neglected to make thermometrical
observations; and as far as I am aware Overweg did not pay more attention
to this subject than myself: but the reason of this neglect was, that
we usually started early in the morning, and seldom had shade in the
neighbourhood of our tents at noon; for these, which by this time were
so much worn that every object inside cast a shadow as well as outside,
could give us, of course, no measure for the temperature of the air. Our
protector Lamíno afterwards sent us an excellent dish of rice boiled
in milk and covered with bread and honey. The rice was of a whiteness
unusual in this country. Having received likewise a dish of bread and
honey from the vizier, we thought it our duty to pay him a visit, and
through his mediation to the sheikh also. The sheikh had alighted at
his spacious clay mansion outside the walls of the city; and he was just
occupied with granting a grand reception to the townspeople.
After the usual exchange of compliments, our discourse turned upon
Captain Denham (Ráís Khalíl), who had once taken the same road in
conjunction with Kashélla Bárka Ghaná, and with Bú-Khalúm. On this
occasion also the manner in which old Mʿallem Shádeli or Chádeli, then
a simple fáki, who was present, behaved towards that Christian was
mentioned. We related to them what a faithful description Major Denham
had given, in the narrative of his adventures, of the hostile disposition
of the fáki, when the old mʿallem, who was now one of the grandees of
the empire, in order to revenge himself upon Major Denham and ourselves,
described to the assembly, with sundry sarcastic hints, how he had seen
the Major, after his shameful defeat at Musfáya, half dead and stripped
of his clothes, and exhibiting to uninitiated eyes all the insignia which
mark the difference between the faithful and unfaithful. The whole spirit
in which the story was told bore evidence of the enlightened character
and the tolerance of these gentlemen.
All the people behaved very friendly; and the sheikh sent us in the
evening two sheep, a load of “ngáberí” or sorghum, besides two dishes
of prepared food. We were also entertained by a young musician, who had
accompanied Mr. Overweg during his voyage on the Tsád; and in this way
there was no end of feasting. Nor was there any want of intellectual
food, the inquisitive and restless vizier being desirous of learning
from us as much as possible on this expedition, where he enjoyed plenty
of leisure. Here we remained also the following day, as some more
detachments were to join the army.[82]
_Friday, Nov. 28._—The ngáufate advanced as far as the town of Márte. Not
far from Yédi there extends in a southerly direction, a very expansive
plain devoid of any sort of vegetation except some mimosas. This is the
beginning of the “fírki” ground, which comprises so large a space in
the southern regions of Bórnu, and of which I have repeatedly spoken on
former occasions; but the plantation of the _Holcus cernuus_, called
“másakwá” or “mósogá” (which is limited to this peculiar territory), had
not turned out well this year, in consequence of the scarcity of rain. I
had marched in advance with my camel, when the vizier got sight of me,
and begged me to come to the sheikh. After having saluted me in the most
friendly way, he asked me why I always wore my pistols in my belt round
the waist, instead of fixing them at the saddle-bow; but he praised my
foresight when I appealed to the example of Ráís Khalíl, who, when thrown
from his horse, on his unlucky expedition to Mándará, remained without a
weapon in his hand. However, he was of opinion that at present, with such
a large army, no danger of this kind was to be feared. He showed me also,
in the most flattering manner, that he had imitated my example of having
my chronometer continually girded around my waist; and he assured me that
he found it very convenient.
The troop was here proceeding in stately order, and a broad line of
battle deployed, one officer, with the title of jérma, riding in advance,
and being followed by the four fan-bearers of the sheikh, in full array;
but a little further on, a small tract of underwood compelled them to
change their order of march, and proceed in one long line. The vizier
was kind enough to send me a message to the effect that I had better get
in front, so as not to be in the midst of the confusion. The place of
encampment was chosen on the north-west side of the town of Márte; and
when the sheikh had dismounted, in order to take possession of the mat
house which had been prepared for him, the whole host of cavalry galloped
up in the fiercest manner, before I was able to get out of their way, so
that I received a very severe shock from a horseman, who struck against
me with great violence.
In the afternoon my friend and companion on my journey to Ádamáwa,
Kashélla Bíllama, called on me; and we mounted on horseback, in order
to pay a visit to the market, which is held every Friday outside the
western gate of the town, where an open area surrounded by several wells
spreads out. But the market, at least that day, was very insignificant:
it was not furnished with a single shed or stall, and not a single
article of manufacture was exposed, Negro millet, butter, and wooden
bowls being almost the only articles offered for sale; and sellers, as
well as buyers, were very few in number. The town contains about four
thousand inhabitants, and, taking into account the strategical art of
this country, possesses proper defences, the clay wall being in a good
state of repair, and having a gate on each side excepting the side of
the market, where there are two. Towards the east there is a little
cultivated ground, and on the north a small suburb, consisting of large,
conical, thatched huts, where, besides Kanúri, several Fúlbe or Felláta
families are living. The interior of the town consists of narrow lanes;
and most of the houses are clay buildings. There was nothing interesting
to be seen; but I was agreeably surprised when my companion, who was a
native of this place, took me to pay my compliments to his mother, who
kept a small shed, or rather, as we should say, a shop, in the little
market-place inside the town. It was certainly a trait of a good-natured
and friendly disposition.
We remained here the following day; but our stay was not at all pleasant,
there being very little shade near the encampment, while our tents were
so worn that they scarcely afforded any protection against the sun. Owing
to the smallness of my means, I had been obliged to leave my large tent
in Kúkawa.
_Sunday, Nov. 30._—The following morning I was obliged to remain behind
the army a considerable time, in order to allow the air to acquire a
more genial temperature. I enjoyed the more the beautiful morning,
although the country did not possess many attractions. Here, also, it
exhibited that black boggy soil, called “fírki,” which is peculiar to
the southern parts of Bórnu, though near the village of Little Márte,
or “Márte ghaná,” some slight variation was seen, in a crop of Indian
corn or “holcus” still standing in the fields; the ears, however, were
quickly plucked off by the undisciplined army. Further on I reached a
group of villages ornamented by a cluster of beautiful tamarind-trees,
and here lay down awhile to enjoy the delicious shade. Numbers of people
were resting here and there, in order to partake of the hospitality of
the villagers; for, to the ruin of the country there is no commissariat
in these armies to provide for the wants of the private individual, and
every one must supply himself with food in the best manner he can.
Our march, however, was very short, the encampment having been chosen on
the west side of the town of Alá. This town also is of some importance,
and surrounded by a wall in good repair, with two gates on the north and
west sides and only one on the south and east. The interior is enlivened
by large trees, consisting of chédia (elastic gum), and kúrna-trees,
while the huts are remarkable for their high conical roof, the thatch
of which, in a great many instances, is interlaced by the clasps of the
_Cucurbita lagenaria_, the whole looking very cheerful. The sheikh having
requested me repeatedly to give my compass up to him, as he imagined
it would be sufficient for one of us to possess such an instrument, I
thought it prudent to offer him my musical box as a present, remarking
that I would willingly give away such articles, but not scientific
instruments. Several hares had been caught in the course of the day;
and in the evening we had some of them very palatably dressed by the
experienced female slave of Lamíno.
_Monday, Dec. 1._—Soon after starting, early in the morning we had to
traverse some underwood, which caused a great rush and much confusion
among the undisciplined army, so that two or three horsemen were
seriously injured. On such occasions, as well as in the thick covert of
the forest, I had a full opportunity of testing the valuable properties
of the Arab stirrups, which protect the whole leg, and, if skilfully
managed, keep every obtruder at a respectful distance; indeed I am almost
sure that if, on these my African wanderings, I had made use of English
stirrups I should have lost both my legs. Our way afterwards led over
monotonous fírki ground, where we were cheered by the sight of some fine
crops of sorghum. Detached hamlets were seen in every direction, even
where the country did not present any traces of cultivation; but with
the exception of the Shúwa villages, this province does not contain
many small hamlets, the population being concentrated in larger places.
Underwood succeeded to the fírki ground, and extended to the very walls
of the large town of Díkowa.
The sight of this town, with its walls over-towered by the regularly
shaped crowns of magnificent fig-trees, was very imposing. The western
wall, along which our road lay, was covered with women and children,
and we met a numerous procession of females in their best attire, who
were going to salute their sovereign upon his arrival at the encampment;
and coming from the capital, which is distinguished by the ugliness of
its female inhabitants, I was agreeably surprised at their superior
countenance and figure. But though the observer might be gratified with
the personal appearance of the natives, their industry was questionable;
for only a small tract of cultivated ground was to be seen on this side
of the town, girt by a forest of mighty trees.
The encampment, or “ngáufate,” began to form close to the southern
wall of the town, amidst sandy ground free from trees, and completely
surrounded by a thick covert. Although it was December, the sun was
very powerful; and, until the camels arrived, I sat down in the shade
of a “bíto,” or _Balanites_, while the encampment was spreading out in
all directions, and approached the edge of the covert. I then gave up
my shady place to Kashélla Játo, an officer of the musketeers, who, in
acknowledgment, offered me a clear piece of delicious gum, just taken
from the tree and full of sweet fluid; in which state it is certainly a
delicacy, and is so esteemed here as well as in Western Negroland. The
encampment springing up gradually from the ground, with its variety of
light dwellings built only for the moment—the multifarious appearance
of armed people—the number of horses of all colours, some of the most
exquisite beauty—the uninterrupted train of beasts of burden, camels, and
pack-oxen, laden with the tents, furniture, and provisions, and mounted
by the wives and concubines of the different chiefs, well dressed and
veiled,—altogether presented a most interesting picture; for now almost
the whole host or “kebú,” had collected, and twenty thousand men, with
ten thousand horses, and at least as many beasts of burden, were no doubt
assembled on this spot. At length our two tents also were pitched, and
we could make ourselves as comfortable as the scanty shade which they
afforded allowed us.
In the evening, our conversation with the vizier turning upon the means
which remained for Bórnu to attain once more to her former greatness,
these devastating expeditions and slave-hunts fell under discussion;
and I took the liberty to indicate, in opposition to such a system, the
necessity of a well-established government, with a strong military force
capable of extending their dominion. I also called the attention of the
vizier to the point, that, as they could never rely upon the Turks, who
might easily cut off all supplies of foreign merchandize, it was greatly
to their interest to keep open to themselves that large river which
passed a short distance to the south of their dominions, and which would
enable them to supply themselves with every kind of European manufacture
at a much cheaper rate than they were able to obtain them by the northern
route. He did not hesitate to throw the whole blame upon the former
sultans; but those poor men, when they possessed the dominion of the
Kwána tribe, probably had no idea that the river which ran through their
territory joined the sea; and even if they had, the relation between
Islam and Christianity at that period was of so hostile a character,
that, for the very reason that this stream might open to the Christians
a more easy access to their country, they shunned any nearer connection
with it as dangerous. However, under the present entirely altered state
of affairs, there is no question that an energetic native chief, basing
his power on a supply of European merchandize, as facilitated by the
river Bénuwé, might easily dominate a great part of Central Africa; but
energy is just the very thing these people are wanting in.
From this point of our discourse there was an easy transition to that
of the abolition of slavery; and here my late lamented friend Mr.
Overweg made a most eloquent speech on this important question. The
vizier could not bring forward any other argument in his defence, than
that the slave-trade furnished them with the means of buying muskets;
and, lamentable as it is, this is certainly the correct view of the
subject, for even on the west coast the slave-trade originated in the
cupidity of the natives in purchasing the arms of Europeans. Such is the
history of civilization! If the poor natives of Africa had never become
acquainted with this destructive implement of European ingenuity, the
slave-trade would never have reached those gigantic proportions which it
has attained. For at first the natives of Africa wanted firearms as the
surest means of securing their independence of, and superiority over,
their neighbours; but in the further course of affairs, these instruments
of destruction became necessary, because they enabled them to hunt
down less favoured tribes, and, with a supply of slaves so obtained,
to procure for themselves those luxuries of European civilization with
which they had likewise become acquainted. This is the great debt which
the European owes to the poor African, that, after having caused, or at
least increased, this nefarious system on his first bringing the natives
of those regions into contact with his state of civilization, which has
had scarcely any but a demoralizing effect, he ought now also to make
them acquainted with the beneficial effects of that state of society.
Entering, therefore, into the views of our hosts, I told them that
their country produced many other things which they might exchange for
firearms, without being forced to lay waste the whole of the neighbouring
countries, and to bring misery and distress upon so many thousands.
I informed them of the last negotiations of Her Britannic Majesty’s
messengers with the King of Dahomé, when our friend, listening with
the greatest interest to the account of these noble endeavours of Her
Majesty’s Government, which he could not but admire, declared, in
the most distinct manner, that, if the British Government were able
to furnish them with a thousand muskets and four cannons, they would
be willing to subscribe any obligatory article for abolishing the
slave-trade in their country—of course not including, all at once,
domestic slavery; for such a measure would scarcely be feasible in a
country where all the relations of domestic life are based upon this
system. But the abolition of the foreign slave-trade would be the
beginning of a better system. However, I told them that, supposing
Government were to entertain such a proposal, the first thing for them
to do was to open themselves a road to the river Bénuwé, as it would
be difficult, not only with respect to the state of the country to be
traversed, but also on account of the suspicions of the Turks, to provide
them with such a military store by way of the desert. But at present this
whole question has been superseded; the vizier himself has succumbed,
and his master, the Sheikh ʿOmár, although he has been fortunate enough
once more to usurp the sovereign authority, seems scarcely sufficient to
hold out any guarantee of the stability of his dynasty. Moreover, the
slave-trade at present is, in fact, abolished on the north coast; and
this circumstance must eventually exercise a great influence over the
destinies of Bórnu, on account of its central situation, especially if at
length a regular intercourse be established on the river Bénuwé.
It was our lot to remain here several days; for while the Kanúri people,
who were expected to join the expedition, had already assembled in
sufficient numbers, only a very small portion of the indigenous Arab or
Shúwa population had as yet come up; for almost all of them live in the
south-eastern parts of the country, where they have taken possession of
the deserted seats of former tribes, which were annihilated or weakened
in the relentless wars between Islamism and Paganism. On the first day of
our arrival, our encampment was very comfortable; but every day that we
stayed here it became more confined, owing principally to the numerous
cavalry of these Arab tribes, almost all of whom are mounted; and many a
newcomer was seen hurrying about without being able to find a spot to lie
down, or to meet with friends to treat him. I myself had to entertain a
respectable man among these Shúwa, of the name of Háj Hamadán, belonging
to the tribe of the Hasúnna.
This man, who generally had his settlement far to the east, in the Wady
Guskáb, had come some time previously to Logón in order to pay a visit to
some relations of his, and had now joined this expedition. But one must
be very careful with these Shúwa; for, to use a common expression, if you
give them an inch, they are wont to take an ell. But for their Jewish
character, I should have liked to enter into more intimate relations with
them than I actually did.
Their emigration into these regions, at least several centuries ago,
is certainly not without interest; and, as I have already had occasion
to observe in another place, they preserve the characteristic type
of their race very distinctly—a middle-sized, slender figure (which,
however, is apt to become fuller as they advance in years), small
pleasing features, and a dark olive complexion. Their dialect is very
peculiar; and while it lays claim to a far greater purity than belongs
to the dialects of the coast, by the profusion of vowels which it has
preserved, its character is deteriorated, and becomes nearly ridiculous,
by the continued repetition and insertion of certain words. A Shúwa is
not able to say three words without inserting his favourite term “kúch,
kúch,” which corresponds to the English word “thorough,” but which is not
Arabic at all. When they omit the word “kúch,” they make use of another
term, “bérketek,” “your worship,” which at once bears testimony to the
servile and degraded position which they occupy in Negroland, although in
Bórnu they are still treated with some indulgence and lenity, especially
since the time when Mohammed Tiráb, the father of the present vizier,
who belonged to the tribe of the Sálamát, attained the highest degree of
power and influence in the country. In Wádáy again, even at the present
time, they are treated very badly.
Of Kanúri people, besides a few smaller bodies of troops, only two
officers, or kashéllas, ʿAlí Marghí and Jérma, were wanting. All the
officers and bodies of troops on this side of the komádugu of Bórnu,
the so-called Yeou, were collected together, the only exception being
Kashélla Mánzo, my hospitable host in Zurríkulo, whose presence at his
post was required on account of the Tuarek; for, as regards the officers
and chiefs of the provinces on the other side of the komádugu, nobody is
required to take part in these expeditions of the sheikh, every officer
remaining at his post, except when his master enters upon a war in his
own quarters.
While the encampment itself presented considerable interest, as being
the temporary abode of so many people, the town of Díkowa, near which
we were encamped, seemed well deserving some attention, as having been
repeatedly the residence of the rulers of the country, and being still
one of the largest towns in the kingdom. I therefore paid a visit to it
in the afternoon of the second day of our stay, being accompanied by my
friend Bíllama. We entered the town by the western gate; and I saw that
the walls were about thirty feet high, and terraced on the inside like
those of the capital, and of considerable breadth at the base: they were
in a state of good repair. I was struck by the height and round shape of
the huts, which entirely wanted the characteristic top, or, as the Kanúri
people call it, kógi ngímbe, and were of the same kind as I had observed
in the other towns of this southern province. Every hut had its little
courtyard, in some of which vegetation was seen, mostly karás.
The further we proceeded, the more I was pleased with the general
appearance of the town, the exterior of which had made a favourable
impression upon me on our first arrival. Large, beautiful, wide-spreading
fig-trees, ngábore, chédia or elastic gum-trees, and kórna-trees, spread
their shade all around, and two or three isolated papaw-trees, or as
the Kanúri call them, bambús-másarbe, with their remarkable feathery
crowns and their smooth virgin-like stems, formed a lively contrast to
the broad-leafed canopy of the other trees, while the hedges and fences
of the courtyards were partly enlivened by a luxurious creeper called
“dagdágel” by the natives. The real nucleus of the town seemed to consist
entirely of clay houses.
After a very pleasant ride, we reached the house of the “maínta,” or
governor, who still enjoys a certain degree of independence. The chief
ornament of the place in front of his house was the most splendid
caoutchouc-tree I have ever seen; indeed I can scarcely imagine that the
diameter of its crown, which was so regularly and symmetrically shaped
that it appeared as if effected by art, measured less than from seventy
to eighty feet. It really formed a beautiful fáge, or, as the Háusa
people call it, íchenbatú, or open council-hall, such as are common in
these places; but at present no political business of any importance
was transacted here, and it formed a favourite lounge for idle people,
amongst whom there was a troop of musicians, playing lustily upon their
instruments to console the petty chief for the loss of his former power,
which had dwindled away to a mere shadow. I would gladly have paid him
a visit; but, poor as I was at the time, and without a single article
worthy of acceptance, I was rather glad that I was under no obligation to
him. The interruption in the daily course of life of the inhabitants, by
the presence of the army, was the more to be lamented, as it prevented
me from becoming an eyewitness to the chief industry of the natives,
which consists in weaving, and manufacturing into shirts, the cotton
which they grow; for they are almost exclusively cotton-growers, and
have very little corn. But, although they are able to produce a fine
sort of texture, they are very badly off for dyeing, and in this respect
are far outstripped by the inhabitants of Ujé and Mákari. Instead of
the beating of shirts, which forms so pleasant a sound in many other
industrial towns of Negroland, there was nothing to be heard but the
sound which proceeded from the powder-mill, if I may be allowed to give
this grand name to a yard in which eight slaves were employed in pounding
powder in large wooden mortars; for this is the way in which powder is
prepared in Negroland, and during my stay in Bagírmi every time I had
my coffee pounded (as I did not possess a coffee-mill), I excited the
suspicion that I was preparing powder. Of course the presence of the army
was the reason why so little activity was to be seen at present, and
the little market, or durríya, which is held in the afternoon, was very
badly attended; but the size and populousness of the town made such an
impression upon me, that I thought myself justified in rating the number
of inhabitants at about twenty-five thousand.
Altogether I was so much pleased with the character of the place, that on
expressing my satisfaction to one of the inhabitants who came to salute
my companion, with the words, “Átema bílla ngílla” (“This is a fine
town”), he replied, with conscious pride, “Áte bílla déka gení; áte bílla
maíwa” (“This is not a country town; this is a royal residence”). We
reached the gate on the north-west side of the town, just at the moment
when ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán, the eldest brother of the Sheikh ʿOmár, arrived with
a party of horsemen. What his business was I do not know; but before
the expedition left the town, there had been a great many unfavourable
rumours concerning his ambitious designs, and the malcontents expected
that he would avail himself of this opportunity for striking a blow at
the vizier, in order to prevent the expedition from proceeding against
Mándará, as he himself was supposed to be on friendly terms with the
chief of that country. But whatever may have been his intentions, he
found his rival still too strong; and, after a friendly parting from his
brother, he retraced his steps.
The view over the encampment, which presented itself when from the north
I turned to the south-west side of the town, was extremely interesting;
and I kept along the higher ground formed by the rubbish which had
accumulated at the foot of the wall. Tents of every description and
size—light sheds constructed with the long stalks of Indian corn,
supported by four poles, and connected lightly at the top and forming
high-topped gables—horses and men, all in the greatest confusion,
presented a busy scene of animated life; but the place where our tents
were pitched had become so confined, that I was glad to avail myself
of any opportunity which presented itself of roving about in the
neighbourhood.
The most attractive place was the komádugu, or watercourse, which passes
at some distance to the south of the town, and is distinguished by the
special name of Yálowe. It was a very charming spot, winding along
through a rich and varied forest, bordered by an uninterrupted line of
the finest fig-trees, principally of the kind called “ngábore.” The
channel itself was only about forty yards wide, encompassed by banks
of from twelve to fifteen feet in height, and at present it was not
enlivened by a continuous stream, but contained several detached pools
of stagnant water. Although the water was cool, and not disagreeable to
the taste, still it was not very pure, and could not but contain the
germs of much disease. This is the same komádugu with which, in its upper
course in the territory of Ujé, I had become acquainted on my journey to
Ádamáwa. The banks all around were enlivened by horses and pack-oxen, who
were enjoying the rich verdure; and there was not a shady tree but had
been taken possession of by a troop of Kánembú or Kanúri, in order to
find that comfortable repose which the noisy encampment could not afford.
Having heard that the wealth of the inhabitants of Díkowa consisted of
cotton, I expected to find extensive well-kept cotton-plantations; but,
although the article was cultivated to a great extent, I was astonished
at the neglected appearance which it exhibited, the cotton-fields being
almost buried beneath the thicket, and overgrown not only with rank
grass, but even with trees and bushes, so that scarcely any space was
left for the plants to spread out; nevertheless their luxuriant growth
bore ample testimony to the rich nature of the soil, and gave an idea of
the wealth that lies buried in these regions. I have already observed, on
another occasion, that the natives of Negroland take very little care of
their cotton-plantations; and there is no doubt that, if sufficient care
was bestowed, quite a different quality might be produced.
