The great feature which distinguishes the market of Timbúktu from that of Kanó is the fact, that Timbúktu is not at all a manufacturing town, while the emporium of Háusa fully deserves to be classed as such. Almost the whole life of the city is based upon foreign commerce, which, owing to the great northerly bend of the Niger, finds here the most favoured spot for intercourse, while at the same time that splendid river enables the inhabitants to supply all their wants from without; for native corn is not raised here in sufficient quantities to feed even a very small proportion of the population, and almost all the victuals are imported by water-carriage from Sansándi and the neighbourhood.
The only manufactures carried on in the city, as far as fell under my observation, are confined to the art of the blacksmith, and to a little leatherwork. Some of these articles, such as provision or luggage bags, cushions, small leather pouches for tobacco, and gun-cloths, especially the leather bags, are very neat, as shown in the accompanying wood-cuts; but even these are mostly manufactured by Tawárek, and especially females, so that the industry of the city is hardly of any account. It was formerly supposed that Timbúktu was distinguished on account of its weaving[9], and that the export of dyed shirts from hence was considerable; but I have already had an opportunity of showing that this was entirely a mistake, almost the whole clothing of the natives themselves, especially that of the wealthier classes, being imported either from Kanó[10] or from Sansándi, besides the calico imported from England. The export of the produce of Kanó, especially by way of Árawán, extends to the very border of the Atlantic, where it comes into contact with the considerable import of Malabar cloth by way of St. Louis, or Ndér, on the Senegal, while the dyed shirts from Sansándi, which, as far as I had an opportunity of observing, seem to be made of foreign or English calico, and not of native cotton, do not appear to be exported to a greater distance. These shirts are generally distinguished by their rich ornament of coloured silk, and look very pretty; and I am sorry that I was obliged to give away, as, a present a specimen which I intended to bring home with me. The people of Timbúktu are very experienced in the art of adorning their clothing with a fine stitching of silk, but this is done on a very small scale, and even these shirts are only used at home. There is, however, a very considerable degree of industry exercised by the natives of some of the neighbouring districts, especially Fermágha, who produce very excellent woollen blankets, and carpets of various colours, which form a most extensive article of consumption with the natives.
The foreign commerce has especially three great high-roads: that along the river from the south-west (for lower down the river there is at present scarcely any commerce at all), which comprises the trade proceeding from various points; and two roads from the north, that from Morocco on the one hand, and that from Ghadámes on the other. In all this commerce, gold forms the chief staple, although the whole amount of the precious metal exported from this city appears to be exceedingly small, if compared with a European standard. It probably does not exceed an average of 20,000l. sterling per year.[11] The gold is brought either from Bambúk or from Búre, but from the former place in a larger quantity. The gold from the country of the Wángaráwa does not reach this market, but, as it seems, at present is directly exported to that part of the southern coast which on this account is called the Gold Coast. The species of gold from Bambúk is of a more yellow colour; that from Búre is rather whitish; and that from Wángara has a greenish hue. Most of this gold, I think, is brought into the town in rings. I do not remember to have seen or heard of gold dust, or “tibber,” being brought to market in small leathern bags, such as Shabíni and other people describe, containing about one ounce, equal to twenty-five dollars in value. But, nevertheless, a considerable amount of this article must come into market, as most of the gold dust which comes to Ghadámes and Tripoli passes through Timbúktu, while another portion goes directly from Sansándi to Árawán.[12]
It was evidently in consequence of the influence of the Arabs, that the scale of the mithkál[13] was introduced in the trade in gold; but it is a very general term, which may signify very different quantities, and thus we find various kinds of mithkáls used in Negroland, especially those of Ágades, Timbúktu, and Mango, the Mandingo place between Yendí and the Niger, the former of which is the smallest, and equal, as I have stated in the proper place, to 1000 shells of Háusa standard, although in the present decayed state of the town of Ágades, where all the gold trade has ceased, it possesses rather an imaginary value. The mithkál of Timbúktu contains the weight of 24 grains of the kharúb tree, or 96 of wheat, and is worth from 3000 to 4000 shells.[14] The mithkál of Mango is equal to 1¼ of that of Timbúktu. Besides rings, very handsome ornaments are worked of gold; but, as far as I could learn, most of this workmanship comes from Waláta, which is still celebrated on this account.[15]
