In this labyrinth of dwellings a man, interested in the many forms which human life presents, may rove about at any time of the day with the certainty of finding never-failing amusement, although the life of the Kanúri people passes rather monotonously along, with the exception of some occasional feasting. During the hot hours, indeed, the town and its precincts become torpid, except on market-days, when the market-place itself, at least, and the road leading to it from the western gate, are most animated just at that time. For, singular as it is, in Kúkawa, as well as almost all over this part of Negroland, the great markets do not begin to be well attended till the heat of the day grows intense; and it is curious to observe what a difference prevails in this as well as in other respects between these countries and Yóruba, where almost all the markets are held in the cool of the evening.

The daily little markets, or durríya, even in Kúkawa, are held in the afternoon, and are most frequented between the ʿaser (lásari) and the mughreb (almágribu) or sunset. The most important of these durríyas is that held inside the west gate of the billa futébe; and here even camels, horses, and oxen are sold in considerable numbers: but they are much inferior to the large fair, or great market, which is held every Monday on the open ground beyond the two villages which lie at a short distance from the western gate. Formerly it was held on the road to Ngórnu, before the southern gate; but it has been removed from thence, on account of the large pond of water formed during the rainy season in the hollow close to this gate.

I visited the great fair, “kásukú letenínbe,” every Monday immediately after my arrival, and found it very interesting, as it calls together the inhabitants of all the eastern parts of Bórnu, the Shúwa and the Koyám, with their corn and butter, the former, though of Arab origin and still preserving in purity his ancient character, always carrying his merchandise on the back of oxen, the women mounted upon the top of it, while the African Koyám employs the camel, if not exclusively, at least with a decided preference[77]; the Kánembú with their butter and dried fish, the inhabitants of Mákari with their tobes (the kóre berné): even Búdduma, or rather Yédiná, are very often seen in the market, selling whips made from the skin of the hippopotamus, or sometimes even hippopotamus meat, or dried fish, and attract the attention of the spectator by their slender figures, their small handsome features unimpaired by any incisions, the men generally wearing a short black shirt and a small straw-hat, “súni ngáwa,” their neck adorned with several strings of kúngona, or shells, while the women are profusely ornamented with strings of glass beads, and wear their hair in a very remarkable way, though not in so awkward a fashion as Mr. Overweg afterwards observed in the island Belárigo.

On reaching the market-place from the town the visitor first comes to that part where the various materials for constructing the light dwellings of the country are sold, such as mats, of three different kinds, the thickest, which I have mentioned above as lágará, then síggedí, or the common coarse mat made of the reed called kalkálti, and the búshi, made of dúm-leaves, or “ngílle,” for lying upon; poles and stakes; the framework, “léggerá,” for the thatched roofs of huts, and the ridge-beam or “késkan súmo;” then oxen for slaughter, “fé debáterám,” or for carrying burdens, “knému lápterám;” further on, long rows of leathern bags filled with corn, ranging far along on the south side of the market-place, with either “kéwa,” the large bags for the camel, a pair of which form a regular camel’s load, or the large “jerábu,” which is thrown across the back of the pack-oxen, or the smaller “fállim,” a pair of which constitutes an ox-load, “kátkun knémube.” These long rows are animated not only by the groups of the sellers and buyers, with their weatherworn figures and torn dresses, but also by the beasts of burden, mostly oxen, which have brought the loads and which are to carry back their masters to their distant dwelling places; then follow the camels for sale, often as many as a hundred or more, and numbers of horses, but generally not first-rate ones, which are mostly sold in private. All this sale of horses, camels, &c., with the exception of the oxen, passes through the hands of the dilélma or broker, who, according to the mode of announcement, takes his percentage from the buyer or the seller.

The middle of the market is occupied by the dealers in other merchandise of native and of foreign manufacture, the “amagdí” or tob from Ujé, and the kóre, or rébshi; the farásh, or “fetkéma,” and the “selláma,” the people dealing in cloths, shirts, túrkedís, beads of all sizes and colours, leatherwork, coloured boxes of very different shape and size, very neatly and elegantly made of ox-hide. There are also very neat little boxes made of the kernel, or “náge,” of the fruit of the dúm-tree. Then comes the place where the kómbuli disposes of his slaves.

There are only a few very light sheds or stalls (“kaudi”), erected here and there. In general, besides a few of the retail dealers, only the dilélma or broker has a stall, which, on this account, is called diléllam; and, no shady trees being found, both buyers and sellers are exposed to the whole force of the sun during the very hottest hours of the day, between eleven and three o’clock, when the market is most full and busy, and the crowd is often so dense that it is difficult to make one’s way through it: for the place not being regularly laid out, nor the thoroughfares limited by rows of stalls, each dealer squats down with his merchandise where he likes. There are often from twelve to fifteen thousand people crowded together in the market; but the noise is not very great, the Kanúri people being more sedate and less vivacious than the Háusáwa, and not vending their wares with loud cries. However, the wanzám or barber, going about, affords amusement by his constant whistling, “kangádi.” In general, even amusements have rather a sullen character in Bórnu; and of course, in a place of business like the market, very little is done for amusement, although sometimes a serpent-tamer (“kadíma”) or a story-teller (“kosgolíma”) is met with. Also the luxuries offered to the people are very few in comparison with the varieties of cakes and sweetmeats in the market-places of Háusa; and “kólché” (the common sweet groundnut), “gángala” (the bitter groundnut), boiled beans or “ngálo,” and a few dry dates from the Tébu country, are almost the only things, besides water and a little nasty sour milk, offered as refreshment to the exhausted customer.