I roved about in this wild and fertile region till I was entirely hemmed
in by an impenetrable thicket. While returning hence to our encampment
by a more westerly path, I was ruminating in my mind how the former
rulers of this country had evinced so much more feeling for the bounty
and beauty of nature than its present possessors; for, while these have
chosen for their residence the most monotonous district of the empire,
the former selected those parts which nature itself had embellished—the
shores of the so-called Yeou, or the komádugu Wáube, and this fine
watercourse of Díkowa; and they not only chose the most interesting
spots, but they even embellished them by art, as the large artificial
basins in the neighbourhood of Ghasréggomo, Ghámbarú, and Dámasak amply
testify. In this respect it is not uninteresting that we are informed by
the Imám Áhmed, the historian of the King Edrís Alawóma, that his master,
when he visited the town of Fíka, could not forego the pleasure of paying
a visit to the famous little alpine lake which lies at some distance
from that town. Although the country of Bórnu is far from being the most
favoured part of Negroland, yet the shores of these watercourses are very
rich indeed, and capable of maintaining a numerous population.
In returning to our encampment, I passed the market, or durríya, which
was held every afternoon on the west side of the encampment. It was
really a busy scene, not yielding in importance to the little daily
market of the capital; and this was not at all marvellous, as a greater
crowd of people, and a far greater number of horses, were gathered
here than the average population of Kúkawa. Not only were provisions,
such as meat, grain, beans, ground-nuts, and other articles of a like
description, offered for sale, but even small luxuries; and there was a
good deal of bartering, as the buyers were destitute of currency—kúngona,
or cowries, as well as gábagá, or cotton strips. I also observed that
the encampment, especially on this side, where it was skirted by a
thick covert of trees, was encircled by a living wall of light Kánembú
spearmen, who were keeping watch; for although the army was still in its
own territory, yet, in the weak state of the government, a certain degree
of insecurity already commences here; and the very first evening of our
being encamped on this spot, the ngáufate was roused by the gangéma, or
announcement by beat of drum, to the effect that everybody should be on
his guard against horse-stealers.
While the country around presented interesting features, and the
encampment itself exhibited a scene of great variety, the time we spent
here passed away comfortably and agreeably, with the sole exception that
the space allotted to us was too confined to be comfortable. We were on
the most friendly terms with the sheikh as well as with his vizier; and
all court etiquette was dispensed with. This went so far that I and my
companion accommodated our noble and princely friends with our woollen
jackets and drawers; for they began to feel the cold at night very
severely, and on these occasions the very respectable Háj Edrís had to
play the part of a royal laundress.
Already, during our hibernal stay in the country of Aír, we had been
obliged to accommodate our old and austere friend Ánnur and his numerous
relatives with our Turkish waistcoats: but we had not yet condescended
to give away our under-clothing; and being ourselves extremely poor and
destitute in every respect, it was certainly not a little privation we
imposed upon ourselves. The clothes of the sheikh and his vizier were
all very wide, and not fit for keeping out the cold. I have repeatedly
had occasion to mention how sensitive the Africans are to cold; and I am
persuaded that, in the burning regions of Central Africa, a good cargo
of warm under-clothing would find a ready sale, especially if it should
arrive in the months of December and January. But neither did our noble
hosts, on their part, fail to do everything in their power to render our
situation as comfortable as possible; and it was very satisfactory to see
how anxious the vizier was to supply us with all desirable information.
One evening, at a late hour, when I was reposing in my tent and about to
go to bed, he sent for me in the greatest hurry, as if my life or death
were at stake; and upon hastening thither, anxious to hear what was the
matter, I was told that the vizier had been informed of a person being in
the encampment who, like my old friend the mállem Katúri, had accompanied
the memorable expedition of Ámba Sámbo, the warlike chief of Chámba,
towards the country of Ígbo on the sea-coast. But while the latter had
gone to Mbáfu with the main body of the army, the adventurous proceedings
of that person had not even been limited by the boundaries of the sea;
and he informed me, in the most positive and conclusive manner, that the
body of troops which he accompanied had sailed along a rocky coast for
fifteen days, when they unexpectedly met with an island, where they took
possession of a number of muskets; their owners, who were all dressed in
jackets, having taken refuge in their large vessel.
He did not doubt that these people were Christians, and according to the
description which he gave me of the vessel, there can scarcely be any
doubt that it was a European one; but I did not feel quite certain as to
the point whether he had navigated a large river, or the open sea, though
I think it probable they went down the Niger, and surprised one of the
European traders at the mouth of the river. At any rate, however, this
is an extremely interesting circumstance. I apprehend that the chiefs of
Ádamáwa will hesitate in future to extend their expeditions so far, after
an English steamer has gone up the river to the very heart of their own
country. It was this same Bórnu horseman who informed me that, on that
expedition, all the horses had died from a disease proceeding from worms.
While chatting together upon these subjects till after midnight, I had an
opportunity of giving the vizier some little information regarding the
peculiar character of the maritime power of the Imám of Maskat, of which
he had never heard before, and which interested him exceedingly. With
the Arabs of Timbúktu, also, this subject formed a topic of the highest
interest, as they had no idea that there were people of the same faith
living on the eastern shores of this continent; and they delighted in
the thought, that even in those regions there were Moslems, who were not
quite destitute of political power. For, although the famous traveller
Ebn Batúta has given to his countrymen an account of these regions, it
was only in Sókoto that I met with a man, the learned Káderi dan Táffa,
who knew Sofála by name.
My friend Bíllama also frequently called on me, and furnished me with a
variety of information, while I applied myself strenuously to the study
of the Kanúri language, which had discouraged me at first, owing to the
difficulties of its grammatical structure: and I could scarcely have
had a better teacher than our friend Háj Edrís; for, being of Kanúri
origin, he had lived a great many years in the east, especially in
Medína, and had become almost an Arab. He was certainly an intelligent
and honest man; and in the course of our stay we became indebted to him
in many respects. Of course we could not expect him to render his service
gratuitously, as he himself was not in affluent circumstances, though as
a courtier he had to keep up a good appearance; but being myself very
poor at the time, I could do nothing but place him upon a needle-pension,
the needles being very useful in the encampment for buying provisions.
CHAPTER XLIII.
THE BORDER-REGION OF THE SHÚWA.
_Saturday, Dec. 6._—At length, after a protracted stay, we left our
encampment at Díkowa, though still in complete uncertainty whether the
expedition was directed against Mándará or not; for as yet the chief
of that little country (which, through the adventures of Major Denham,
has obtained in Europe a greater share of attention than it really
deserves), relying upon the natural strength of his mountains, had not
yet made his submission. The rumours which we heard from thence were
of the most contradictory nature; and it seemed as if Abú Bakr, which
is the name of the present chief, had made up his mind to a determined
resistance, having retired into his mountain fastnesses, to the great
disappointment of the vizier, who repeatedly asked me and my companion,
with great anxiety, what was to be done, and how it was possible for the
cavalry to attack the enemy in his mountainous retreat: for, whatever
military strength the Kanúri may still possess, it is almost solely to
be looked for in their cavalry. The former excellence of the Kánembú
spearmen, resulting from their enthusiastic devotion to their leader, has
disappeared long ago, at least since the overthrow of the old dynasty;
and the vizier had to expect very little sympathy from this body, as most
of them were decidedly favourable to the interest of his adversary, ʿAbd
eʾ Rahmán. As far as I had been able to learn the nature of those rocky
mountains on my journey to Yóla, I could not but think that not only the
cavalry of Bórnu, but even the Kánembú spearmen, accustomed as they were
to the level plains of their country, would be incapable of climbing
those rocky cliffs.
The whole country was enveloped in a thick fog when we started in the
morning; so that the passage of the komádugu, with its steep banks,
caused a considerable crowding and pushing, which was far from agreeable.
When we had got safely over, we had to pass a thick forest, consisting of
“bíto” and “kindín,” or talha-trees; and on our left appeared the large
walled place of Áfagé, a considerable town, but not so large as Díkowa.
After only a short interval, we saw another town on our right, called
Kodége, the walls of which were in an advanced state of decay, but were
at present adorned with living battlements of male and female spectators.
Proceeding a short distance onward, we encamped at an early hour to
the westward of another walled town, called Zógoma. The whole of this
district, favoured as it is by nature, seems to have been once in a very
flourishing condition. It was, however, rather odd that we should have
encamped here, as the horses had to be led back to Áfagé for water.
I had scarcely pitched my tent, when that cruel minister of police,
Lamíno, a man whose character my friend Háj Edrís used significantly to
describe in the few words, “Kárgo díbbi, kíndi díbbi” (“Bad in heart,
and bad in deed”), brought into my presence a famous cut-throat of
the name of Barka-ngólo, whose neck was secured in a large machine
called “bégo,” consisting of two pieces of wood from four to five feet
in length, and very heavy, so that every movement was accompanied with
the greatest pain. Nevertheless my mischievous friend persuaded himself
that it would gratify me to see this miserable wretch fight with another
culprit secured in the same manner, by giving to each of them a long whip
of hippopotamus-hide, and forcing them by threats to flog each other. It
was a horrible sight; and I had great difficulty in convincing my cruel
friend that such a scene was far from being agreeable to me. In order
to get rid of him, I presented him with a quantity of cloves to give to
his beloved ʿAáisha, of whose culinary powers we had already had several
proofs. He was greatly pleased with my present; and with an amorous smile
he described to me how deeply he was in love with his darling, saying
that he loved her, and she loved him also: “and,” added he, in a very
sentimental way, “such a mutual love is the greatest bliss on earth.”
Europeans must not fancy that there is no such feeling among these
Africans as love, although it is not quite so ethereal as it sometimes
seems to be with us. Notwithstanding these amorous declarations, which
sounded very ridiculous coming from such a mass of flesh as he was, I was
glad when he was gone.
We were now approaching hostile territory, and in the evening a
“gangéma,” or proclamation accompanied by beat of drum, was made
throughout the whole encampment, to the effect that the train of camels
and pack-oxen, which previously had greatly hemmed in the cavalry, should
not start until after the former had moved on. Zógoma is the farthest
town of the Bórnu territory in this direction; and the following day we
encamped in a district of the name of Mása, close to a swamp, thickly
covered with water-plants, principally the _Pistia stratiotes_. Several
Shúwa villages were lying about at short distances from each other.
On the road we passed some cotton-plantations and stubble-fields. The
chief agricultural produce of Mása consisted of “sábade,” the sweet
sorghum or _Sorghum saccharatum_. This sort of grain I had not yet seen
in the course of my journey; but in Díkowa my friend Malá Ibrám had sent
me a large quantity of it, in order that I might indulge in this African
luxury. At that period I was surprised at the great length of these
stalks, some of which measured fourteen feet; but how astonished was I
afterwards, when, in the course of my travels in the luxuriant valleys of
Kebbi, I found specimens of twice that length! This evening the vizier
treated us with the marrow of the “sábade,” which, in snow-white pieces
of about eight inches in length, were neatly placed upon a straw cover
or “féfe,” such as are used in the country. While indulging in this
simple African dainty, our conversation, very naturally, turned upon the
cultivation as well as the preparation of sugar, which is one of those
articles of European industry that most excites the admiration of the
natives of this country. But when they learn in what a filthy manner it
is refined, they become horrified, and hesitate whether they shall say
farewell to this indulgence, or overcome the scruples and prejudices of
their creed.
There is no doubt that the “sábade” would yield a rich produce of sugar;
but it is not necessary to have recourse to this expedient, as the
sugar-cane itself grows wild in several regions of Negroland, and we
shall actually find a small plantation of it, and boiling-houses, on a
small scale, carried on by a native in the neighbourhood of Sókoto. Our
conversation at these African _soirées_ with the vizier became sometimes
so learned, that even Ptolemy with his “_Mandros oros_” was quoted. But,
sad as it must seem to all who, like myself, delight in going back into
remote antiquity, this famous mountain, which at the first sight seems to
be an ancient memorial of the Mándará mountains of some seventeen hundred
years standing, appears to belong entirely to Western Africa. Our kind
host always found great delight in every kind of information; it was only
a pity he was wanting in manly energy to carry out his good projects.
_Monday, Dec. 8._—Woe to those regions through which an army takes its
march in these parts of the world, were it even their own country. We
passed this morning some very extensive cornfields, the crops of which
were of the most luxuriant growth; but notwithstanding the piteous
clamours, and even the threats of the slaves who were watching on
the highly raised platforms in order to keep away the birds from the
corn, the rich ears fell a prey to the hungry horsemen, for their own
sustenance and that of their animals. These raised platforms are here
called “górgo”; and the ropes which were fastened between them and the
trees were provided with small hollow gourds, “káre,” filled with stones,
which, when set in motion, were intended to frighten away the birds.
After a tolerable march, we took up our encampment near the straggling
hamlet Delhé, a locality touched at by Major Denham, on his unfortunate
expedition to Mándará, but placed by him much too far southward.
All the cottages in these Shúwa villages have a conical roof rising to a
great elevation, and tapering like a sugar-loaf,—the thatch being put on
in a very irregular way, and fastened with ropes, though it is pleasantly
and cheerfully adorned by the climbers of the “ságade” or “kubéwa,” a
species of the _Cucurbita melopepo_ (squash gourd), if not identical
with it, the fruit of which, when boiled, has a very pleasant taste, and
in some regions of Negroland, as far as Timbúktu, forms the principal
vegetable for seasoning food.
The long duration of the rainy season here, as well as in Ádamáwa,
renders sheds for the cattle necessary; and these consist of huts
constructed similarly to the dwellings of man, but more spacious, with
the exception that the walls consist merely of trunks of trees. The Shúwa
of this village, as well as those of a neighbouring one, which after the
name of a chief is called Háj Amaka, belong to the tribe of the Bulgówa,
or ʿAwisíya. The place where we encamped was full of brushwood; and it
took us a long time to pitch our tents. The variation of the temperature
was so great, that I caught a severe cold; it was therefore agreeable
to me that we remained here the following day: for while, during the
greatest heat, at two o’clock P.M., the thermometer in the ventilated
tent showed often from 93° to 96° Fahr., during the night it generally
fell to between 50° and 53°. The vizier was kind enough, when I did not
come to his _soirée_, to send one of his young slaves with a censer; but
I was so unfortunate as to excite the anger of the little tyrannical
messenger, who wanted me to imitate their own custom, which is, to place
the censer under their wide shirt, and, by drawing the opening close over
the head, to concentrate the fumes arising from the incense under their
shirt, and receive it into the face, while I, thinking this rather too
much, was satisfied with holding my face over it.
_Wednesday, Dec. 10._—We made a short march in advance, and transferred
our encampment to Díggera, through a country where wilderness and
cultivated ground alternated. Here we remained the five following
days; and I had sufficient leisure to regret that I was not better
provided with books. Anxious to employ my time usefully, I began,
with the assistance of two Mándará, or rather Wándalá slaves, to
write down a vocabulary of the language of that country, which by the
natives themselves is called “Ára-Wándalá,” as they call their country
“Khakh-Wándalá,” or “Khákh-Úndalá.”
The cold which we experienced during our stay here we considered very
severe—at least from an African point of view and feeling; for in Europe
it would have been thought very moderate. Fortunately our encampment
was more comfortable than it had been at Delhé, and presented features
of considerable interest; for here we saw the first complete example of
those shallow stagnant watercourses which are so highly characteristic
of the equatorial regions of this continent, and explain at the same
time the conflicting statements with regard to the direction of so many
watercourses in these regions. However, there are two different kinds
of these shallow waters: first, such as are in immediate connection
with larger rivers, and often run parallel to them, and which most
appropriately deserve to be called backwaters; and, secondly, those which
are quite independent, and form a small water-system by themselves. To
the latter kind seems to belong this swampy sheet of water, or “ngáljam,”
of Díggera, although I heard some Shúwa affirm that it extended to the
Tsád.
I first turned my steps eastward, where the encampment extended to the
very foot of the beautiful trees, which, forming a rich border of the
finest embroidery from the hand of nature, girt the water. Most of them
were either fig (sycamore) or tamarind-trees. The aspect of the scenery
was most interesting, and under almost every tamarind-tree a group of
people was encamped. The cavity where this sheet of water had collected
formed a very slight depression in the meadow-ground, it being almost
flat; the water, to all appearance, had already decreased considerably,
and only in a few places presented an open sheet, being in general
closely overgrown with rank grass and tall reeds. I followed it to a
considerable distance towards the north-north-west, till I was obliged by
the thick covert to retrace my steps, and then turned westward. The far
larger extension of the water during the rainy season was sufficiently
indicated by the luxuriant growth of trees. I crossed it at a spot where
it was not so extensive, and found the bottom of it extremely muddy,
which made the passage rather difficult, though the water was only
two and a half feet deep. The intended outlines of its shores greatly
distinguished it from those more complete and regular-shaped ngáljams,
which, in the course of time, I had an opportunity of visiting, not only
in those extensive plains between the river Bénuwé and Shári, but also
in the regions of the middle course of the so-called Niger; for, in the
quarters just mentioned, these shallow waters, or meadow-waters, often
stretch out, in a straight or regularly sweeping line, like artificial
canals, to an immense distance,—especially that most interesting sheet of
water three days west of Timbúktu, the “Áraf-n-áman,” or Rás el má.
Of quite a different nature is the character of the famous Bahar el
Ghazál, which joins the Tsád on the north-eastern side, being a broad
sandy valley girt by a rich border of vegetation. This peculiar valley,
which it was not our destiny to become acquainted with by ocular
inspection, formed the subject of conversation with the vizier on Sunday
evening; and a disputation arose, of so scientific a character that it
might have silenced all those who scoff at the uncivilized state of the
population of these regions. To be sure, the two principal persons in
this conversation were Arabs; but their forefathers had been settled in
these regions for at least ten generations.
Here in Díggera, where we were only one good day’s march distant from
the capital of Mándará, our friends were obliged to come to a decision
upon the future destination of the expedition. After the news which had
arrived some days previously, that the petty chief of Mándará, whose
ancestor once completely defeated a countless host of the Bórnu people,
had decided upon making resistance, they had been very silent and
dejected, and were therefore extremely delighted when at length, to-day,
a servant of the obstinate vassal made his appearance with a present of
ten beautiful female slaves, and the offer of complete submission. So at
least we were told; but the affair seemed very doubtful, and a native
of Mándará, or, as they say, Ár-Wándalá, afterwards assured me that his
master, the powerful “Tuksé” of Khákh-Úndala, had been so far from making
his submission to the insolent “Móthaké” (by this name they call the
Bórnu people), that, on the contrary, he had treated them with contempt.
Which of the two assertions was correct I do not know; but it is probable
that the chief of Mándará thought it prudent to consent to some sort of
compromise—perhaps through the intermediation of ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán, the
sheikh’s brother.
Whatever may have been the case, the vizier informed us in the evening,
in a very cheerful manner, that the affair with Mándará had taken the
most favourable turn, and that in consequence the sheikh, with a small
part of the army, was to retrace his steps, while he himself, with
the far larger portion, was to undertake an expedition into the Músgu
country, and that we, of course, were to accompany him. Now we were well
aware that the object of this expedition was partly to make slaves,
and that, in our character as messengers of the British Government,
we ought to endeavour to keep aloof from anything connected with the
infamous subject of slavery; but as we could not hinder it if we kept
back, and as by accompanying the expedition we might prevent a deal
of mischief, and might likewise have a fair opportunity of convincing
ourselves whether what was related of the cruelty of the Mohammedans in
these expeditions was true or exaggerated, we decided upon accompanying
the vizier. At the same time it was of the utmost importance to visit
that very region which was the object of the expedition, as it was the
only way to decide upon the relation between the central basin of the
Tsád and the great western river, with its eastern branch, while there
was no possibility of visiting it by ourselves. We had already convinced
ourselves that the country of the Músgu is not, as Major Denham has
represented it, a mountainous, inaccessible tract; but we were puzzled
at the number of watercourses of which our informants had spoken, and
we could not have the least idea how fertile a country it was, and how
far remote its inhabitants were from that state of barbarism which
had been imputed to them. We therefore, although reluctantly, and not
without scruple, at length determined upon accompanying the expedition;
and I hope that every considerate person who takes into account all the
circumstances in which we were placed, will approve of our resolution.
_Wednesday, Dec. 17._—At length we proceeded onwards, entering new
regions never trodden by European foot. Our departure having been delayed
in the morning, owing to the separating of the army, we started rather
late, leaving the sheikh, with the rest of the “kebú,” behind. The
country at once presented a new and interesting feature. Already in Bórnu
a considerable proportion of our diet had consisted of native rice, and
we had been rather astonished at its black colour and bad quality. We had
heard that it grew wild in the southern provinces of the country; but we
had never yet seen it, and it was only this morning, after we had left
Díggera and had traversed extensive stubble-fields of millet intermixed
with beans, that we obtained a first view of a “shinkáfaram,” or wild
rice-field, in the midst of the forest. We were then no longer surprised
at the quality of the rice brought to the market in Kúkawa being so bad,
as we felt justified in presuming that the elephant would have sense
enough to take the best for himself, and leave the rest for the people.
As we proceeded we found the whole wilderness, although not thickly
wooded, full of pools of water and dense rice-fields.
The country to-day presented a truly tropical aspect; and our encampment,
lying near an extensive pond, or small lagoon, surrounded with a
luxuriant growth of rice and a dense border of spreading trees, was so
full of the footprints of the elephant, that scarcely a level spot of two
or three feet in diameter could be found. This was by no means pleasant,
in our present mode of living, as we were without a camp-stool, or
anything to sit or lie upon; for the argillaceous soil is so excessively
hard, that the borders of these holes produced by the unwieldy foot of
the elephant cause a great deal of pain to a person lying on the ground
with nothing but a mat or carpet. The most essential instrument on this
whole journey was the “láteram,” the digging-instrument (from “langin,”
“I dig”), consisting of a large piece of wood about three feet long,
with a heavy iron point; for without the láteram it would have been
impossible to fix the dáteram (from “dangin,” “I fasten, stop”), or the
pole to which the horses are fastened during the night. In general, every
horseman digs the hole in which the pole is fastened with his own spear;
but this soil was so hard that it was scarcely possible to make the
smallest hole in it. Of course, during the rainy season, it is just as
soft and muddy as it is hard in the dry season, and scarcely passable in
consequence.
A giraffe was caught to-day. I had been of opinion that this timorous
animal was not found in the thickly inhabited regions near the equator;
but I soon learned from experience that it is not at all rare in the
wildernesses which alternate with the densely populated regions of these
districts. The elephant, however, is the predominant animal of these
quarters; and the large market-place, Fátawel, which I have mentioned on
my journey to Ádamáwa, and the Logón town Jéna, or rather Jínna, seem to
be of considerable importance for their ivory-trade.
In the evening I had the misfortune to be stung by a scorpion, which had
got into my bernús. As I had not noticed the animal in the dark, and
thinking that it was nothing but one of the formidable black ants, the
bite of which is very painful, I neglected the wound at first, so that
the poison penetrated to the shoulder, and rendered my right arm useless
for two days.
_Thursday, Dec. 18._—Seeing that we were now entirely in the hands of the
vizier, my companion and I used to present ourselves at his tent every
morning, and to ride for some time near him. I, however, soon found it
pleasanter to keep more in the rear of the army, a little in advance of
his female slaves; and in the narrow paths in the midst of the forest,
where the crowding became very disagreeable, I used to keep behind his
led-horses. Of female slaves on horseback and led-horses the vizier had
with him the moderate number of eight of each kind, while the sheikh had
twelve; but this appeared to me a small number when I afterwards saw the
king of Bagírmi returning from the expedition with a string of forty-five
mounted female partners. These black damsels were all clothed in white
woollen bernúses, with their faces completely veiled, and were closely
watched. To-day we had a more complete specimen of that peculiar kind
of shallow water which I have mentioned above; and the army, while they
were winding around it on the fresh green meadow-lands, closely hemmed in
on their left by a grove of fine trees, presented a highly interesting
scene. From thence, passing through a thick covert, we entered the
beautiful open district of Wolóje, which comprises several hamlets. Here
I was amused at seeing the head man of a village successfully putting to
flight, with a large branch of a tree, a troop of pilfering horsemen. A
little beyond these hamlets the encampment was chosen, at some little
distance from a very extensive “ngáljam.”
