Thursday, Sept. 11.—Having decided upon leaving the town in advance of the Arabs, in order to obtain leisure for travelling slowly the first few days, and to accustom my feeble frame once more to the fatigues of a continual march, after a rest of forty days in the town, I ordered my people to get my luggage ready in the morning. I had plenty of provisions, such as zummíta, dwéda or vermicelli, mohámsa, and nákia, a sort of sweetmeat made of rice with butter and honey; two skins of each quality. All was stowed away with the little luggage I intended taking with me on this adventurous journey, in two pairs of large leathern bags or kéwa, which my two camels were to carry. When all was ready, I went to the vizier, in order to take leave of him and arrange with my former servant, Mohammed ben Sʿad, to whom I owed thirty-five dollars. Háj Beshír, as usual, was very kind and amiable; but as for my former servant, having not a single dollar in cash, I was obliged to give him a bill upon Fezzán, for seventy-five dollars. There was also a long talk on the subject of an enormous debt due to the Fezzáni merchant Mohammed eʾ Sfáksi; and as it was not possible to settle it at once, I was obliged to leave its definite arrangement to Mr. Overweg.
All this disagreeable business, which is so killing to the best hours, and destroys half the energy of the traveller, had retarded my departure so long that the sun was just setting when I left the gate of the town. My little caravan was very incomplete; for my only companion on emerging from the gate into the high waving fields of Guinea-corn, which entirely concealed the little suburb, was an unfortunate young man whom I had not hired at all, my three hired servants having stayed behind on some pretext or other. This lad was Mohammed ben Áhmed, a native of Fezzán, whom I wanted to hire, or rather hired, in Gúmmel, in March last, for two Spanish dollars a month, but who, having been induced, by his companions in the caravan with which he had just arrived from the north, to forego the service of a Christian, had broken his word, and gone on with the caravan of the people from Sókna, leaving me with only one useful servant. But he had found sufficient leisure to repent of his dishonourable conduct, for, having been at the verge of the grave in Kanó, and being reduced to the utmost misery, he came to Kúkawa, begging my pardon, and entreating my compassion; and, after some expostulation, I allowed him to stay without hiring him, and it was only on seeing his attachment to me in the course of time, that I afterwards granted him a dollar a month, and he did not obtain two dollars till my leaving Zínder, in January 1853, on my way to Timbúktu, when I was obliged to augment the salary of all my people. This lad followed me with my two camels.
All was fertility and vegetation, though these fields near the capital are certainly not the best situated in Bórnu. I felt strengthened by the fresh air, and followed the eastern path, which did not offer any place for an encampment. Looking round, I saw at length two of my men coming towards us, and found to the left of the track, on a little sandy eminence, a convenient spot for pitching my tent. I felt happy in having left the monotony and closeness of the town behind me. Nothing in the world makes me feel happier than a wide, open country, a commodious tent, and a fine horse. But I was not quite comfortable; for, having forgotten to close my tent, I was greatly annoyed by the mosquitoes, which prevented my getting any sleep. The lake being very near, the dew was so heavy that next morning my tent was as wet as if it had been soaked with water.
Friday, Sept. 12.—Notwithstanding these inconveniences, I awoke in the morning with a grateful heart, and cared little about the flies, which soon began to attack me. I sat down outside the tent to enjoy my liberty: it was a fine morning, and I sat for hours tranquilly enjoying the most simple landscape (the lake not being visible, and scarcely a single tree in sight) which a man can fancy. But all was so quiet, and bespoke such serenity and content, that I felt quite happy and invigorated. I did not think about writing, but idled away the whole day. In the evening my other man came, and brought me a note from Mr. Overweg, addressed to me “in campo caragæ Æthiopiensis” (karága means wilderness).
Saturday, Sept. 13.—I decided late in the morning, when the dew had dried up a little, upon moving my encampment a short distance, but had to change my path for a more westerly one, on account of the large swampy ponds, formed at the end of the rainy season in the concavity at the foot of the sandhills of Dawerghú. The vegetation is rich during this season, even in this monotonous district. Having at length entered the corn, or rather millet-fields of Dawerghú, we soon ascended the sandhills, where the whole character of the landscape is altered; for, while the dum-bush almost ceases, the rétem, Spartium monospermum, is the most common botanical ornament of the ground where the cultivation of the fields has left a free spot, whilst fine specimens of the mimosa break the monotony of the fields. Having passed several clusters of cottages forming an extensive district, I saw to the right an open space descending towards a green sheet of water, filling a sort of valley or hollow where, a short time afterwards, when the summer harvest is over, the peculiar sort of sorghum called másakwá is sown. Being shaded by some fine acacias, the spot was very inviting, and, feeling already tired, sick and weak as I was, though after a journey of only two hours, I determined to remain there during the heat of the day. I had scarcely stretched myself on the ground, when a man brought me word that a messenger, sent by Ghét, the chief of the Welád Slimán, had passed by with the news that this wandering and marauding tribe had left Búrgu and returned to Kánem. This was very unpleasant news, as, from all that I had heard, it appeared to me that Búrgu must be an interesting country, at least as much so as Asben or Aír, being favoured by deep valleys and ravines, and living sources of fine water, and producing, besides great quantities of excellent dates, even grapes and figs, at least in some favoured spots.