The fatigue which people have to undergo in purchasing their week’s necessaries in the market is all the more harassing, as there is not at present any standard money for buying and selling; for the ancient standard of the country, viz. the pound of copper, has long since fallen into disuse, though the name, “rotl,” still remains. The “gábagá,” or cotton-strips, which then became usual, have lately begun to be supplanted by the cowries or “kúngona,” which have been introduced, as it seems, rather by a speculation of the ruling people, than by a natural want of the inhabitants[78], though nobody can deny that they are very useful for buying small articles, and infinitely more convenient than cotton strips. Eight cowries or kúngona are reckoned equal to one gábagá, and four gábagá, or two-and-thirty kúngona, to one rotl. Then, for buying larger objects, there are shirts of all kinds and sizes, from the “dóra,” the coarsest and smallest one, quite unfit for use, and worth six rotls, up to the large ones, worth fifty or sixty rotls. But while this is a standard value, the relation of the rotl and the Austrian dollar[79], which is pretty well current in Bórnu, is subject to extreme fluctuation, due, I must confess, at least partly, to the speculations of the ruling men, and principally to that of my friend the Háj Beshír. Indeed, I cannot defend him against the reproach of having speculated to the great detriment of the public; so that, when he had collected a great amount of kúngona, and wished to give it currency, the dollar would suddenly fall as low as to five-and-forty or fifty rotls, while at other times it would fetch as much as one hundred rotls, or three thousand two hundred shells; that is, seven hundred shells more than in Kanó. The great advantage of the market in Kanó is, that there is one standard coin, which, if a too large amount of dollars be not on a sudden set in circulation, will always preserve the same value.

But to return to the market. A small farmer who brings his corn to the Monday market, or the “kásukú létenínbe,” in Kúkawa, will on no account take his payment in shells, and will rarely accept of a dollar: the person, therefore, who wishes to buy corn, if he has only dollars, must first exchange a dollar for shells, or rather buy shells; then with the shells he must buy a “kúlgu,” or shirt; and after a good deal of bartering he may thus succeed in buying the corn, be it some kind of argúm, wheat, or rice. However, these two latter articles are not always to be got, while more frequently they are only in small quantities. The rice sold in Kúkawa is wild rice, the refuse of the elephants, and of a very inferior description.

The fatigue to be undergone in the market is such that I have very often seen my servants return in a state of the utmost exhaustion. Most of the articles which are sold on the great Monday fair may also be found in the small afternoon markets or durríya, but only in small quantity, and at a higher price, and some articles will be sought for there in vain. But while there is certainly a great deal of trouble in the market of Kúkawa, it must be acknowledged that the necessaries of life are cheaper there than in any other place which I have visited in Central Africa, almost half as cheap again as in Kátsena and Sókoto, a third cheaper than in Kanó, and about a fourth cheaper than in Timbúktu. About the cheapness of meat and corn in the latter place, which is indeed a very remarkable fact, and struck me with the utmost surprise when I first reached that celebrated town, I shall speak in the proper place. But I must remark that dukhn, argúm móro, or millet (Pennisetum typhoïdeum), is in greater quantity, and therefore cheaper, in Kúkawa than the durra or sorghum, “ngáberi,” just as it is in Timbúktu and Kanó, while in Bagírmi durra is much cheaper. The ngáberi of Bórnu, however, particularly that kind of it which is called matíya, and which is distinguished by its whiteness, is most excellent; and the “senásin,” a kind of thin pancake prepared from this grain, is the lightest and best food for a European in this country.

Of course the price of corn varies greatly according to the season, the lowest rates ruling about a month or two after the harvest, when all the corn in the country has been thrashed, and the highest rates just about the harvest time. In general a dollar will purchase in Kúkawa three ox-loads, “kátkun knémube,” of argúm; a dollar and a half will buy a very good ox of about six hundred pounds’ weight; two dollars fetch a pack ox (“knému”), or a milch-cow (“fé mádarabé”); one dollar, two good sheep; from seventeen to twenty rotls, a “téndu” of butter, containing about four pounds’ weight. For wheat and rice the general rule in Negroland is, that they fetch double the price of the native corn. Rice might seem to be indigenous in Central Africa, growing wild everywhere, as well in Bághena, in Western Africa, as in Kótoko or Bagírmi. Wheat, on the contrary, was evidently introduced some hundred years ago, together with onions, the favourite food of the Arab, to the merits of which the native African is insensible, although it is a most wholesome article of diet in this climate, as I shall have repeatedly occasion to state.

Of fruits the most common are—the two sorts of groundnut, “kólché” and “gángala,” the former of which is a very important article of food, though by no means on so large a scale as in the eastern parts of Adamáwa; the “bíto,” the fruit of the hajilíj or Balanites Ægyptiaca (which is so much valued by the Kanúri that, according to a common proverb, a bíto-tree and a milch-cow are just the same,—“Késka bítowa féwa mádarabé kal”); a kind of Physalis, the native name of which I have forgotten; the bírgim, or the African plum, of which I shall speak further on; the kórna, or the fruit of the Rhamnus lotus; and the fruit of the dúm-palm, “kírzim” or Cucifera Thebaïca.

Of vegetables, the most common in the market are—beans of various descriptions, which likewise form a very important article of food in many districts, certainly as much as the third of the whole consumption; onions, consumed in great quantity by the Arabs, but not by the natives, who prefer to season their food with the young leaves of the monkey-bread tree, “kálu kúka,” or the “karás,” or with a sauce made from dried fish. There are no sweet potatoes and no yams in this part of Bórnu, the consequence of which is that the food of the natives is less varied than in Háusa, Kébbi, or Yóruba. Yams are brought to this country as rarities, and are given as presents to influential persons.

Camels sell at from eight to twenty dollars. When there is no caravan in preparation, a very tolerable beast may be bought for the former price; but when a caravan is about to start, the best will fetch as much as twenty dollars—very rarely more; and a good camel may always be had for about fifteen dollars. Some camels may be bought for four or five dollars each, but cannot be relied on.

Very strong travelling horses for servants were during my first visit purchasable for from six to eight dollars, while an excellent horse would not fetch more than thirty dollars; but in the year 1854 the price had risen considerably, in consequence of the exportation of horses, which had formerly been forbidden, having been permitted, and great numbers having been exported to the west—chiefly to Múniyo, Kátsena, and Márádi. A first-rate horse of foreign race, however, is much dearer, and will sometimes fetch as much as three hundred dollars. I shall have another opportunity of speaking of the horses of Bórnu, which is rather an interesting and important subject, as the breed is excellent, and, besides being very handsome and of good height, they bear fatigue marvellously—a fact of which one of my own horses gave the best proof, having carried me during three years of almost incessant fatigue on my expedition to Kánem, to the Músgu country, to Bagírmi, to Timbúktu, and back to Kanó, where my poor dear companion died in December, 1854: and let it be taken into consideration that, though I myself am not very heavy, I constantly carried with me a double-barrelled gun, one or two pairs of pistols, a quantity of powder and shot, several instruments, my journals, and generally even my coffeepot and some little provision.