The next article that forms one of the chief staples in Timbúktu, and in some respects even more so than gold, is salt, which, together with gold, formed articles of exchange all along the Niger from the most ancient times.[16] It is brought from Taödénni, a place whose situation has been tolerably well established by M. Caillié’s journey[17], and the mines of which have been worked, as we know from Áhmed Bábá, since the year 1596, when the former mines of Tegháza, situated some seventy miles further to the north, were given up. These salt mines of Tegháza appear to have been worked from very remote times, or at least before the eleventh century; and there can be little doubt that the mines of Tátentál, described by the excellent geographer El Bekrí as situated twenty days’ journey from Sijilmésa, and two from the beginning of the desert, are identical with Tegháza. Even at that time both Sigilmésa and Ghánata were provided from here, while at least the eastern and original portion of Songhay was supplied at that early period from the mines of Taútek, six days from Tademékka.[18]
In Taödénni the salt, which covers a very extensive tract of ground in the district “El-Jóf,” is formed in five layers, or “úje,” the uppermost of which is called el-wára; the second, el-bentí; the third, el-hammamíye; the fourth, el-káhela, or the black one; and the lowest, which is embedded in the water, el-kámera, or el-bédha. The upper of these layers are of little value, and the most in request is the fourth layer, or el-káhela, the colour of which is a most beautiful intermixture of black and white, like a species of marble. The ground is let out by the “káíd,” who resides here, and whose name at the present time is Zén, in small portions, where the diggings are made, and he levies a tribute called the khomús from each hofra, or hole, the rest being sold by the workmen.
The largest pieces of salt which are dug out here measure 3 feet 5 inches in length, 13 inches in height, and 2⅓ inches in thickness, but they are of very unequal size, varying from 50 to 65 lb. in weight; this, however, is only half of one layer, each layer being sawn into two slabs. The price of these slabs of course varies greatly at different times, but, as far as I became aware, in general does not reach such an exorbitant price as has been mentioned by Leo Africanus, Mr. Jackson, General Daumas, and others. When lowest, the price of each middle-sized slab does not exceed 3000 shells; and the highest price which was paid during my residence in the town was 6000, the price always rising towards spring, when the salt caravans become scarce on account of the number of blood-flies which infest the town and the neighbourhood of the river. Of course, when this great highroad is shut up for a long period, in consequence of feuds between the various tribes, the price may for a time rise much higher, but such cases must be quite exceptional.
The trade in salt on a large scale, as far as regards Timbúktu, is entirely carried on by means of the túrkedí, or the cloth for female apparel, manufactured in Kanó; the merchants of Ghadámes bartering in the market of Árawán six túrkedí, or “mélhafa,” for nine slabs, or “hajra,” of salt, on condition that the Arabs bring the salt ready to market; or twelve, including the carriage to Taödénni. If they themselves then carry the salt to Timbúktu, they sell there eight slabs of salt for six mithkál of gold; but if they carry it to Sansándi, each slab of salt fetches two mithkál.
But the expense of this journey up the river is very great, on account of the boats being obliged to unship their merchandise at the islands of Jafarábe, whence it is taken to Sansándi on the backs of asses, and on account of the ʿashúr, which is levied by the Fúlbe, the expense is equal to about thirty-three per cent; so that, out of every six slabs of salt transported to Sansándi, two are required for covering the expense of transport. Thus, each túrkedí bought in Kanó for about 1800 shells fetches two mithkál of gold when sold in Sansándi, while in Timbúktu it fetches from one to one and one sixth. This certainly, when we take into account the price of gold in Ghadámes and Tripoli, is a considerable profit: but the road which this merchandise takes from Kanó to Ghát, thence to Tawát, and from that place to Timbúktu, is very circuitous and expensive, and requires the agency and cooperation of several persons, no single merchant undertaking the whole of the traffic.