The morning had been rather dull, but before noon the sun shone forth, and our situation on the sloping ground of the high country, overlooking a great extent of land in the rich dress of vegetable life, was very pleasant. There was scarcely a bare spot: all was green, except that the ears of the millet and sorghum were almost ripe, and began to assume a yellowish-brown tint; but how different is the height of the stalks, the very largest of which scarcely exceeds fifteen feet, from those I saw afterwards on my return from Timbúktu, in the rich valleys of Kébbi. Several Kánembú were passing by, and enlivened the scenery. When the heat of the sun began to abate, I set my little caravan once more in motion, and passed on through the level country, which in the simplicity of my mind I thought beautiful, and which I greatly enjoyed. After about an hour’s march, we passed a large pond or pool, situated to the left of the road, and formed by the rains, bordered by a set of trees of the acacia tribe, and enlivened by a large herd of fine cattle. Towards evening, after some trouble, we found a path leading through the fields into the interior of a little village, called Alairúk, almost hidden behind the high stalks of millet. Our reception was rather cold, such as a stranger may expect to find in all the villages situated near a capital, the inhabitants of which are continually pestered by calls upon their hospitality. But, carrying my little residence and all the comforts I wanted with me, I cared little about their treatment; and my tent was soon pitched in a separate courtyard. But all my enjoyment was destroyed by a quarrel which arose between my horseman and the master of the dwelling, who would not allow him to put his horse where he wished: my horseman had even the insolence to beat the man who had received us into his house. This is the way in which affairs are managed in these countries.
Sunday, Sept. 14.—After a refreshing night I started a little later than on the day previous, winding along a narrow path through the fields, where, besides sorghum, karás (Hibiscus esculentus) is cultivated, which is an essential thing for preparing the soups of the natives, in districts where the leaves of the kúka, or monkey-bread-tree, and of the hajilíj, or Balanites, are wanting; for though the town of Kúkawa has received its name from the circumstance that a young tree of this species was found on the spot where the Sheikh Mohammed el Kánemi, the father of the ruling sultan, laid the first foundation of the present town, nevertheless scarcely any kúka is seen for several miles round Kúkawa.
The sky was cloudy, and the country became less interesting than the day before. We met a small troop of native traders, with dried fish, which forms a great article of commerce throughout Bórnu; for, though the Kanúri people at present are almost deprived of the dominion, and even the use, of the fine sheet of water which spreads out in the midst of their territories, the fish, to which their forefathers have given the name of food (bú-ni, from bú, to eat), has remained a necessary article for making their soups. The fields in this part of the country were not so well looked after, and were in a more neglected state; but there was a tolerable variety of trees, though rather scanty. Besides prickly underwood of talhas, there were principally the hajilíj or bíto (Balanites Ægyptiaca), the selím, the kórna, the serrákh, and the gerredh or Mimosa Nilotica. Further on, a short time before we came to the village Kalíkágorí, I observed a woman collecting the seeds of an eatable Poa, called “kréb” or “kashá,” of which there are several species, by swinging a sort of basket through the rich meadow-ground. These species of grasses afford a great deal of food to the inhabitants of Bórnu, Bagírmi, and Wadáÿ, but more especially to the Arab settlers in these countries, or the Shúwa; in Bórnu, at least, I have never seen the black natives make use of this kind of food, while in Bagírmi it seems to constitute a sort of luxury even with the wealthier classes. The reader will see, in the course of my narrative, that in Máseñá I lived principally on this kind of Poa. It makes a light palatable dish, but requires a great deal of butter.
After having entered the forest and passed several small waterpools, we encamped near one of these, when the heat of the sun began to make itself felt. This district abounded in mimosas of the species called gerredh, úm-el-barka, or “kingar,” which affords a very excellent wood for saddles and other purposes, while the coals prepared from it are used for making powder. My old talkative, but not very energetic companion Bu-Zéd, was busy in making new pegs for my tent, the very hard black ground of Bórnu destroying pegs very soon, and in the meantime, assisted by Hosén ben Hár, gave me a first insight into the numerous tribes living in Kánem and round the Bahar el Ghazál. The fruits of the gerredh, which in their general appearance are very like those of the tamarind-tree, are a very important native medicine, especially in cases of dysentery; and it is, most probably, to them that I owed my recovery when attacked by that destructive disease during my second stay in Sókoto in September 1854. The same tree is essential for preparing the water-skins, that most necessary article for crossing the desert. The kajíji was plentiful in this neighbourhood. The root of this little plant, which is about the size of a nut, the natives use in the most extensive way for perfuming themselves with.
Late in the afternoon we continued our journey through the forest, which was often interrupted by open patches. After having pursued the path for some miles, we quitted it, and travelled in a more easterly direction through a pleasant hilly country, full of verdure, and affording pasturage to a great many cattle; for the Kánembú, like the Fúlbe, go with their herds to a great distance during certain seasons of the year, and all the cattle from the places about Ngórnu northwards is to be found in these quarters during the cold season. But not being able to find water here, we were obliged to try the opposite direction, in order to look for this element so essential for passing a comfortable night. At length, late in the evening, traversing a very rugged tract of country, we reached the temporary encampment, or berí, of a party of Kánembú with their herds, whilst a larger berí was moving eastward. Here also we were unable to find water, and even milk was to be got but sparingly.
Monday, Sept. 15.—Before we were ready to move, the whole nomadic encampment broke up, the cattle going in front, and the men, women, and children following with their little households on asses. The most essential or only apparatus of these wandering neatherds are the tall sticks for hanging up the milk to secure it; the “sákti” or skins for milk and water, the calabashes, and the kórió. The men are always armed with their long wooden shields, the “ngáwa fógobe,” and their spears, and some are most fantastically dressed, as I have described on a former occasion. After having loaded our camels, and proceeded some distance, we came to the temporary abode of another large herd, whose guardians at first behaved unfriendly, forbidding our tasting a drop of their delicious stuff; but they soon exchanged their haughty manners for the utmost cordiality when Mʿadi, an elder brother of Fúgo ʿAlí, our friend in Maduwári, recognized me. He even insisted on my encamping on the spot, and staying the day with him; and it was with difficulty that he allowed me to pursue my march, after having swallowed as much delicious milk as my stomach would bear. Further on we joined the main road, and found to the left of it a handsome pool of muddy water, and filled two skins with it. Certainly there is nothing worse for a European than this stagnant dirty water; but during the rainy season, and for a short time afterwards, he is rarely able to get any other.