But to return to the picture of life which the town of Kúkawa presents. With the exception of Mondays, when just during the hottest hours of the day there is much crowd and bustle in the market-place, it is very dull from about noon till three o’clock in the afternoon; and even during the rest of the day, those scenes of industry, which in the varied panorama of Kanó meet the eye, are here sought for in vain. Instead of those numerous dyeing-yards or máriná full of life and bustle, though certainly also productive of much filth and foul odours, which spread over the town of Kanó, there is only a single, and a very poor máriná in Kúkawa; no beating of tobes is heard, nor the sound of any other handicraft.

There is a great difference of character between these two towns; and, as I have said above, the Bórnu people are by temperament far more phlegmatic than those of Kanó. The women in general are much more ugly, with square short figures, large heads, and broad noses with immense nostrils, disfigured still more by the enormity of a red bead or coral worn in the nostril. Nevertheless, they are certainly quite as coquettish, and, as far as I had occasion to observe, at least as wanton also, as the more cheerful and sprightly Háusa women. I have never seen a Háusa woman strolling about the streets with her gown trailing after her on the ground, the fashion of the women of Kúkawa, and wearing on her shoulders some Manchester print of a showy pattern, keeping the ends of it in her hands, while she throws her arms about in a coquettish manner. In a word, their dress, as well as their demeanour, is far more decent and agreeable. The best part in the dress or ornaments of the Bórnu women is the silver ornament (the “fállafálle kélabé”) which they wear on the back of the head, and which in taller figures, when the hair is plaited in the form of a helmet, is very becoming; but it is not every woman who can afford such an ornament, and many a one sacrifices her better interests for this decoration.

The most animated quarter of the two towns is the great thoroughfare, which, proceeding by the southern side of the palace in the western town, traverses it from west to east, and leads straight to the sheikh’s residence in the eastern town. This is the “déndal” or promenade, a locality which has its imitation, on a less or greater scale, in every town of the country. This road, during the whole day, is crowded by numbers of people on horseback and on foot; free men and slaves, foreigners as well as natives, every one in his best attire, to pay his respects to the sheikh or his vizier, to deliver an errand, or to sue for justice or employment, or a present. I myself very often went along this well-trodden path—this highroad of ambition; but I generally went at an unusual hour, either at sunrise in the morning, or while the heat of the mid-day, not yet abated, detained the people in their cool haunts, or late at night, when the people were already retiring to rest or, sitting before their houses, beguiling their leisure hours with amusing tales or with petty scandal. At such hours I was sure to find the vizier or the sheikh alone; but sometimes they wished me also to visit and sit with them, when they were accessible to all the people; and on these occasions the vizier took pride and delight in conversing with me about matters of science, such as the motion of the earth, or the planetary system, or subjects of that kind.

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CHAP. XXXI.

THE TSÁD.

My stay in the town was agreeably interrupted by an excursion to Ngórnu and the shores of the lake.

Thursday, April 24th.Sheikh ʿOmár, with his whole court, left Kúkawa in the night of the 23rd of April, in order to spend a day or two in Ngórnu, where he had a tolerably good house; and, having been invited by the vizier to go there, I also followed on the morning of the next day. This road to Ngórnu is strongly marked with that sameness and monotony which characterize the neighbourhood of Kúkawa. At first nothing is seen but the melancholy “káwo,” Asclepias procera or gigantea; then “ngílle,” low bushes of Cucifera, appear, and gradually trees begin to enliven the landscape, first scattered here and there, further on forming a sort of underwood. The path is broad and well-trodden, but consists mostly of deep sandy soil. There are no villages on the side of the road, but a good many at a little distance. In the rainy season some very large ponds are formed by its side. Two miles and a half before the traveller reaches Ngórnu the trees cease again, being only seen in detached clusters at a great distance, marking the sites of villages, while near the road they give way to an immense fertile plain, where beans are cultivated, besides grain. However, this also is covered at this season of the year with the tiresome and endless Asclepias. Among the sites of former towns on the east side of the road is that of New Bírni, which was built by the Sultan Mohammed, when residing in Berberuwá, about the year 1820, and destroyed by Háj Beshír in the year 1847, and does not now contain a living soul. Farther on is a group of kitchen-gardens belonging to some grandees, and adorned with two or three most splendid tamarind-trees, which in this monotonous landscape have a peculiar charm.

It was about one o’clock in the afternoon when I entered Ngórnu, the town of “the blessing.” The heat being then very great, scarcely anybody was to be seen in the streets; but the houses, or rather yards, were full of people, tents having been pitched to accommodate so many visitors, while fine horses looked forth everywhere over the low fences, saluting us as we passed by. Scarcely a single clay house was to be seen, with the exception of the house of the sheikh, which lies at the end of the déndal; but nevertheless the town made the impression of comfort and ease, and every yard was neatly fenced with new “síggedí” mats, and well shaded by kórna-trees, while the huts were large and spacious.

Having in vain presented myself at the house of the vizier, where the people were all asleep, and wandered about the town for a good while, I at length took up my quarters provisionally with some Arabs, till the cool of the afternoon aroused the courtiers from their long midday slumber, which they certainly may have needed, inasmuch as they had been up at two o’clock in the morning. But even after I had the good fortune to see Háj Beshír, I found it difficult to obtain quarters, and I was obliged to pitch my tent in a courtyard.

Being tired of the crowd in the town, I mounted on horseback early next morning in order to refresh myself with a sight of the lake, which I supposed to be at no great distance, and indulged beforehand in anticipations of the delightful view which I fondly imagined was soon to greet my eye. We met a good many people and slaves going out to cut grass for the horses; and leaving them to their work we kept on towards the rising sun. But no lake was to be seen, and an endless grassy plain without a single tree extended to the furthest horizon. At length, after the grass had increased continually in freshness and luxuriance, we reached a shallow swamp, the very indented border of which, sometimes bending in, at others bending out, greatly obstructed our progress. Having struggled for a length of time to get rid of this swamp, and straining my eyes in vain to discover the glimmering of an open water in the distance, I at length retraced my steps, consoling myself with the thought that I had seen at least some slight indication of the presence of the watery element, and which seemed indeed to be the only thing which was at present to be seen here.

