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.
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 Bagírmi 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.
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 (d), 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 (f), which, always remaining in its place, is filled by means of smaller portable urns or pitchers.
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.
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.
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.