Our conversation with the vizier in the evening again took a geographical
turn, owing to the presence of his spy or scout, who had just returned
from delivering his message to the Músgu prince Ádishén. The vizier was
as yet undecided in which direction to turn his steps; and we heard a
native chief, of the name of Puss, or Fuss, mentioned in a manner that
assured us our friends were afraid to attack him. Ádishén, the chief just
mentioned, was in a certain degree subject to the rulers of Bórnu; but
it seemed rather an ironical assertion that this prince would be pleased
with the arrival of the expedition. While describing his reception at
the court of the chief, the scout indulged in a lively description
of the customs prevalent among these people, whose chief had only
outwardly adopted Islám. His Majesty, he said, used to indulge in amorous
intercourse with his female slaves, of whom he had two hundred, before
the eyes of his people; an account which was rather confirmed by Kashélla
Belál, who had been his host several times. Belál, who was a very jovial
old fellow, also stated that this little prince was not jealous of the
favours bestowed by his female partners upon his guests; but, on the
contrary, that he himself voluntarily gave them up to them. Such a
degrading custom may indeed be followed by this petty chief, who has
betrayed his country in order that, by the influence of his more powerful
neighbours, he might rule over his countrymen; but we need not draw a
conclusion from him as to the customs of the whole tribe, although, of
course, they regard the relation of the sexes in a simpler point of view
than we do.
_Friday, Dec. 19._—The country through which we passed, on leaving our
encampment in the morning, was most charming, and of a most expansive
bound, and exactly suited for pastoral tribes like the Shúwa and Fúlbe;
but traces of cultivation also, and even of cotton-fields, were not
wanting: while further on, the dúm-bush appeared, and was after a while
succeeded by the tall fan-shaped dúm-palm itself. The country being open,
and without any obstruction whatever, the “kibú,” or army, marched in
an extended line of battle, “báta,” separated into groups of the most
varied description in attire and appearance: the heavy cavalry, clad in
thick wadded clothing, others in their coats of mail, with their tin
helmets glittering in the sun, and mounted on large heavy chargers, which
appeared almost oppressed by the weight of their riders and their own
warlike accoutrements; the light Shúwa horsemen, clad only in a loose
shirt, and mounted upon their weak unseemly nags; the self-conceited
slaves, decked out gaudily in red bernúses or silken dresses of various
colours; the Kánembú spearmen, almost naked, with their large wooden
shields, their half-torn aprons round their loins, their barbarous
head-dresses, and their bundles of spears; then, in the distance behind,
the continuous train of camels and pack-oxen: all the people full of
spirits, and in the expectation of rich booty, pressing onward to the
unknown regions towards the south-east.
It was an exalted feeling of unrestrained liberty which animated me
while, mounted on my noble charger, I rode silently along at the side
of this motley host, contemplating now the fine, beautiful country, now
the rich scenes of human life, which were illumined by a bright morning
sun. As yet no blood had been shed by this army, and neither misery,
devastation, nor the horrors of people torn from their homes, cried out
against it. Every one seemed to think only of sport and amusement. Now
and then a stir would be raised in the whole army when a gazelle started
forth from the thicket, endeavouring to escape from her pursuers, but
soon found herself hemmed in on every side, while Shúwa horsemen and
Kánembú spearmen, each endeavouring to possess himself of the prize,
cried out to his rivals in the pursuit, “Kólle, kólle!” (“Leave off,
leave off!”) as if the prey was already his own, while others animated
their companions by shouting out, “Góne, góne!” (“Chase, chase!”) the
sounds re-echoing from one troop to another; or when a fat Guinea-fowl,
“káji,” or a partridge, “kwíye,” roused from its secure covert, took
to its wings, but, trying to fly over those widely scattered troops of
hostile men, and frightened by their cries, was soon obliged to look
for a moment’s respite, and, after a vain struggle, fell a prey to its
pursuers, who often, while they laid hold of it, tore it actually into
pieces.
The wide open country seemed to invite the traveller into the far
distance; but to-day our march was only of short duration, and before
eight o’clock in the morning a new encampment, upon a fresh spot,
was again springing up. This whole country is still included in the
extensive district of Wolóje; but the water, which was close to the side
of the encampment, has the peculiar name of Kodásalé. The whole of the
inhabitants of the district belong to the Shúwa tribe of the Bénesé. To
the east of Kodásalé lies the place Lawári, towards the west Súggemé,
beyond Úlba, and south-west of the latter Memé, and north-west Momó. All
these villages are inhabited by Shúwa and Kanúri in common; beyond is the
wilderness or karága.
I, too, had my little daily “nógona,” or divan, in which Kashélla
Bíllama, my friend from Ádamáwa, and Háj Edrís, formed my principal
courtiers, or “kokanáwa,” though occasionally other people attended. All
these people I kept attached to me by presents of a few needles, with
which they supplied their wants in the neighbouring villages. Bíllama
informed me to-day that for three needles he had bought sufficient
provision for his horse for one day; for two he had bought a wooden
bowl, or “búkuru”; and for six more a good supply of meat. Thus this
insignificant production of European industry became of the highest
value to me; and it obtained still more value and importance, in the
course of my journey to Bagírmi, when it constituted my only wealth,
and in consequence procured me the noble title of “needle-prince,”
(“malaríbra”). We remained here the following day, as the army had to
provide itself with corn, or rather Negro grain, as we were told that we
should enter upon a wild uncultivated tract, the border-region between
the seats of the Mohammedans and those of the pagan tribes, which, as
is generally the case in these parts of the world, has been reduced to
desolation.
Each of the surrounding villages had to send two ox-loads of grain,
which, however, did not benefit the army in general, but fell entirely
to the share of the friends and followers of Lamíno, the remainder of
this immense host being thrown upon their own resources. All the grain
was carried on asses. It was in this encampment that the vizier made a
present to Mr. Overweg of a small lion. He had given him, on a former
occasion, a “súmmoli.” This is a very ferocious cat, of rather rare
occurrence, which is said not only to attack gazelles, but young cattle
or calves. It was of a light brown colour, the hind part, however, being
black, and had very pointed, upright ears, “súmmo,” a circumstance from
which the name has been derived. The ears, moreover, are ornamented with
a black stripe. A great many curious stories are related by the people
with regard to the ferocity of this animal, and from what we ourselves
had an opportunity of observing, it seems to be a marvellous little
creature: for, though still very young and small, it was nevertheless
extremely fierce, and was quite master of the young lion. Both animals
were fed with boiled milk, of which they were very fond; but the
continual swinging motion which they had to endure on the back of the
camels in the heat of the day, caused their death very soon.
_Sunday, Dec. 21._—The crowding and thronging was excessive when we
started in order to pursue our march. The wilderness at first was
tolerably clear, being at times evidently a place of resort for numerous
herds of elephants, as the quantity of dung, and the uninterrupted
tracks of deep footprints, which gave to the soil the appearance of a
colossal chessboard, amply testified. After a march of about six miles
the wilderness became more thickly overgrown, and presented a fine forest
scenery; but, as is generally the case on such warlike expeditions,
there is no leisure to pay attention to special phenomena, especially
as the Bórnu horses are in general very wild and vicious, and in the
throng everybody was continually liable to come into collision with his
neighbour’s horse, which, perchance, might be a furious kicker.
The general character of this jungle was this. The ground was covered
with dúm-bush, which formed a thick brushwood, and here and there with
rank grass, while the forest in general consisted of middle-sized trees,
chiefly mimosas and kálgos, though there were other specimens, especially
the kókia-tree, which I had first seen on my journey from Gezáwa to
Kátsena, the trees of smaller size being separated into groups by large
spreading specimens of the vegetable kingdom, mostly of the ficus kind;
for monkey-bread-trees seemed to be wanting entirely, and altogether I
saw few specimens of this tree in the Músgu country. Very remarkable
nests of birds, suspended from the branches, were observed, not unlike a
purse, with a long narrow neck hanging down and forming the entrance; or
rather like a chemist’s retort suspended from the head, the shank being
several inches long, and the whole beautifully fabricated with the most
surprising skill. Of the skilful manufacturers of these fine dwellings
we did not obtain a sight; but probably it is a species of _loxia_. In
this thick covert, several young elephants were hunted down, and even the
giraffe seemed frequent.
The place which we chose for our encampment was adorned by numerous
fan-palms, which, although in general identical with the species
called _Chamærops humilis_, nevertheless by their height appeared to
be a distinct variety, and gave to the encampment a very picturesque
appearance. This forest was here so dense, that only the spot where the
vizier himself encamped together with his own followers was free from
brushwood, while all the other people were first obliged to clear the
ground with much trouble. This was the first day, since our setting
out, that we made a tolerable march. The whole manner in which the
expedition was conducted was an unmistakable proof of an effeminate
court, especially if we take into account the principle of carrying on
war in these countries, where only sudden inroads can insure any great
success. In the evening there arrived a small complimentary present from
Ádishén, the tributary Músgu chief, consisting of five horses and twenty
oxen. But while in this manner the more influential men in the army were
well supplied with food, the greater part were very badly off, and most
of them were reduced to the core of the dúm-bush or ngílle, which by the
Bórnu people is facetiously called “kúmbu bíllabe” (“the food of the
country town”). But a good sportsman might have obtained better food for
himself, and we even got a small ostrich egg from the vizier.
It was a great pity that we had purposely avoided the more frequented
and general road, which passes by several settlements of the Fúlbe or
Felláta, in order not to give any trouble to the latter; for no doubt
that tract would have been far more interesting, as well from a natural
point of view, as with regard to the political state of the country, as
it would have given us the clearest insight into the way in which that
enterprising and restless people is pushing on every day more and more,
and strangling, as it were, the little kingdom of Mándará.
_Monday, Dec. 22._—Dense forest continued to prevail during the
first five miles of our march. It then cleared, and was succeeded by
considerable fields of wild rice, most of which was burnt down; for,
as I have repeatedly had occasion to mention, all these wildernesses
of Central Africa are set on fire after the rainy season. The whole
ground in this district was one uninterrupted succession of holes made
by the foot of the elephant, which obstructed the march of the army very
considerably, and was the reason of several horses being lamed. Sálah, a
younger brother of the vizier, a very intelligent man, broke his arm. A
herd of six elephants was in the neighbourhood, and after a great deal
of confusion, one animal, which got between the horsemen, was killed. It
is no wonder that these regions are so frequented by them, as they find
here plenty of the choicest food. The jungles of wild rice were only
interrupted for a short time by a tract covered with dúm-bush. Water was
plentiful, every now and then a considerable pond appearing, girt by
beautiful trees, and at present enlivened by groups of horsemen, who were
watering their animals.
After a march of about fifteen miles we encamped close to a larger sheet
of water, which was full of fish of the species called “bégeli,” and
enabled us to give to our food that day more variety, the forest, as well
as the water, contributing its share; for, besides the fish, we had roast
hare and elephant’s flesh, which was very palatable, and much like pork.
_Tuesday, Dec. 23._—Three heavy strokes upon the drum, at the dawn of
day, set our motley host once more in motion. It was an important day,
and many of the principal people had exchanged their common dress for a
more splendid attire. We entered the Músgu country, and at the same time
came into contact with fragments of that nation, who, having spread from
the far west over the one-half of Africa, are restlessly pushing forward
and overwhelming the pagan tribes in the interior. These are the Fúlbe
or Felláta, the most interesting of all African tribes, who, having been
driven from Bórnu, have here laid the foundation of a new empire.
Twice on our march we were obliged to make a halt: the first time owing
to the arrival of Ádishén, the Músgu chief, with a troop of naked
horsemen mounted on a breed of small, unseemly, but strong ponies,
without saddles and bridles, and presenting altogether a most barbarous
and savage spectacle. The second halt was caused by the appearance of a
Púllo or Felláta chief, with two hundred horsemen of his nation, who, by
their shirts and shawls, their saddles and bridles, certainly claimed
a higher degree of civilization, but who, nevertheless, were far from
exhibiting a grand appearance. This chief was an officer of Khúrsu, the
ruler of the town or principality of Fétte or Pétte, which we had left
at a short distance to the west. He came to join this expedition, the
object of which was to weaken the Músgu tribes, who, behind their natural
defences of rivers and swamps, had hitherto been able to maintain their
independence. Of course, on this occasion the policy of these Fúlbe
chiefs went hand in hand with that of the Bórnu people, although it is
not a little remarkable, and serves to show the slight political unity
existing between the integral parts of these empires, that while the
governor of Ádamáwa was at present on a hostile footing with the ruler of
Bórnu, one of his vassals was allowed to enter into an alliance with the
latter.
After these interruptions we pursued our march, and reached, about half
an hour before noon, the northernmost of the Músgu villages, which is
called Gábari, surrounded by rich fields of native grain; but everything
presented a sad appearance of pillage and desolation. None of the
inhabitants were to be seen; for, although subjects of Ádishén, who
enjoyed the friendship and protection of the rulers of Bórnu, they had
thought it more prudent to take care of their own safety by flight than
to trust themselves to the discretion of the undisciplined army of their
friends and protectors. The preceding evening the order had been issued
through the encampment that all the property in the villages of Ádishén
should be respected, and nothing touched, from a cow to a fowl, grain
only excepted, which was declared to be at the disposal of everybody.
It was rather remarkable that the greatest part of the crops were still
standing, although we had been lingering so long on our road, and had
given sufficient time for the people to secure them for themselves. All
the grain consisted of the red species of holcus, called by the Bórnu
people “ngáberi kemé,” which grows here to the exclusion of the white
species and that of millet. All the people of the army were busy in
threshing the grain which they had just gathered at the expense of their
friends, and loading their horses with it. Even the fine nutritive grass
from the borders of the swamp, which, woven into long festoons, the
natives had stored up in the trees as a provision against the dry season,
was carried off, and, notwithstanding the express order to the contrary,
many a goat, fowl, and even articles of furniture which had been left
behind by the natives, fell a prey to the greedy host.
The spectacle of this pillage was the more saddening, as the village
not only presented an appearance of comfort, but exhibited in a certain
degree the industry of its inhabitants. In general each courtyard
contained a group of from three to six huts, according to the number
of wives of the owner. The walls of the dwellings, without a single
exception, were built of clay, which in the courtyards of the richer
people even formed the building material of the fences. The roofs of
the cottages were thatched with great care, and at least as well as in
any house or village in Bórnu, and far superior to the thatching of the
Shúwa. The roofs even exhibited traces of various styles, and perhaps
a certain gradation in the scale of society. Almost every courtyard
enclosed a shed, besides the huts, and one granary built of clay, and
from twelve to fifteen feet high, with an arched roof, likewise of clay,
there being an opening at the top which was protected by a small cover
of thatching, as the accompanying woodcut shows. The way in which the
natives had stored up their supply of hay for the dry season was very
remarkable, the rank grass being woven into festoons of about fifteen
feet in length, and hung up in the kórna-trees which adorned the fields.
[Illustration]
Having roved about at my leisure, I pursued my march, and, emerging from
the cornfields, entered upon open meadow-grounds, partly under water,
which spread out to a considerable extent, and which, with their fresh
green turf, formed a beautiful contrast to the tall yellow crops which
I had just left behind. Ascending a little, we kept straight towards a
group of splendid trees which adorned the fields in front of another
village. The village was called Kórom, and belonged to a chief under the
authority of Ádishén, while Kadé, the residence of the latter, was only
at a short distance. In these fields the vizier had dismounted and chosen
the place for the encampment; and it was with a sad, sympathetic feeling
that I witnessed the lopping of the rich branches of the fine trees,
which were without doubt, the most splendid specimens of the karáge-tree
which I had seen in Negroland, not excepting those in the Marghí country.
The largest among them measured not less than eighty feet in height,
and the diameter of their crown could scarcely be less; but the foliage
of this tree is by no means so dense and so regularly shaped as that of
the fig or tamarind-tree. None of these fine trees, which had adorned
the landscape, escaped destruction, in order to provide fences for the
larger tents; but the few monkey-bread-trees which here appeared, owing
to the scanty foliage with which their gigantic branches were decked
out, escaped unhurt. Here we remained the two following days, and the
encampment became very confined, the more so as the ground was rather
uneven. The delay could scarcely be defended in a strategical point of
view, as it could not but serve to put all the neighbouring chiefs, who
were hostile to Ádishén, on their guard against any sudden inroad. But
it was well that they did so, as by a sudden inroad the poor persecuted
natives might have been totally annihilated.
In order to employ my leisure hours, I looked about for information
respecting the country we had just entered, and was fortunate enough to
collect some valuable data.
The Músgu, or Músekú, are a division of the great nation of the Mása,
which comprises the Kótoko, or Mákari, the people of Logón, or Lógone,
the Mándará, or Úr Wándalá, with the Gámerghú, and the large tribe of
the Bátta, and probably even that of the Mbána. Of these tribes the most
intimately related to the Músgu are the people of Logón, who, as we shall
soon have occasion to show, are nothing but a section which has quite
recently separated from the parent stock, and constituted itself as a
distinct community, owing to its higher state of civilization. Amongst
the various divisions of the Kótoko, Ngála and Klésem seem to be most
nearly related to the Músgu.
However insignificant the tribe of the Músgu may appear in the eyes
of the European, the dialects of the various communities into which
it is split, owing to the hostile manner in which they are opposed to
one another, and their entire want of friendly intercourse, differ so
much that, as I was assured the people of Lúggoy have great difficulty
in understanding those of Wúliya and Démmo. Unfortunately I had no
opportunity of collecting specimens of the other dialects besides that
spoken by the people of Lúggoy. Their principal “sáfi,” or fetish,
consists in a long spear-like pole, similar to that of the Marghí;
but nevertheless there seems to be a considerable difference in their
superstitious worship, for, while with the Marghí the pole appears to
be rather a symbol than an image of the deity, and the real worship is
attached to the sacred locality, with the Músgu tribes I did not see a
single specimen of a sacred grove. The Músgu call their fetish “kefé.”
In the afternoon I attended some time at the vizier’s, and here made the
acquaintance of an interesting and adventurous old man of the name of
Mállem Jémme, or Jýmma, who took the principal part in the conversation.
The history of this man is highly characteristic, as showing what a
large field is open to the ambition of enterprising Mohammedans in the
pagan states to the south. Threatened with capital punishment by the
old sheikh, that is to say, Mohammed el Amín el Kánemi, on account of
his disobedience, this Shúwa chieftain had fled to the pagans, and had
there succeeded in establishing gradually, by his own energy and mental
superiority, a small principality; but at present, for some reason or
other, he had been expelled and had recourse to the vizier of Bórnu
for assistance to recover his former power. His great knowledge of the
country and the different tribes which inhabited it, made him a welcome
guest; but as for himself, he did not succeed in his ambitious projects.
In reference to my expedition to Ádamáwa, I have already made use of the
authority of this man, in giving an account of the route which connects
the southernmost point on our expedition to Músgu with the places fixed
by me along the river Bénuwé.
The mállem was not very communicative; and unfortunately I had no
handsome present to make him, or else I might have learned from him
an immense deal with regard to the geography and character of these
countries, which I have no doubt, not long hence, will become of
considerable importance to Europeans. For while these regions, situated
between the rivers Bénuwé and Shári, seem to be extremely rich and
fertile, and capable—on account of the uniform level of their unbroken
plains—of the highest state of cultivation, they are the most accessible
on account of the extensive water-communication, which, rendered
available by the application of a very small degree of art and industry,
will open an easy access into the heart of Central Africa. Of course,
after the rainy season, when all these countless watercourses, which
intersect the country in every direction, and, without any apparent
inclination, inundate the country, the climate in the plains cannot be
very healthy; but isolated mountains and hills are scattered by the hand
of nature through these luxuriant plains, capable of affording more
healthy localities for settlements.
Owing to the presence of the adventurer just mentioned, the conversation
that evening was very animated, till at length the courtiers, or
“kokanáwa,” withdrew behind the curtains of the vizier’s tent, in order
to take a little refreshment. I then took my leave; but I had only gone
a short distance when I was called back, being informed that it would no
doubt be interesting to me to witness an audience of Ádishén, the Músgu
chief, who was just about to pay his respects to the commander-in-chief.
I therefore returned to the vizier’s tent, where the courtiers had again
taken their post, according to their rank and station, on each side of
their leader.
After a short time the Músgu chief arrived, accompanied by his three
brothers, mounted, as is their custom, upon horses without saddle or
bridle. Great numbers of people had collected in front of the tent,
and saluted him with scoffs and importunities; but the pagan chief did
not allow himself to be put out of countenance by the insolence of the
slaves, but preserved his princely dignity. At length the curtains of
the spacious tent were drawn back, and in came the native prince. He was
of a short stout figure, and rather mild, but not very prepossessing
features, and apparently between fifty and sixty years of age. He wore a
black tobe, but no trousers, and was bare-headed. Kneeling on the ground,
and clapping his hands, while he repeated the complimentary words, “Alla
ngúbberu degá!” (“God give you long life”), according to the custom
of the “katí gótsin,” he took up sand and sprinkled it upon his head;
but as soon as he had gone through this form of abject submission, he
assumed his character as a native chief. Thus, at once he complained of
his western neighbours, the Fúlbe or Felláta, or, as the Músgu people
call them, Chógchogo; for they, he said, had anticipated the vizier of
Bórnu, carrying off cattle and other things from his territory. The
Bórnu chief assured him that for the future he should not be exposed
to such injustice, but that he was entirely under the protection of
Bórnu. He then made a sign, and some parcels were opened, and Ádishén
was officially installed as a vassal and officer of Bórnu. First, he was
dressed in an elephant-shirt—the large black shirt from Núfe,—over which
a rich silk tobe was thrown, and over all an Egyptian shawl, while the
self-conceited courtiers, in their proud consciousness of a higher state
of civilization, treated him with contempt and scorn. My cheerful old
friend Kashélla Belál, who had decked him out in this finery, paid him
the usual compliments, exclaiming “Ngúbberu degá maína, ngúbberu degá
maína,” maína being the title of the governor of a province.
Thus this petty pagan chief had become, in an official style, a kind of
officer of Bórnu, and in this manner was alone capable of preserving
his unenviable existence, at what sacrifices we shall soon see. The
Músgu nation is situated so unfavourably, surrounded by enemies on all
sides, that, even if they were linked together by the strictest unity,
they would scarcely be able to preserve their independence. How, then,
should they be able to withstand their enemies, separated as they are
into numerous petty dominions, and having no further object than to
enslave and pillage their neighbours and kinsmen? Nothing but the number
of swampy watercourses which intersect the country in all directions,
and during the greater part of the year render it impassable for hostile
armies, while even during the remaining part the principal rivers afford
natural lines of defence, behind which the inhabitants may seek refuge,
can explain how the country is so well peopled as it is, although the
intervening tracts have been already laid waste.