How different was this appearance of the country from that which it exhibited in the winter from 1854 to 1855, when more than half of the town of Ngórnu was destroyed by the water, and a deep open sea was formed to the south of this place, in which the fertile plain as far as the village of Kúkiya lay buried. This great change seems to have happened in consequence of the lower strata of the ground, which consisted of limestone, having given way in the preceding year, and the whole shore on this side having sunk several feet; but even without such a remarkable accident, the character of the Tsád is evidently that of an immense lagoon, changing its border every month, and therefore incapable of being mapped with accuracy. Indeed, when I saw to-day the nature of these swampy lowlands surrounding the lake, or rather lagoon, I immediately became aware that it would be quite impossible to survey its shores, even if the state of the countries around should allow us to enter upon such an undertaking. The only thing possible would be on one side to fix the furthest limit reached at times by the inundation of the lagoon, and on the other to determine the extent of the navigable waters.

Having returned to the town, I related to the vizier my unsuccessful excursion in search of the Tsád, and he obligingly promised to send some horsemen to conduct me along the shore as far as Káwa, whence I should return to the capital.

Saturday, April 26th.The sheikh, with his court, having left Ngórnu before the dawn of day, on his return to Kúkawa, I sent back my camel, with my two men also, by the direct road; and then having waited awhile in vain for the promised escort, I went myself with Bu-Sʿad, to look after it, but succeeded only in obtaining two horsemen, one of whom was the Kashélla Kótoko, an amiable, quiet Kánemma chief, who ever afterwards remained my friend, and the other a horseguard of the sheikh’s, of the name of Sále. With these companions we set out on our excursion, going north-east; for due east from the town, as I now learned, the lagoon was at present at more than ten miles’ distance. The fine grassy plain seemed to extend to a boundless distance, uninterrupted by a single tree, or even a shrub; not a living creature was to be seen, and the sun began already to throw a fiery veil over all around, making the vicinity of the cooling element desirable. After a little more than half an hour’s ride we reached swampy ground, and began to make our way through the water, often up to our knees on horseback. We thus came to the margin of a fine open sheet of water, encompassed with papyrus and tall reed, of from ten to fourteen feet in height, of two different kinds, one called “méle,” and the other “bóre,” or “bóle.” The méle has a white tender core, which is eaten by the natives, but to me seemed insipid; the bóre has a head like the common bulrush, and its stalk is triangular. The thicket was interwoven by a climbing plant with yellow flowers, called “bórbuje” by the natives, while on the surface of the water was a floating plant called, very facetiously, by the natives, “fánna-billa-bágo” (the homeless fánna). This creek was called “Ngíruwá.”

Then turning a little more to the north, and passing still through deep water full of grass, and most fatiguing for the horses, while it seemed most delightful to me, after my dry and dreary journey through this continent, we reached another creek, called “Dímbebér.” Here I was so fortunate as to see two small boats, or “mákara,” of the Búdduma, as they are called by the Kanúri, or Yédiná, as they call themselves, the famous pirates of the Tsád. They were small flat boats, made of the light and narrow wood of the “fógo,” about twelve feet long, and managed by two men each; as soon as the men saw us, they pushed their boats off from the shore. They were evidently in search of human prey; and as we had seen people from the neighbouring villages, who had come here to cut reeds to thatch their huts anew for the rainy season, we went first to inform them of the presence of these constant enemies of the inhabitants of these fertile banks of the lagoon, that they might be on their guard; for they could not see them, owing to the quantity of tall reeds with which the banks and the neighbouring land was overgrown.

We then continued our watery march. The sun was by this time very powerful; but a very gentle cooling breeze came over the lagoon, and made the heat supportable. We had water enough to quench our thirst—indeed more than we really wanted; for we might have often drunk with our mouth, by stooping down a little, on horseback, so deeply were we immersed. But the water was exceedingly warm, and full of vegetable matter. It is perfectly fresh, as fresh as water can be. It seems to have been merely from prejudice that people in Europe have come to the conclusion that this Central African basin must either have an outlet, or must be salt. For I can positively assert that it has no outlet, and that its water is perfectly fresh. Indeed I do not see from whence saltness of the water should arise in a district in which there is no salt at all, and in which the herbage is so destitute of this element, that the milk of the cows and sheep fed on it is rather insipid, and somewhat unwholesome. Certainly, in the holes around the lagoon, where the soil is strongly impregnated with natron, and which are only for a short time of the year in connection with the lake, the water, when in small quantity, must savour of the peculiar quality of the soil; but when these holes are full, the water in them likewise is fresh.

While we rode along these marshy, luxuriant plains, large herds of “kelára” started up, bounding over the rushes, and sometimes swimming, at others running, soon disappeared in the distance. This is a peculiar kind of antelope, which I have nowhere seen but in the immediate vicinity of the lake. In colour and size it resembles the roe, and has a white belly. The kelára is by no means slender, but rather bulky, and extremely fat; this, however, may not be a specific character, but merely the consequence of the rich food which it enjoys here. It may be identical with, or be a variety of the Antilope Arabica, and the Arabs, and those of the natives who understand a little Arabic, call both by the same name, “el áriyel.”

Proceeding onwards, we reached about noon another creek, which is used occasionally by the Búdduma as a harbour, and is called “Ngúlbeá.” We, however, found it empty, and only inhabited by ngurútus, or river-horses, which, indeed, live here in great numbers, snorting about in every direction, and by two species of crocodiles. In this quarter there are no elephants, for the very simple reason that they have no place of retreat during the night; for this immense animal (at least in Africa) appears to be very sensible of the convenience of a soft couch in the sand, and of the inconvenience of mosquitoes too; wherefore it prefers to lie down on a spot a little elevated above the swampy ground, whither it resorts for its daily food. On the banks of the northern part of the Tsád, on the contrary, where a range of low sandhills and wood encompasses the lagoon, we shall meet with immense herds of this animal.

Ngúlbeá was the easternmost point of our excursion; and, turning here a little west from north, we continued our march over drier pasture-grounds, placed beyond the reach of the inundation, and, after about three miles, reached the deeply-indented and well-protected creek called “Ngómarén.” Here I was most agreeably surprised by the sight of eleven boats of the Yédiná. Large, indeed, they were considering the ship-building of these islanders; but otherwise they looked very small and awkward, and, resting quite flat on the water, strikingly reminded me of theatrical exhibitions in which boats are introduced on the stage. They were not more than about twenty feet long[80], but seemed tolerably broad; and one of them contained as many as eleven people, besides a good quantity of natron and other things. They had a very low waist, but rather a high and pointed prow. They are made of the narrow boards of the fógo-tree, which are fastened together with ropes from the dúm-palm, the holes being stopped with bast.

