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CHAP. XLIX.

ENDEAVOUR TO LEAVE THE COUNTRY. — ARRESTED. — FINAL ENTRANCE INTO MÁS-EÑÁ. — ITS CHARACTERISTIC FEATURES.

Friday, April 16th.As soon as day dawned, I arose to prepare for my departure. The sky was overcast, and a little rain fell, which caused some delay; but as soon as it ceased I got my camel ready and my horse saddled. Several of the relations and friends of Bú-Bakr endeavoured to persuade me to remain; but my determination was too fixed, and, pointing at the disgraceful manner in which I had been treated in this country, I mounted my horse and rode off. My three servants, themselves dissatisfied with the treatment they had received, followed sullenly.

We retraced the path by which we had come; but the rains had made it almost undiscernible, and we had some difficulty to make out the right track. The sun was very powerful after the rain which had fallen during the night, as is very often the case in tropical climates; and it not being my design to abscond secretly, I decided upon halting, during the hot hours, in Mókorí, and quietly pitched my tent—for I firmly expected that, if my presence was required, it was here they would seek for me. After the bad fare which I had received in Bákadá for so long a time, I was delighted to be able to procure here a fowl, some butter, and a little milk; and it was a sort of holiday for me to indulge in these simple luxuries. The manner in which I obtained these supplies was rather circuitous, a long bartering taking place with beads, needles, and a little natron which I was provided with from Kúkawa. The price of the fowl was three darning-needles; and I may here state the obligation under which I am to Mr. Charles Beke, the Abyssinian traveller, upon whose advice I had provided myself in London with a small assortment of these articles. In Middle Sudán their value was not appreciated; but here, in Bagírmi, I found them extremely useful, and it was to them that I partly owed my subsistence in this country.

I quietly conversed with the people on my situation; and they behaved very friendly towards me, and advised me, if no news should arrive from the capital in the course of the day, to take the road by Kólle-Kólle, Márga, and Jógodé, a place which they represented as of considerable size, and thus to reach the river near the village of Klésem, from whence I might cross over to Kúsuri. I even obtained here some valuable information with regard to the river-system of Wádáy, from a Felláta[41], or Púllo, of the name of ʿAbd el Káder. I should have passed the day very comfortably, if a strong gale had not arisen about noon, and filled my tent with dust and sand. The sky was overcast; but there was no rain.

A little after sunset, when the busy scene at the well had subsided, I measured the temperature of the water, and found it to be 86°·4 Fahr., which, if we consider it as nearly the mean temperature of the country, would give a very high standard for Bagírmi. The well was fifteen fathoms deep, the present temperature of the air being then 86°; at one o’clock P.M. it had been 99°·7.

April 17th.Having passed rather an unpleasant night, the ground swarming with black ants (termes mordax), so that my camel, as well as my horse, moved restlessly about and disturbed our own slumber frequently, I set out early in the morning with confidence on my journey westward. Forest and cultivated ground alternately succeeded each other, the cultivation consisting, besides millet, of cotton and sesamum. Women were collecting the leaves of the hájilíj, from which, in the absence of the more esteemed leaves of the monkey-bread tree, to prepare the tasteless sauce used for their daily pudding. The hájilíj was the most predominant tree; besides it there was the tree called homaín by the Shúwa, which was at present leafless, but was covered with fruit about the size of an apricot, which, when ripe, is eaten by the natives. The tsáda also, with its cherry-like fruit, called by the Shúwa people ábú-déje, was frequent.

My young Shúwa companion here called my attention to the honey-bird (cuculus indicator), called by his countrymen “shnéter,” and said to be a metamorphosed old woman searching after her young son, and calling him by name, “Shnéter, Shnéter!” All over Africa this little bird has given rise to a variety of the most curious tales, from the Hottentot country to the Somaul, and from the Somaul to the Jolóf.

Having gone about five miles, we wanted to obtain a supply of water from a small hamlet of the name of Bagáwu, which we saw on one side of our track; but as soon as we approached the well, a decrepit old man rushed furiously out of his hut, as if we were about to steal his most valuable property, and ordered us away with the most threatening attitude. Such is the value of water in this dry region! We therefore continued our march, and could only account for the existence of this miserable village, by the extensive tract of cultivated ground which was spread about.

We then entered a thick forest or jungle, with tall reeds, and showing numerous footprints of the giraffe, an animal not at all frequent in the populous districts of Negroland. Further on, the path exhibited various signs of being a common thoroughfare for elephants. This animal further westward had not made itself remarkable, while its inveterate enemy the rhinoceros had already, close to the river, given sufficient proof of its presence.

At half-past eight o’clock in the morning we approached another village, of the name of Kólle-Kólle, which from a distance exhibited a most noble appearance, adorned as it was by two stately deléb-palms, here called káwe, and a group of most beautiful tamarind-trees; but as for water, this village was not much better provided than that from which we had just been driven, being dependent for this necessary element upon a sister village at little less than a mile distance. Nevertheless, the dry tract which lay before me obliged me to make a halt here, in order to procure a supply of water.

While we were quietly reclining in the shade of the tamarind-trees, a party of people arrived from a village which we had passed on our road, in order to obtain some medicines; and the way in which they acknowledged my trouble was so delicate and becoming, that I could not decline it, though in general I did not accept any remuneration for my cures. On taking leave they tied a fat sheep, which they had brought with them, to the branches of the tree under which we were reclining, merely informing my servants that it was a present for me.