Soon after, I had another specimen of the treatment to which the natives are continually exposed from the king’s servants in these countries; for, meeting a large herd of fine sheep, my horseguard managed to lay hold of the fattest specimen of the whole herd, notwithstanding the cries of the shepherd, whom I in vain endeavoured to console by offering him the price of the animal. During the heat of the day, when we were encamped under the scanty shade of a few gáwo, my people slaughtered the sheep; but, as in general, I only tasted a little of the liver. The shade was so scanty, and the sun so hot, that I felt very weak in the afternoon when we went on a little.
Tuesday, Sept. 16.—I felt tolerably strong. Soon after we had started, we met a great many horses which had been sent here for pasturage, and then encountered another fish kafla. My horseman wanted me all at once to proceed to the town of Yó, from whence he was to return; and he continued on without stopping, although I very soon felt tired, and wanted to make a halt. The country, at the distance of some miles south from the komádugu, is rather monotonous and barren, and the large tamarind-tree behind the town of Yó is seen from such a distance that the traveller, having the same conspicuous object before his eyes for such a length of time, becomes tired out before he reaches it. The dúm-palm is the principal tree in this flat region, forming detached clusters, while the ground in general is extremely barren.
Proceeding with my guardian in advance, we at length reached the town, in front of which there is a little suburb; and being uncertain whether we should take quarters inside or outside, we entered it. It consisted of closely packed streets, was extremely hot, and exhaled such an offensive smell of dried fish, that it appeared to me a very disagreeable and intolerable abode. Nevertheless we rode to the house of the shitíma, or rather, in the full form, Shitíma Yóma (which is the title the governor bears), a large building of clay. He was just about taking another wife; and large quantities of corn, intended as provision for his new household, were heaped up in front of it.[81] Having applied to his men for quarters, a small courtyard with a large hut was assigned to us in another part of the town, and we went there; but it was impossible for me to make myself in any way comfortable in this narrow space, where a small gáwo afforded very scanty shade. Being almost suffocated, and feeling very unwell, I mounted my horse again and hastened out of the gate, and was very glad to have regained the fresh air. We then encamped about six hundred yards from the town, near a shady tamarind tree; and I stretched my feeble limbs on the ground, and fell into a sort of lethargy for some hours, enjoying a luxurious tranquillity; I was so fatigued with my morning’s ride, that I thought with apprehension on what would become of me after my companions had joined me, when I should be obliged to bear fatigue of a quite different description.
As soon as I felt strong enough to rise from my couch, I walked a few paces in order to get a sight of the river or “komádugu.” It was at present a fine sheet of water, the bed entirely full, “tsimbúllena,” and the stream running towards the Tsád with a strong current; indeed, I then scarcely suspected that on another occasion I should encamp for several days in the dry bed of this river, which, notwithstanding the clear and undoubted statements of the members of the former expedition with regard to its real character, had been made by Captain W. Allen to carry the superfluous waters of the Tsád into the Kwára. The shores of the komádugu near this place are quite picturesque, being bordered by splendid tamarind-trees, and “kínzim,” or dúm-palms, besides fine specimens of the acacia tribe on the northern shore. At the foot of the tamarind-trees a very good kind of cotton is grown, while lower down, just at this season of the year, wheat is produced by irrigating regularly laid out grounds by way of the shadúf or “lámbuna.” Cotton and small quantities of wheat are the only produce of this region, besides fish and the fruit of the Cucifera or dúm-palm, which forms an essential condiment for the “kunú,” a kind of soup made of Negro millet; for the place is entirely destitute of any other Cerealia, and millet and sorghum are grown only to a small extent. Cattle also are very scarce in Yó; and very little milk is to be procured. Fish is the principal food of the inhabitants, of which there are several very palatable species in the river, especially one of considerable size, from eighteen to twenty inches long, with a very small mouth, resembling the mullet.
I saw also a specimen of the electric-fish, about ten inches long, and very fat, which was able to numb the arm of a man for several minutes. It was of an ashy colour on the back, while the belly was quite white; the tail and the hind fins were red. Mr. Overweg made a slight sketch of one.
During the night a heavy gale arose, and we had to fasten the ropes attached to the top of the pole; but the storm passed by, and there was not a drop of rain; indeed the rainy season, with regard to Bórnu, had fairly gone by.
Wednesday, Sept. 17.—Enjoyed in the morning the scenery and the fresh air of the river. Men were coming to bathe, women fetching water, and passengers and small parties were crossing the river, swimming across with their clothes upon their heads, or sitting on a yoke of calabashes with the water up to their middle. A kafla or “karábka” of Tébu people from Kánem had arrived the day before, and were encamped on the other side of the river, being eager to cross; but they were not allowed to do so till they had obtained permission; for, during several months, this river or valley forms annually a sort of quarantine line, whilst, during the other portion of the year, small caravans, at least, go to and fro at their pleasure.