The Kánembú inhabitants of many neighbouring villages carry on trade with the islanders almost uninterruptedly, while elsewhere the latter are treated as most deadly enemies. Two parties of Kánembú happened to be here with argúm or millet, which they exchange for the natron. They were rather frightened when they saw us, the Búdduma being generally regarded as enemies; but the sheikh and his counsellors are well aware of this intercourse, and, wanting either the spirit or the power to reduce those islanders to subjection, they must allow their own subjects, whom they fail to protect against the continual inroads of the Búdduma, to deal with the latter at their own discretion. It was my earnest wish to go on board one of the boats, and to examine their make attentively; and, with the assistance of Kashélla Kótoko, who was well-known to the Búdduma, I should perhaps have succeeded, if Bú-Sʿad, my Mohammedan companion, had not behaved like a madman: indeed I could scarcely restrain him from firing at these people, who had done us no harm. This was certainly a mere outbreak of fanaticism. When the people in the boats saw my servant’s excited behaviour, they left the shore, though numerous enough to overpower us; and we then rode on to another creek called Méllelá, whence we turned westwards, and in about an hour, partly through water, partly over a grassy plain, reached Maduwári.

Maduwári, at that time, was an empty sound for me—a name without a meaning, just like the names of so many other places at which I had touched on my wanderings; but it was a name about to become important in the history of the expedition, to which many a serious remembrance was to be attached. Maduwári was to contain another white man’s grave, and thus to rank with Ngurútuwa.

When I first entered the place from the side of the lake, it made a very agreeable impression upon me, as it showed evident signs of ease and comfort, and, instead of being closely packed together, as most of the towns and villages of the Kanúri are, it lay dispersed in eleven or twelve separate clusters of huts, shaded by a rich profusion of korna- and bíto-trees. I was conducted by my companion, Kashélla Kótoko, to the house of Fúgo ʿAli. It was the house wherein Mr. Overweg, a year and a half later, was to expire; while Fúgo ʿAli himself, the man who first contracted friendship with me, then conducted my companion on his interesting navigation round the islands of the lake, and who frequented our house, was destined to fall a sacrifice in the revolution of 1854. How different was my reception then, when I first went to his house on this my first excursion to the lake, and when I revisited it with Mr. Vogel in the beginning of 1855, when Fúgo ʿAli’s widow was sobbing at my side, lamenting the ravages of time, the death of my companion, and that of her own husband.

The village pleased me so much that I took a long walk through it before I sat down to rest; and after being treated most sumptuously with fowls and a roasted sheep, I passed the evening very agreeably in conversation with my black friends. The inhabitants of all these villages are Kánembú[81], belonging to the tribe of the Sugúrti, who in former times were settled in Kánem, till by the wholesale devastation of that country they were compelled to leave their homes and seek a retreat in these regions. Here they have adopted the general dress of the Kanúri; and only very few of them may at present be seen exhibiting their original native costume, the greatest ornament of which is the head-dress, while the body itself, with the exception of a tight leathern apron, or “fúno,” is left naked. This is a remarkable peculiarity of costume, which seems to prevail among almost all barbarous tribes. The original head-dress of the Sugúrti, that is to say, of the head men of the tribe, consists of four different articles: first the “jóka,” or cap, rather stiff, and widening at the top, where the second article, the “ariyábu” (aliyáfu), is tied round it; from the midst of the folds of the ariyábu, just over the front of the head, the “múllefu” stands forth, a piece of red cloth, stiffened, as it seems, by a piece of leather from behind; and all round the crown of the head a bristling crown of reeds rises with barbaric majesty to a height of about eight inches. Round his neck he wears a tight string of white beads, or “kulúlu,” and hanging down upon the breast, several small leather pockets, containing written charms or láya, while his right arm is ornamented with three rings, one on the upper arm, called “wíwi or bíbi,” one made of ivory, and called “chíla,” above the elbow, and another, called “kúllo,” just above the wrist. The shields of the Sugúrti, at least most of them, are broad at the top as well as at the base, and besides his large spear or kasákka, he is always armed with three or four javelins, “bállem.” But besides the Sugúrti there happened to be just then present in the village some Búdduma, handsome, slender, and intelligent people, their whole attire consisting in a leathern apron and a string of white beads round the neck, which, together with their white teeth, produces a beautiful contrast with the jet-black skin. They gave me the first account of the islands of the lake, stating that the open water, which in their language is called “Kalilémma,” or rather Kúlu kemé, begins one day’s voyage from Káya, the small harbour of Maduwári, stretching in the direction of Sháwi, and that the water is thenceforth from one to two fathoms deep. I invariably understood from all the people with whom I spoke about this interesting lake, that the open water, with its islands of elevated sandy downs, stretches from the mouth of the Sháry towards the western shore, and that all the rest of the lake consists of swampy meadow-lands, occasionally inundated. I shall have occasion to speak again about this point when briefly reporting my unfortunate companion’s voyage on the lake.[82]

Having closed my day’s labour usefully and pleasantly, I lay down under a sort of shed, but had much to suffer from musquitoes, which, together with fleas, are a great nuisance near the banks of the lagoon.

Sunday, April 27th.Before sunrise we were again in the saddle, accompanied by Fúgo or Púfo ʿAli, who had his double pair of small drums with him, and looked well on his stately horse. It was a beautiful morning, and I was delighted with the scene around. Clear and unbroken were the lines of the horizon, the swampy plain extending on our right towards the lake, and blending with it, so as to allow the mind that delights in wandering over distant regions a boundless expanse to rove in—an enjoyment not to be found in mountainous regions, be the mountains ever so distant. For

Thus we went on slowly northwards, while the sun rose over the patches of water, which spread over the grassy plain; and on our left the village displayed its snug yards and huts, neatly fenced and shaded by spreading trees. We now left Maduwári, and after a little while passed another village called Dógoji, when we came to a large hamlet or “berí” of Kánembú cattle-breeders, who had the care of almost all the cattle of the villages along the shores of the lake, which is very credibly reported to amount together to eleven thousand head. The herd here collected—numbering at least a thousand head, most of them of that peculiar kind, called kúri, mentioned before—was placed in the midst, while the men were encamped all around, armed with long spears and light shields; at equal distances long poles were fixed in the ground, on which the butter was hung up in skins or in “kórió,” vessels made of grass. Here we had some delay, as Fúgo ʿAli, who was the inspector of all these villages, had to make inquiries respecting three head of cattle belonging to the vizier, which had been stolen during the night. On our left the considerable village of Bínder, which is at least as large as Maduwári, exhibited an interesting picture; and I had leisure to make a sketch.