Notwithstanding the great heat during the mid-day hours, I thought it prudent to pursue my journey without long delay; for all my informants agreed in representing the tract before us as an extensive wilderness, entirely destitute of water. There were, however, evident traces that during the rainy season this dry forest is occasionally changed into an extensive swamp, and frequented by herds of giraffes and other wild beasts. At first the forest was clear; but as we proceeded it became enlivened and interwoven by a profusion of creeping plants called “sellʿa” by the Arab inhabitants of this country, but “gheláf” in the dialect of the western Arabs. In many spots a peculiar kind of reed was seen, called “hál” by the Shúwa, who make from it writing-pens; and here and there fresh tufts of grass, called forth by the productive power of the rains, were springing up. It is this young succulent herbage which especially attracts the rhinoceros. Desolate as this wilderness was at present, there were evident signs that at times it becomes the scene of a considerable degree of human industry; and besides sesamum, even fields of indigo were seen.

After a march of about thirteen miles, we reached a hamlet which was evidently identical with the village Márga, with regard to which our informants had not been sure whether we should find inhabitants there or not. We entered it; but not a single human being was to be seen, it was lifeless, deserted, and half in ruins. Nevertheless there were some houses which evidently contained property, though, the doors not being sufficiently secured, its safety was left to the honesty of the passers-by.

Here the path divided, and it was apparent that, in order to prosecute my journey by way of Jógodé, we must pursue the northern one; but unluckily, while no recent traces were to be seen along this path, the southerly track seemed to be well-trodden, and my poor servants, who before had silently though sullenly followed me, broke out into the most mournful lamentations when they saw that I wanted to take the path which showed no signs of intercourse, saying that I was going to destroy their lives as well as my own in this desolate wilderness. At length, after having in vain remonstrated with them, telling them that they were frustrating my projects, I allowed myself to be overruled by their piteous supplications, although with a sad foreboding, and pursued the southerly track.

The sun was just setting when we reached another hamlet, consisting of large decent-looking huts, and filling us with almost confident hope that we might there find comfortable quarters; but we soon convinced ourselves that here also not a human being was left behind. Only a group of five antelopes (oryx), called here “tétel,” with their erect horns, were fearlessly standing at a little distance, and staring at us. It was the first time I had seen this handsome animal in a wild state, though I afterwards found it to be very frequent in this country, and even fell in with it along the komádugu of Bórnu.

Having convinced ourselves that the well was dry, and not thinking quarters in a desolate village very safe in such a country, we pursued our march, entering again a dense forest where a great deal of rain seemed to have fallen, so that I was even enabled to water the horse, although the danger from wild beasts could not but be greatly increased by the presence of the aqueous element. After a march of two miles more, the evening being very dark, we thought it more prudent to halt for the night; we therefore chose a small place free from wood, put our luggage, camel, horse, and sheep in the middle, and assigned to each of ourselves one of the corners, where we were to keep up a fire. We had, however, scarcely begun to look around the neighbourhood for dry firewood, when the tumultuous cries of wild beasts broke forth from different quarters of the dense forest; and I was obliged to fire some shots before we were able to light a moderate fire, when, throwing the firebrands before us as we proceeded, we were enabled to collect a tolerable quantity of dry wood. However, it was with some difficulty that I prevailed upon my young and inexperienced companions to make up their minds to keep alternate watches during the night, and keep up the fires, more especially as, on account of a north-east wind which sprung up about midnight, the wood was rapidly consumed.

I had prudently provided myself with a number of cartridges, when I was suddenly startled by the rushing in of two hyænas, which seemed to have silently approached under cover of the wood, and almost succeeded in carrying off our sheep. But one of them paid with its life for its audacity; and now throwing firebrands, then firing a shot, we succeeded in keeping the wild beasts at a respectful distance during the remainder of our restless halt here.

Early in the morning we arose in order to pursue our march, when, on removing our luggage, we found five scorpions under our leather bags; they had, most probably, been attracted by the heat of our fires, as in general this animal is not so frequent after the ground has been wetted by the rains. As we proceeded, the forest became clearer, and my Shúwa lad called my attention to the curious circumstance that the “díb,” which is very frequent in these regions, always deposits its excrements on the clean white spot of an ant-hill. The rain appeared to have been very considerable; and about a mile further on we passed a good sized pond, and a little further another of still larger size, producing all around a profusion of grass of the richest verdure. The soil here consisted of hard clay, and the vegetation was varied; but gradually the forest was succeeded by extensive cultivation, which announced our approach to a considerable place.

I had been well aware myself that we had left the road to Jógodé a long distance on our right; but I was greatly annoyed when I heard from the people who met us on the path that this village was Kókoroché, the very place which we had passed on our road from Mélé to Búgomán. Convinced, therefore, that I should be obliged to touch once more at the former village, I had a sad foreboding that I should meet with some unpleasant occurrence, and that it might not be my destiny to leave this country as yet. However, I made up my mind, and prepared myself for whatever might happen.

The country assumed a more genial aspect; and we reached a very extensive sheet of water, apparently of considerable depth, and adorned all around by fine spreading trees. Numbers of women were proceeding from the neighbouring village to fetch water. Having provided ourselves with a supply, we proceeded onwards, and halted in the shade of a fine “hájilíj,” in sight of the village. Numbers of cattle and asses were seen all around, and testified to the prosperity of the inhabitants. Kókoroché is an important place in the economy of this country; for it is this place, together with Búgomán, which furnishes the capital with the greatest supply of millet.