Towards the north there are the Kanúri, powerful by their numerous
cavalry and the advantage of firearms; towards the west and south-west
the restless Fúlbe continually advancing; towards the north-east the
people of Logón, originally their near kinsmen, but at present opposed
to them by difference of religion; towards the east, the wild Bágrimma
people, proud of their supposed pre-eminence in religion, and eager for
the profits of the slave-trade. All these people hunting them down from
every quarter, and carrying away yearly hundreds, nay even thousands of
slaves, must in the course of time exterminate this unfortunate tribe.
To-day was Christmas-day; and my companion and I, in conformity with
a custom of our native town, tried in vain to procure some fish for a
more luxurious entertainment in the evening. The meat of giraffes, which
formed the greatest of our African luxuries, was not to be obtained; and
as for elephant’s flesh, which we _were_ able to get, although we both
liked it, we had too sadly experienced its bad effect upon the weak state
of our bowels to try it again. Hence, in order to celebrate the evening,
we were reduced to coffee and milk, with which we regaled ourselves. We
remained here the following day, under the pretext that the Fúlbe, who
had joined us, had not yet had an audience; but although the effeminate
courtiers were averse to any great exertion, the bulk of the army, who
had neither pay, nor were allowed to plunder in order to obtain their
necessary supplies, were not very well pleased with this delay, and
caused a great uproar while marching in battle-order before the tents of
their chiefs, and giving vent to their feelings by shaking and beating
their shields. On former expeditions the light troops of the Shúwa and
Kánembú had always been allowed to march some distance in advance of the
army in order to supply their wants; but on this occasion a strict order
had been issued that no one should go in advance.
In the afternoon Mr. Overweg went to pay a visit to Ádishén at his
residence in Kadé, which was about half-an-hour’s march distant towards
the south. He returned in the evening with a present of a goat, but did
not seem to be greatly pleased with his excursion; and it could scarcely
be otherwise, for while these pagans, who were obliged to disown all
national feeling, could scarcely show themselves in their true character,
and unreserved in their national manners, in the presence of such an
army, it could not but lower us in the eyes of our companions to have too
many dealings with these pagans, as they were apt to confound us with
them. To be regarded as a “kerdi” my companion cared little about: but I
was not much inclined to be identified as such, and it could certainly
reflect no honour on the character of our mission.
CHAPTER XLIV.
THE COUNTRY OF THE SHALLOW RIVERS.—WATER-PARTING BETWEEN THE RIVERS
BÉNUWÉ AND SHARI.
_Friday, Dec. 26._—At length we went onward to pursue our march, turning
considerably out of our road towards the east, in order to avoid the
residence of Ádishén, and to prevent its being pillaged. The army,
proceeding in several large detachments, presented an interesting aspect.
Here also green crops of the winter corn, or “másakwá,” were still
standing in the fields. Further on we came to open pasture-grounds,
and after a march of about ten miles we reached a village called Bógo,
where we encamped. All the inhabitants had made their escape, although
their chief, whose name is Bakshámi, was an ally and friend of Ádishén.
The cottages were well built, but there was a great scarcity of trees.
Amongst the furniture was a fishing-basket, or, as the Kanúri call it,
“káyan”; and some of them were filled with dry paste of the red species
of holcus, which however the people were afraid to touch, lest it might
be poisoned. On a former expedition several people had been poisoned by
a pot of honey which had been left behind, on purpose, by the natives
in their flight. Already on this day’s march we had observed, in the
distance towards the west, an isolated rocky mount; and here we saw it
in more distinct outlines, while beyond, at a greater distance, the
continuous mountain chain of Mándará became slightly visible.
_Saturday Dec. 27._—Our march at first led through a dense forest, after
which we emerged upon more open swampy meadow-lands covered with rank
grass, and full of holes caused by the footprints of the elephant. Great
quantities of Guinea-fowl were caught. Only here and there an isolated
mimosa interrupted the unbroken line of the savanna. It was after a
march of six miles that we obtained a sight of the first deléb-palm in
the Músgu country. Already repeatedly in the narrative of my travels
I have called the attention of the reader to this beautiful fan-palm;
but in all the localities where I had before observed it, it was
rather isolated. Even in Ádamáwa it is limited to peculiarly favoured
localities, while in some extensive provinces of that country, such as
Búban-jídda, it is wanting entirely. But here we had reached the country
where this beautiful and useful tree, probably only a variety of the
famous _Borassus flabelliformis_, is the most common and predominant
representative of the vegetable kingdom. The Músgu call it in their
language “úray.” From the Músgu country it seems to spread in an almost
uninterrupted and unbroken line through the southern provinces of Bagírmi
and Wadáy, as far as Kordofán, sending a few scouts and forerunners to
adorn the capital of Bagírmi and the watercourse of the Bat-há.
We chose our encampment in a village called Bárea, consisting of
scattered huts, and surrounded by rich stubble-fields, which were shaded
by large wide-spreading karáge trees, presenting a most cheerful and
comfortable scene. But we soon became aware that the fertility and beauty
of this district were due to the neighbourhood of a large sheet of water
full of crocodiles and river horses or “ngurútu,” and enlivened even by
a few small canoes. It had been indicated already on our march by the
flight of numerous waterfowl passing over our heads. Beautiful as the
country was, however, the place was deserted, the inhabitants having
given up their cheerful homes, and left the tombs of their worshipped
ancestors to the discretion of the hostile army, in order to seek safety
in flight. The village is the residence of a chieftain of the name of
Musíkko, who acknowledges Kábishmé, the chief mentioned above, as his
sovereign lord.
In the afternoon I received a short visit from a rather shabby sort
of man, the chief of a place called Médebé, but who was an object of
interest to me, as he had been sent as a messenger to the prince of
Mándará, and had just arrived in the encampment from the capital of that
little country. Travelling at a comfortable rate, he had arrived in three
days from Morá, sleeping the first night in the place called Mókoshi, the
second in Fétte, the place above-mentioned, and from thence to-day had
reached this place; but the whole journey, in an expeditious march, may
easily be accomplished in two days. Difficult as it would be to me to
impart to the reader the delight which I always felt in tracing my routes
from one point to another, and joining two places with which I had become
acquainted, by new itineraries he may forgive me for sometimes troubling
him with these geographical details.
[Illustration: MÚSGU.]
_Sunday, Dec. 28._—We did not spend our Sunday in a quiet contemplative
manner; but nevertheless we spent it worthily, employing it in a good
day’s march, which opened out to us new and important features of the
character of the new region we had just entered. It was a pity we
were not allowed by circumstances to proceed in our real character of
peaceful travellers, anxious to befriend all the people with whom we
came in contact, instead of being obliged to join this host of merciless
and sanguinary slave-hunters, who, regardless of the beauty of the
country and the cheerful happiness of the natives, were only intent
upon enriching themselves with the spoil of the inhabitants. After
a march of a little less than five miles, we emerged from the thick
forest, and entered upon stubble-fields with numerous groups of huts and
wide-spreading trees, whose branches were all used for storing up the
ranks of nutritious grass of these swampy grounds, for a supply in the
dry season. The country was pleasant in the extreme. Several artificial
ponds enlivened the hamlet, and called to mind similar scenes in my
native country, except that ducks and geese were wanting. The only scenes
of active life which were at present to be seen were those of pillage and
destruction.
The architecture of the huts, and the whole arrangement of the yards, was
very similar to that of the village we had first seen on entering the
country. But the tops of the granaries in general were here provided with
a sort of “fennel,” covered in by a roof of straw. Broad well-trodden
paths, lined by thick fences of a peculiar bush called “mágara” in
Kanúri, which I have mentioned in another locality, were winding along
through the fields in every direction. But there was one object which
attracted my attention in particular, as it testified to a certain degree
of civilization, which might have shamed the proud Mohammedan inhabitants
of these countries. For while the latter are extremely negligent in
burying their dead, leaving them without any sufficient protection
against the wild beasts, so that most of them are devoured in a few days
by the hyænas, here we had regular sepulchres, covered in with large
well-rounded vaults, the tops of which were adorned by a couple of beams
cross-laid, or by an earthen urn. The same sort of worship as paid by
these pagans to their ancestors prevails in a great part of Africa, and
however greatly the peculiar customs attached to the mode of worship may
vary, the principle is the same; but I nowhere more regretted having no
one at hand to explain to me the customs of these people, than I did on
this occasion. The urn most probably contains the head of the deceased;
but what is indicated by the cross-laid beams I cannot say.
I was so absorbed in contemplating this interesting scene, that I
entirely forgot my own personal safety; for the vizier, without my
becoming aware of it, had pursued the track on his powerful charger at
an uncommonly quick rate, and was far in advance. Looking around me, I
found only a small number of Shúwa horsemen near me, and keeping close
to them pursued the path; but when we emerged from the thick forest, and
entered another well-cultivated and thickly-peopled district, every trace
of a trodden footpath ceased, and I became aware that I was entirely
cut off from the main body of the army. A scene of wild disorder here
presented itself. Single horsemen were roving about to and fro between
the fences of the villages; here a poor native, pursued by sanguinary
foes, running for his life in wild despair; there another dragged from
his place of refuge; while a third was observed in the thick covert of
a ficus, and soon became a mark for numerous arrows and balls. A small
troop of Shúwa horsemen were collected under the shade of a tree, trying
to keep together a drove of cattle, which they had taken. In vain did
I address Shúwa and Kanúri, anxiously inquiring what direction the
commander-in-chief had taken; nobody was able to give me any information
with regard to his whereabouts. I therefore scoured the village in all
directions, to see if I could find by myself the track of the army; but
the traces ran in every direction.
Here I fell in with several troops of horsemen, in the same state of
uncertainty as myself, and joined one of them, where there were some
heavy cavalry; neither the attendants of the vizier, nor the man who
carried his carpet, could tell which direction he had taken. While
anxiously looking about, I suddenly heard behind us the beating of a
drum or “gánga,” and following the sound found a considerable number of
horsemen, of every description, collected on an open area; and here I
received the exciting news that the pagans had broken through the line
of march at the weakest point, and that while the vizier had pursued his
track, the rear had been dispersed. If these poor pagans, who certainly
are not wanting in courage, were led on by experienced chieftains, and
waited for the proper opportunity, they would be able, in these dense
forests, where cavalry is scarcely of any use, to do an immense deal of
damage to this cowardly host, and might easily disperse them altogether.
But the principal reason of the weakness of these Músgu tribes is, that
they have only spears and the “góliyó,” and no arrows; else they would
certainly be able to keep these troublesome neighbours at a respectful
distance. Of what little use even the firelock is to the latter, I had
ample opportunity of judging, several musketeers having come to me
anxiously entreating me to provide them with flints, as their own had
been lost or had proved useless.
At length the motley host moved on without order or array; but their
irresolution and fear, owing to a few pagans who were concealed in a
thicket, were so great, that after a while we retraced our steps. Having
then taken a more easterly direction, we reached, through a thick forest,
a large swampy piece of water in low meadow-grounds, not less than a
mile in breadth, covered with rank grass, the dry ground in some places
intervening. Here I found a considerable part of the cavalry, drawn up in
a line and watering their horses, and I learned that the encampment was
near. It would have been very unsatisfactory to be exposed to a serious
attack in the company of the disorderly host in which I had lately found
myself.
[Illustration: ENCAMPMENT IN THE FOREST.]
Having watered my horse, I followed the deep sound of the big drum of
the vizier, and found the body of the army a few hundred yards from
the eastern border of this ngáljam, in rich stubble-fields shaded by
beautiful trees; but as yet no tent was pitched, and a great deal of
anxiety prevailed, the first camels having arrived without their loads,
which they had thrown off, their drivers having taken to flight; but
this circumstance ensured the safety of the greater part of the train,
as the commander immediately despatched two officers with their squadrons
to bring up the rear. To this circumstance we were indebted for the
safety of our own camels, which had been in imminent danger, the pagans
having collected again in the rear of the principal body of the army. The
Bórnu camels are half mehára, and, while they surpass in strength the
camels of the desert, possess a great deal of their swiftness. Not only
does the camel which carries the war-drum always follow close behind the
commander, at whatever rate he may pursue his march, but even his other
camels generally keep at a very short distance, and the best camels of
the courtiers follow close behind.
The village we had just reached was named Kákalá, and is one of the
most considerable places in the Músgu country. A large number of slaves
had been caught this day; and in the course of the evening, after some
skirmishing, in which three Bórnu horsemen were killed, a great many
more were brought in: altogether they were said to have taken one
thousand, and there were certainly not less than five hundred. To our
utmost horror, not less than one hundred and seventy full-grown men were
mercilessly slaughtered in cold blood, the greater part of them being
allowed to bleed to death, a leg having been severed from the body. Most
of them were tall men, with not very pleasing features. Their forehead,
instead of shelving backwards, was generally very high, and the line
of the face straight; but their thick eyelashes, wide, open nostrils,
thick lips, high cheek-bones, and coarse bushy hair, gave them a very
wild appearance. The proportions of the legs, with the knee-bone bent
inward, were particularly ugly; and on the whole they were more bony
than the Marghí. They were all of a dirty black colour, very far from
that glossy lustre which is observed in other tribes. Most of them wore
a short beard. The ears of several were adorned with small copper rings,
while almost all of them wore round their necks a thick rope made of the
dúm-bush or ngílle, coarsely twisted, as a sort of ornament.
_Monday, Dec. 29._—Soon after setting out from the place of encampment,
we had to cross the ngáljam, which here also was thickly overgrown with
rank grass, and the passage of which was very difficult, owing to the
countless holes caused by the footprints of the elephant. We then entered
a dense forest, where I saw again, for the first time, my old Háusa
acquaintance, the kókia, a middle-sized tree with large leaves and with a
fruit of the size of an apple, which at present was green, but even when
ripe is not edible. This tree, in the course of the expedition, I found
to be very common in the wilds of this country.
The unwarlike spirit of our large army became more apparent than ever
by to-day’s proceedings: for a vigorous commander would certainly have
accelerated his march through this forest, in order to take the enemy
unawares; but long before noon a halt was ordered in the midst of the
forest—certainly against the inclination of the majority. There was a
great deal of indecision; and in truth there seemed to be many who wished
rather that the enemy should have time to escape, than to incite him to
make a desperate struggle for his safety. The neighbouring pond (where,
on our arrival, a herdsman who had come to water his cattle had been
slain), we were told, did not contain a sufficient supply of water for
the wants of the whole army; and when at length we had fairly dismounted,
the rank grass being burnt down in order to clear the ground, and the
fire being fed by a strong wind, a terrible conflagration ensued, which
threw us into the greatest confusion, and obliged us to seek our safety
in a hasty retreat. Nevertheless, after a great deal of hesitation,
it was at length determined to encamp here. There was no scarcity of
water—for the pond proved to be very spacious and of great depth; but the
grass having been burned, the whole ground was covered with a layer of
hot ashes, which blackened everything.
By-and-by the camels arrived, the encampment was formed, and every one
had given himself up to repose of mind and body, when suddenly the
alarm-drums were beaten, and everybody hastened to arms, and mounted
his horse. It seemed incredible that an enemy whose movements were
uncombined, and not directed by any good leaders, should attack such an
army, of more than ten thousand cavalry, and a still greater number of
foot, although I am persuaded that a resolute attack of a few hundred
brave men would have defeated the whole of this vain and cowardly host.
The alarm, as was to be expected, proved unfounded; but it showed the
small degree of confidence which the people had in their own strength.
Three pagan women had been seen endeavouring to reach the water by
stealth; and this gave rise to the conclusion that the enemy was near,
for the dense forest all around hemmed in the view entirely.
When at length the encampment had resumed its former state of
tranquillity, the prince Ádishén, with a numerous suite of naked
followers, came to my tent, and I requested him to enter; there was,
however, nothing attractive or interesting about him, and I was glad to
get rid of him with a few presents. The difference between the Marghí
and Músgu, notwithstanding the affinity indicated by their language
and some of their manners, is indeed great, and is, as I have already
intimated above, rather to the disadvantage of the latter, whose forms
exhibit less of symmetry, and whose features have a very wild and savage
appearance. Neither in these Músgu courtiers, nor in the common people,
had I observed any of those becoming ornaments, especially those iron
arm-rings, which I have mentioned in describing the Marghí.
Ádishén had shaved his head, in order to give to himself the appearance
of a Moslim, and wore a tobe; but of his companions, only one had adopted
this foreign garment, all the others having their loins girt with a
leather apron. In order to keep themselves on horseback, they have
recourse to a most barbarous expedient. They make a broad open wound on
the back of their small sturdy ponies, in order to keep their seat; and,
when they want to ride at full speed, they often scratch or cut their
legs, in order to glue themselves to the horse’s flanks by means of the
blood which oozes from the wounds; for, as I have stated above, they have
neither saddle, stirrups, nor bridle, and they use nothing but a simple
rope to guide their animals. They generally carry only one spear, but
several “góliyós” or handbills, the latter being evidently their best
weapon, not only in close fight, but even at a distance, as they are
very expert in throwing this sharp and double-pointed iron sideways, and
frequently inflict severe wounds on the legs of horses as well as of men.
Some of their chiefs protect their persons with a strong doublet made of
buffalo’s hide, with the hair inside.
_Tuesday, Dec. 30._—This was the last day’s march which our expedition
was to make towards the south, or rather south-east. For the first ten
or eleven miles we kept through dense forest, the thick covert of which
rendered it difficult for us to make our way, while the restless and
vicious Bórnu horses, crowded together and hemmed in by the thicket,
repeatedly came into most unpleasant collision; and here again I was
much indebted to my massive stirrups, which bravely kept their ground
against bush and man. The whole forest consisted of middle-sized trees,
the kókia being predominant, while scarcely a single tree of larger size
was to be seen. It seemed very natural that all the wild animals should
flee before such a host of people; but I was astonished at the scarcity
of ant-hills, notwithstanding the great degree of moisture which prevails
in these extensive levels, and which is so favourable to the existence of
this insect. Our march the whole morning had been straight for Dáwa, the
village of the Túfuri or Túburi, a section of the great tribe of the Farí
or Falí, of which I have spoken in a former part of my narrative.
There had been a great deal of discussion in the last day’s council as
to the expediency of attacking this place, the subjection, or rather
destruction of which was of great importance, not only to Mʿallem Jýmma,
but even to the Fúlbe settled in the eastern districts of Ádamáwa in
general. This party at last had gained the upper hand over the greater
part of the cowardly Kanúri courtiers; but at present, when we approached
the seat of this tribe, who are well known to be warlike, and when the
question arose whether we should engage in battle with these people in
three or four hours’ time, it became rather a serious affair. When,
therefore, after a march of four hours, we reached a beautiful fresh
meadow-water or “ngáljam” overgrown with rank grass, surrounded by large
spreading ngábbore trees, which pleasantly diversified the monotonous
forest, we made a halt, and while the horsemen watered their animals,
an animated “nógona,” or council, was held in the shade of a beautiful
fig-tree. Here it was decided that, at least to-day, we should not march
against Dáwa and the Túburi, but were to change our course more to the
eastward in the direction of Démmo. It is probable that the vizier on
this occasion promised to his friends, that after he had taken up his
headquarters at Démmo, and deposited safely, in the fortified encampment,
the spoil that he had already made in slaves and cattle, he would march
against Dáwa; but unfortunately, or rather luckily for the inhabitants,
it was not our destiny to visit that interesting and important place, as
I shall soon have occasion to mention.
During our halt here I contemplated, with the most lively and intense
interest, the rich and animated scene which presented itself before my
eyes,—a mass of some thousand horsemen, dressed in the most varied manner
and in the most glowing colours, with their spirited chargers of every
size, description, and colour, crowded together along the green margin of
a narrow sheet of water, skirted by a dense border of large trees of the
finest foliage.
After a halt of about a quarter of an hour we were again in the saddle,
and pursued our march, but now in an entirely different direction,
keeping almost due east, and crossing the shallow watercourse, which
stretched from north to south a little below our halting-place, the place
where we crossed it being quite dry, and full of holes caused by the
footsteps of the elephant. The wilderness for a while was clearer; but
after a march of about two miles we reached a very thick covert, where
it was found necessary to send out scouts, in order to see if the enemy
was lying in ambush. It is a great pity that these poor natives do not
know how to avail themselves, against their cruel and cowardly enemies,
of the fastnesses with which nature has endowed these regions. Of course
these immense forests, which separate one principality, and I might say
one village, from another, are themselves a consequence of the want of
intelligence and of the barbarous blindness of these pagan tribes, who,
destitute of any common bond of national unity, live entirely separated
from, and even carry on war against each other.
Scarcely had we made ourselves a path through the thicket, when we
reached another meadow-water, which at present, however, looked rather
like a bog, and offered some difficulties to the passage of the horses.
Having then for some time kept upon dry ground, about noon we had to
cross another swamp; but beyond this the country became open. Having now
reached the place of our destination, the banners were unfolded, the
drums beaten, and the greater part of the cavalry hurried on in advance
ready for fighting, or rather for pillage, for no enemy was to be seen.
Immediately afterwards we reached the village of Démmo, and marched
slowly along, looking out for the best place for encamping. Numerous
deléb-palms became visible behind the shady acacias, when suddenly we
obtained sight of a broad shallow watercourse, larger than any we had yet
seen in this country—more than two miles in width, with a considerable
sheet of open water, where two pagan canoes were seen moving about.
Greatly interested in the scene, we closely approached the edge of the
water, which seemed to be of considerable depth, although a number of
hungry Kánembú had passed the first open sheet, and were fishing in its
more shallow part, which divided the open water into two branches. From
beyond the opposite shore a whole forest of deléb-palms were towering
over the other vegetation of lower growth, as if enticing us to come and
enjoy their picturesque shade. The direction of the watercourse at this
spot was from south-west to north-east; and, according to the unanimous
statement of those who had any knowledge of these regions, it joins the
Serbéwuel, that is to say the upper course of the river or “éré” of Logón.
Here we stood awhile, and looked with longing eyes towards the
opposite shore; it was a most interesting and peculiar scenery, highly
characteristic of these level equatorial regions of Africa. What an
erroneous idea had been entertained of these regions in former times!
Instead of the massive Mountain range of the Moon, we had discovered only
a few isolated mounts; instead of a dry desolate plateau, we had found
wide and extremely fertile plains, less than one thousand feet above the
level of the sea, and intersected by innumerable broad watercourses with
scarcely any inclination. Only towards the south-west, at the distance of
about sixteen miles, the low rocky mount of the Túburi was seen.
But not less interesting than the scenery of the landscape was the aspect
of the host of our companions, who were here crowded together at the
border of the water. Only very few of them had penetrated as far before;
and they looked with curiosity and astonishment upon this landscape,
while most of them were rather disappointed that the water prevented them
from pursuing the poor pagans, the full-grown amongst whom, with few
exceptions, had just had time to escape. But a considerable number of
female slaves and young children were captured; for the men did not take
to flight till they became aware, from the thick clouds of dust which
were raised by the army, that it was not one of the small expeditions
which they were accustomed to resist, that was coming to attack them.
Besides the spoil in human beings, a considerable number of colts and
cattle were brought in.
Having indulged in the aspect of this rich scene, which formed such a
contrast to the monotonous neighbourhood of Kúkawa, we retraced our
steps, in order to encamp at some distance from the water, which of
course gives life to millions of mosquitoes, and encamped amongst the
smouldering ruins of the huts. The whole village, which only a few
moments before had been the abode of comfort and happiness, was destroyed
by fire and made desolate. Slaughtered men, with their limbs severed from
their bodies, were lying about in all directions, and made the passer-by
shudder with horror. Such is the course of human affairs in these
regions! Small troops of light cavalry tried to pursue the enemy; and
there was some fighting in the course of the afternoon, when a few men of
the Bórnu army were killed.