The only boat upon the water was a mákara, formed by several yokes of calabashes, and of that frail character described by me in another part of this work, in which we ourselves were to cross the river. Unfortunately it was not possible to enjoy quietly and decently the beautiful shade of the splendid tamarind-trees, on account of the number of waterfowl and pelicans which reside in their branches.
On removing some of my luggage, I found that the white ants were busy destroying, as fast as possible, my leather bags and mats; and we were accordingly obliged to remove everything, and to place layers of branches underneath. There are great numbers of ants hereabouts; but only moderately sized ant-hills are seen; nothing like the grand structures which I afterwards saw in Bagírmi.
Thursday, Sept. 18.—About two hours after midnight Mr. Overweg arrived, accompanied by one of the most conspicuous of the Welád Slimán, of the name of Khálef-Allah, announcing the approach of our little troop; which did not, however, make its appearance until ten o’clock in the morning, when the most courageous and best mounted of them galloped up to my tent in pairs, brandishing their guns. There were twenty-five horsemen, about a dozen men mounted upon camels, and seven or eight on foot, besides children. They dismounted a little to the east of our tents, and formed quite an animated encampment; though of course quarrels were sure to break out soon.
Feeling a little stronger, I mounted with my fellow-traveller in the afternoon, in order to make a small excursion along the southern shore of the river, in a westerly direction. The river, in general, runs from west to east; but here, above the town, it makes considerable windings, and the shore is not so high as at the ford. The vegetation was beautiful; large tamarind-trees forming a dense shade above, whilst the ground was covered with a great variety of plants and herbs just in flower. On the low promontories of the shore were several small fishing villages, consisting of rather low and light huts made of mats, and surrounded by poles for drying the fish, a great many of which, principally of the mullet kind, were just suspended for that purpose. Having enjoyed the aspect of the quiet river-scenery for some time, we returned round the south side of the town. The ground here is hilly; but I think the hills, though at present covered with verdure, are nothing more than mounds of rubbish formed in the course of time round the town, which appears to have been formerly of greater extent.
Friday, Sept. 19.—Overweg and I, accompanied by Khálef-Allah and a guide, made an excursion down the river, in order, if possible, to reach its mouth; but the experiment proved that there is no path on the southern shore, the track following the northern bank: for on that side, not far from the mouth, lies a considerable Kánembú place called Bóso, though, in the present weak state of the Bórnu kingdom, much exposed to the incursions of the Tuarek. Having penetrated as far as a village, or rather a walled town, named Fátse, the walls of which are in a decayed state, and the population reduced to a dozen families, we were obliged to give up our intended survey of the river. As for myself, I was scarcely able to make any long excursion; for on attempting to mount my horse again, I fainted, and fell senseless to the ground, to the great consternation of my companions, who felt convinced my end was approaching. We therefore returned to our encampment. In the evening I had a severe attack of fever.
Saturday, Sept 20.—It had been determined the day before that we should cross the river to-day, and the governor’s permission had been obtained; but as the vizier’s messenger had not yet arrived, we decided upon waiting another day. Feeling a little better, I made a rough sketch of the town, with the dúm-palms around it, and prepared myself, as well as I was able, for the fatiguing march before me. We had a good specimen to-day of the set of robbers and freebooters we had associated with in order to carry out the objects of the mission. The small Tébu caravan, which I mentioned above as having arrived from Kánem, and which had brought the news that the people of Wadáÿ had made an alliance with all the tribes hostile to the Welád Slimán, in order to destroy the latter, had not been allowed to cross the river until to-day. They were harmless people, carrying very little luggage (chiefly dates) upon a small number of oxen; but as soon as they had crossed, our companions held a council, and, the opinion of the most violent having gained the upper hand, they fell upon the poor Tébu, or Kréda, as they call them, and took away all their dates by force. The skins were then divided: and the greater part of them had already been consumed or carried away, when an old Arab arrived, and, upbraiding his companions with their mean conduct, persuaded them to collect what remained, or that could be found, and restore it to the owners. In the evening the vizier’s messenger arrived, and the crossing of the river was definitely fixed for the next day.
Monday, Sept. 22.—Rose early, in order to get over in time, there being no other means of crossing than two mákara, each consisting of three yokes of calabashes. The camels, as is always the case, being the most difficult to manage, had to cross first; and after much trouble and many narrow escapes (owing principally to the unevenness of the bottom of the valley, the water channel having formed a deep hollow—at present from ten to eleven feet deep—near the southern shore, while in the middle the bottom rises considerably, leaving a depth of only six or seven feet) they all got safely over, and were left to indulge in the foliage of the beautiful mimosas which embellish the northern border of the river. The horses followed next, and lastly we ourselves with the luggage.
About nine o’clock in the morning I found myself upon the river on my three-yoked “mákara,” gliding through the stream in a rather irregular style of motion, according as the frail ferry-boat was drawn or pushed by the two black swimmers yoked to it. It was a beautiful day, and the scenery highly interesting; but, having been exposed to the sun all the morning, I was glad to find a little shade. When all the party had successively landed, and the heat of the day had abated, we loaded our camels and commenced our march. We were now left entirely to the security and protection which our own arms might afford us; for all the country to the north of the komádugu has become the domain of freebooters, and though nominally Sheikh ʿOmár’s dominion stretches as far as Berí, and even beyond that place, nevertheless his name is not respected here, except where supported by arms.
The country through which we were passing bore the same character as that for some miles round the capital; a very stiff, black soil, clothed with short grass and a few trees far between. Having encountered a flock of sheep, our friends gave chase; and after they had laid hold of three fat rams, we decided to encamp.