Having here indulged in a copious draught of fresh milk, we resumed our march, turning to the eastward; and having passed through deep water, we reached the creek “Kógorám,” surrounded by a dense belt of tall rushes of various kinds. We were just about to leave this gulf, when we were joined by Zíntelma, another Kánemma chief, who ever afterwards remained attached to me and Mr. Overweg, with five horsemen. Our troop having thus increased, we went on cheerfully to another creek called Tábirám, whence we galloped towards Bolé, trying in vain to overtake a troop of kelára (the antelope before mentioned), which rushed headlong into the water and disappeared in the jungle. Before, however, we could get to this latter place, we had to pass very deep water, which covered my saddle, though I was mounted on a tall horse, and swamped altogether my poor Bú-Sʿad on his pony; nothing but his head and his gun were to be seen for a time. But it was worth while to reach the spot which we thus attained at the widest creek of the lake as yet seen by me,—a fine open sheet of water, the surface of which, agitated by a light east wind, threw its waves upon the shore. All around was one forest of reeds of every description, while the water itself was covered with water-plants, chiefly the water-lily or Nymphæa lotus. Numberless flocks of waterfowl of every description played about. The creek has an angular form; and its recess, which makes a deep indentation from E. 30 N. to W. 30 S., is named Nghélle.

Having made our way through the water and rushes, and at length got again on firm ground, we made a momentary halt to consider what next to do. Háj Beshír had taught me to hope that it would be possible to reach on horseback the island Sóyurum[83], which extends a long way into the lake, and whence I might have an extensive view over the Kúlu kemé and many of the islands; but my companions were unanimously of opinion that the depth of the water to be crossed for many miles exceeded the height of my horse; and although I was quite ready to expose myself to more wetting, in order to see a greater portion of this most interesting feature of Central Africa, I nevertheless did not think it worth while to ride a whole day through deep water, particularly as in so doing I should not be able to keep my chronometer and my compass dry; for these were now the most precious things which I had on earth, and could not be replaced or repaired so easily as gun and pistols. But moreover my horse, which had never been accustomed to fatigue, and had not been well fed, had become quite lame, and seemed scarcely able to carry me back to Kúkawa. I therefore gave up the idea of visiting the island, which in some years, when the lake does not rise to a great height, may be reached with little inconvenience[84], and followed my companions towards the large village of Káwa.[85]

Passing over fields planted with cotton and beans, but without native corn, which is not raised here at all, we reached Káwa after an hour’s ride, while we passed on our left a small swamp. Káwa is a large straggling village, which seems to enjoy some political preeminence above the other places hereabouts, and on this account is placed in a somewhat hostile position to the independent inhabitants of the islands, with which the Kánembú in general keep up a sort of peaceful intercourse. What to me seemed the most interesting objects were the splendid trees adorning the place. The sycamore under which our party was desired to rest in the house of Fúgo ʿAli’s sister was most magnificent, and afforded the most agreeable resting-place possible, the space overshadowed by the crown of the tree being inclosed with a separate fence, as the “fágé,” or place of meeting. Here we were feasted with a kind of “boló-boló,” or water mixed with pounded argúm or dukhn, sour milk, and meat, and then continued our march to Kúkawa, where we arrived just as the vizier was mounting on horseback to go to the sheikh. Galloping up to him, we paid him our respects; and he expressed himself well pleased with me. My companions told him that we had been swimming about in the lake for the last two days, and that I had written down everything. The whole cavalcade, consisting of eight horsemen, then accompanied me to my house, where I gave them a treat.

I returned just in time from my excursion; for the next day the caravan for Fezzán encamped outside the town, and I had to send off two of my men with it. One of them was the carpenter Ibrahím, a handsome young man, but utterly unfit for work, of whom I was extremely glad to get rid; the other was Mohammed el Gatróni, my faithful servant from Múrzuk, whom I dismissed with heartfelt sorrow. He had had a very small salary; and I therefore promised to give him four Spanish dollars a month, and to mount him on horseback, but it was all in vain; he was anxious to see his wife and children again, after which he promised to come back. I, therefore, like the generals of ancient Rome, gave him leave of absence—“pueris procreandis daret operam.”

On the other side, it was well worth a sacrifice to send a trustworthy man to Fezzán. The expedition had lost its director, who alone was authorized to act in the name of the Government which had sent us out; we had no means whatever, but considerable debts, and without immediate aid by fresh supplies, the surviving members could do no better than to return home as soon as possible. Moreover, there were Mr. Richardson’s private things to be forwarded, and particularly his journal, which, from the beginning of the journey down to the very last days of his life, he had kept with great care,—more fortunate he, and more provident in this respect than my other companion, who laughed at me when, during moments of leisure, I finished the notes which I had briefly written down during the march, and who contended that nothing could be done in this respect till after a happy return home. I therefore provided Mohammed, upon whose discretion and fidelity I could entirely rely, with a camel, and intrusted to him all Mr. Richardson’s things and my parcel of letters, which he was to forward by the courier, who is generally sent on by the caravan after its arrival in the Tébu country.

There were two respectable men with the caravan, Háj Hasan, a man belonging to the family of El Kánemi, and in whose company Mr. Vogel afterwards travelled from Fezzán to Bórnu, and Mohammed Titíwi. On the second of May, therefore, I went to pay a visit to these men, but found only Titíwi, to whom I recommended my servant. He promised to render him all needful assistance. I had but little intercourse with this man, yet this little occurred on important occasions, and so his name has become a pleasant remembrance to me. I first met him when sending off the literary remains of my unfortunate companion. I at the same time ventured to introduce myself to her Majesty’s Government, and to try if it would so far rely upon me, a foreigner, as to intrust me with the further direction of the expedition, and to ask for means; it was then Titíwi again who brought me the most honourable despatches from the British Government, authorizing me to carry out the expedition just as it had been intended, and at the same time means for doing so. It was Titíwi, who, on the day when I was leaving Kúkawa on my long adventurous journey to Timbúktu, came to my house to wish me success in my arduous undertaking; and it was Titíwi again, who, on the second of August, 1855, came to the consul’s house, in Tripoli, to congratulate me on my successful return from the interior.