_Wednesday, Dec. 31._—We remained here this and the following day,
it being the intention of the Bórnu people, according to their own
statement, to reduce this country to subjection; and I deeply regretted
that the circumstances under which we visited this region did not
allow me to collect all the information I wished. But roving about the
encampment, I endeavoured to pick up what I could. All the huts had clay
walls, which were from four to six inches thick, and had resisted the
conflagration, the roofs, consisting of beams and reed, having fallen
in. The diameter of the huts varied from eight to twelve feet. Each
hut contained a large jar for holding water, and some had a peculiar
fireplace, enclosed by separate walls, and not unlike an oven; but,
although in general the arrangements of the huts was comfortable, I found
the dwellings in other villages of this country far superior, nor did I
observe here such large courtyards as I had seen elsewhere. In the centre
of the village there were some extensive tanks, or pools of water,
which seemed to be made by the hand of man. The whole encampment, or
“ngáufate,” was surrounded with a strong fence of thorny bushes, rather
for the purpose of preventing the slaves from escaping, than to defend
the encampment against an enemy. Having wandered about amidst this scene
of destruction, I went in the afternoon to the border of the “ngáljam,”
which was enlivened by horses and cattle grazing, and people quietly
reclining here and there, or bathing in the water. I then wandered along
the bank to some distance, where the sheet of open water on this side was
entirely interrupted, while on the other shore a considerable strip of
water stretched out before the view.
Here, in Démmo, the year 1852 opened to me, in the course of which I
at that time entertained a hope of returning homewards, not fancying
that I was to remain three years more in these barbarous countries,
amidst constantly varying impressions of discovery, of disappointment,
of friendly and hostile treatment, and under all sorts of affliction,
distress, and sickness. Our stay here was varied by a few interesting
incidents, one of which I will relate. The intriguing Shúwa chief Mʿallem
Jýmma, whose ambitious designs did not allow him any rest, had not only
persuaded the head man of Démmo, who had made his escape, but even the
chief of the nearest village on the other side of the ngáljam, to make
his subjection publicly, and to seek the protection of Bórnu. They were
therefore introduced this day into the nógona or council, and threw dust
upon their heads. But when they had to confirm their subjection by an
oath, the pagan prince of Démmo indeed took an oath, raising a handful of
earth, and allowing it to glide through his fingers, but the chief from
the other side of the ngáljam refused to take the oath, under the pretext
that this earth was not fit for his vow, not being his own soil; he said
he must first bring a handful of earth from his own country. An oath
taken upon earth that belonged to their native soil was also common among
the ancients.
Both chiefs had made their appearance in their native attire, that is
to say, quite naked with the exception of a narrow leather strip round
their loins; and it caused great merriment to the courtiers, that when,
in consequence of their subjection, they were officially dressed in
black tobes as a sort of investiture, the chief of Démmo drew his shirt
over his head, reckless whether the lower parts were covered or not.
In order to amuse the assemblage, they also blew their little horn, an
instrument which every Músgu grandee carries with him, and which bears
a great resemblance to a bugle; but in this accomplishment a priest who
accompanied them was more clever than themselves, producing melodious and
sonorous sounds from this simple and uncouth instrument.
This was the first and only time that I became aware that these pagan
tribes had separate priests; and I felt greatly disappointed that I did
not come into closer contact with them, nor was able to learn from other
people what were their peculiar duties. But, in general, I think I am not
mistaken in supposing that the sacerdotal functions with these tribes of
the interior are less developed than those on the coast, for as yet I
had seen very little of real fetishism. In general, the office of priest
seems to be connected with that of chief. This man also received a shirt
as a present; but it was only a white one of inferior quality, and I
do not think he kept it very long after he had left the assemblage of
these civilized people. As the price of the benevolent reception which
the prince of Démmo had experienced, he, as is generally the case in
these distracted communities, betrayed the interests of his countrymen,
promising that he would lead the army to a large walled town (so, at
least, he was understood to say), where they were to find plenty of booty
and spoil. Accordingly, an expedition on a large scale, which was to be
led by the vizier in person, was fixed for the next day.
_Friday, Jan. 2._—Having remained quiet for some hours in the morning,
probably to make the neighbouring chieftains believe that we had no
intention of moving, we suddenly set out, with almost the whole of the
cavalry and a portion of the Kánembú spearmen, led on by our new ally
the chief of Démmo, who, mounted on a little pony, clad in his new black
garment, presented a very awkward and ridiculous appearance.
The first village which we reached, after about an hour’s march through
a clear forest, was quite deserted; and it was but natural that all the
people around should be upon their guard. The landscape was exceedingly
beautiful, richly irrigated and finely wooded, while, to our great
astonishment, the ground was so carefully cultivated that even manure
had been put upon the fields in a regular manner, being spread over the
ground to a great extent—the first example of such careful tillage that I
had as yet observed in Central Africa, both among Mohammedans and pagans.
The inhabitants had had so much leisure to make their escape, that they
had left very little behind to satisfy the greediness of the enemy; and
we therefore continued our march without delay, in a north-easterly
direction. This whole fertile district bears the name of Wúliya; but I
did not learn the peculiar name of this village.
After a march of about four miles, we crossed another watercourse, at
present only from ten to fifteen inches deep, and surrounded by beautiful
pasture-grounds, which during part of the year are inundated, and must
then present the appearance of an extensive lake. This fresh green
basin was adorned all around by luxuriant fig and “karáge”-trees, and
slender detached dúm-palms towered picturesquely above the green foliage,
but no deléb-palms were to be seen. Then followed another village,
likewise deserted by its unfortunate inhabitants, and then again open
meadow-lands, intersected by a narrow channel-like watercourse, in a
direction from south-west to north-east.
The watercourse was from sixty to seventy yards broad, and enclosed so
regularly between its banks, which were about ten feet high, that it had
quite the appearance of an artificial canal,—a peculiarity which in the
course of time I frequently observed, not only here, but also in the
similar watercourses along the Niger. At the point where we crossed it,
the sheet of water was entirely broken by a small sandbank, so that we
went over without wetting our feet. However, I conjectured that this
was an artificial dyke thrown up by the persecuted natives, in order to
keep open an easy connection with the river, on which alone their safety
depended. Without any delay the expedition pushed on, in the hope of
overtaking the fugitives before they had crossed the river; for here we
were quite close to the western shore of the river of Logón, which is
generally, but erroneously, called Shári, while this name, which belongs
to the language of the Kótoko, and means “river” in general, applies more
properly to the larger eastern branch below Klésem, which is inhabited
by Kótoko, and to the united stream lower down below the junction of the
two branches. In this place the river, or “éré,” is called Serbéwuel,
I think, in the Músgu language; higher up, where we shall make its
acquaintance in the course of our further researches, it is called Bá-Gun
and Bá-Bay, “bá” being the general name for river in the language of
Bagírmi and the native tribes of the Sóm-ray, as well as in the language
of the Manding or Mandingoes.
After a short time we stood on the banks of the stream. It was a
considerable river even at the present moment, although it was greatly
below its highest level, and probably represented the mean depth of the
whole year. At present it was about four hundred yards wide, and so
deep that six Shúwa horsemen, who, in their eager desire for spoil, had
ventured to enter it, were carried away by the stream, and fell an easy
prey to about a dozen courageous pagans, who, in a couple of canoes,
were gliding up and down the river to see what they could lay their
hands upon. They felt that we were unable to follow them without canoes,
although for any active body of men it would have been an easy affair to
construct a few rafts for crossing over, there being a plentiful supply
of timber.
The banks of the river on this side were at present about twenty-five
feet high. The opposite shore was not so steep, and from its rich
vegetation had a very inviting appearance; but I was glad, for the sake
of the poor natives, that we were unable to reach it, and I think even
our friend the Háj Beshír looked at this interesting landscape rather
with a degree of scientific interest than with anger and disappointment.
Unfortunately, on this occasion I had not taken my telescope with me, but
I was so fortunate as still to get a sight of this river a little lower
down. Having stood here for a few minutes on the steep bank, looking down
into the stream, which rolled unceasingly along, cutting off our further
progress, we turned our horses’ heads in the direction from which we
had come, while our friends endeavoured to soothe their disappointment
by saying, that if the pagans had escaped from their hands, they would
certainly not fail to fall into the power of their enemies, viz. the
pagans who lived on the other side of the river under the protection of
Bagírmi.
We thus turned our backs upon the river, my European companion and I
greatly satisfied with our day’s work, which had afforded us a sight of
this fine stream, but our companions, in sullen silence and disappointed,
on account of the expected spoil having escaped from their hands. Indeed,
where they had expected to find that “El Dorado,” that walled town full
of male and female slaves, I never succeeded in ascertaining. The whole
day’s spoil was limited to a handful of slaves—unfortunate creatures
whom sickness or ill-advised courage prevented from leaving their native
villages,—besides a couple of cattle, a few goats, fowls, and a little
corn, but principally ground-nuts, of which large quantities were carried
off by the hungry Kánembú spearmen.
[Illustration: INTERIOR OF MÚSGU DWELLING.]
The whole army was in such a mood as to be glad to find any object on
which to vent its anger; and such a one soon presented itself, for when
we again reached that channel-like watercourse which I have mentioned
above, and were watering our horses, four natives were seen, who,
evidently confiding in their courage and their skill in swimming, had
here taken refuge in the deepest part of the water, in order to give
information to their countrymen of the retreat of the enemy. As soon as
our friends caught sight of this little troop of heroes, they determined
to sacrifice them to their vengeance. With this view, the whole of the
cavalry arranged themselves in close lines on each side of the water.
But the task was not so easy as it appeared at first; and all the firing
of the bad marksmen was in vain, the Músgu diving with remarkable
agility. When the vizier saw that in this way these heroes could not
be overpowered, he ordered some Kánembú to enter the water; and a very
singular kind of combat arose, the like of which I had never seen before,
and which required an immense deal of energy, for, while these people had
to sustain themselves above the water with the help of their feet, they
had at the same time to jump up, throw the spear, and parry the thrusts
of their adversaries. The poor Músgu people, on their side, were not
only fighting for their lives, but even, as it were, for their national
honour. They were of large and muscular frame, single-handed far superior
to the Kánembú; but at length, after a protracted struggle, the superior
numbers of the Kánembú got the upper hand, and the corpses of three of
the Músgu were seen swimming on the surface of the water. But the fourth
and last appeared to be invincible, and the Kánembú, who had lost two of
their companions, gave him up in despair. After this inglorious victory
we pursued our march homewards, keeping a little more to the north than
when we came. This part of the country exhibited the same fertile and
pleasant character as that we had seen before. It was densely inhabited
and well cultivated, even tobacco being grown to a great extent. As for
the villages themselves, they afforded the same appearance of comfort and
cheerfulness which we had observed in the others. But all these abodes of
human happiness were destroyed by fire.
After having accomplished these great deeds, we returned to our
encampment. Here we remained during the two following days, while the
most important business was transacted. This was the partition of the
slaves who had been taken during the expedition; and the proceeding was
accompanied by the most heartrending scenes, caused by the number of
young children, and even infants, who were to be distributed, many of
these poor creatures being mercilessly torn away from their mothers,
never to see them again. There were scarcely any full-grown men.
More interesting to me than this horrible affair was the sending of a
messenger to Kúkawa; and it was doubly so on account of the roundabout
way which this man had to pursue, the track by which we had come being
at present greatly infested by the desperate pagans, who very recently
had massacred a whole troop of horse and foot who had come from Kúkawa,
with the exception of one, who had succeeded in making his escape. The
messengers, therefore, who were now sent, were obliged to take the road
leading past the villages of the Fúlbe, going from Démmo to Káfta, which
I have previously mentioned, and from thence to Bógo, whence they were to
follow the general track, which I have described on a former occasion. An
escort of fifteen Kanúri and two Fúlbe accompanied the two messengers, as
their first day’s march was very dangerous.
For the last few days there had been a great talk of an expedition, on a
large scale, against the Túburi, whither it was said we were to transfer
the whole encampment; and I and my companion already anticipated a great
deal of delight, as the isolated rocky mount which we had seen on the
day of our arrival seemed to be well worthy of notice. But, as I have
already stated, the Bórnu people were greatly afraid of this place, the
real reason probably being, that they apprehended the pagans might retire
upon the top of the mountain, and, having abundance of water in the
neighbourhood, offer a successful resistance, although we were told that,
on a former occasion, a single kashélla, ʿAlí Fugomámi, had extended his
expedition as far as that place.
The Fúlbe, by whom this free pagan community was regarded with great
hatred, urged the expedition with the greatest energy; but the cunning
vizier pretended afterwards, in a conversation which he had with Overweg
and me, that it was purposely, from motives of policy, that he did not
accede to this scheme, as he did not want to exterminate this tribe,
being unwilling to pull down with his own hands this last barrier to the
restless spirit of conquest which the Fúlbe or Fellatá displayed. The
usurper ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán, evidently from a motive of ambition, in order to
be enabled to say that he had penetrated further than his late rival the
vizier, whom he had successfully crushed, in the beginning of the rainy
season of 1854 pushed on into the very country of the Túburi, and thus
enabled Dr. Vogel to lay down that most interesting point by astronomical
observation, although the great lake which my friend thought to find
there was apparently nothing but a widening of that stagnant watercourse
which forms the north-eastern branch of the Bénuwé, namely the Máyo
Kébbi, and was laid down by me in the map of Central Africa, which I sent
home from Kúkawa.
_Monday, Jan. 5._—It was at a very early hour on Monday morning, a little
after midnight, when the guide of the expedition came to my tent, and,
while I was just dreaming of the rocky mountain of the Túburi, whispered
in my ear that a distant expedition was to be undertaken that very day,
but not into the country of the Túburi, and that the baggage was to
remain here. Although I should rather have preferred visiting the latter
tract, situated at the north-eastern branch of the basin of the Niger,
I nevertheless was determined not to let any opportunity pass by of
extending my geographical knowledge as much as possible, and therefore
ordered my horse to be saddled. Mr. Overweg meanwhile, when he heard that
the vizier was not to lead the expedition in person, but that the young
Bú-Bakr, son of the sheikh, was to take the command, remained behind;
and as I had no mounted servant, and could not expect that a man on foot
would accompany me to a great distance, I was obliged to go quite alone.
Meanwhile the bugles of Bú-Bakr called the warriors together with a soft
subdued sound, in order not to allow treachery to spread the news of
their plan beforehand. Having passed with some difficulty the narrow gate
of the stockade, the expeditionary army formed outside, when we pushed on
in a north-easterly direction. But Nature has provided so well for the
defence of these poor pagans, that they are not easily taken by surprise.
We succeeded, with the dawn of day, in passing the first broad sheet
of water of the wide “ngáljam” of Wúliya, but found great difficulty
in passing another water with a deep, argillaceous soil of so boggy a
nature that several of the horses fell, even those whose riders had
dismounted; and I felt not a little anxiety on account of my own restless
and fiery horse, which was snorting like a hippopotamus. At length we
left also this morass behind us, and indulged in the hope of having
overcome every difficulty, when suddenly we had before us another and
far deeper water, which delayed us for a long time. But bad as was our
situation whilst we were thus sticking fast in the mud, I could scarcely
help laughing heartily, as this very delay enabled the poor pagans to
escape with their wives and property to a place of safety. As for most
of the horses, the water went over their backs, while I on my stately
charger had the water three inches above my knee. A courageous enemy,
led on by a clever commander, might at this moment have easily captured
most of the horses, and put all the host to flight. At length, after
two hours’ exertion, we emerged from this broad sheet of water, which,
when full, must present the appearance of an extensive central lake
three or four miles in breadth, and many more in length, and now entered
upon green pasture-ground, which, however, during the highest state of
the inundation is itself under water. Here the army divided into three
bodies, and pushed on vigorously, although a great many had retraced
their steps upon seeing the deep water.
Proceeding in this way, we reached the first hamlets, and here formed
a regular line of battle, while the greater part of the army rushed on
in advance, at the sound of the drum and the horns of the kashéllas, to
see if there was anything left for them; but all the inhabitants had
made their escape. Another delay occurred owing to one of the followers
of Bú-Bakr falling into a ditch or hollow twelve feet in depth and the
same in breadth, from which he was extricated with some difficulty,
while the horse died on the spot. But there was plenty of leisure, the
pagans having long ago had sufficient time to make their escape beyond
the river. If those simple people had followed the same stratagem which
the Bórnu people employ against the Tuarek, digging a quantity of holes
and covering them over with bushes, they might have done a great deal of
mischief to the cavalry.
This whole tract of country still belongs to the extensive district
of Wúliya; but the villages have separate names, which, owing to the
unfortunate circumstances under which I visited the country, I was not
able to learn. Having passed a considerable village, we reached, a little
before eleven o’clock, the furthermost line which the waters of the river
Serbéwuel attain during its highest state of inundation, while when they
recede they leave extensive ponds of stagnant water behind, which nourish
a rich supply of the most succulent herbage. The shore was here about
eight feet high, while at the other point, where we had visited the river
a few days previously, it was not so well marked. Of course, where the
inner shore consists of steeper banks, so that the river does not rise
over the higher level to a considerable height, the outward shore cannot
be marked so distinctly.
About thirteen hundred yards beyond this grassy outward shore we reached
the inner bank of the river, which consisted of sand, and was here only
ten feet high. The river at present was confined to this bank, running
at this spot from S. 25° E.; but a little lower down it changed its
direction, running west by north. Higher up, the opposite shore was
richly overgrown with trees, among which deléb- and dúm-palms were
conspicuous; but no villages were to be seen, although a place named Kár
is said to lie on the eastern shore. The reason we had directed our march
to this point seemed to be, that the river is here rather broad, being
about eight hundred yards across, and forming a large sandbank, so that
my friends had entertained the hope that they would be enabled to ford
it, which in some years, when the rains have not been very considerable,
may be possible at this season, and even this year might probably be
effected in two months’ time. But at present this was not the case, and
the rapacious Shúwa Arabs were hurrying about in despair, to and fro,
between the island and the western shore.
I too took the direction of the island, as the most interesting point,
although I became aware that it was not possible to penetrate further on.
The first branch of the river on this side of the island, which was the
broader of the two, was not more than from eighteen to nineteen inches
deep, and could not but become dry in a short time, when the island, or
rather sandbank, should form the knee of the bend of the river; but the
eastern branch, though apparently only about one hundred and twenty or
one hundred and thirty yards broad, seemed to be of considerable depth,
running along with a strong current, and my old friend Abú Dáúd, one of
the principal Shúwa chiefs, whom I encountered at the southern point
of the sandbank, with a sad countenance, indicated the whole nature of
this stream with the laconic and significant expression, “Yákul” (“It
eats”),—that is to say, it is not fordable.
It would have been the more dangerous to attempt to force the passage,
as the opposite shore, which was so near, and only four feet high, was
occupied by a number of stalwart pagans, who mocked at our inability
to cross the river, and seemed to be quite ready to receive in a
satisfactory manner anybody who should make the attempt. It would have
been easy to have blown away these people, and thus to clear the place
of descent; but for such an undertaking my friends had not sufficient
courage or energy. I did not see a single Kanúri on the island, but only
Shúwa, who always expose themselves to the greatest risk, and push on the
furthest. The pagans had not only occupied the opposite bank, but even
kept afloat four canoes at some distance above the island, in order to
run down, with the assistance of the current, any one who should dare to
cross the river. Three of these canoes were small; but the fourth was of
a larger size, and manned by ten Músgu.
These canoes were the only craft visible on the river, and probably
constituted the whole naval force of these pagans. Of course in a country
politically rent into so many petty principalities, where every little
community, as in ancient times in Latium and Greece, forms a separate
little state in opposition to its neighbours, no considerable intercourse
is possible, and those natural highroads with which Nature has provided
these countries, and the immense field therefore which is open in these
regions to human industry and activity, must remain unproductive under
such circumstances; but it will be turned to account as soon as the
restless spirit of the European shall bring these countries within the
sphere of his activity. This period must come. Indeed I am persuaded that
in less than fifty years European boats will keep up a regular annual
intercourse between the great basin of the Tsád and the Bay of Biyáfra.
An almost uninterrupted communication has been opened by Nature herself;
for, from the mouth of the Kwára to the confluence of the river Bénuwé
with the Máyo Kébbi, there is a natural passage navigable without further
obstruction for boats of about four feet in depth, and the Máyo Kébbi
itself, in its present shallow state, seems to be navigable for canoes,
or flat-bottomed boats like those of the natives, which I have no doubt
may, during the highest state of the inundation, go as far as Dáwa in the
Túburi country, where Dr. Vogel was struck by that large sheet of water
which to him seemed to be an independent central lake, but which is in
reality nothing but a widening of the upper part of the Máyo Kébbi.
It is very probable that from this place there may be some other shallow
watercourse, proceeding to join the large ngáljam of Démmo, so that there
would exist a real bifurcation between the basin of the Niger and that
of the Tsád. But even if this should not be the case, the breadth of the
water-parting between these two basins at the utmost cannot exceed twenty
miles, consisting of an entirely level flat, and probably of alluvial
soil, while the granitic region attached to that isolated rocky mountain
which I have mentioned above may, most probably, be turned without
difficulty. The level of the Tsád and that of the river Bénuwé near Géwe,
where it is joined by the Máyo Kébbi, seem to be almost identical; at
least, according to all appearance, the Bénuwé at the place mentioned
is not more than eight hundred and fifty or nine hundred feet above the
level of the sea. All this bounty of Nature will, I trust, one day be
turned to account, though many changes must take place in this country
before a regular and peaceful intercourse can be established. The very
scenes which I witnessed are an unmistakable proof of the misery into
which these regions are plunged.
But, as I have carried away the reader’s attention from the thread of the
narrative, so I myself had almost forgotten where I was, and it required
an admonition from my friend Abú Dáúd to induce me to look after my own
safety; for already the greater part of the Shúwa had returned to the
western shore, and threatened to leave us alone, and it did not seem
very agreeable to be taken in the rear by the pagans, and perhaps even
to be cut off by the boats. I therefore returned to the western shore,
where the army was scattered about, not knowing what to do, being rather
disinclined to retrace their steps without having enriched themselves
with booty of some kind.
Following then the course of the river, I witnessed an interesting and
animated scene,—a dozen courageous natives occupying a small elevated
island, with steep banks, separated from the shore by a narrow but deep
channel, setting at defiance a countless host of enemies, many of whom
were armed with firearms. But African muskets are not exactly like Minié
rifles, and a musketeer very often misses his aim at a distance of thirty
or forty yards. It was astonishing to see that none of this small band
of heroes was wounded, notwithstanding the repeated firing of a number
of Kanúri people. Either the balls missed their aim entirely, or else,
striking upon the shields of these poor pagans, which consisted of
nothing but wickerwork, were unable to pierce this slight defence; for
not only was the powder of a bad quality, making a great deal of noise
without possessing any strength, but even the balls were of extremely
light weight, consisting of pewter, as is generally the case here.
However, it was not prudent of me to witness this scene (which was so
little flattering to my friends) for too long a time; for when they saw
that I had my gun with me, they called upon me urgently to fire at these
scoffers, and when I refused to do so, reproached me in terms which very
often fell to my lot—“ʿAbd el Kerím fáida nsé bágo,” meaning that I was a
useless sort of person.