Determined to put a bold face upon matters, I ordered my people to slaughter the sheep, and made myself as comfortable as possible, spreading my carpet, damaged as it was by the ants in Bákadá, upon the ground, and assuming the appearance of being quite at my ease. At that time I was not aware that in this country none but the sultan and a few high dignitaries were allowed to sit on a carpet. While the meat was cooking on the fire, and holding out the promise of some unwonted luxury, I received a visit from the father-in-law of Gréma ʿAbdú, my host in Mústafají; and his appearance and hints confirmed my unfavourable anticipations. I related to him what had happened to me since I left him,—that the governor of Búgomán had refused to receive me into his town, and that I had remained eighteen days in Bákadá, waiting in vain for an order to be allowed to enter the capital. I showed him my carpet, and told him how it had been half devoured by the ants, and how we had suffered from want of sufficient food and shelter in the beginning of the rainy season. He was very sorry that I had not been treated with more regard; but he expressed his opinion that the lieutenant-governor would not allow me to leave the country in such a way.

Unfortunately this man was not open enough to confess to me that messengers from the capital had already arrived; neither did the bíllama, or rather “gollennánge” or “gar,” as he is here called—the head man of the village, who arrived with a numerous host of people just as I was about to start—give me any hint about it. Whether he came with the intention of keeping me back, and was afraid of executing his design, I do not know. In any case it would have been far more agreeable to me, if my fate had been decided here instead of at Mélé. As it was, he sent one of his people with me to show me the track to the river; and I started about an hour after noon.

Considerable showers, which had fallen here seven days previously, had changed the dry character of the country, and revived its luxuriant nature. The whole district presented the cheerful aspect of spring. Fresh meadow-lands spread out; and we passed some extensive sheets of water, bordered by undulating banks in the freshest verdure. We passed several villages, among which one called Mái-Dalá, was distinguished by its neat appearance, most of the huts having been recently thatched, to protect them against the rains. In the forest which intervened, dúm-bushes and dúm-palms, here called “kolóngo,” attracted my attention, on account of the wide range this plant occupies in Central Africa, while it was erroneously believed to belong exclusively to Upper Egypt. Having passed the shallow water of Ambusáda, where numbers of the blue-feathered bird here called “dellúk,” with red feet, were splashing about, we again approached the inauspicious village where I had first set my foot in this country.

Here also, during the short time I had been absent, a great change had taken place. The ground was being cleared, in order to prepare it for the labours of the rainy season; and the bushes and trunks of trees were burnt, in order to render the soil more productive by means of the fertilizing power of the ashes. We had not before passed so closely to the river; and I was astonished at the immense size of the ant-hills, which were not of the ordinary kind, such as they are seen in general, rising in steep conical peaks, but rather like those which I had seen near the Bénuwé—but of larger proportions and rising to an elevation of from 30 to 40 feet, and sloping very gradually, so that their circumference at the base in some cases measured more than 200 feet. The village itself had meanwhile changed its character, owing to the number of new huts which had been erected on account of the approach of the rainy season, and the old ones having received a new thatching. All these new structures consisted of reed and matting; but nevertheless it had a neat and cheerful appearance. As I entered the village, I was saluted by the inhabitants as an old acquaintance, and pitched my tent quietly on the former spot.

April 19th.This was a memorable day to me, destined to teach me a larger share of stubborn endurance. Having passed a quiet night, I began early to speak to the head man of the village about crossing the river, making him at the same time a small present. In Bagírmi also, as well as in Logón and other parts of Negroland, there is a separate officer for the river-communication. This officer, who in Bagírmi bears the title of alífa-bá (“kemán-komádugubé” or “officer of the river”), has an agent or kashélla in every village on the banks of the river where there is a ferry; and this agent was absent at the time. Meanwhile I was conversing with several of my former friends, and, among others, met an inhabitant of Jógodé, who regretted extremely that I had missed my road to that place, as I should have been well treated there, and forwarded on my journey without obstacle, almost all of the inhabitants being Kanúri. The governor of that place, who, like that of Moító, bears the title of “alífa,” had left, as this man informed me, in order to join the sultan on the expedition.

While I was thus conversing, the head man of the village suddenly came to my tent, and informed me that messengers had arrived from the lieutenant-governor, in order to prevent my proceeding; and upon his asking me what I intended to do, I told him that I would divide the time which I should be obliged to wait between this place, Jógodé, and Klésem, but that, if I should be compelled to wait too long, I should feel rather inclined to return to Logón. They rejected my proposal, and requested that I should stay in Mélé, saying that the inhabitants of the village had promised to supply me with rice and fish, and that I ought not to stir from here. While I was quietly expostulating with him upon this treatment, telling him that this was almost impossible, the place being too badly provided, and that they might at least allow me to remain half the time in the neighbouring village of Klésem, gradually more and more people entered my tent, and, suddenly seizing me, put my feet in irons.

Perhaps the unexpectedness of such an occurrence was rather fortunate; for if I had in the least divined their purpose, I might have made use of my arms. But taken by surprise and overpowered as I was, I resigned myself in patience, and did not speak a word. The people not only carried away my arms, but also all my luggage; and, what grieved me most, they even seized my chronometer, compass, and journal. Having then taken down my tent, they carried me to an open shed, where I was guarded by two servants of the lieutenant-governor.