He was an intelligent man, and being informed that I was about to undertake a journey to Adamáwa, the dangers of which he well knew, he expressed his astonishment that I should make the attempt with a weak horse, such as I was then riding. My horse, though it had recovered a little from its lameness, and was getting strength from a course of dumplings made of the husk of Negro corn mixed with natron, which it had to swallow every morning and evening, was anything but a good charger; and having previously determined to look about for a better horse, I was only confirmed in my intention by the observation of the experienced merchant.

This was one of the largest slave caravans which departed during my stay in Bórnu; for, if I am not mistaken, there were seven hundred and fifty slaves in the possession of the merchants who went with it. Slaves are as yet the principal export from Bórnu, and will be so till the slave trade on the north coast is abolished.[86]

Overweg had not yet arrived, although we had received information that he was on his way directly from Zínder, having given up his intention of visiting Kanó. Before I set out on my journey to Adamáwa, it was essential that I should confer with him about many things, and particularly as to what he himself should first undertake, but the rainy season was fast approaching even here, while in Adamáwa it had set in long ago, and it seemed necessary that I should not delay any longer. In the afternoon of the fifth of May, we had the first unmistakeable token of the rainy season—a few heavy claps of thunder followed by rain. But I did not tarry; the very same day I bought in the market all that was necessary for my journey, and the next day succeeded in purchasing a very handsome and strong gray horse, “kerí bul,” for twelve hundred and seventy rotls, equal at that moment to two and thirty Austrian dollars, while I sold my weak horse which the sheikh had given me for nine hundred rotls, or twenty-two dollars and a half.

Having also bought an Arab saddle, I felt myself quite a match for anybody, and hearing in the afternoon that the sheikh had gone to Gawánge, a place two miles and a half E. from the town towards the lake, I mounted my new steed, and setting off at a gallop, posted myself before the palace just when ʿOmár was about to come out with the flourishing of the trumpets, sounding the Háusa word “gashí, gashí,” “here he is, here he is.” The sheikh was very handsomely dressed in a fine white bernús over another of light blue colour, and very well mounted on a fine black horse, “fir kéra.” He was accompanied by several of his and the vizier’s courtiers, and about two hundred horsemen, who were partly riding by his side, partly galloping on in advance and returning again to the rear, while sixty slaves, wearing red jackets over their shirts, and armed with matchlocks, ran in front of and behind his horse. The vizier, who saw me first, saluted me very kindly, and sent Hámza Weled el Góni to take me to the sheikh, who made a halt, and asked me very graciously how I was going on, and how my excursion to the lake had amused me. Having then taken notice of my sprightly horse, the vizier called my servant, and expressed his regret, that the horse which they had presented to me had not proved good, saying that I ought to have informed them, when they would have given me a better one. I promised to do so another time, and did not forget the warning.

Wednesday, May 7th.Mr. Overweg arrived. The way in which he was announced to me was so singular as to merit description. It was about an hour before noon, and I was busy collecting some interesting information from my friend Ibrahím el Futáwi about Tagánet, when suddenly the little Mʿadi arrived. This lad, a liberated slave, had been Mr. Richardson’s servant, and is frequently mentioned in that gentleman’s journal. As he had been among those of my companion’s people who, to my great regret, had left Kúkawa the day before I arrived without having their claims settled, I was very glad when he came back, but could not learn from him how it happened that he returned; when, after some chat, he told me, incidentally, that the tabíb (Mr. Overweg) was also come, and was waiting for me in Kálilwá. Of course it was the latter who, meeting the lad on the road, had brought him back, and had sent him now expressly to inform me of his arrival. This dull but good-natured lad, who was afterwards severely wounded in the service of the mission, is now Mr. Vogel’s chief servant.

As soon as I fully understood the purport of this important message, I ordered my horse to be saddled, and mounted. The sun was extremely powerful just about noon, shortly before the setting-in of the rainy season, and as I had forgotten, in the hurry and excitement, to wind a turban round my cap, I very nearly suffered a sun-stroke. A traveller cannot be too careful of his head in these countries.

I found Overweg in the shade of a nebek-tree near Kálilwá. He looked greatly fatigued and much worse than when I left him, four months ago, at Tasáwa; indeed, as he told me, he had been very sickly in Zínder—so sickly, that he had been much afraid lest he should soon follow Mr. Richardson to the grave. Perhaps the news which he just then heard of our companion’s death made him more uneasy about his own illness. However, we were glad to meet again alive, and expressed our hopes to be able to do a good deal for the exploration of these countries. He had had an opportunity of witnessing, during his stay in Góber and Marádi, the interesting struggle going on between this noblest part of the Háusa nation and the Fúlbe, who threaten their political as well as religious independence[87]; and he was deeply impressed with the charming scenes of unrestrained cheerful life which he had witnessed in those pagan communities; while I, for my part, could assure him, that my reception in Bórnu seemed to guarantee success, although, under existing circumstances, there seemed to be very little hope that we should ever be able to make a journey all round the Tsád; but I thought that, with the assistance of those people in Bínder and Maduwári whom I had just visited, and who appeared to be on friendly terms with the islanders, it might be possible to explore the navigable part of the lagoon in the boat.

Mr. Overweg was, in some respects, very badly off, having no clothes with him except those which he actually wore, all his luggage being still in Kanó, though he had sent two men to fetch it. I was therefore obliged to lend him my own things, and he took up his quarters in another part of our house, though it was rather small for our joint establishment. The vizier was very glad of his arrival, and, in fulfilment of his engagement to deliver all the things left by Mr. Richardson[88] as soon as Mr. Overweg should arrive, he sent all the half-empty boxes of our late companion in the evening of the next day; even the gun and pistols, and the other things which had been sold, were returned, with the single exception of Mr. Richardson’s watch, which, as the sheikh was very fond of it, and kept it near him night and day, I thought it prudent to spare him the mortification of returning.