I have already remarked, in the proper place, that Libtáko, or rather Dóre, forms the market-place for the salt for supplying the provinces to the south-east of Timbúktu. It is transported thither by a direct road by way of Tósaye or Gógó, without touching at Timbúktu; while, with regard to the region to the south-west, Sansándi is the great entrepôt for this commerce. The trade in this article, which, in countries where it is wanting entirely, becomes so precious, and the more so the greater its bulk, is, as I said before, of very ancient date in this western part of Negroland. But the salt was brought at that period, not from Taödénni, but from the neighbouring salt mines of Tegháza; and, in the former period, found its entrepôt in Ghánata and Waláta.
The gúro, or kóla nut, which constitutes one of the greatest luxuries of Negroland, is also a most important article of trade. Possessing this, the natives do not feel the want of coffee, which they might so easily cultivate to any extent, the coffee plant seeming to be indigenous in many parts of Negroland. The gúro which is brought to the market of Timbúktu is imported from the provinces of Tangréra, the town which was touched at by M. Caillié on his journey from Sierra Leone to Morocco, and of Teuté and Káni, to the south of Timé; while the gúro which is brought to the market of Kanó is imported from the northern province of Asanti; and the trees which furnish these different kinds of kóla nuts do not belong to the same species, being distinguished as Sterculia acuminata, or the red kóla nut, and Sterculia macrocarpa, or the white kóla nut; although the variety appears merely to apply to the seed, the fruit of the latter kind being generally of larger size, while both flower and leaf are quite identical.
But there is a good deal of variety in the character of the gúro nut of each of these two species; and in Kanó four different kinds are distinguished, according to the size of the fruit; namely, the guríye, the largest fruit, which often measures an inch and a half, and sometimes even nearly two inches in diameter, and is sold at a very high price; secondly, the marsakátu; in the third place, the sára-n-wága; and fourth, the ménu. But this is not all. There is a further distinction of three kinds, according to the season when the fruit is gathered: first, the já-n-karágu, the first gúro, which is collected about the end of February, but spoils easily, like the takdúf among the dates; secondly, the gammagári, collected at a later season, when the greater part of the fruit is ripe, and remaining from three to four months on the tree, being regarded by the Arabs as corresponding to those kind of dates called tásfirt; and lastly, there is the náta, the rest of the gúro, and of small size, which does not spoil.
As for the gúro sold in Timbúktu, I had no opportunity of observing so many different varieties, but only became aware of three distinctions being made, viz. the tinóro, or Tíno-úro, “úro” being the corresponding Songhay name for gúro, and Tíno, or Tína, the name of a district; then the kind called síga; and thirdly, that called fára-fára.
As regards Selga, the district to which the Háusa traders go for their supply of this article, three points are considered essential to the business of the kóla trade; first, that the people of Mósi bring their asses; secondly, that the Tonáwa, or natives of Asanti, bring the nut in sufficient quantities; and thirdly, that the state of the road is such as not to prevent the Háusa people from arriving. If one of these conditions is wanting, the trade is not flourishing. The price of the asses rises with the cheapness of the gúro. The average price of an ass in the market of Selga is 15,000 shells; while in Háusa the general price does not exceed 5000. But the fatáki, or native traders, take only as many asses with them from Háusa as are necessary for transporting their luggage, as the toll, or fitto, levied upon each ass by the petty chiefs on the road, is very considerable. From 5000 to 6000 gúro, or kóla nuts, constitute an ass load.
Selga, the market-place for this important article, being, it appears, a most miserable town, where even water is very scarce and can only be purchased at an exorbitant price, the merchants always manage to make their stay here as short as possible, awaiting the proper season in Yendi, a town said to be as large as Timbúktu, or in Kulféla, the great market-place of Mósi; and they are especially obliged to wait in case they arrive at the beginning of the rainy season, there being no kóla nuts before the latter part of the kharíf. The price of this nut in Timbúktu varies from 10 to 100 shells each, and always constitutes a luxury, so that, even on great festivals, alms consisting of this article are distributed by the rich people of the town.