Tuesday, Sept. 23.—For the first four hours of our march the character of the surrounding country remained nearly the same; it then opened, and became better cultivated; and soon after we saw the clay walls of Báruwa, though scarcely to be distinguished, owing to the high mounds of rubbish imbedding them on all sides. Near the south-west gate of the town the road leads over the high mound (which destroys entirely the protection the wall might otherwise afford to the inhabitants), and lays its whole interior open to the eyes of the traveller. It consists of closely packed huts, generally without a courtyard, but shaded here and there by a mimosa or kúrna, and affords a handsome specimen of a Central African dwelling-place. The inhabitants, whose want of energy is clearly seen from the nature of the mounds, do not rely upon the strength of their walls; and to the disgrace of the sheikh of Bórnu, who receives tribute from them, and places a governor over them, they likewise pay tribute to the Tuarek. They belong in general to the Kánembú tribe; but many Yédiná, or Búdduma, also are settled in the town. Their principal food and only article of commerce is fish, which they catch in great quantities in the lake, whose nearest creeks are, according to the season, from two to three miles distant, and from which they are not excluded, like the inhabitants of Ngórnu and other places, on account of their friendly relations with the warlike pirates of the lake. As for corn, they have a very scanty supply, and seem not to employ the necessary labour to produce it, perhaps on account of the insecure state of the country, which does not guarantee them the harvest they have sown. Cotton they have none, and are obliged to barter their fish for cotton strips or articles of dress. Indeed, gábagá or cotton strips, and kúlgu or white cotton shirts, are the best articles which a traveller, who wants to procure fish for his desert journey by way of Bilma (where dry fish is the only article in request), can take with him.
At the well on the north side of the town, which does not furnish very good water, the horsemen belonging to our troop awaited the camels. Only a few scattered hajilíj (Balanites Ægyptiaca) and stunted talha-trees spread a scanty shade over the stubble-fields, which were far from exhibiting a specimen of diligent cultivation; and I was very glad when, having taken in a small supply of water, we were again in motion. We soon left the scanty vestiges of cultivation behind us, and some bushes of the siwák (Capparis sodata) began to enliven the country. At eleven o’clock, having mounted a low range of sand-hills, we obtained a first view of the Tsád, or rather of its inundations. The whole country now began to be clothed with siwák. Having kept for about half-an-hour along the elevated sandy level, we descended, and followed the lower road, almost hidden by the thickest vegetation. This lower road, as well as our whole track to Ngégimi, became entirely inundated at a later period (in 1854), and will perhaps never more be trodden: in consequence, when I came this way in 1855 we were obliged to make a circuit, keeping along the sandy level nearer to the site of the ancient town of Wúdi.
Shortly afterwards we encamped, where the underwood had left a small open space, at the eastern foot of a low hill. The prickly jungle was here so dense that I searched a long time in vain for a bare spot to lie down upon, when, to my great satisfaction, I found Bú-Zéd clearing me a place with his axe. The swampy shore of the lake was only about four hundred yards from our resting-place; but the spot was not well chosen for an encampment, and it was found necessary to place several watches during the night, notwithstanding which, a skin of mine, full of water, disappeared from the stick upon which it was suspended, and the Arabs tried to persuade me that a hungry hyæna had carried it off; but it was most probable that one of themselves had been in want of this necessary article of desert travelling.
Wednesday, Sept. 24.—We continued our march through the luxuriant prickly underwood, full of the dung and footsteps of the elephant. Here and there the capparis had been cut away, and large fireplaces were to be seen, where the roots had been burnt to ashes. The tripods, of which several were lying about, are used for filtering the water through these ashes, which takes from them the salt particles which they contain. This water is afterwards boiled, and thus the salt obtained. This salt is then taken to Kúkawa by the Kánembú whilst those who prepare it are Búdduma.
On our return from Kánem we met large numbers of this piratical set of islanders; and on my home journey in 1855, I saw them in the full activity of their labours. This salt, weak and insipid as it is, is at least of a better quality than that which the people in Kótoko prepare from neat-dung. In Míltu, on the Upper Shári, or Bá-busó, salt of a tolerable quality is obtained from a peculiar species of grass growing in the river. The Músgu, as we shall see, prepare this necessary article (or at least something like it) from the ashes of the stalks of millet and Indian corn.
After we had emerged from the underwood into the open country, we passed a considerable salt manufactory, consisting of at least twenty earthen pots. Large triangular lumps of salt were lying about, which are shaped in moulds made of clay. Several people were busy carrying mud from an inlet of the lake which was close at hand, in order to make new moulds. Keeping close along the border of the latter, and enjoying the fresh breeze which had before been kept from us by the forest, we halted early in the afternoon. A small Tébu caravan was also encamped here, no doubt with the intention of passing the night; but they did not like the neighbourhood of our friends, and, loading immediately, started off.
Our path now lay through fertile pasture-grounds, with a line of underwood to our left. It was a fine cool morning. We passed a large pool of fresh water, frequented by great numbers of waterfowl of various species. Overweg, on his fine and tall, but rather heavy and unwieldy charger, made an unsuccessful attempt to overtake a pair of kelára (Antilope Arabica? Aigocerus ellipsiprymnus?), who scampered playfully away through the fine grassy plain. At nine o’clock we reached the far-famed place Ngégimi, and were greatly disappointed at finding an open, poor-looking village, consisting of detached conical huts, without the least comfort, which, even in these light structures, may well be attained to a certain degree. The hungry inhabitants would not receive anything in exchange for a few fowls which we wanted to buy, except grain, of which we ourselves, in these desolate regions, stood too much in need to have given it away without an adequate substitute.