Mr. Overweg and I, having then made a selection from the articles that remained to us, presented to the vizier, on the morning of the ninth, those destined for him, and in the afternoon we presented the sheikh with his share. These presents could not be now expected to please by their novelty, or to awaken a feeling of gratitude in the receivers, who had long been in possession of them; but although made to understand by Mr. Richardson’s interpreters that he alone had been authorized by the British Government, Mr. Overweg and I not being empowered to interfere, and that consequently they might regard themselves as legitimate possessors of our deceased companion’s property, they must yet have entertained some doubt about the equity of their claim; and as soon as I arrived, and began to act with firmness, they grew ashamed of having listened to intriguing servants. In short, though we had put them to shame, they esteemed us all the better for our firmness, and received their presents in a very gracious manner.

We now spoke also about the treaty, the negotiation of which, we said, had been specially intrusted to our companion, but now, by his death, had devolved on us. Both of them assured us of their ardent desire to open commercial intercourse with the English, but at the same time they did not conceal that their principal object in so doing was to obtain fire-arms. They also expressed their desire that two of their people might return with us to England, in order to see the country and its industry, which we told them we were convinced would be most agreeable to the British Government. Our conversation was so unrestrained and friendly, that the sheikh himself took the opportunity of excusing himself for having appropriated Mr. Richardson’s watch.

But the following narrative will show how European travellers, endeavouring to open these countries to European intercourse, have to struggle against the intrigues of the Arabs; who are well aware that as soon as the Europeans, or rather the English, get access to Negroland, not only their slave-trade, but even their whole commerce, as they now carry it on, will be annihilated.

We had scarcely re-entered our house when, the rumour spreading through the Arab quarter of the manner in which we had been received, and of the matters talked of, El Khodr, a native of Dar-Fúr, and the foremost of the native traders, went to the sheikh with the news that seven large vessels of the English had suddenly arrived at Núpe, and that the natives were greatly afraid of them. This announcement was soon found to be false, but nevertheless it served its purpose, to cool a little the friendly and benevolent feeling which had been manifested towards us.

The following day we went to pitch the large double tent, which we had given to the sheikh, on the open area before his palace in the eastern town; and having fully succeeded in arranging it, although a few pieces were wanting, it was left the whole day in its place, and made a great impression upon the people. At first it seemed rather awkward to the natives, whose tents, even if of large size, are mere bell-tents; but in the course of time it pleased the sheikh so much, that when I finally left the country, he begged me to entreat the British Government to send him another one like it.[89]

We also paid our respects to the principal of the sheikh’s brothers, as well as to his eldest son. Having obtained permission, we visited ʿAbd e’ Rahmán, the brother and rival of the sheikh, as we could not prudently be wanting in civility to a person who might soon get the upper hand. We presented him with a fine white heláli bernús, and sundry small things; he received us very graciously, and laughed and chatted a good deal with us on the first as well as on a second visit, when I was obliged to show him the pictures in Denham’s and Clapperton’s work, and the drawing I had myself made of his friend, the Kánemma chief, Ámsakay, of which he had heard; but his manners did not please us very much. His countenance had a very wild expression, and he manifested little intelligence or princely demeanour, wrangling and playing the whole day with his slaves. Besides, we were obliged to be cautious in our dealings with him; for we had scarcely made his acquaintance, when he sent us a secret message, begging for poison, with which he most probably wished to rid himself of his deadly enemy the vizier. Quite a different man was Yúsuf, the sheikh’s second brother, with whom during my last stay in Kúkawa, in the beginning of 1855, I became intimately acquainted. He was a learned and very religious man, always reading, and with a very acute sense of justice; but he was not a man of business. As for Bú-Bakr, the eldest son of ʿOmár, who now unfortunately seems to have the best claim to the succession, he was a child, devoid of intelligence or noble feelings. Twice was I obliged to have recourse to his father to make him pay me for some articles which he had bought of me.

The much desired moment of my departure for Adamáwa drew nearer and nearer. The delay of my starting on this undertaking, occasioned by the late arrival of Mr. Overweg, had been attended with the great advantage that, meanwhile, some messengers of the governor of that country had arrived, in whose company, as they were returning immediately, I was able to undertake the journey with a much better prospect of success. The subject of their message was, that Kashélla ʿAlí Ladán, on his late predatory incursion into the Marghí country, had enslaved and carried away inhabitants of several places to which the governor of Adamáwa laid claim, and it was more in order to establish his right, than from any real concern in the fate of these unfortunate creatures, that he was pleased to lay great stress upon the case. Indeed, as the sequel shows, his letter must have contained some rather harsh or threatening expressions, to which the ruler of Bórnu was not inclined to give way, though he yielded[90] to the justice of the specific claim. At first these messengers from Adamáwa were to be my only companions besides my own servants, and on the 21st of May I was officially placed under their protection in the house of the sheikh by several of the first courtiers or kokanáwa, among whom were the old Ibrahím Wadáy, the friend and companion of Mohammed el Kánemi in his first heroical proceedings, Shítima Náser, Hámza, and Kashélla ʿAli, and the messengers promised to see me safe to their country, and to provide for my safe return.

Ibrahíma, the head man of these messengers, who were all of rather inferior rank, was not such a man as I wished for; but fortunately there was among them another person named Mohámmedu, who, although himself a Púllo by descent, had more of the social character of the Háusa race, and was ready to gratify my desire for information. He proved most useful in introducing me into the new country which I was to explore, and would have been of immense service to me if I had been allowed to make any stay there.

After much delay, and having twice taken official leave of the sheikh in full state, I had at length the pleasure of seeing our little band ready for starting in the afternoon of Thursday, the 29th May, 1851. Rather more, I think, with a view to his own interest, than from any apprehension on my account, the sheikh informed me, in the last interview which I had with him, that he would send an officer along with me. This move puzzled me from the beginning, and caused me some misgiving; and there is not the least doubt, as the sequel will show, that to the company of this officer it must be attributed that I was sent back by Mohammed Láwl, the governor of Adamáwa, without being allowed to stay any time in the country; but, for truth’s sake, I must admit that if I had not been accompanied by this man it is doubtful whether I should have been able to overcome the very great difficulties and dangers which obstruct this road.