After all this trying treatment, I had still to hear a moral lecture given me by one of these half pagans, who exhorted me to bear my fate with patience, for all came from God.

Even my servants at first were put in irons; but when they protested that if they were not set at liberty I should have nobody to serve me, their fetters were taken off, and they came faithfully to me to soothe my misfortune. In the evening the slave of the alífa-bá mounted my horse, and, taking one of my pistols with him, rode off to Más-eñá.

Having remained silently in the place assigned to me till the evening, I ordered my servants to demand my tent back, and to pitch it in the old place; and to my great satisfaction my request was granted. Thus I passed the four following days quietly in my tent, and, although fettered like a slave, resigned to my fate. Fortunately I had Mungo Park’s first journey with me; and I could never have enjoyed the account of his sufferings among the Ludamar (Welád-Ammer) better than I did in such a situation, and did not fail to derive from his example a great share of patience.

It was in this situation that, while reflecting on the possibility of Europeans civilizing these countries, I came to the conclusion that it would be absolutely necessary, in order to obtain the desired end, to colonize the most favourable tract of the country inclosed by the Kwára, the Bénuwé, and the river Kadúna, and thus to spread commerce and civilization in all directions into the very heart of the continent. Thus I wrote in my journal: “This is the only means to answer the desired end; everything else is vain.”

April 23rd.While lying in my tent in the course of the evening, my friend from Bákadá, Háj Bú-Bakr Sadík, arrived on my horse, and, being seized with indignation at the sight of my fetters, ordered them to be taken off without delay. I begged him to forgive me for having regarded myself as a free man, and not as a slave, not being aware of the real nature of my situation in this country. He, however, praised my conduct very highly, saying that I could not have acted otherwise than I did, and promising that I should now enter the capital without further delay of any kind.

Remaining cool and quiet under the favourable change of my circumstances, I thanked Providence for having freed me from this unpleasant situation, regarding it in the light of a useful lesson for future occasions. All my property was restored to me, even my arms, with the exception of the pistol which had been taken to the capital. However, the following day I had still to resign myself to patience, the chief servant of the lieutenant-governor not having yet arrived, and my horse, which had made the journey to the capital and back with great speed, wanting a little rest.

Sunday, April 25th.Early in the morning we entered upon our march once more, in an easterly direction; and although I had not yet experienced very kind treatment in this country, I was prepared to endure everything rather than to forego seeing the capital; but my poor servants were very differently disposed, for, having no mental interest, they felt the material privations more heavily. While they viewed with horror our projected journey eastward, they cast a melancholy look on the opposite bank of the river, which promised them freedom from privation as well as from vexation.

It was now for the fourth time that I was passing along the banks of the stream. It was at present at its very lowest (“bá nedónge,” as the Bagírmi people say), having sunk a foot or two since I first saw it, and having laid bare a much larger part of the sandbank. People in Europe have no idea of the situation of a solitary traveller in these regions. If I had been able to proceed according to my wishes, my road, from the very first moment when I entered the country, would have lain straight along the course of this mighty river towards its sources; but a traveller in these countries is no better than a slave, dependent upon the caprice of people without intelligence and full of suspicion. All that I could expect to be able still to accomplish, under present circumstances, was to obtain distinct information concerning the upper course of the river; for, ardent as had been my desire to join the sultan on his expedition, from all that I had seen I could scarcely expect that the people would allow me to go to any distance.

Our march the first day was rather short, for, having rested almost six hours, during the heat of the day, in a village called “Káda-bákaláy,” we went only three miles further, when we encamped in another village called “Káda-márga,” recently built, where the inhabitants of the deserted village of the same name, which on our return-journey from the capital we passed in the forest, had taken refuge. The village had a neat appearance, there being even a dyeing-place or “búkko alínbe;” it was also enlivened by several tame ostriches. The well, with a depth of from ten to twelve fathoms, contained a rich supply of water, but of bad quality.

The next day we made up for our loss of time, and only stopped for the night, about a couple of miles beyond Bákadá; for, notwithstanding my esteem for Bú-Bakr Sadík, I refused to make any stay in, or even to enter the place where I had been kept back so long a time. The wooded wilderness had become prepared by the rains to receive its temporary inhabitants the Shúwa; and the well of Bákadá, for the use of which I had been obliged to pay so many needles, was left to decay.

Tuesday, April 27th.We set out early in the morning, in order to reach at length the final object of our journey before the heat of the day. The country was well cultivated; and the fields of native corn were here also laid out in ridges, or “derába.” Trees were scattered in all directions, principally talha and hájilíj. The soil consisted of sand, but was succeeded further on by clay, forming several large basins, where, later in the rainy season, extensive ponds are formed. Here the country was enlivened by fine tamarind-trees, besides a few specimens of the dúm-palm. We then entered a district rich in herbage, and well adapted for cattle-breeding. Shúwa and Felláta foreigners were living here (as they generally do) together on friendly terms, as the similarity of the manners of these two distinct tribes, notwithstanding their different origin and totally distinct language, has brought them everywhere into the closest connection, and has facilitated in a remarkable manner the spreading of the latter race over so large an extent of Central Africa. The huts of these cattle-breeders are very different from those of the native settlers, being far more spacious, in order to admit the cattle, and having the roofs thatched in a very light and negligent manner, as they usually change their dwelling-places with the season, and therefore do not choose to bestow much labour upon them.