So much for three of the most important articles of trade in Timbúktu,—gold, salt, and the kóla nut; the salt trade comprising also the dealings in the native cloth manufactured in Kanó, which forms the general medium of exchange for this article, and about which I have already spoken in detailing the commerce of the great entrepôt of Háusa. I will only add here, that, as Kanó is not a very old place, this want must have been supplied before from some other quarter. It is probable that, as long as Songhay was flourishing, such an import was not needed at all; and we find from several remarks made by El Bekrí, and other ancient geographers, that the art of weaving was very flourishing on the Upper Niger, but especially in the town of Silla, from very ancient times.[19] It is highly interesting to learn from these accounts that even in the eleventh century the cotton cloth was called in this region by the same name which it still bears at the present day, namely, “shigge.”
The price of the articles brought to this market from the region of the Upper Niger, especially from Sansándi, varies greatly, depending as it does upon the supply of the moment. Provisions, during my stay, were, generally speaking, very cheap, while Caillié complains of the high prices which prevailed in his time.[20] But it must also be taken into account that the French traveller proceeded from those very countries on the Upper Niger from which Timbúktu is supplied, and where, in consequence, provisions are infinitely cheaper, while I came from countries which, owing to the state of insecurity and warfare into which they have been plunged for a long series of years, were suffering from dearth and famine.
The chief produce brought to the market of Timbúktu consists of rice and negro corn; but I am quite unable to state the quantities imported. Besides these articles, one of the chief products is vegetable butter, or mai-kadéña, which, besides being employed for lighting the dwellings, is used most extensively in cookery as a substitute for animal butter, at least by the poorer class of the inhabitants. Smaller articles, such as pepper, ginger, which is consumed in very great quantities, and sundry other articles, are imported. A small quantity of cotton is also brought into the market, not from Sansándi, I think, but rather from Jimbálla and some of the neighbouring provinces, no cotton being cultivated in the neighbourhood of the town: but the natives do not seem to practise much weaving at home, even for their own private use.
At the time of my visit, the caravan trade with Morocco, which is by far the most important, was almost interrupted by the feuds raging among the tribes along that road, especially between the Érgebát and Tájakánt on the one side, and the various sections of the Tájakánt on the other. This is the reason why in that year there were no large caravans at all, which in general arrive about the beginning of November, and leave in December or January.
These caravans from the north are designated, by the Arabs in this region, by the curious name ʿakabár (in the plural, ʿakwabír); the origin of which I have not been able to make out, but it is evidently to be ranked among that class of hybrid words used by the people hereabouts, which belong neither to the Arabic nor to the Berber language. The same term is even used in Morocco to denote a very large caravan or an aggregate of many small caravans; but in Timbúktu the term kafla is quite unusual for small parties, the name in use being “réfega.”
In former times these caravans, at least those from Morocco by way of Téfilélet, and from the wádí Darʿa by way of the territory of the ʿAríb, seem to have been numerous, although they never amounted to the number mentioned in Mr. Jackson’s account of Morocco[21], and in various other works.
The small caravans of Tájakánt which arrived during my stay in the town, the largest of which did not number more than seventy or eighty camels, are rather an exception to the rule, and can therefore furnish no data with regard to the average, although I am quite sure that they very rarely exceed 1000 camels. The consequence of this state of things was, that, especially during the first part of my residence, the merchandise from the north fetched a very high price, and sugar was scarcely to be had at all.
With regard to European manufactures, the road from Morocco is still the most important for some articles, such as red cloth, coarse coverings, sashes, looking-glasses, cutlery, tobacco; while calico especially, bleached as well as unbleached, is also imported by way of Ghadámes, and in such quantities of late, that it has greatly excited the jealousy of the Morocco merchants. The inhabitants of Ghadámes are certainly the chief agents in spreading this manufacture over the whole north-western part of Africa, and, in consequence, several of the wealthier Ghadámsi merchants employ agents here. The most respectable among the foreign merchants in Timbúktu is Táleb Mohammed, who exercises at the same time a very considerable political influence; and the wealthiest merchants from Morocco besides him, during the time of my stay, were El Méhedi, the astronomer, Múlʿa ʿAbd e’ Salám, the nobleman, and my friend the Swéri: while among the Ghadámsi merchants, Mohammed ben Táleb, Snúsi ben Kyári, Mohammed Lebbe-Lebbe, Haj ʿAlí ben Sháwa, and Mohammed Weled el Kádhi, were those most worth mentioning.