The situation of this place is very unfavourable, since the ruler of Bórnu has restricted his real dominion within the border of the komádugu, and the poor inhabitants are constantly in fear of being molested by a ghazzia of the Tuarek. Indeed, two years later, this village was plundered by these freebooting hordes; and some months afterwards, in the year 1854, the remainder of the population, who had not been carried away into captivity, were obliged, by the high floods of the lagoon, to leave their old dwelling-place altogether, and build a new village on the slope of the sand-hills, where I found it at the end of May 1855. As for Wúdi (a large place, once an occasional residence of the Bórnu kings) and Lári, both mentioned by Denham and Clapperton, they have long been deserted, Wúdi having been taken and ransacked by the Tuarek in the year 1838, and Lári a little later. At present only a few palm-trees (said to yield a kind of date far superior to the little black Kánem dates) in the sand-hills about eight miles south-west from Ngégimi, indicate the site of the once celebrated Wúdi. Ngégimi was then nominally under the control of Kashélla Hasen or Hassan.
Plunged into sad reflections on the fate of this once splendid empire of Kánem, and the continued progress of the Berber race into the heart of Sudán, I hung listlessly upon my horse, when, on leaving this uncomfortable dwelling-place, we took our course over the unbroken plain, once no doubt the bottom of the lake, and soon to become once more a part of it. Sometimes it was dry and barren, at others clothed with rich verdure, while on our left it was bordered by a range of sand-hills, the natural limit of the lagoon. At a little before noon we came to a deep inlet of the lake, spreading the freshest verdure all around in this now desolate country. Having watered our horses, and taken in a sufficient supply of this element for the night, we crossed the plain, here not more than a thousand yards wide, and ascended a broad promontory of the range of sand-hills, where we encamped.
It was a delightful spot, where the heart might have expanded in the enjoyment of freedom. In front of us to the south-east, the swampy lands of the lagoon, one immense ricefield (as it ought to be at least), spread out to the borders of the horizon; but no “white water,” or open sea, was to be seen, not even as much as connected channels, nothing but one immense swampy flat, stretching out as far as the eye could reach. To the south the green pasturages, along which we had come, extended far beyond Ngégimi. It was a picture of one of the most fertile spots of the earth doomed to desolation. But there was a feeble spark of hope in me that it would not always be so; and I flattered myself that my labours in these new regions might contribute to sow here the first germs of a new life, a new activity.
My companions and friends did not seem to share in my feelings: for, wholly intent upon mischief, they had been roving about, and having fallen in with some Kánembú cattle-breeders, they had plundered them not only of their milk, but also of the vessels which contained it; and in the afternoon some respectable old men applied to Mr. Overweg and myself, the only just people they were sure to find amongst this wild band of lawless robbers, for redress, and we were happy, not only to restore to them their vessels, but also to make them a few small presents.
Thursday, Sept. 25.—Descending from our lofty encampment, we continued our march in the narrow grassy plain, between the sand-hills to the north, and another blue inlet of the lake to the south, where the rich pasture-grounds extended further into the lake. It was about seven o’clock in the morning when we had the good fortune to enjoy one of the most interesting scenes which these regions can possibly afford. Far to our right was a whole herd of elephants, arranged in regular array, like an army of rational beings, slowly proceeding to the water. In front appeared the males, as was evident from their size, in regular order; at a little distance followed the young ones; in a third line were the females; and the whole were brought up by five males of immense size. The latter (though we were at some distance, and proceeding quietly along) took notice of us, and some were seen throwing dust into the air; but we did not disturb them. There were altogether ninety-six.
The fine fresh pasture-grounds some time afterwards gave way to a drier plain, covered with a species of heath, and the country presented rather a melancholy appearance. A little before ten o’clock we came to a large herd of cattle or “berí,” collected round a small hamlet or dawar, consisting of light, high-topped huts of corn-stalks, fastened together by three rings of straw, and lightly plastered with a little cowdung. But although we obtained some milk, some of our friends, not content with filling their stomachs, laid hold of a fine pony and carried it off, under the pretext that it belonged to the Búdduma, who, as they asserted, were the enemies of the sheikh; and when we had started again, and encountered a small caravan of oxen laden with dates, not only were all the skins containing the dates taken, but another ruffian laid hold of one of the beasts of burden and dragged it away with him, notwithstanding the lamentations of its owner. And yet the people who were thus treated were subjects of the king of Bórnu, and the Welád Slimán were his professed friends and hirelings.
Fine fresh pasture-grounds, and melancholy tracts clothed with nothing but heath, succeeded each other, whilst not a single tree broke the monotony of the level country. At length we encamped near a deserted village of cattle-breeders, consisting of about twenty small conical huts, built in the form of a large circle. We had scarcely begun to make ourselves comfortable, when a noisy quarrel arose about the dates so unjustly taken from their owners, and some of the Arabs concerned in the dispute came to my tent in order to have their claims settled, when the whole particulars of the shameless robberies committed in the course of the day, came under my notice, and especially that of the horse. But this was a delicate subject, and one that excited the angry passions of those concerned—so much so that one of them, named Ibrahím, came running with his loaded gun straight into my tent, threatening to blow out the brains of anybody who spoke of injustice or robbery. As for Bakhér, and ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán, who were the actual possessors of the horse, they were about to leave by themselves.
The violent proceedings of our protectors had spread such terror throughout these almost desolate regions, that in the evening, solely from fear, two oxen and a quantity of milk were sent from a neighbouring berí as presents. The night was fresh, but not cold, and a very heavy dew fell.