As we were proceeding onwards we suddenly obtained a view over a green open depression clad with the finest verdure, and interspersed with the ruins of clay houses. This, then, was Más-eñá, the capital. It presented the same ruined appearance as the rest of the country.

The town was formerly much larger; and the wall had been carried back, but it was still far too large for the town, and in the utmost state of decay. Ruined by a most disastrous civil war, and trodden down by its neighbours, the country of Bagírmi seems to linger till it is destined either to rise again, or to fall a prey to the first invader.

However, I was not allowed to enter the holy precinct of this ruined capital without further annoyance; for, being obliged to send a message to the lieutenant-governor, announcing my arrival, I was made to wait more than an hour and a half outside the gate, although there was not the least shade. I was then allowed to make my humble entrance. Only a few human beings were to be seen; and open pasture-grounds extended to a considerable distance, principally on the right side towards the south. We then entered the inhabited quarter; and I was lodged in a clay house standing in an open courtyard, which was likewise fenced by a low clay wall. The house contained an airy front room well suited to my taste, and four small chambers at the back, which were certainly not very airy, but were useful for stowing away luggage and provisions.

I had scarcely taken possession of my quarters, when numbers of people came to salute me on the part of the lieutenant-governor; and a short time afterwards a confidential slave of his made his appearance, to whom I delivered my presents, consisting of a piece of printed Manchester cotton sufficient for a tobe, an Egyptian shawl, several kinds of odoriferous essences, such as “makhbíl,” the fruit of a species of tilia, “lubán” or benzoin, and a considerable quantity of sandal-wood, which is greatly esteemed in the countries of Negroland east of Bórnu. While delivering these presents, and presenting my humble compliments, I declared myself unable to pay my respects personally to the lieutenant-governor, unless he restored my pistol, which was all that was wanting of the things which had been taken from me at Mélé; and after some negotiation, it was agreed upon that he should deliver to me the pistol as soon as I presented myself, without my even saying a word about it.

I therefore went in the afternoon with Bú-Bakr to see him, and found a rather affable man, a little beyond middle age, simply dressed in a dark-blue tobe, which had lost a good deal of its former lustre. Having saluted him, I explained to him how improper treatment and want of sufficient food had induced me to retrace my steps, after having convinced myself that I was not welcome in the country; for I assured him that it was our utmost desire to be friends with all the princes of the earth, and to make them acquainted with us, and that, although I had known that the ruler of the country himself was absent, I had not hesitated in paying them a visit, as I had been given to understand that it would be possible to join him in the expedition. He excused his countrymen on the ground that they, not being acquainted with our character, had treated me as they would have done a person belonging to their own tribe who had transgressed the rules of the country. He then restored me my pistol before all the people, and desired me to await patiently the arrival of the sultan.

The ruler of the country, together with the principal men, being absent, the place presented at that time a more quiet or rather dull appearance than it does in general; and when I took my first walk through the town, I was struck with the aspect of solitude which presented itself to the eye on all sides. Fortunately there was one man in the town whose society and conversation were a relief to my mind.

I was reclining in the afternoon upon my simple couch, occupied in reading, when I received a visit from three persons. One of them was a man of apparently Negro origin, showing, by his wrinkled countenance, a career of trouble and misfortune, but having otherwise nothing very remarkable about him. It was Háj Áhmed, of Bámbara origin, and formerly an inhabitant of Tawát, but who after a number of vicissitudes, having first been employed in the gold diggings of Bambúk, and afterwards been engaged on small trading expeditions from Tawát to Timbúktu (where he had been twice robbed by the Tawárek), and from the same place to Ágades and Kanó, had at last settled at Medína. From thence he had accompanied the warlike expedition of Íbrahím Bashá, had fought in the battles of ʿAkká and Deraije, and had been sent on several journeys as far as Basra and Baghdád, and at present being employed as servant at the great Mosque, had been dispatched to this country in order to obtain from its sultan a present of eunuchs for the temple of Medína. The second was a venerable-looking man, with a fine countenance, and a bushy half-silvery beard. This man was the religious chief of Bídderí, a place of which I shall speak hereafter.

The third visitor was Fáki Sámbo, a very tall and slender Púllo, with a scanty beard, and an expressive countenance, except that it lacked the most important feature which enlivens the human face, he being totally blind. At that time, however, I did not know him, although, when I heard him convey a considerable degree of knowledge in a lively and impressive manner, I almost suspected he might be the man of whom I had heard so much. I was puzzled, however, at his first question, which was, whether the Christians did not belong to the Bení Ísrʿayíl; that is to say, to the Jews.