But to apply even to these first-rate merchants a European standard of wealth would be quite erroneous, the actual property of none of them exceeding probably 10,000 dollars, and even that being rather an exceptional case. Scarcely any of them transact business on a large scale, the greater part of them being merely agents for other merchants residing in Ghadámes, Swéra (Mogador), Merákesh (Morocco), and Fás.
The greater part of the European merchandise comes by way of Swéra, where several European merchants reside, and from this quarter proceeds especially the common red cloth, which, together with calico, forms one of the chief articles of European trade brought into the market. All the calico which I saw bore the name of one and the same Manchester firm, printed upon it in Arabic letters. But I am quite unable, either with respect to this article or any other, to give an account of the quantity brought into market. All the cutlery in Timbúktu is of English workmanship. Tea forms a standard article of consumption with the Arabs settled in and around the town; for the natives it is rather too expensive a luxury.
A feature which greatly distinguishes the market of Timbúktu from that of Kanó, is the almost entire absence of that miserable kind of silk, or rather refuse, “twáni” and “kundra,” which forms the staple article in the market of Kanó. Other articles also of the delicate Nüremberg manufacture are entirely wanting in this market: such as the small round looking-glasses, called “lemmʿa,” which some time ago had almost a general currency in Kanó. The market of Timbúktu, therefore, though not so rich in quantity, surpasses the rival market of Kanó in the quality of the merchandise. Bernúses, or Arab cloaks, furnished with a hood, also seem to be disposed of here to a considerable extent, although they must form too costly a dress for most of the officers at the courts of the petty chiefs, in the reduced state of all the kingdoms hereabouts; and at all events they are much more rarely seen here than in the eastern part of Negroland. These bernúses of course are prepared by the Arabs and Moors in the north, but the cloth is of European manufacture. The calico imported constitutes a very important article. It is carried from here up the country as far as Sansándi, although in the latter place it comes into competition with the same article which is brought from the western and south-western coasts.
Among the Arab merchandise tobacco forms a considerable article of consumption, especially that produced in Wádí Nún, and called, par excellence, “el warga,” “the leaf,” as it is not only smoked by the Arabs and natives in the country, as far as they are not exposed to the censure of the ruling race of the Fúlbe, but is even exported to Sansándi. I have already observed that tobacco constitutes a contraband article in all the towns where the Fúlbe of Hamda-Alláhi exercise dominion, and in Timbúktu especially, where one can only indulge in this luxury in a clandestine manner.
Tobacco, together with dates, forms also the chief article of import from Tawát, the species from that place being called “el wargat,” the leaves indicating its inferior character to the first-rate article from Wadí Nún. Dates and tobacco form articles of trade among the people of Tawát, the poor tradesmen of that country possessing very little of themselves besides. But the quantity of these articles imported has also been greatly overrated by those who have spoken of the commercial relations of these regions from a distance. At least I am sure that the whole of the time I was staying in the town only about twenty camel-loads of these two articles together were imported.
With regard to exports, they consisted, at the time of my stay in the place, of very little besides gold and a moderate quantity of gum and wax, while ivory and slaves, as far as I was able to ascertain, seemed not to be exported to any considerable amount. However, a tolerable proportion of the entire export from these regions proceeds by way of Árawán, without touching at Timbúktu. At any rate, those gentlemen who estimate the annual export of slaves from Negroland to Morocco at about 4000[22] are certainly mistaken, although in this, as well as in other respects, the exceptional and anarchical state of the whole country at the time of my residence, and my own most critical situation, did not allow me to arrive at any positive results. Thus much is certain, that an immense field is here opened to European energy, to revive the trade which, under a stable government, formerly animated this quarter of the globe, and which might again flourish to great extent. For the situation of Timbúktu is of the highest commercial importance, lying as it does at the point where the great river of Western Africa, in a serpentlike winding, approaches most closely to that outlying and most extensive oasis of “the far West,”—Mághreb el Aksa, of the Mohammedan world,—I mean Tawát, which forms the natural medium between the commercial life of this fertile and populous region and the north; and whether it be Timbúktu, Waláta, or Ghánata, there will always be in this neighbourhood a great commercial entrepôt, as long as mankind retain their tendency to international intercourse and exchange of produce.