Friday, Sept. 26.—Reached about noon the first large cluster of huts of the village of Berí, after having followed a very numerous and fine herd of cattle (one of the finest I saw in the interior of the continent) for awhile, with the urgent desire of obtaining a drink of fresh milk, and then crossed a tolerably deep inlet of the lagoon. Here we encamped on a terribly hot sandy spot, without any shade, some two hundred yards from the village, which stretches in a long line from north to south.
Berí is a place of importance, at least since the date of the greatest splendour of the Bórnu kingdom, and is frequently mentioned in the history of the great king Edrís Alawóma, written during his lifetime by his chief Imám Ahmed. Its situation is such as to render it of great importance as a station; for here the army proceeding from Bórnu to the interior of Kánem leaves the shore of the lagoon, and has generally to make a long stay, in order to regain strength for the ensuing march, and to supply itself with fresh provisions. Till a few years previously, a Bórnu governor of the name of Shitíma Aba had been residing here; but he had given up the place, and preferred living in the capital.
But here I must add, that there are two places called Berí, distant from each other a few miles, the one where we were encamped being called Berí-kurá, the Great Berí, the other with the surname “futé” (the western), from its more westerly situation; but it is at present greatly reduced, and we had left it unobserved on one side. The greater part of the inhabitants of Berí are Kánembú, and belong to the clan of the Sugúrti, a large division of that tribe, which, however, in the last struggle of the old dynasty, suffered greatly. Besides these, a good many Búdduma are settled here.
I was very glad when, after another severe quarrel, the young horse was at length given up by the robbers, as likewise the beast of burden. One of the oxen sent yesterday as a present was slaughtered to-day, and divided amongst the whole band. As for myself, I made merry on a little fresh milk; for though the people are, and appear to have been from their birth (for “berí” means cattle-herd), in possession of numerous herds of cattle, nevertheless, in the village, as is often the case, there is very little milk—only just as much as is required for the use of the owners themselves—the cattle being at a great distance. Very little can be obtained here, and corn is scarcely cultivated, owing to the insecure and desperate state of the country. The inhabitants are in continual intercourse with the Yédiná, that section of the Kótoko who inhabit the islands in the lake, and who are generally called Búdduma. But of course the distance of their village from the lagoon varies considerably; and the nearest branch or inlet at present was that which we had crossed in the morning, and from which the inhabitants supplied themselves with water. The want of firewood is greatly felt; scarcely a single tree is to be met with in the neighbourhood.
Saturday, Sept. 27.—We now left the shores of the lake, ascending a little, but had a difficult march this morning in order to avoid the many small boggy inlets and natron-lagoons which are formed by the lake, and wind along through the sand-hills. With regard to these natron-lakes, which, after the report of Major Denham, have led to many erroneous conjectures respecting Lake Tsád, I have to observe that the natron or soda is not originally contained in the water, but in the ground, and that all the water of Lake Tsád is fresh; but when a small quantity of water, after the lake has retired from the highest point of its inundation, remains in a basin the soil of which is filled with soda, the water of course becomes impregnated with this quality. The consequence is, that there are many basins round Lake Tsád which, according to the season, are either fresh or brackish; for the soda contained in the ground has very little effect so long as the basin is deep, and does not begin to make itself felt till the water becomes shallow. Of this same character seems to be Lake Bóro in Kánem, which I shall mention hereafter. I here remind the reader of what I have stated above with regard to the importance of the natron-trade between Bórnu and Núpe or Nýffi.
Having no guide—for who would willingly trust himself in the hands of such lawless robbers as our companions?—we found it rather difficult work to get out of this labyrinth of lagoons; and after a few miles we came to a narrow but very boggy inlet, which it was thought necessary to cross.
Riding a lively horse, an excellent “sayár,” I was rather in advance, and had only three horsemen in front of me; on coming to the bog, the nature of which it was easy to perceive, we rode one after the other,—Khálef-Allah being in front of me. The first horseman went in, made a few steps, and then came down; but he got his horse upon his legs again, went on, and again sunk into the bog, but being near the firm ground, got over tolerably well. As soon as those who were before me saw this they stopped their horses short, and wanted to return, pressing my horse upon his side, who, being annoyed by the morass, made a vacillating movement forward, and fell upon his knees; upon being raised he made some wild exertions to get through, but after two or three ineffectual attempts, he again fell on his side, and I under him. The morass here was about four feet deep; and I received several smart blows from the forelegs of my horse, upon the head and shoulders, before I was fortunate enough to extricate myself from this interesting situation. Being clad in a white bernús over a Nýffi tobe, with a pair of pistols in my belt, my appearance may be easily conceived when, after a great deal of labour, I succeeded in reaching firm ground. I had still the difficult task of extricating my horse, which, after wild and desperate exertions, lay motionless in the bog. I had on this occasion a good specimen of the assistance we were likely to receive from our companions in cases of difficulty; for they were looking silently on without affording me any aid. Mr. Overweg was some distance behind, and, when he came up, was enabled to supply me with dry clothing.
The spot would have been quite interesting but for this accident, as there was here, favoured by the rich soil and this very morass, a beautiful plantation of red ngáberi or sorghum, of that peculiar kind called mósogá, or rather, másakwá, in the highest state of exuberance, and just beginning to ripen; it was the finest specimen I saw on my whole journey. Fortunately the sun was moderately warm, as I began to feel very chilly after my involuntary bath. We continued our march at first along another hollow containing fresh water, and then, ascending a little, came upon a sandy level well clothed with herbage and trees of the mimosa kind. Here we seemed to be entirely out of reach of the lake; and great was our astonishment when, a little after nine o’clock, we came close upon another fine sheet of fresh, blue water. It was a great satisfaction to me, in the state I was in, that we encamped at so early an hour on its northern border, where some serrákh afforded a tolerable shade. I was busy drying my clothes, arms, saddle-cloths, and journals, when there appeared certain indications of an approaching storm; and in order to avoid being wetted twice in the same day, I got my tent pitched. After a furious gale the rain poured down, and about a dozen of my companions took refuge in my small, frail dwelling; but all were not so fortunate as to escape a wetting, for the rain, being very heavy, came in at the door. The storm lasted more than an hour; and everything, including horses and camels, being thoroughly soaked, it was decided to remain here for the night.