It is a remarkable fact that in almost the whole of the Músgu country,
except near a few isolated granite mountains, there is not a single
stone, else it would have been almost more profitable to have thrown
stones at these people, than to fire at them with the pewter balls.
With regard to those peculiar shields of wickerwork with which these
courageous Músgu people managed to protect themselves so adroitly, I had
afterwards an opportunity of examining them, and found them to be about
sixteen inches broad at the top, twenty-two at the bottom, and about
forty in length, but hollow. The material consists of the same kind of
reed with which their huts are thatched.
About noon the army began its march homewards. Certainly it was not
overburdened with spoil; for scarcely fifteen slaves had been taken,
mostly decrepit old women, who either could not or would not leave their
comfortable cottages. The anger and disappointment of the army was vented
upon the habitations of these people; and all the cheerful dwellings
which we passed were destroyed by fire. This certainly was a heavy
loss to the inhabitants, not so much on account of the huts, which they
might easily rebuild, as on account of the granaries, the grain having
been harvested some time previously; and, as far as I became aware,
there being no subterranean magazines or catamores, as I had observed
with the Marghí, and the fugitives in the hurry of their escape mostly
probably having only been able to save a small portion of their store.
In estimating, therefore, the miseries of these slave-hunts, we ought
not only to take into account the prisoners led into slavery, and the
full-grown men who are slaughtered, but also the famine and distress
consequent upon these expeditions, although nature has provided this
peculiar tribe with innumerable shallow watercourses swarming with
fish, which must tend greatly to alleviate their sufferings under such
circumstances. The forest intervening between these villages consisted
almost exclusively of “kindín” or talha-trees, which were just in flower,
diffusing a very pleasant fragrance, while here and there they were
overshadowed by isolated dúm-palms. As for déleb-palms, I did not observe
a single specimen in the whole of this district; but beyond the river
to the south-east, as I have mentioned above, I had seen several in the
distance.
After a march of four hours, we again reached the broad ngáljam of Démmo,
but at a different point from where we had crossed it in the morning
with so much delay. It seemed almost providential that we had not taken
this route in the morning, as the poor Músgu people would have had less
time to make their escape. Leaving the main body of the cavalry behind
me, I pursued my march towards my homely tent without delay; for, having
been on horseback for more than twelve hours without anything to eat, I
was quite ready for some repose and refreshment. But it took me full an
hour and a half to cross this peculiar basin, which at present was dry
in most places, and overgrown with tall rank grass, but swampy in some
parts, and intersected by holes caused by the footprints of the elephant.
A mile further along the north-western border of this swamp brought me to
my tent, and to the several dishes which awaited me; and this was one of
those rare occasions, during my travels in Negroland, on which I dined
with a truly European appetite.
The vizier was very gracious, and praised my courage in having
accompanied this distant expedition quite by myself; but the Kanúri, who
had taken part in it, detracted from my praise, using the very terms
which I have mentioned above—“Fáida nsé bágo.” Indeed, this became one
of my nicknames during my stay in Bórnu, and was the reason why I was
less popular with most of the people than my companion. It is very
natural that the motto “Afí fáida nsé?” (“Of what use is he?”) should
be the guiding principle, not only of Europeans, but barbarians and
semi-barbarians.
The following day we remained on the same spot, probably for no other
purpose than to give some repose to the people who had accompanied
the expedition the preceding day; and the vizier, who was fully aware
of my ardent desire to push further southward, at least as far as the
equator, took occasion to make merry at my expense, and, to the great
horror of the effeminate courtiers, suddenly proclaimed that it was his
firm intention to lead the expedition into those unknown regions in the
interior. At times, indeed, he could be exceedingly amiable; and he was
clever enough to conceive how Europeans could be induced to undertake
such hazardous journeys, although he was scarcely able to appreciate the
amount of courage which such an undertaking is able to inspire. He had
often spoken with me concerning my project of pushing on towards the east
coast; and he thought that a troop of ten Europeans would be able to
accomplish it, though he anticipated great obstructions from the quantity
of watercourses in those equatorial regions; and there can be no doubt
that this would be one of the greatest obstacles to such an undertaking.
In order to console me, and soothe my disappointment on finding that
this was to be the furthest point of the expedition, and that we should
retrace our steps from hence without even visiting the country of the
Túburi, he ordered Mʿallem Jýmma to be called, in order to inform me
how far the enterprising Púllo conqueror Búba had penetrated beyond
Búban-jídda; but he found that I was already fully acquainted with this
fact from other sources. The very interesting route of the Mʿallem Jýmma
from Démmo, by the village of the Túburi to Láka and Láme, I have already
communicated on a former occasion. It is to be hoped that these regions
will soon become better known, when English steamers shall go annually up
the river Bénuwé, and enable travellers to start afresh from thence for
those inland regions.
CHAPTER XLV.
RETURN TO BÓRNU.
_Wednesday, Jan. 7._—This was the day when we were to bid farewell to all
projects of penetrating further towards the south or south-east. It was
rather remarkable, that, early in the morning, at the very moment when
the drum was beating, the moon was eclipsed; but our commander-in-chief
was too much enlightened to be frightened at such a phenomenon like the
Athenian general before Syracuse. He requested Mr. Overweg to explain it
to him; but otherwise he was not much concerned about it.
We this time kept a little more towards the east than on our outward
march, approaching closer to the river of Logón. Only a short tract of
clear forest separated the cultivated grounds of Démmo from another
village, where, besides Negro corn, we found tobacco and cotton in
friendly community on the same piece of ground. We had already seen
much cultivation of tobacco in this country, and were impressed with
the opinion, however strange it may seem, that it was an indigenous
plant, and not introduced at a recent period; we had moreover been
informed, that not only the men, but even the women in this country, are
passionately fond of smoking. But as for cotton, we had not yet seen any
in the whole tract of the Músgu country which we had travelled over; and
its appearance here seemed to be a step in advance towards civilization,
caused, probably, by the influence of the neighbouring town of Logón.
After a short interruption, there followed another village, which
was succeeded by forest, and then another swamp, at present dry, and
overgrown with tall rank grass, but difficult to pass on account of
innumerable holes. Shortly afterwards the country on our right assumed
an open and very pleasant appearance, a river with a clear sheet of
water, but apparently without a current, winding through it in tortuous
meanderings, and closely approaching the higher ground along which the
numerous host was pursuing its march. The slope was adorned with wild
fig-trees and acacias, which were overshadowed by two fine deléb-palms.
This open country was succeeded by the well-cultivated and shaded fields
which lay stretched out between the scattered courtyards of another
village; and here we encamped, my companion and I pitching our tents near
a beautiful sort of fig-tree of the species called “báure” by the Háusa,
and “kágo” by the Kanúri, or at least the Mánga.
The whole village was deserted; only a few neglected members of the
poultry tribe were running about, endeavouring to escape from the hands
of their greedy pursuers. It was a very hot day, the hottest we had on
this expedition, the thermometer, at half-past one in the afternoon,
indicating 100° in the cool shade of our fine fig-tree. The encampment
was cheerful and pleasant; but in the evening a frightful alarm arose—the
rumour being spread that the pagans were attacking the “ngáufate,”—the
great drum of the commander-in-chief keeping up a tremendous din, and
all the people hurrying along in every direction. The alarm was so great
that my companion gave up his tent, and retreated with his people to that
of the vizier; and I found myself obliged to allow my two servants to
follow him also. As for myself, I remained where I was, for I felt little
inclination to have my tent once more plundered, as had been the case on
our expedition to Kánem. It soon proved to be nothing but a false alarm.
In these predatory incursions, the rapacious Shúwa suffer the greatest
loss, as it is they who always push on furthest, and run the greatest
risk; but, on the other hand, they also succeed in carrying off secretly
a great deal of spoil to their native villages without its becoming
subject to the general partition. None of them have firelocks, being only
armed with missiles usually consisting of one large spear, or kasákka,
and four small javelins, or bállem; very few of them have shields.
_Thursday, Jan. 8._—The country through which we passed was extremely
fertile and beautiful, the scenery during the first part of our march
preserving in general the same features which it exhibited on the
preceding day. We ourselves kept along the high ground, at the foot of
which a clear open sheet of water was meandering along, while beyond,
towards the east, an unbounded grassy plain stretched out, with a
scanty growth of trees in the background, and only broken towards
the south-east by a low chain of hills. At the distance of a mile we
reached some hamlets where dúm- and deléb-palms were grouped together
in a remarkable manner, starting forth from, and illuminated by, the
sea of flames which was devouring the village, the whole forming a very
picturesque spectacle.
Further on we made a halt on the slope of the rising ground, the various
troops, distinguished by the diversity of colours of their dresses,
grouping themselves around some buildings which were almost consumed by
the flames, while I found leisure to sketch the fertile country before
us. The people themselves were struck with its beauty; and when we
continued our march, I took an opportunity to enter into a conversation
with our friend the vizier, with regard to the policy which they pursued
with these people, and the way in which they desolated these regions; and
I asked him whether they would not act more prudently in allowing the
natives to cultivate their fertile country in tranquillity, only levying
a considerable tribute upon them. But the vizier answered me, that it
was only by the most violent means that they were able to crush these
pagans, who cherished their independence and liberty above everything,
and that this was the reason why he burnt all the granaries, in order to
subdue them by famine; and he added that even of famine they were less
sensible than he could wish, as the water in this region afforded them an
unlimited supply of fish.
Slaves are the only articles which the conquerors want from the subjected
tribes; by carrying into slavery great numbers of them they force them
into subjection, and even the tribute which they levy, after having
subdued them, consists of slaves. All this will be changed as soon as
a regular and legitimate intercourse has been opened along the river
Bénuwé into the heart of these regions, when the natural produce of
the soil will be in constant request—such as cotton, indigo, vegetable
butter, ground-nuts, ivory, rhinoceros’ horns, wax, hides, and many
other articles. The vizier himself, although a strict Moslim, was
too enlightened to lay much stress upon the spreading of Islám; but
nevertheless the idea that these unfortunate creatures fully deserve such
treatment, in their character as pagans (kofár or “kérdi”), blunted his
feelings to their sufferings.
Further on we crossed the water where it was shallower, and, a little
beyond, another meadow-water of greater breadth but not so deep, and then
entered a fine undulating country, while an arm of the water remained on
our left. The whole country was extremely well cultivated, and densely
inhabited, village succeeding village, while large trees, mostly of the
ngábbore and karáge kind, enveloped the whole in the finest vegetation.
Some of the huts were distinguished by a natural ornamental network or
covering, formed by that kind of _Cucurbitacea_ which I have mentioned
before as named “ságade” by the natives, and which is probably identical
with the species called _Melopepo_. The aspect of the country was the
more pleasing, and left the impression of a certain degree of industry,
owing to the tobacco-plants just standing in flower.
Amidst such scenery, we took up our encampment at an early hour in the
morning, a beautifully winding watercourse, which was bordered by a fine
grassy slope about twenty feet high, closely approaching on our right.
The watercourse was about sixty yards broad, but of considerable depth,
at least in this place, and full of clear fresh water, which was gently
gliding along, and disappeared further down in the plain. Here I lay
down for an hour in the cool shade of a large karáge-tree, and allowed
myself to be carried away by the recollections caused by the ever-varying
impressions of such a wandering life, which repays the traveller fully
for all the hardships and privations which he has to endure, and endows
him with renewed energy to encounter fresh dangers.
I have before observed what trouble the hard alluvial soil caused us
in pitching our tents; but here the argillaceous soil was succeeded by
loose sand, which forms the border of the river. The light troops, soon
after our arrival to-day, had dispersed in all directions and brought
a considerable quantity of cattle from the neighbouring villages; the
cattle, however, hereabouts are only of middle size, and the cows yield
little milk, and that of very poor quality.
It seems remarkable that the Músgu, as well as the Marghí, and several
divisions of the kindred Kótoko, call the cattle by a name which closely
approaches that given to it by the Háusa people, while the Bátta call it
by a name which is certainly derived from the Fulfúlde, or the language
of the Fúlbe. Such linguistic relations are not without interest, as they
afford some little insight into the history of the civilization of these
regions. A little variety was given to the monotonous proceedings of our
rather inglorious expedition, by the fact of one of the Shúwa, who was
supposed to have been killed a few days previously, being found under
a tree in the forest, severely wounded, but still alive, after having
undergone great hardships and privations.
_Friday, Jan. 9._—The whole district in which we had been roving about
since the 30th December belongs to Wúliya, which is decidedly one of the
most fertile and best-irrigated regions in the world.
A desolate border-district, consisting at times of green swampy ground
uprooted by the footprints of the elephant, and on this account affording
a very difficult passage for cavalry, at others of dense forest, the one
following the other in rapid succession, separated Wúliya from another
principality, of the name of Bárea, and inhabited by a tribe of the
Músgu of the name of Ábare. It was characteristic of the little peaceful
intercourse which exists among these various petty tribes, that the Ábare
did not seem to have had the slightest information of the approach of the
expedition, till we suddenly came upon them through the dense forest,
so that they had scarcely time to escape with their families from the
village, and endeavour to hide themselves in the dense covert of the
forest towards the east. They were pursued and overpowered, after a short
resistance, by the continually increasing numbers of the enemy; and the
booty of that day, chiefly in cattle, was rather considerable. Slaves
were also brought in in considerable numbers, principally young boys and
girls. The distance of the field of battle spared us the sight of the
slaughter of the full-grown men.
We chose our camping-ground on the stubble-fields between the straggling
groups of the village, which were beautifully adorned by some fine
specimens of the deléb-palm; and I took the opportunity of making a
sketch of this scene of natural fertility, and wanton destruction of
human happiness. The huts in general were of the same construction and
arrangement as those described above; but in one of them I found a kind
of three-pointed harpoon or spear very similar to a hay-fork, with this
difference, that the middle point was rather longer. The handle also
was rather long, measuring about eight feet. It probably was used for
catching fish, rather than as a weapon, otherwise it would scarcely have
been left behind; but it may easily have served both purposes.
[Illustration]
Thus by very short marches we again approached Bórnu, keeping mostly at a
short distance eastward from our former route, and encamped the following
day in the midst of another straggling village, the fields of which were
especially shaded by fine bíto-trees (_Balanites Ægyptiaca_), the soil
being as hard as iron. I had scarcely pitched my tent when Hámed, the
son of Íbrahím Wádáy, one of the courtiers with whom I was on friendly
terms, sent to me, begging I would pay him a visit; and, upon complying
with his wish, he introduced into my presence a female slave who had
been taken the day before, telling me that I might make a drawing of
her; for he knew that I was making strict inquiries after the origin and
customs of these tribes, and that I was making occasional sketches. This
female slave was certainly worthy of a sketch, as she was one of the most
stately women I saw here. But I entertained some suspicion that she was
not of Músgu origin, but belonged to the Marghí; for in the whole of the
Músgu country I had not observed a single individual of red colour, but
all were of the same dirty black, approaching to what the French call
_café-au-lait_, while this woman was of a red complexion. She certainly
wore in her under lip the large bone, the national emblem of the Músgu
females; but this custom she might have adopted. As for herself, she
would neither give me any information with respect to her origin, nor sit
still in order to allow me to finish my sketch. She was tall and well
grown, with the exception of the legs, which were rather crooked; and
being still a young woman, her breasts had not attained that bag-like
shape which is so disgusting in the elder females of this country. Her
features were only a little disfigured by the bone in the under lip.
Her neck was richly ornamented with strings of beads; but these were as
little peculiar to her as the cotton cloth round her loins, having been
given her by the new master into whose hands she had fallen. The national
dress of the Músgu females consists of nothing but a narrow bandage,
formed of bast, twisted like a rope, which is fastened between the legs
and round the waist like a T bandage.
A circumstance happened here which caused a great sensation, particularly
among the courtiers. The last messengers who had been sent from Kúkawa
with despatches for the commander-in-chief, as I have observed, had been
destroyed by the pagans; and it was on this day, and in this place,
that, while all the cottages were being pillaged and ransacked, three of
the letters of which those messengers had been the bearers, were found
in the pocket of a shirt which had been hid in a clay jar. This was
evidently the shirt of the messenger himself; and the blood with which it
had been stained had been washed out without taking the letters out of
the pocket. Devoid as the expedition was of feats of valour and interest,
the greatest importance was attached to this little incident.
_Sunday, Jan. 11._—When we left this place our friends just barely
escaped punishment for their barbarous proceeding of burning the
villages, in which we had encamped, as soon as we left them; for the
conflagration spread before we had gained the open country, and a most
horrible crushing took place among the burning huts. Had there been any
wind, great part of the army might have been severely scorched. The
country which we passed to-day was intersected by numerous watercourses;
and we had to cross and recross them several times. Here we passed a
place where the poor natives, in the consciousness of their weakness,
seemed to have been aroused to new and unwonted energy for building a
large fortification, but had been obliged to leave it half finished. Our
march was extremely short, and scarcely extended to three miles, when we
encamped in a village which seemed to have been ransacked at a former
period. It lay straggling over a wide extent of ground, in separate
groups of cottages, which were surrounded by stubble-fields shaded by
karáge-trees of a richness and exuberance which I had not seen before,
and surpassing even those fine trees of the same species which I have
described near the village Kadé.
Of course every one was desirous of having his tent pitched in the
shade of one of these beautiful trees, when suddenly the intruders were
attacked by swarms of large bees, which, settling behind their ears,
tormented them to the utmost, as if they wanted to take revenge for
the mischief that had been done to their masters, and to defend their
favourite resting-places, against these cruel intruders. It is well known
that swarms of bees had almost caused the destruction of Mungo Park’s, as
well as Major Gray’s expedition; but here a whole army was running away
from these little creatures. Even those who had encamped at a greater
distance were only able to protect themselves by the large volumes of
smoke which issued from the fires they had lighted. Before this, we had
not observed the rearing of bees in this country; but here the larger
trees were full of beehives, made of large-sized blocks. Even flocks of
turtle-doves were not wanting in this fertile region so rich in water and
vegetation.
In this pleasant spot we remained encamped the following day, while part
of the army was sent out in a southerly direction towards our former
encampment, Kákala, which was only at a few miles’ distance, in order to
try their fortune thereabouts; but the pagans being upon their guard,
they returned empty-handed in the evening. Our food to-day was varied, to
our great satisfaction, by an excellent fish of considerable size, which
we obtained from the neighbouring pond. Fish seems to be plentiful in
this quarter; but whether the number of small ridges and channels which
we observed on our march the following day were intended for catching
fish, which might enter them at the highest level of the inundation,
or for preparing the fields for cultivation, I am not quite sure; but
the former seemed to be the case, there being no signs whatever of the
fields being brought under labour. Dense forest and open pasture-ground
alternated, the forest, consisting of middle-sized acacias, interrupted
now and then by the kálgo-tree, with its ash-coloured leaves and its dark
red pods, or by the kókia.
The country, however, became exceedingly interesting and pleasant when we
reached one of the numerous watercourses of these African Netherlands,
an open and clear river about seventy yards broad, which being fringed
on each bank with a border of slender deléb-palms, or kamelútu, in the
clear magnificent morning sky, afforded a most picturesque view. We here
crossed this water, and passed a village on our left, and, keeping along
the fresh turf of the western bank a mile further on, reached a spot
where another branch, running eastward apparently, though no current is
visible, and fringed likewise by palms of the same description, joins
the main channel. The country being without any perceptible inclination,
it is extremely difficult, nay almost impossible, to decide about the
direction of these watercourses, except during the period of their
highest inundation. But the fertile and picturesque landscape beyond this
narrow sheet of water, which stretched along in a regular line like an
artificial canal, did not seem at all to be deserted, natives being seen
in every direction. The commander of the expedition therefore ordered a
short halt, the army presenting their front to the enemy, and preventing
the stragglers from crossing the river, which, owing to their greediness
for spoil, they seemed to have not a little inclination to do. But the
great men of Bórnu at the present day do not like any unusual exertion;
and it was decided to await the arrival of the camels, to encamp at
ease, and to take luncheon. We then turned off a little to the westward,
entered a village, and encamped in the stubble-fields.
Suddenly, just about noon, without my having any previous knowledge of
it, the vizier and his officers mounted on horseback, in order to attack
the pagans on the other side of the water; but these poor people, to whom
had been given full opportunity of estimating the strength of the army,
had thought it prudent to make use of the leisure thus afforded them, not
by the mercy, but by the cowardly disposition of their enemies, to convey
their families and property into a place of safety; for the river of
Logón passed at a distance of only four miles from this place, and in its
present state was capable of affording perfect security to the persecuted
natives, their pursuers having no boats. But although the army did not go
to a great distance, and returned after an absence of three hours, I was
rather sorry for having neglected this opportunity of obtaining a sight
of the river of Logón again at another place, and likewise of visiting
once more that picturesque district, so rich in deléb-palms, which was
evidently one of the finest in the whole country. Mr. Overweg, who had
received previous information of the intention of the vizier, was this
time more fortunate than myself, and afterwards informed me that they
had been obliged to keep first along the smaller river, in order to reach
the ford where we had crossed it in the morning. The great river, which
they reached about three miles beyond, exhibited a single bed, and was
not fordable.
While remaining behind in the empty encampment, I lamented the misery of
accompanying such an expedition; for nothing can be more disheartening to
the feelings of a traveller who is desirous of knowledge, than to visit
these beautiful countries under such circumstances, when the original
inhabitants are either exterminated, or obliged to seek their safety
in flight, when all traces of their cheerful life are destroyed, and
the abodes of human happiness converted into desolation, when no one is
left to acquaint him with all the significant names which the various
characteristic features of the country must necessarily bear, especially
those numberless creeks, swamps, and rivers which intersect this country
in all directions. The stranger who intrudes upon the natives in this
hostile manner is scarcely able to make out a few dry names of the
principal dwelling-places, and, being placed under such disadvantageous
circumstances, is at least justified in speaking more emphatically of
the endless misery into which the finest and most populous regions of
this continent are plunged by these slave-hunting expeditions of their
merciless Mohammedan neighbours. This fertile district, which is enclosed
by the river of Logón on the east, and by the narrow channel-like
watercourse on the west side, seems to be that very dominion of “Fúss,”
the power of which, as I have related before, was greatly dreaded by our
friends.
This was the coolest day we had as yet experienced on our expedition, the
thermometer, in the cool shade of a tree, at half-past one o’clock in the
afternoon, indicating only 84°. This was probably attributable to the
fresh northerly breeze which sprung up about noon; for during the night
it was not so cold as we felt it afterwards, the thermometer during this
time indicating, at sunrise, between 56° and 59°, and at sunset between
74° and 77°.
_Wednesday, Jan. 14._—We made a longer march than usual, while the
character of the country changed entirely, and not, as it seemed, to its
advantage; for instead of a fertile landscape, clothed with rich verdure,
we entered upon bleak alluvial plains scantily overgrown with stunted
mimosas, and to all appearance almost unfit for producing grain. It was
one of those remarkable days in January which, in the whole of Central
Africa, form a distinct season by themselves. A thick fog enveloped the
whole country, and excluded any distant view, and, while subsequently it
helped to increase the dismal character of the country, in the beginning
of our march it prevented us from enjoying once more the rich scenery
of the preceding day; for we had first to return to the bank of that
beautiful clear sheet of water along which our march had led the day
before. Its banks here also were quite flat, but the sheet of water was
wider than at the place where we had seen it before. Proceeding a little
in advance of the army, I obtained a sight of a river-horse just at the
moment when it raised its immense head above the surface of the watery
element.