This was the first conversation I had with this man, who alone contributed to make my stay in the place endurable. I could scarcely have expected to find in this out-of-the-way place a man not only versed in all the branches of Arabic literature, but who had even read (nay, possessed a manuscript of) those portions of Aristotle and Plato which had been translated into, or rather Mohammedanized in Arabic, and who possessed the most intimate knowledge of the countries which he had visited. His forefathers, belonging to that tribe of the Fúlbe which is called Fittobe, had emigrated into the southern parts of Wádáy, where they settled in the village of Bárek-alla. When he was a young man, his father, who himself possessed a good deal of learning, and who had written a work on Háusa, had sent him to Egypt, where he had studied many years in the mosque of El Ázhar. It had then been his intention to go to the town of Zebíd in Yemen, which is famous amongst the Arabs on account of the science of logarithms, or el hesáb; but when he had reached Gunfúda, the war which was raging between the Turks and the Wahábíye had thwarted his projects, and he had returned to Dár Fúr, where he had settled down some time, and had accompanied a memorable expedition to the south-west as far as the borders of a large river, of which I shall have another occasion to speak. Having then returned to Wádáy, he had played a considerable part as courtier in that country, especially during the reign of ʿAbd el ʿAzíz, till the present king, Mohammed e’ Sheríf, on account of his intimate relation with the prince just mentioned, had driven him from his court and banished him from the country.

After having once made the acquaintance of this man, I used to visit him daily; and he was always delighted to see, or rather to hear me, for he had nobody with whom he could talk about the splendour and achievements of the Khalifat, from Baghdád to Ándalos (Spain)—particularly of the latter country, with the history of whose towns, kings, and literary men he was intimately acquainted. He listened with delight when I once mentioned the astrolabe or sextant; and he informed me with pride that his father had been in possession of such an instrument, but that for the last twenty years he had not met a single person who knew what sort of thing an astrolabe was.

He was a very enlightened man, and in his inmost soul a Wahábi; and he gave me the same name, on account of my principles. I shall never forget the hours I passed in cheerful and instructive conversation with this man; for the more unexpected the gratification was, the greater, naturally, was the impression which it made upon me. Unluckily he died about a year after I left the country. In general it was I who called upon him, when he used to treat me with a very good cold rice pudding, and with dates from Kánem, which were rather of an inferior description; but when he came to me, I used to regale him with a cup of coffee, which was a great treat to him, carrying him back to more civilized regions, and he never omitted to press the cup to each of his temples. The only drawback to my intercourse with this man was, that he was as anxious to obtain information from me with regard to the countries of the Christians, and those parts of the world with which he was less acquainted, as I was to be instructed by him; besides that, he had a great deal of business, being occupied with the Sheríyʿa or Mohammedan law. He had a singular predilection for emetics; and he begged me so urgently to favour him with this treat, that in the course of a few weeks I gave him more than half a dozen for himself, besides those I was obliged to supply to his family. He suffered from bilious affections, and thought that emetics were the best remedies in the world.

Besides this man and Háj Áhmed, the man with whom I had most frequent intercourse during my stay in this country was Slímán, a travelling Arab sheríf, as he called himself, but in reality a Felláh, a native of Egypt, at present settled in Mekka, who had roved about a great deal, was very polite in his manners, and, although not a very learned man, possessed a certain degree of general information, especially with regard to the countries of Wádáy and Dár Fúr (where he had made a longer stay), and, having been assisted on his journey to Constantinople by Mr. Brand, Her Majesty’s consul at Smyrna, had a certain degree of attachment to Europeans.

But the greatest amount of information which I obtained, principally with regard to the country of Wádáy, proceeded from a young native of that country of the name of Íbrahím (the fáki Íbrahím), of the tribe of the Ábú-Shárib, with whom I passed several hours every day very pleasantly and usefully, and who attached himself so much to my person that I would freely have taken him with me to Sókoto, where he wanted to go in order to improve his learning under the tuition of the Fúlbe.

My relations with the lieutenant-governor were rather cool; and after he had given me a first treat, he left me for some days without any sign of hospitality, except that he once sent me a quantity of the fruit of the bíto tree or hájilíj, which I returned. He was a man without much intelligence, and had no idea of the scientific researches of a European.

Having but little exercise, I became very ill towards the end of this month, so that I thought it prudent to abstain entirely from food for five days, living exclusively upon an infusion of the fruit of the tamarind-tree and onions seasoned with some honey and a strong dose of black pepper,—a sort of drink which must appear abominable to the European, but which is a delightful treat to the feverish traveller in those hot regions. Convinced that my stay in this place, if I were not allowed to travel about, would be too trying for my constitution, I requested the lieutenant-governor to allow me to retrace my steps westward; but he would not consent, upon any condition whatever, that I should stir from the place.

This unfavourable disposition towards me assumed by degrees a more serious character, as, being unable to understand my pursuits, he could not but become suspicious of what I was doing. On the 21st of June when I was quietly sitting in my house, one of his servants, Agíd Músa, who was well disposed towards me, and who used to call occasionally, suddenly made his appearance with a very serious countenance, and after some hesitation, and a few introductory remarks, delivered a message from the governor to the following effect. He wanted to know from me whether it was true (as was rumoured in the town, and as the people had told him) that, as soon as a thunderstorm was gathering, and when the clouds appeared in the sky, I went out of my house and made the clouds withdraw; for they had assured him that they had repeatedly noticed that, as soon as I looked at the clouds with a certain air of command, they passed by without bringing a single drop of rain.

However serious the countenance of the messenger was, the purport of his message was so absurdly ridiculous that I could not help breaking out into a loud laugh, highly amused at the really pagan character of these soi-disant Mohammedans; but my friend begged me to regard the matter in a more serious light, and to take care what sort of answer I sent to his master. I then begged him to tell the governor that no man either by charm or by prayer was able either to prevent or to cause rain, but that God sent rain wherever and whenever it pleased him. I added, however, that if he believed my presence in the country was causing mischief, he might allow me to go, that I did not desire anything better than that, and should then pray night and day for rain, but that at present I myself could not wish for much rain, as I was afraid lest it should cut off my retreat, by swelling the river to too great a height.