Sunday, Sept. 28.—For some reason or another, but chiefly in order to slaughter the other ox, divide it, and cut it up into “gedíd,” we remained here the whole morning; and the sun had long passed into zawál (past noon) when we started through the sandy and slightly undulating country full of herbage, principally of the plant called “nesí,” besides bú rékkebah or Avena Forskalii, the bur-feathered prickle (Pennisetum distichum), and various kinds of mimosa, chiefly consisting of the talha, and úm-el-barka (Mimosa Nilotica.) Our companions found several ostrich-eggs, and met a large troop of gazelles. The country then became more thickly wooded, and, where we encamped for the night, presented a very interesting character; but the danger from wild beasts was considerable, and the roar of a lion was heard throughout the greater part of the night.
Monday, Sept. 29.—Started early: the character of the country continued the same as yesterday, and presented beautiful specimens of the mimosa, here breaking down from age, at another place interwoven with creepers, one species of which produces the red juicy fruit called “fito” by the Kanúri, and has been mentioned by me before. It was nearly eight o’clock when, proceeding in groups, two of our horsemen, on passing near a very large and thick gherret, suddenly halted, and with loud cries hastened back to us. We approached the spot, and saw a very large snake hanging in a threatening attitude from the branches of the tree; on seeing us it tried to hide itself; but after firing several balls, it fell down, and we cut off its head. It measured 18 ft. 7 in. in length, and at the thickest part 5 in. in diameter, and was of a beautifully variegated colour. Two natives, who had attached themselves to our troop the day before, cut it open and took out the fat, which they said was excellent.
The ride was truly interesting; but by degrees it became too much for me, and after seven hours’ march I was so utterly exhausted as to be obliged to halt, and lie down. Most of the Arabs remained with us; others, with ʿAli ben ʿAisa, went on to the well. When we pursued our march in the afternoon, the country for the first three hours was more level, but then became very hilly; and at five o’clock we ascended a considerable elevation to our left, the highest point in the whole country, but perhaps not more than six or seven hundred feet above the level of the Tsád. From here we crossed two very pretty valleys, or dells, especially the second one, where there were very curious hilly projections of a calcareous stone. But these valleys were very poor indeed, in comparison with the valley or hénderi Fóyo, situated at some distance from the well where we encamped for the night; for its bottom presented one uninterrupted mass of vegetation, impenetrable in many spots. Here the botanist might be sure to find some new species, although the principal trees were the kúrna (Cornus), serrákh, úm-el-barka or Mimosa Nilotica, hajilíj or Balanites, and the talha (M. ferruginea), but all interwoven with creepers, and offering the most delightful shade. These valleys, which afford the only watering-places, must of course be very dangerous during the night, on account of the wild beasts, principally lions, of which there are great numbers hereabouts. Here our companions received a messenger from Ghét, the young chief of the Welád Slimán.
Tuesday, Sept. 30.—We remained in the forenoon and during the heat of the day in our encampment. While stretched out in the shade of a fine mimosa, I obtained some valuable information regarding the various tribes dwelling in Kánem, and the districts of their settlements. But it will be better, instead of inserting it here, to collect all the information I received at different times into one general account, which shall be given in the Appendix.
In the afternoon the camels and the heavier portion of the troop were allowed to start in advance, and the horsemen followed about half-an-hour afterwards, after having watered the horses; but instead of taking care to follow the footsteps of the camels in a wild country where there was no regular path, they rode on negligently, and soon became aware that they had missed the track. There now began a very disorderly riding in all directions. This fatigued me greatly, for nothing is so vexing to a weak man as to ramble about without knowing when he is likely to reach the place of repose so much looked for. After sending scout after scout, we at length found the track, and reached our men in the dark.
Wednesday, Oct. 1.—Having set out early, after nearly two hours ride we were met by a single horseman coming towards us from the encampment of the Welád Slimán, and bidding us welcome to their wild country. They kept starting up from the thicket on our right and left, firing their muskets and saluting us with their usual war-cry, “Yá riyáb, yá riyáb.” Having thus advanced for about half-an-hour, we came to a halt, in order to receive in a more solemn form the warlike compliments of a larger troop of horsemen, led on by a person of some importance.
The dust raised by the horsemen having subsided a little, and the country being clearer of wood, we now saw before us the whole cavalry of the Welád Slimán drawn up in a line in their best attire, their chief Ghét the son of Séf el Nasr ben Ghét, and his uncle ʿOmár the son of Ghét and brother of ʿAbd el Jelíl, in the midst of them. This stately reception, not having been anticipated by Overweg and myself, made a great impression upon us; but we were not left to gaze long, but were desired by our Arab companions to ride in advance of the line in compliment to the chiefs. We accordingly put our steeds into a gallop, and riding straight up to our new friends, saluted them with our pistols. Having answered our compliments, and bidding us welcome to their wild abode, the young Ghét galloping along at the head of his squadrons, his sword drawn, and with the continuous cry “Yá riyáb, yá riyáb,” they led us to the encampment, and we had a place shown to us where we might pitch our tents.