But as soon as we left this fine clear sheet of water the character of
the country changed entirely, assuming an exceedingly sombre aspect, and
we passed a hamlet more cheerless and miserable than any I had seen in
the whole of this country. Not a single trace of cultivation was seen
on the bleak, black, argillaceous soil; and it was evident that the
inhabitants of this hamlet subsisted solely on the fish which they were
able to catch; and these may be abundant, as the whole configuration
of the ground evidently shows that this entire tract is reached by the
inundation during the rainy season.
The country preserved the same aspect as we proceeded onwards; and the
hamlets which we passed were not of a more inviting appearance than the
first. Only now and then an isolated deléb-palm, or kamelútu, raised its
magnificent tuft into the air, and served, by the contrast it afforded,
to make this spot appear more gloomy. A large piece of ground was
entirely covered with aghúl (_Hedysarus alhajji_) which seemed to me not
a little remarkable, as I did not remember to have seen this plant, which
is so much liked by the camel, since I had left Taganáma.
The country assumed more and more the appearance of a swamp at present
dry; and we were even obliged to change our direction frequently, in
order to avoid spots where the bog had not dried up, while everywhere we
observed the same kind of small ridges which I have mentioned before.
Further on, the ground became a little drier, but presented only a
monotonous waste, with detached bunches of rank grass, overshadowed now
and then by scanty and stunted karáge-trees scarcely fifteen feet high,
while we had been accustomed, in the Músgu country, to see this kind of
tree assume the size of the most magnificent specimens of the vegetable
kingdom, with an elevation of from seventy to eighty feet, and a crown
of not less diameter. As far as the eye could reach, the character of
the country presented the same poor appearance; but, as I have mentioned
before, the sky was not very clear, and the view was therefore rather
limited. The bush of the fan-palm seemed to be quite solitary, without
there being a full-grown specimen to be seen.
At length this swampy ground seemed to have an end; but nothing but poor
stubble-fields, where the crop had failed, took its place, with here and
there a few detached poor-looking huts, the few trees which were visible
exhibiting the same scanty growth that we had observed in the district
through which we had just passed. At last the eye, fatigued by the length
of this gloomy tract, was refreshed by the sight of a field with a fresh
crop of másakuwá, or _Holcus cernuus_, though it was far from being a
rich one. Already here, besides the huts common in this country, others,
of a remarkable and peculiar style, became visible, such as I shall
describe further on, and as only the most excellent clay soil can enable
the natives to build.
Entering for a while a grassy plain, we reached an open water, such as
the Kanúri people call komádugu, about thirty yards broad, but apparently
of considerable depth, being enclosed by banks ten feet high, and winding
through the plain in a fine meandering course. The water, at present,
had no current; and we found a spot where it was totally broken, and were
enabled to cross it with dry feet.
A few hundred yards on the other side of this watercourse were the ruins
of Bága, the residence of the chief Kábishmé (or, as the Kanúri call him,
Kabshimé), which had been ransacked last year by Kashélla ʿAlí Fúgomámi.
Among these ruins the vizier, by the advice of Ádishén, who wanted to
keep the undisciplined host from his own fertile territory, had chosen
the encampment. Thither I directed my steps, while the main body of the
cavalry were scattered about the cornfields, in order to gather the
half-ripe ears of grain for themselves and their half-starved horses; and
he was lucky who arrived first, those who came afterwards either finding
nothing at all, or only green, unwholesome corn.
The whole district where the encampment was chosen was bare and
desolate in the extreme, especially on the eastern side, where it was
only bordered by stunted mimosas a considerable distance off. But the
village itself, and particularly the dwelling of the chief Kábishmé,
was calculated to create a great deal of interest, as well on account
of the finished and careful execution of the buildings as owing to a
certain degree of comfort and homeliness which was evident in the whole
arrangement; and in this respect it was very fortunate that, immediately
after our arrival, before the train came up, I directed my attention
towards these buildings, for afterwards the deserted palace of the
Músgu chief became a harím, or prohibited spot, the vizier finding
its architectural arrangements very useful and convenient for his own
domestic purposes.
[Illustration]
The palace must have afforded a very different spectacle in former times,
when it was inhabited, it being at present in such a state of ruin that
several features in its arrangement could not be distinctly made out,
almost everything that was liable to take fire having been destroyed, and
especially the sheds and inner courtyards, which are so characteristic of
the domestic life of these people. At present it was an empty courtyard
of a tolerably round shape, and of large circumference, surrounded by
huts more or less destroyed, and adorned at the four corners, if we may
speak of corners in a building of almost round shape, by buildings of
a very peculiar and remarkable character, which at once attracted my
attention, as they bore testimony to a degree of order, and even of art,
which I had not expected to find among these tribes.
They were small round rumbú, about eight feet in diameter, and at least
twelve feet high to the apex of the cupola, the clay walls of which
were very neatly polished; the entrance formed a projecting portal
about six feet high, four feet deep, and not more than fourteen inches
wide. The exterior, to the very top of the cupola, was ornamented in
a very peculiar manner by regular lines of projecting ribs running
round the building in the way represented in the woodcut. These very
remarkable rooms, although at present empty, from their analogy with
several buildings described above, and according to the statements
of the people, were nothing but well protected granaries, although
they might have served occasionally in the cold season as bedrooms or
sleeping-rooms. They were exactly the same at each of the four corners;
but the north-east corner of the yard claimed particular attention, owing
to another very remarkable apartment being there joined to the granary,
which, as it is best adapted to give a clear idea of the homely comfort
of these people, however low the scale of their civilization may be, has
been made use of to represent, in the plate opposite, a scene of the
domestic life of these people, besides that its ground-plan is given in
the accompanying woodcut.
[Illustration]
It was a round uncovered apartment of about twenty-four feet in
diameter, inclosed by a clay wall of about seven feet high, and a foot
in thickness, and carefully polished at the corners. The doorway was
about four feet high by about two feet wide; entering through this you
had on your left a bank of clay running parallel with the wall, and
enclosing a space of about two and a half feet in breadth. It was a foot
and a quarter high, and one foot broad, and ran round more than half the
circumference of the room, but, in order to afford easy access to the
narrow space between it and the wall, had an opening in the centre, both
ends of the banks thus formed having a regularly shaped projection. The
space included between the bank and the wall formed a sort of stable, as
was evident from three stakes placed in the ground at equal distances
from each other. Probably it was the place for three head of cattle
or goats. The clay bank, therefore, served two purposes, partly as a
separation of the stable from the inner apartment, and partly as a seat.
The centre of the apartment was formed by a shed about eight feet by six,
and consisting of a roof of reeds and grass, supported by four stakes,
and furnishing an evident proof that the apartment had never been covered
in, but formed an open little courtyard _sub dio_.
On the right of this shed was the cooking-place or kitchen, enclosed by
two very low clay walls, and formed by four projections of clay in the
shape of large round stones, which in a very simple manner formed two
fireplaces, each of which, if detached, would have required three stones.
Between the kitchen, the shed, and one end of the clay bank, and divided
from the former by a separate wall, appeared a broad entrance to the
adjoining building, which we have recognized as a granary; but at present
it was walled up, and formed a recess for some purpose or other. Between
the kitchen and the gateway was another place enclosed between two thin
clay walls, which was most probably destined to contain the water-jar.
The four well-built and well-secluded rooms, which had been intended
originally as granaries, seemed very desirable to the vizier in the cold
weather, as he was able to lodge there, very comfortably, himself and his
female slaves; for the cold in this open spot, which was not protected
either by vegetation or by any rising of the ground, was so severe that
not only the whole black world, but the two whites also, that is to say
Mr. Overweg and myself, natives of the north of Europe, suffered severely
from its intensity. Indeed it was most distressing during the night
to hear the shrieks of the poor naked Músgu slaves, who had been torn
from their warm huts; and it was not till about noon that they seemed
to revive a little. Nevertheless the thermometer at six o’clock in the
morning of the 15th, indicated as much as 51°, which was the greatest
amount of cold we had during this expedition, and at noon it even rose to
87°.
We were obliged to remain in this uncomfortable place several days,
owing to the circumstance that the whole of the spoil was to be divided
here before we left the hostile territory; for an undisciplined host
like this, of course, cannot be controlled except by fear, and if the
people were allowed to regain their own territory with what they had
taken in slaves and cattle, they would go to their own homes without
contributing anything to the common share of the army. This is also
the custom in Wádáy as well as in Dár Fúr, the spoil being divided
before the expedition re-enters the friendly territory. Although on the
present occasion the expedition had not been eminently successful in
the different places, nevertheless the whole booty, besides about ten
thousand head of cattle, amounted to a considerable number of slaves. The
leaders boasted that they had taken not less than ten thousand slaves;
and although I was glad to find that this number was exaggerated, I
convinced myself that they numbered not less than three thousand.
By far the largest proportion of this number consisted of aged women,
who had not been able to join in the hasty flight, and of children
under eight years of age. There were some women so decrepit that they
were scarcely able to walk—mere skeletons, who in their almost total
nakedness, presented a horrible sight. All the full-grown men who had
been taken prisoners, with the exception of a few cowards who had not
made any resistance, had been slaughtered; but their number scarcely
exceeded three hundred, almost the whole full-grown male population of
the country having had time to escape. Of these three thousand slaves,
the commander-in-chief received a third part; but he also claimed for
himself the whole amount of the slave-hunt which was made into the
territory of Ádishén, and which constituted a sort of tribute.
In the afternoon of the 17th, two officers had left the encampment,
under the pretext of gathering fodder from the neighbouring villages,
but in the evening returned with about eight hundred slaves, and a
considerable number of cattle; and we were given to understand that
this foray was executed with the consent of the chief himself,—to such
degrading means did this despicable chief resort in order to preserve
his authority, however precarious it was. Of course he selects as a
sacrifice such of his subjects as are not his zealous followers; but it
is almost incredible how such a government can exist, as his dominion
scarcely extends over a tract of country more than fifteen miles in every
direction. At any rate, his subjects seem to be fully justified in taking
care of themselves; and they had succeeded, in the darkness, in getting
back part of the spoil which had been taken from them.
The vizier himself pretended to behave in a very gracious manner towards
the submissive vassal, returning to him about two hundred of the oldest
and most decrepit women, who, he most probably thought, would succumb to
the fatigues of the march, observing, in a tone of friendly irony, that
they were to cultivate the country, and that when he should return he
would eat of the produce of their labour. On other occasions the vizier
had expressed himself to me to the effect that he wished Ádishén strong
and powerful, in order that, as a faithful vassal, he might oppose the
progress of the Felláta in these regions; for in his heart he was the
most inveterate enemy of that enterprising nation, and certainly he had
ample reason to be so. It was on this occasion I heard that this renegade
Músgu chief had never been rebellious to his Bórnu sovereign (which,
from information I had received previously, I concluded to have been the
case), but that occasionally he was obliged to make reprisals against the
Shúwa, who were making plundering expeditions into his territory. We have
already noticed the peculiar situation of this Músgu chief, separated
from the interests of his countrymen, and opposed to them in a hostile
manner. He has to defend his position against all the people around him,
while his rear is very badly protected by his very friends the Bórnu
people, even the Shúwa Arabs, who are subjected to the former, infesting
his territory. Only with his kinsmen, the people of Logón, he seemed to
be at the time on friendly terms.
_Monday, Jan. 19._—We at length set out on our return to Kúkawa. We
first returned to the ford of shallow water, and then continued through
a fine grassy plain, passing one or two hamlets and a few fields of
native corn. We then encamped, after a march of about ten miles. Already
this day, in the distance towards the west, we had observed some small
elevations; but, proceeding at a slow rate, and making very short days’
marches, we did not reach the district of Wáza, which is distinguished
by its rocky mounts, till the 22nd, when, after a march of about fifteen
miles, we encamped between those two rocky eminences which form the most
characteristic feature of this locality.
It gave us extraordinary pleasure, after having traversed the flat
alluvial plains of Bórnu and Músgu, to find ourselves once more opposite
to some elevation of even a moderate altitude. These eminences assumed a
very picturesque appearance. The valley between the two rocky mountains
where we were encamped was rather bare of trees; but there were some
beautiful wild fig-trees at the north-eastern foot of the western
eminence, where a pond was formed in a deep hollow. To this spot I turned
my steps immediately after our arrival, before the camels had joined
us, and spent here a delightful hour, all the horses belonging to the
army being brought here to be watered, and forming a varied and highly
interesting scene, with the rich verdure of the trees around, and the
steep rocky cliffs above them, while fresh parties were continually
arriving from the camp.
Having made a sketch of this locality, I went to join my companion,
and we decided upon ascending the more elevated of the two eminences;
but having attained to the height of some hundred feet, I felt quite
exhausted, especially as I had a severe cold, and gave it up; but Mr.
Overweg ascended to the top, which rises to about seven hundred feet
above the plain.[83] These rocky mounts abound with a species of black
monkey, while even beasts of prey generally have their haunts here. The
crevices formed by the granite blocks are adorned with small trees and
shrubs. The view from here, over the immense plain towards the south,
girt as it was by a continuous band of middle-sized timber, was very
characteristic, the uniform line being relieved in the foreground by the
other rocky mount. This place belongs already to the territory of Logón,
and consists of several small hamlets inhabited by Shúwa, but governed by
a chief, or “lawán,” who belongs to the tribe of the Fúlbe. It was here
that we received the news that a courier had arrived from Fezzán, but
that he had been plundered, by the Tuarek, of the letters and articles
which he was carrying for us. This, of course, was sad news, although we
did not expect to receive money, or anything of great value, at the time.
_Wednesday, Jan. 22._—After a long delay, caused by the straying of
the vizier’s favourite horse, which he rode every day, and which had
most mysteriously disappeared during the night, from the midst of the
encampment, we left this interesting spot, and after a good ride over a
very rich though insufficiently cultivated tract of country, encamped
at a short distance from a broad shallow water adorned with the finest
trees; it is called Zéngiri. From here we reached Díggera, and took up
our quarters in our old camp, pitching our tents on the very spot where
they had stood two months previously; and from this point onwards, we
stopped each day at the same place where we had encamped on our outward
journey.
_Saturday, Feb. 1._—On our re-entering the capital there was a good
deal of ceremony and etiquette observed, when the whole army, at least
that part which had not yet been disbanded, was formed into one compact
line of battle, in order to receive in a suitable manner the military
salutes which were paid to the commander-in-chief on his successful
return. Distinguished above all those who came to meet us and pay their
compliments to the commander, was Ghét, the chief of the Welád Slímán,
who, a few days previously, had arrived from Kánem, where we left him,
and from whence he had made a successful expedition against the Kúnkuna
in Kárká. Galloping up with the utmost speed, at the head of his little
band of from twenty to thirty horsemen clad in their picturesque attire,
this petty Arab chief exhibited an interesting and animated specimen
of horsemanship, which presented a remarkable contrast to the unwieldy
movements of the clumsy and sluggish figures of the negroes. Returning
to our old quarters in the town, we were treated with a peculiar dainty
of the Kanúri, consisting of the fresh seeds of the grain called masr
(_Zea maïs_), which are roasted in a peculiar way.
Thus ended this expedition, which opened to us a slight glimpse into the
richly watered zone of the equatorial regions, which had been supposed
to form an insurmountable barrier of a high mountain chain, and brought
us into contact with tribes whose character has been represented as
almost approaching to that of wild beasts. We had certainly not entered
those regions under such circumstances as were most desirable to us;
but on the contrary, we had been obliged to associate ourselves with
an army whose only purpose was to spread devastation and misery over
them. Nevertheless, situated as we were, while we could not prevent this
mischief, we were glad that we had been enabled to see so much. We were
without any means, no further supplies having arrived; but I did not
despair, and in order still to be able to try my fortune once more in
another direction before I returned home, besides other articles, I even
sold my large tent, and employed part of the proceeds to line my small
tent, which was fast wearing out, and neither excluded rain nor sun.
FOOTNOTES
[1] “ʿAbd el Kerím,” meaning “Servant of the Merciful,” was the name
which I thought it prudent to adopt.
[2] p, ph, f, in many African languages, are constantly interchanged, the
same as r and dh, r and l.
[3] No distinction has been made between the different sounds of j.
[4] Mr. Overweg, who made a hypsometrical observation by boiling water,
found the elevation of this spot just the same as that of Mount Tekút,
viz. 2,800 feet.
[5] In el Bekri’s time (eleventh century) all these Roman monuments
hereabout were still the objects of adoration.
[6] Unfortunately the minimum and maximum thermometers were so deranged
that Mr. Overweg was unable to repair them. We had no barometer, and the
only aneroid barometer with which we had been provided, and which had
been under the care of my companion, was damaged on our first excursion;
so that nothing was left to us but to find the elevation of places by the
boiling-point of water.
[7] Hatíta told us expressly that if any of the Imghád should trouble us
we should say, “Bábo.” Now “Bábo” is neither Arabic nor Temáshight, but
the Háusa word for “There is none.”
[8] At the moment I am revising this I am happy to state that the
slave-trade is really abolished.
[9] I trust my readers will approve of my using the expression Western
Negroland to denote the countries from Fúta as far as Sókoto; Middle
Sudán, or Central Negroland, from Sókoto to Bagírmi; and Eastern
Negroland, comprising Wadäy, Darfúr Kordofán, and Sennár. However, here,
when I say that Mohammed ben ʿAbd el Kerím introduced Islám into Central
Negroland, I exclude Bórnu, where the Mohammedan religion is much older.
[10] He may have been born in Telemsán; but at least from very early
youth he was settled in Tawát.
[11] This tree has nothing in common with the _Adansonia_, with which it
has been supposed to be identical.
[12] Delélti is not a Háusa word.
[13] “Háwiya” means twenty, and seems originally to have been the highest
sum reached by the indigenous arithmetic.
[14] “Kurdí” (shells) is the irregular plural of “urí” (a single shell).
[15] All sorts of wind instruments, the flute included, are called by
the Háusa people “bushé-bushé,” from which word the Féllani-n-Háusa have
formed “fufefuféji.”
[16] This is the only correct Háusa form for the singular of Féllani.
[17] The Fúlbe generally change the ʿain into ghain, and therefore say
Ghomáro instead of Omáro.
[18] See above, ch. xv.
[19] There is evidently some relation between the Háusa, the Berber, and
the Coptic languages, not in the general vocabularies, but chiefly in
the demonstratives, such as “me,” “hakka,” and the prepositions, such
as “ná,” “dá,” “gá,” “dága,” “garé.” See the excellent analysis of the
Berber language by Newman, in “Zeitschrift für Kunde des Morgenlandes,”
vol. vii. a. 1845, pp. 268, 277, 278; (on the feminine forms “ita,”
“ta,”) pp. 282, 291, 296. Many more specimens, however, may now be added.
[20] It is also a very remarkable fact, that Dáura claims the glory of
having had an apostle of its own, Mohammed ʿAli el Baghdádi; and with
this fact the circumstance, that the holy place which I noticed on my
tour from Tin-téllust to Ágades is called by some “msíd Sídi Baghdádi,”
may probably be connected. Whether Dáura be identical with el Bekri’s
Daur, or Daw, is a question of some importance, since, if it really be
so, it would appear to have been a considerable place at a very early
period; but I prefer not to enter here upon the slippery ground of
comparative geography.
[21] Page 170.
[22] In Timbúktu I was enabled to peruse a long letter from Maghíli
to Is-hák about points of religion. This is the only work of Maghíli,
which I was able to discover in Negroland. There were two Sónghay kings
of the name of Is-hák—the first, who ruled from A.H. 946-956, and the
second, who was the last king of the dynasty, when Gógho or Gógó was
conquered by the Basha Jodár the 17th Jumad eʾ tháni, 999; but there is
no doubt that the first is meant. What I have said about the grandson of
Maghíli’s dispute with Is-hák is the common tradition in Negroland, and,
I think, deserves more confidence than what M. Cherbonneau has made out
in Constantine. See Journal Asiatique, 1855. He says, “Après cet horrible
massacre, el Mʿrili quitta Touat pour s’enfoncer dans le cœur du Soudan.
Il parcourut successivement Tekra (? Tirka), Kachène et Kanou. Dans les
deux premières villes il enseigna publiquement la science du Koran; dans
l’autre il fit un cours de jurisprudence. De là il passa à Karou (ou
Tchiarou, suivant la prononciation locale), et fut invité par el Hadj
Mohammed, qui en était le gouverneur, à rédiger une note sur différentes
questions de droit. Il était depuis peu dans cette ville, lorsqu’on vint
lui apprendre que son fils avait été assassiné par les juifs de Touat. Il
repartit et mourut presque au moment de son arrivée.”
[23] “Hábe,” plural of the singular “Kádo,” is a general term now applied
by the Fúlbe to the conquered race; but in this instance the application
is different. It is not improbable that the conquerors extended the
meaning of this term, which originally applied only to one dynasty, to
the whole conquered nation.
[24] This name, in the corrupted form “Kilinghiwa,” Mr. Cooley has
connected with the Berbers, in his excellent little work on the Negroland
of the Arabs.
[25] It was most probably a king of Kátsena, whom Makrízi entitled King
of Áfunú (Hamaker, Spec. Cat., p. 206), remarking the jealousy with which
he watched his wives, although the name Mastúd which he gives to him,
does not occur in the lists of the kings of Kátsena which have come to
my knowledge, and does not even seem to be a true native name. The power
of the Prince of Kátsena towards the end of the last century (Lucas,
Horneman) seems to have been rather transient being based on the then
weakness of Bórnu.
[26] Laird’s and Oldfield’s Narrative, vol. i., p. 233. As this clear
and rational conviction, which the meritorious man who has laboured so
long for that part of Africa entertained, has been entirely confirmed by
my succeeding discovery, I think it well to give to it all the publicity
which it deserves. The two learned geographers of Africa, Mr. Cooley and
MacQueen, concurred entirely in this opinion.
[27] There is a great variety of this article, of which I shall enumerate
a few kinds:—“farí-n-zénne,” the white undyed one; “zénne déffowa,” of
light-blue colour; “fessagída,” with a broad line of silk; “hammakúku,”
with less silk, sold generally for three thousand kurdí; “mailémú,”
sold for two thousand five hundred; “zelluw-ámi,” a peculiar zénne with
a silk border; “jumáda,” another similar kind; “da-n-katánga,” once
a very favourite article of female dress, and therefore called “the
child of the market” (of the word katánga, I have spoken on a former
occasion), with red and black silk in small quantity, and a little white;
“albáss-n-Kwára,” a very peculiar name, chosen to denote a kind of zénne
of three stripes of mixed colours; “gódo,” white and black and of thick
thread; “alkílla,” white and black chequered “sáki,” silk and cotton
interwoven, and forming small squares black and white; “kéki,” half
túrkedí (that is to say indigo-coloured), half “sáki,” or silk and cotton
interwoven; “kéki serkí bókoy,” four kinds. Besides, there are ten kinds
of zénnwa entirely of silk, but these are made better in Núpe than in
Kanó. One of these, called “biní da gáni” (follow me and look), a name
which is also given to a conspicuous kind of beads, is distinguished by
three colours—yellow, red, and blue. Then there is a zénne made of atlas,
called “massarchí”; another of coloured Manchester; and the simple one of
Manchester, which is called “béfta.”