The messenger departed with my answer, and returned after a while with the ultimatum of the governor, to the effect that it was his own opinion that no human being was able to prevent rain, but that all of us were servants of the Almighty, and that as they were praying for rain, I myself should add my prayer to theirs; I should then be allowed, at the proper time, to depart from them in safety, but that if I was ill-disposed towards them he likewise would do me evil, informing me at the same time that, for a similar reason, they had once killed two great religious chiefs from Bídderí.

Such was the character of the people with whom I had to deal, although they regarded themselves as enlightened Mohammedans. In order to show his good disposition, or most probably rather in order to see whether his good treatment of me would have any effect upon the amount of rain (as he seemed to take me for a “king of the high regions”), he sent me in the evening a dish of an excellent pudding, with plenty of butter, and a small pot of medíde, or gruel seasoned with the fruit of the dúm-palm, and even promised me corn for my horse; but as I did not send him rain in return, as he seemed to have expected, his hospitality did not extend further.

It had been my custom, when a thunderstorm was gathering, to look out, in order to see from what quarter it was proceeding, which is a question of great interest in these regions; but the absurd superstition of these people so alarmed me, that I scarcely dared to do so again. With regard to the superstition of the natives I must here mention a case which happened to my friend Sámbo. One day while I was engaged in earnest talk with him respecting the many sects of Islám, our conversation was suddenly interrupted by one of the daughters of the sultan entering abruptly, and accusing my friend, in the most offensive terms, of having abstracted from her, by his witchcraft, one of her slaves. But it was rather astonishing that a man with so vast an amount of learning was allowed to live at all, in the midst of such barbarians as these, without being continually suspected of sorcery and witchcraft. I shall not forget the day when I went to call on my friend, and found the unfortunate blind old man, sitting in his courtyard, in the midst of a heap of manuscripts which he could then only enjoy by touching them with his hands. Involuntarily I was reminded of a saying of Jackson’s, that the time would come when the texts of the classics would be emendated from manuscripts brought from the interior of Negroland.[42] From the very beginning, when I became aware of the character of these people, I had taken the greatest precautions; and hearing that the privilege of using a carpet was restricted to certain officers, I had stowed my old carpet away, although my couch, being on the bare ground, was not very soft.

The market, or “kaskú,”[43] occupied a great deal of my time and of my thoughts during my monotonous stay in this place, not so much on account of its importance as of my own poverty, as I was compelled to become a retail dealer on the smallest scale; for, hardly possessing anything except a small quantity of needles, I was obliged to send one of my servants daily to the market, in order to endeavour, by means of that very trifling article of European industry, to obtain the currency of the country. The currency of Bagírmi consists in strips of cotton, or fárda, like those which I have described on my journey to Ádamáwa—of very irregular measures, longer or shorter, in general of two “drʿa” length, and a hand in width—but of very different quality. Larger articles are bought and sold with shirts, “khalag (pl. kholgán”), as they are called by the Arabs, “bol,” as they are called by the natives, the value of which, according to their size and quality, varies from 70 to 150 fárda. I obtained a fárda for one large English darning-needle, or for four common German needles; but afterwards I doubled the price. Besides these I had very little left, with the exception of a few looking-glasses of that round kind which are sold in Lyons for one sou each, and which I sold here for the high price of one shirt or “khalag,” while a better sort of looking-glass, bought in London for eightpence, brought four khalag or kholgán, which are worth about a dollar. As for shells, called here “kemé-kemé,” they have no currency in the market, but form a merchandise by themselves, as an article of export into the pagan countries—at least those of larger size, which are in great request with the inhabitants of those countries as well as with the Welád Ráshid, it being said that 2,000 will fetch a young slave of the kind called “khomási,” and 3,000 a “sedási;” for those simple people not only wear these shells as ornaments, especially the women, who are said to cover their hinder parts with them, but they make also caps of them, with which they adorn the heads of their deceased relations, while the Welád Ráshid adorn principally the heads of their camels and horses with the favourite kemé-kemé, or “kémti,” as they are called in Wádáy.

Formerly there had been a market held only every Thursday; but a short time previous to my arrival the people had found it advantageous to have a market every day, so that there was a daily market from eight in the morning till eleven in the forenoon, and from three in the afternoon till sunset. Of course it was not very well supplied, and was confined to the mere necessaries of life, the greatest luxury it contained consisting of onions, an article which is not to be procured in every part of Central Africa. At first they were very cheap, eight being sold for a fárda; but with the approach of the rainy season they increased in price, and I thought it prudent to lay in a supply, as I found this article extremely conducive to my health. And I would advise every traveller in these regions to be always provided with this vegetable; for they may be either used for seasoning food, or cut in slices and mixed with tamarinds, making, as I have stated, a cool and refreshing drink. But the black natives, as I have already mentioned on another occasion, do not in general make use of onions for seasoning their food, their cultivation having been introduced into the country by the Arabs from the north, together with wheat. But the native Arabs, or Shíwa, and the Arabs from the coast, or Wáselí, use this vegetable to a great extent, as well for seasoning their food as for medicine, especially in case of fever, small-pox, and obstruction of urine, from which latter inconvenience they suffer very much, in consequence of their marching during the heat of the day.

