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 than 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, or 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 chief’s 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.