[28] Among these specimens is also an undyed and a dyed specimen of
the “ríga tsámia,” which seems to deserve a good deal of interest, as
it consists half of home-made silk, obtained from a peculiar kind of
silkworm, which lives on the tamarind-tree. I also sent home from Kúkawa,
at a former period, a piece of native cloth of the Kwána, a tribe of the
Korórofa.
[29] There are many other branches of manufacture in Kanó which are too
minute to be enumerated here. I will only mention the framing of the
little looking-glasses, called lemmá, imported from Tripoli, and the
immense variety of bótta or múrta, small leathern boxes. There is also
a kind of small box made with great neatness from the kernel of the
dúm-fruit.
[30] I need only refer to the memorable passage in his Journal, vol.
ii., p. 203: “The best of the slaves now go to Niffee, to be there
shipped for America. They are mostly males, and are minutely examined
before departure.” (This latter circumstance agrees exactly with my own
observations.) “From all reports there is _an immense traffic of slaves
that way exchanged against American goods_, which are driving out of the
markets all the merchandise of the north.” But another passage is not
less clear, p. 228 f.: “Slaves are sent from Zínder to Niffee. Indeed it
now appears that all this part of Africa is put under contribution to
_supply the South American market with slaves_.”
[31] The names of the different kinds of beads, of which I have collected
thirty-five, bear evident testimony to the imaginative powers and lively
character of the Háusáwa.
[32] Originally these came from Nuremberg, but of late they have been
also produced in Leghorn.
[33] I will here only mention, that the profit on the copper for the
Jellába, if they do not go themselves to the hófra, but buy it in
Dar-Fúr, is as follows:—In Fúr they buy the kantár of copper for one
sedáshi (slave), equal to the value of a kantár of ivory, and sell it in
Kúkawa for four thousand rottls, equal to two kantárs of ivory. In Kanó
the price is about the same.
[34] There is no difference made between these two coins, women in
general even preferring Maria Theresa to the columns on the Spanish
dollar, which they fancy to represent cannon.
[35] Other people have stated to me that the kurdí-n-korófi did not
exceed five hundred kurdí.
[36] “Chínna-n-yalá” is an interesting specimen of the corruption of a
language in the border-districts; for while the words are Kanúri, they
are joined according to the grammar of the Háusa language, for in Kanúri
the expression ought to be “chínna yalabe.”
[37] “Búndi,” in Kanúri, means “wild beasts.” The inhabitants still bear
the particular name of Ngúru-bú, plural of Ngúru-ma, from the name of the
place or district Ngurú, generally called Ángarú.
[38] The termination-ma in Kanúri signifies the possession of a thing,
and is equivalent to the mai- in Háusa, placed before a word. Thus
bílla-ma is exactly identical with maí-gari, fír-ma with mai-dóki (the
horseman), and so on. With this termination almost all the names of
offices are formed in Kanúri, as yerí-ma, chiró-ma, kasél-ma, and so on.
Thus also the governor of the province Múniyo or Mínyo bears the title
Muniyó-ma or Minyó-ma, a name entirely misunderstood by Mr. Richardson.
I will only add here that the title of the governor of the Gháladí in
the Bórnu empire, on account of the immense extent of the latter, has
been introduced into the list of offices of all the courts of Central
Negroland, and that we find a ghaladíma in Sókoto as well as in every
little town of Ádamáwa. The same is to be said of some offices originally
belonging only to the court of the empire of Mélle, such as that of
feréng or fárma, mánso, and others.
[39] Here I will give the route from Kanó to Álamáy, near Búndi, by way
of Khadéja, as it determines approximately the position of this town,
which has been also mentioned by Clapperton as a place of importance. But
its peculiar political situation, forced upon it by the events of this
period, when it became the residence of a rebel chief waging war on all
around, prevented my visiting it at a future period.
1st day. On leaving Kanó, sleep in Gógia, where the governor of Kanó has
a house, and where you arrive about two o’clock in the afternoon.
2nd. Gáya, another town of the province of Kanó, where you arrive about
the same hour, having crossed in the forenoon the bed of a torrent with
water only in the rainy season.
3rd. Dúchi or Dútsi; arrive about the ʿaser, having crossed in the
morning a torrent called Dedúrra, and passed about noon a half-deserted
place called Katákatá.
4th. Zogó, a large open place; about ʿaser. Many small villages on the
road.
5th. Khadéja, a large town surrounded with a beautiful and very strong
double clay wall, and well inhabited, the courtyards being enclosed
with clay walls, but containing only reed huts. The inhabitants employ
themselves exclusively in warlike expeditions, and have no industry; but
nevertheless there are still to be seen here a few dyeing-pots, marking
the eastern limit of this branch of industry. On the south side of the
town is a kogí, or komádugu with a stream of running water in the rainy
season, but with only stagnant pools in summer, along which a little
wheat is cultivated. It is generally called Wáni.
6th. Garú-n-ghábbes, a middle-sized walled town, the first place of
Bórnu, on this side, with a good deal of cultivation around. Though
without importance in other respects, it is so in an historical point
of view; for this place being identical with the town Birám tá ghábbes,
mentioned above, is regarded as the oldest place of the seven original
settlements of the Háusa nation.
7th. Álamáy, the place which I passed by this morning; arrive about
ʿaser. Country in a wild state; no cultivation.
[40] Ngurútuwa, properly meaning the place full of hippopotami, is a
very common name in Bórnu, just as “Rúóa-n-dorina” (the water of the
hippopotami) is a widespread name given by Háusa travellers to any water
which they may find in the wilderness.
[41] Of this document I have sent a copy from Kúkawa to the Leipsic
Oriental Society; and a translation of it has been published in the
Journal (_Zeitschrift_) of that society in the year 1852, p. 305 ff.,
with notes by M. Blau.
[42] See a letter of mine from Kúkawa, Nov. 20th, 1852, addressed to
Chevalier Bunsen, and published in Petermann’s _Mittheilungen_ 1855, p. 7.
[43] Indeed, in the copy which I sent to Europe, the copyist has
corrected this error; but unfortunately, instead of inserting this reign
in the right place, he has added the twenty years to the thirty-three
years of the reign of the elder Edrís ben ʿAlí.
[44] The forty days’ journey stated by Ebn Batúta to intervene between
Tekádda and Bórnu are to be counted, as it seems, to Njímiye, the old
capital of Kánem; Bírni, or rather Ghasréggomo, at least, not being
founded at that time.
[45] Leo, when he says that the language of Gaogo is identical with the
Bórnu language, does not speak of the language of the whole nation, but
only of that of the ruling tribe, the Bulála.
[46] This custom, I think, confirms the opinion that the Koyám migrated
from Kánem into Bórnu. They are expressly called “áhel el bil.”
[47] This certainly did not belong to the largest craft of the islanders;
for one of the boats which accompanied Mr. Overweg afterwards on his
voyage on the lake was almost fifty feet long, and six and a half wide.
[48] Kánembú is the plural of Kánémma.
[49] The Yédiná named to me the following islands as the largest and
most important:—Gúriyá, Yíwaa Dóji, Belárge, Húshiyá Billán, Purrám,
Maibuluwá, Fidda, Kóllea Dallabórme, Turbó Dakkabeláya, Fujiá Chílim,
and Bréjaré, the latter having many horses. Almost all these names have
been since confirmed by Mr. Overweg, although he spells some of them
in a different way, and perhaps less accurately, as he obtained all
his information from his Kanúri companions; indeed, notwithstanding
his long sojourn among the islanders, he did not even learn their real
name, viz.—Yédiná. The Yédiná belong evidently to the Kótoko, and are
most nearly related to the people of Nghála; they are probably already
indicated by Makrizí under the name اتعنا and their language was
originally entirely distinct from the Kanúri, although in process of time
they have adopted many of their terms.
[50] The distance of the western shore of this island cannot be more
than at the utmost thirty miles from the shore of the lagoon, at least
at certain seasons. Mr. Overweg’s indications in respect to this island,
which he would seem to have navigated all round, are very vague. At all
events, I think it must be considerably nearer the shore than it has been
laid down by Mr. Petermann, but it is difficult, nay impossible, to fix
with precision the form or size of these islands, which, according to
season, vary continually.
[51] I will here give verbatim a few extracts of my despatch to
Government, dated Kúkawa, May 24, 1851, from which it will be seen how
sure I was already at that time of the immense importance of the river
which I was about to discover.
“MY LORD,—I have the honour to inform your Lordship that, on Tuesday
next, I am to start for Ádamáwa, as it is called by the Fellátah
(Fullan), or Fúmbiná, a very extensive country, whose capital, Yóla, is
distant from here fifteen days south-south-west, situated on _a very
considerable river_ called Fáro, which, joining another river not less
considerable, and likewise navigable, called Bénuwé, falls into the
Kwára, or Niger, at a place between Kakanda and Adda, not more than a few
days’ distant from the mouth of that celebrated river.” “My undertaking
seemed to me the more worthy, _as it has long been the intention of
Government to explore that country_; for orders had been given to the
Niger expedition to turn aside, if possible, from the course of that
river, and to reach Bórnu by a southern road, which it was presumed
might be effected partly or entirely by water, etc. As for my part, I
can at present certify, with the greatest confidence, that there is
_no connection whatever between those two rivers_, the Chadda, which
is identical with the Bénuwé, on the one, and the Sháry, the principal
tributary of Lake Tsád, on the other side. Nevertheless, the Fáro as well
as the Bénuwé seem to have their sources to the east of the meridian
of Kúkawa; and the river formed by these two branches being navigable
for large boats into the very heart of Ádamáwa, there will be _a great
facility for Europeans to enter that country_ after it shall have been
sufficiently explored.” After speaking of the northern road into the
interior by way of Bílma, I concluded with these words:—
“By-and-by, I am sure, _a southern road will be opened_ into the heart of
Central Africa, but the time has not yet come.”
[52] “Bíllama” properly means mayor, from “bílla,” a town; but in many
cases it has become a proper name.
[53] Kárda is properly the name of that division of the Mága which is
settled in the province of Máshena.
[54] The Mándara people, or rather Ur-wándalá, called the Gámerghú
Múks-amálguwá, which I think is a nickname, the word múkse meaning woman;
but the latter part of the name, Amálguwá, may be the original form of
Gámerghú. I had no opportunity of asking the people themselves about the
original name.
[55] The Fúlbe of Ádamáwa are especially rich in compliments, which,
however, have not yet lost their real and true meaning. Thus the
general questions, “Num báldum” (Are you well?), “Jám wáli” (Have you
slept?), are followed by the special questions, “No yímbe úro” (How is
the family?), “No inna úro” (How is the landlady?), “To púchu máda,”
or “Kórri púchu májám” (How is your horse?), “To erájo máda” (How is
your grandfather?), “To máchudo máda” (How is your slave?), “To bíbe
máda” (And your children?), “To sukábe máda” (How are your lads?), “Bíbe
hábe májám” (How are the children of your subjects?), “Korri nay májám”
(How are your cattle?); all of which in general are answered with “Se
jám.” Between this strain occasionally a question about the news of the
world—“Tó hábbarú dúnia;” and with travellers at least a question as to
the fatigue—“Tó chómmeri”—is inserted. There is still a greater variety
of compliments, the form of many, as used in Ádamáwa, varying greatly
from that usual in other countries occupied by the Fúlbe, and of course
all depends on the time of the day when friends meet.
[56] Unfortunately, I had not energy enough to finish it in detail; so
that many little interesting features were not expressed.
[57] I made some observations with the boiling-water instrument on this
road, but unfortunately my thermometers for this purpose were entirely
out of order.
[58] Búmánda probably means a ford, or rather place of embarkation. It
can scarcely have any connection with the Kanúri word “mánda,” meaning
salt, though salt is obtained in the western place of this name.
[59] This word “gére” is identical with “éré,” or “arre,” the name the
Músgu give to the river of Logón.
[60] I heard the name pronounced in this way, but lower down it may be
pronounced Bí-nuwé. However, I have to remark that Mr. Petermann changed
the é into an í, from mere mistake; and I do not know whether the members
of the Chádda expedition had sufficient authority for writing the name
in this way. The word belongs to the Bátta language, where water is
called “beé,” or “bé”; but in kindred dialects it is called “bí.” “Nuwé”
means the mother; and the whole name means “mother of water.” The name,
therefore, properly is of the feminine gender.
[61] “Tépe” is a Púllo or rather Fulfúlde word meaning “junction,”
“confluence,” which by the Western Fúlbe would be called “fottérde máje.”
In Háusa the name is “magángamú.”
[62] That this river is anywhere really called Chádda, or even Tsádda,
I doubt very much; and I am surprised that the members of the late
expedition in the _Pleiad_ do not say a word on this point. I think the
name Chádda was a mere mistake of Lander’s, confirmed by Allen, owing to
their fancying it an outlet of Lake Tsád.
[63] This immense rise of the river agrees perfectly with the experience
of Messrs. Laird and Oldfield, who, from absolute measurement, found the
difference in the level of the water at Idda in the course of the year
nearly sixty feet. See their Journal, vol. ii., p. 276, and p. 420, note,
“fifty-seven to sixty feet.”
[64] There was a very serious discrepancy amongst those gentlemen with
regard to the fall of the river. Dr. Baikie states, in his Journal, which
recently appeared, p. 230, that “the water first showed _decided_ signs
of falling about the 3rd of October, and by the 5th the decrease was
very perceptible.” If, therefore, the river began to fall at Zhibu on
the 3rd of October, the fall would commence at the Tépe, more than two
hundred miles higher up along the windings of the river, at least three
days before, if we take the current at three miles an hour. My statement,
therefore, that the river begins _decidedly_ to fall at the confluence at
the very end of September, has been singularly confirmed. But that there
is also some truth with regard to the long continuance of the highest
level is evident from the _conflicting_ observations of the party. (See
Baikie’s Journal, p. 217.) Indeed the sailor-master insisted that the
river had fallen long before; and all the people were puzzled about it.
From all this I must conclude that _my statement_ with regard to the
river, instead of having been considerably modified by the expedition,
_has been confirmed by their experience in all its principal points_.
We shall see the same difficulty recur with regard to a maximum level
preserved for forty days by the western river, although the time when it
begins to fall is entirely different; and as to the latter river, not
only I, but the natives also were mistaken with respect to its presumed
time of falling. The same is the case with the (river) Shári, and is
natural enough, considering the extensive inundations with which the rise
of these African rivers is attended. This state of the rivers in the
tropical climes is so irregular, that Leo Africanus has made quite the
same observation. (L. i. c. 28, “Descrizione dell’ Africa.”)
[65] I leave this passage as it stood in my journal, although it
describes a state of things which now, in 1857, belongs to the past. This
stronghold also has at length been taken by the intruders, and the seat
of happiness and independence converted into a region of desolation.
In 1853, two years after my journey to Ádamáwa, Mohammed Láwl left his
residence with a great host, having sworn not to return before he had
reduced Bágelé. After a siege of almost two months, with the assistance
of a few muskets, he succeeded in conquering the mountaineers, and
reducing them to slavery. The chief of the pagans of the Bágelé, who
belong to the Bátta tribe, in the height of his power exercised paramount
authority over the neighbouring tribes, and is said to have even had the
“_jus primæ noctis_.”
[66] Ribágo, sometimes contracted to the form Ribáwo, means “a governor’s
country-seat.”
[67] With regard to the Fúlbe, the prayers of dhohor (“zúhura,” or
“sallifánna”) may rightly be called midday prayers, as they are
accustomed to pray as soon as the zawál has been observed. But in general
it would be wrong to call dhohor noon, as is very often done; for none
of the other Mohammedans in this part of the world will say his dhohor
prayer before two o’clock P.M. at the very earliest, and generally not
before three o’clock.
[68] Adamáwa is certainly not quite identical with Fúmbiná, as it denotes
only those regions of the latter which have been conquered by the Fúlbe,
while many parts are as yet unsubdued.
[69] With regard to salt, I will observe that the greater part of it
is brought from Búmánda, on the Bénuwé, near Hamárruwa, where it seems
to be obtained from the soil in the same way as I shall describe the
salt-boiling in Fóga, although in Búmánda there is no valley-formation,
and Mr. Vogel, who lately visited this place, may be right in stating
that the salt is merely obtained from ashes by burning the grass which
grows in that locality.
[70] It is a great pity that the members of the Bénuwé expedition were
not able to measure the elevation of the river at the furthest point
reached. My thermometer for measuring the boiling-point of water was so
deranged, that my observation at the Tépe is without any value. Till
further observations have been made, I think it may be assumed to be from
800 to 850 feet.
[71] It would be rather more appropriate to give the name of Lower Bénuwé
to that part of the river below, and that of Upper Bénuwé to the part
above the confluence, than to call Upper Bénuwé the part of the river
visited by Dr. Baikie.
[72] This name is evidently connected with that of the _Balanites_, which
they call “tanní”; and several Negro nations compare the date with the
fruit of that tree.
[73] Mr. Vogel, who has succeeded in obtaining a sight of this animal,
found that it is a Mammal like the _Manatus Senegalensis_. The South
African rivers also have these Mammals, and the ayú is not less frequent
in the Ísu near Timbúktu than it is in the Bénuwé.
[74] Súmmo, situated between Holma and Song.
[75] The numbers “three” (tan) and “four” (nan) seem to point to the
Fulfúlde as well as to the Kaffir languages.
[76] It is probable that this tribe is indicated by the مكبا of Makrízi
(Hamaker, _Spec. Catal._ p. 206), although there are several other
localities of the same name.
[77] Probably their real name is Tiká. See Appendix.
[78] The termination nchí is nothing but the Sónghay word ki, which in
several dialects is pronounced as chí, and means “language.” On account
of this termination being added to the original name, I have purposely
not marked the accents in this list. The languages thus marked are spoken
only partly in Ádamáwa, the tribes to whom they are peculiar being for
the greatest part independent.
[79] In the following sketch, made just at the moment, I aimed only at
giving the outlines of the mount, without any pretension to represent the
country around. The foreground, therefore, is left quite level.
[80] Perhaps this was a sign of mourning.
[81] The marriage (nigá) ceremonies in this country fill a whole week.
The first day is dedicated to the feasting on the favourite “nákia,”
the paste mentioned before; the second to the “tíggra,” a dried paste
made of millet, with an immense quantity of pepper; the third to the
“ngáji,” the common dish made of sorghum, with a little fish sauce, if
possible; the fourth day is called “líktere,” I think from the taking
away the emblems of the virginal state of the bride, “larússa”; the
fifth, the bride is placed on a mat or búshi, from which she rises seven
times, and kneels down as often; this is called “búshiro,” or “búchiro
genátsin”; the next day, which must be a Friday, her female friends wash
her head while singing, and in the evening she is placed upon a horse and
brought to the house of the bridegroom, where the final act of the nigrá
is accomplished. The Kanúri are very peculiar in the distinction of a
marriage with a virgin, “féro,” or “féro kuyánga,” or a widow, or “kámo
záwar.”
[82] Between Yédi and the Tsád, the following places are situated—Léga,
a considerable town surrounded by a wall; Díbbuwa, Jíggeri, Manawáze,
Górdiná, and Mógolám.
[83] Mr. Vogel, who likewise visited this spot in 1854, found the plain
elevated 920 feet above the level of the sea, while the two mounts
attained the respective heights of 1,300 and 1,600 feet.
INDEX.
Ádamáwa, 401, 428
Afalésselez, 117
Ágades, 175, 203
Ahmed, 371
ʿAin Shershára, Ruins near, 31
ʿAin Zára, 39
Ájirí, 349
Alantíka, 451
Aláune, 343
Asben, 121, 139
Asïu, 127
Aúderas barbarity, 171
Bághzen, 167
Baháushe slave, 313
Bárakat, 109
Bel-Ghét, 269
Bélem, 445
Bénuwé, 451
Benzári, 323
Berbers, 103
Beshér, 353
Bóghel Valley, 173
Bokhári, 323
Bórnu, 333
Búndi, 331
Búwa, 351
Chad, or Tsád, Lake, 386
Chémia, 225
Cheréka, Mount, 165
Cinyps, 37
Damerghú, 241
Dan Íbra, 237
Démmo, 581
Díkowa, 549
Éderi, 67
Enshéd eʾ Sufét, 15
Fáro, 451
Fénorang Valley, 129
Fódet, 149
Fugábú, 527
Fúgo Mozári, 409
Fúmbiná, 469
Gámerghú District, 405
Gazáwa, 257
Gébi, 133
Gérki, 317
Ghaladíma, 331
Gharíya, 59
Gharíya eʾ Sherkíya, 61
Ghát, 101
Ghurián, 43
Gílmirám, 245
Gozenákko, 249
Gúmrek, Lake, 235
Hadánarang, 105
Háj Beshír, 373
Háj Hassan, 395
Hanshír, 22
Hatíta, 89
Háusa, 273
Ikadémmelrang, 125
Imghád, 107
Itísan and Kél-gerés, 157
Jebel Durmán, 47
Jebel Msíd, 25, 33
Jerma Kadím, 71
Kánem, 501, 541
Kanó, 285
Kasr Dawán, 33
Kasr Dóga, 31
Kasr Ghurián, 21
Kasr Kérker, 36
Kasr Teghrínna, 21
Kátsena, 277
Kél-gerés, 157
Kél-owí, 153
Kikla, 18
Komádugu, The Jungles of, 345
Kúka Mairuá, 315
Kúkawa, 353, 369, 379, 491
Kurúlu, 439
Kusáda, 283
Laháula, 425
Lake Chad, or Tsád, 386
Leptis Khoms, 37
Mábaní, 407
Maduwári, 391
Mʿallem Dalíli, 445
Mándará, 561
Mánga warriors, 327
Marghí, 410
Márte, 547
Máshena, 325
Mbutúdi, 433
Melágo, 449
Mejenín, 40
Meselláta, 35
Mizda, 45
Molghoy, 413
Múbi, 479
Múglebú, 479
Múrzuk, 75
Ngórnu, 387
Rabda, 19
Rálle, 95
Ribágo, 459
Salla-léja, 187
Sámmit, 237
Shʿabet eʾ talha, 65
Shitáti, 526
Shúwa, 557
Sókoto, 497
Soy, 367
Sulléri, 475
Taboníye, 57
Tagáma, 233
Taganáma, 325
Tarhóna, 29
Tasáwa, 78, 251
Tébu Merchants, 225
Tekút, Mount, 21
Teléshera, 221
Terguláwen, 231
Tíggeda, 169
Tintagh-odé, 145
Tin-téggana, 215
Tin-téllust, 151, 213
Titíwi, 395
Tripoli, 7, 8
Tsád, Lake, 386
Tunis, 1
Úba, 481
Ugréfe, 71
Ujé Kasúkulá, 409
Um eʾ Zerzán, 15
Unán Valley, 227
Wadáÿ, 497
Wádi, 339
Wady Aberjúsh, 85
Wady Eláwen, 87
Wady Haera, 41
Wady Kérdemín, 18
Wady Rán, 23
Wady Rummána, 23
Wady Shʿabet, 65
Wady Sháti, 66
Wady Tagíje, 53
Wándalá Mountains, 421
Wáza, 605
Welád Slimán, 518
Wúliya, 583
Yó, 505
Yóla, 461
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