Besides the articles above-mentioned, the commodity most plentiful in the market was grain, especially Guinea grain or Pennisetum typhoïdeum, the dealers in which had a special place assigned to them in the northern part of the market, under a fine tamarind-tree, or “más,”—the oldest part of the town,—which is even said to have given origin to the name Más-eñá, as I shall have occasion to describe further on. Besides beans (“mónjo”), and ground-nuts, called here “wúli” or “búli,” salt too (“kása”), owing to the presence of the Jelába from Wádáy, some of whom I had met on my road, was very plentiful; but it was only sold in very small portions. The same people also sold natron (“ngíllu”), which is brought by the Tebu from the border of the desert. Milk (“sí”) and butter (“búgu”) were dear, but sour milk (“sí chále”) in abundance—it is principally brought into the town by the daughters of the Bení Hassan. Honey (“téji”), which in many countries is so plentiful, is scarcely to be got at all. There were always a few head of sheep and cattle, and sometimes a few fowls were to be seen; occasionally also a horse of indifferent description made its appearance. Cotton (“ñyíre”) was rather scarce; and I did not see any indigo, “alíni.” Red pepper (“shíta”) formed a peculiar article of commerce, which was retailed in small parcels by the Bórnu traders.

The most important and almost only article of European produce (“ngásan Zaila”) consisted of beads, called “múnjo,” especially the small red ones, which are sold here in great quantities, and exported to the pagan countries. I also sold a few of the large species, called “nejúm,” of which the Shúwa are very fond. Calico, called here “shóter,” is a great rarity, and rather sold privately to the great men of the country. Kanó manufactures, called here “kálkobángri” or “ngásan degó,” form a prominent feature in the statistics of this market, especially túrkedí (“bolné”), while the Kanó and Nyffi tobes, called “bol godáni,” can only with difficulty compete with the native manufacture, the Bórnu people, or rather the Mákarí or Kótokó, having introduced into the country the art of dyeing. No slaves (“béli”) were brought into the market, all being sold in the houses, a circumstance which seemed to indicate a certain feeling of decency; but at a later period this article was by no means wanting in the market.

Ivory is not brought into the market, but the little which is sold is disposed of in the houses; but sometimes the Arabs who visit this country do a very profitable business in this article. The price of horses in general is estimated by slaves; and the value of the latter is very low in this country, as may be inferred from what I have said above respecting the small sum paid for them in the countries towards the south: but slaves exported from here are not esteemed, as they are said to be more subject to disease than those from other countries, and generally die in a very short time. Female slaves certainly, natives of the country of Bagírmi, are highly esteemed; but as almost all the inhabitants of the country, at least outwardly, profess Islám, very few are at present sold into slavery, while formerly they were scattered all over the north of Africa, in consequence of the great slave-hunting expeditions of the Bashá of Fezzán. The Shúwa or Shíwa generally effect their purchases with cows.

Although my means when I undertook this journey were extremely small, nevertheless I had not thought it impossible that I might succeed in penetrating into Wádáy, or even in reaching the lands of the Nile; and I often indulged in the pleasure of counting over my small stock of goods, and conceived the idea how, by giving away everything I possessed, I might accomplish such an enterprise; but I soon found that I was compelled to give up all such plans, and although I think that a traveller with sufficient means, and a great deal of patience and endurance, might succeed in entering Wádáy from this side, I am sure that the ruler of that country would certainly keep him back for a whole year. I therefore only aspired at visiting some places in the neighbourhood; and I was particularly anxious to obtain a sight of that small branch of the river which, having separated from the principal trunk near the town of Miltú, approaches to within about nine miles of the capital. But the lieutenant-governor would not allow me to leave the place, neither would he suffer me to visit Ábú-Gher, which is situated at about the same distance in a N.N.W. direction, and where a considerable market is held every Saturday, although I told him that it was essential for me to go, in order to procure there my necessary supplies; and I was therefore obliged to content myself with sending my servants.

They found the market of Ábú-Gher of about the same importance as the little market or durríya in Kúkawa, with this exception, that cattle were more numerous in Ábú-Gher; and they counted about a hundred head of large beasts, and about the same number of sheep. There was a great deal of sorghum and cotton, but little Guinea corn or millet. Besides tobes, hoes for field-labour, cowries, and natron from the Bahr el Ghazál form the principal commodities. As a sort of curiosity, my servants mentioned a kind of bread or tiggra made of the fruit of the hájilíj or Balanites Ægyptiaca (the “bíto” of the Kanúri), and called “sírne.” As a specimen of the great diversity of individual manners which prevails in these regions, I will here mention that the fárda in Ábú-Gher, which is the standard currency of the market, is different from that used in Más-eñá, measuring three drʿa in length and one hand in width. The village of Ábú-Gher consists of two separate groups divided by a vale or depression, where the market is held, and containing a considerable proportion of Fúlbe or Felláta inhabitants, who were the founders of the village.

Finding that I was not allowed to stir from the place where I was, I resigned myself in patience, and tried to take occasionally a little exercise round the town, when roving about, sometimes on foot, sometimes on horseback, I made by degrees a general survey of the town, which I have incorporated into the accompanying ground-plan, which, though very imperfect, and not pretending in any way to absolute accuracy, will nevertheless serve to give the reader a fair idea of the place.