[1]I possess two of these essays, the contents of which at the present moment are not quite devoid of interest, as they show in what light these Mohammedans regard the Christians.
[2]I assume here the identity of these two rivers, which, however, has not yet been fully demonstrated. Compare also the anomalous rising of the Chobé (Journ. Royal Geol. Soc., vol. xxii. p. 169.); although an isolated phenomenon, caused by an unusual and unequal fall of rain in the basin of the various branches of a great river-system, must not be confounded with a constant and regular course.
[3]See Isert in the Journal Hertha, vol. x. a. 1827, p. 374.; M‘Gill in Berghaus’s Journal (Zeitschrift), vol. viii. a. 1848, p. 59-61.; with regard to Cape Palmas, Fraissinet in Nouvelles Annales des Voyages, 1855, vol. ii. p. 291-293.
[4]See Tomaro from Caillié’s Observations in Berghaus’s Annal. 1829, p. 769.; but especially Caillié’s own account of his stay in Timé, vol. i. p. 328. (Eng. ed.): “The rains, to be sure, were not so incessant, but we regularly had rain every day, until October, when it became less frequent.” We know also from Caillié that the Milo, the South-eastern branch of the Niger, or Dhiúlibá, reaches its highest level in September. Park’s observations, even, show that the rains in the districts traversed by him extend till November; while we learn from him (Park’s First Journey, 3rd ed. 4to. p. 12.) that the Gambia, whose feeders partly issue from the same districts which feed the western branches of the Niger, reaches its highest level in the beginning of October; and when we learn, from the same eminent traveller, that by the beginning of November the Gambia had sunk already to its former level, we must take into account the very short course of that river in comparison with the Niger which has a course of two thousand miles. The sinking of the Niger at Sansándi by about four inches, on the 8th of October (Park, vol. ii. p. 274), was only a temporary fluctuation.
[5]See Laird and Oldfield, vol. ii. p. 275. “It was a source of satisfaction to find that, owing to the rains up the country, the river began to rise about Saturday, March 22nd, since which time it had increased about two inches. A few drops of rain that fell this morning was all that we had at Iddah.”
[6]Shabíni, in stating that the báb el gibleh was the east gate, certainly labours under a mistake, “gibleh” with these Western Arabs signifying the west. With regard to the creek, where we saw the boats, see the ground plan, Vol. IV. p. 478, n. 10.
[7]The hippopotamus being called “banga” in the Songhay language, the name, if really derived from that cause, ought to be spelt “Bangíndi;” but the g may be a nasal sound.
[8]I have handed over this specimen of Timbúktu manufacture, together with other specimens of leather-work, to the Foreign Office.
[9]It may have been so, nevertheless, in the time of Leo, who mentions the many “botteghe di tessitori di tele di bambagio.” B. vii. c. 5.
[10]I will here only observe that Lord Fitzclarence, owing to the inquiries which, on his passage along the Red Sea, he made of a clever pilgrim, obtained a hint of this interesting fact. Journey from India overland, p. 423.
[11]M. Gråberg de Hemsö estimates the export of Morocco manufactures to Negroland at one million dollars, and the import to Morocco from Nigritia, at from three to four millions. Specchio di Morocco, &c., p. 146.
[12]M. Testa, in his “Notice statistique et commerciale sur la Régence de Tripoli, 1856,” states the import of gold dust into Tripoli to be of the value of 240,000 francs.
[13]Whether it be true as some maintain (amongst others M. Prax, “Commerce de l’Algérie, 1849,” p. 13.), that the name mithkál is a corruption of “medical,” a term used to denote the small weight used for medical purposes, I am not able to decide. I always thought that it was derived from ثَقَلَ.
[14]M. Prax, p. 12. of the little pamphlet just mentioned in the preceding note, is totally wrong in supposing the mithkál of Timbúktu equal to half a duro, or Spanish dollar, or two fr. sixty cents. The very lowest price is just double.
[15]There are some interesting articles of gold represented by Lord Fitzclarence in the work above mentioned.
[16]See El Bekrí, ed. de Slane, p. 174:—
يبدل الملح فيها بالذهب
In another passage (p. 183.) he describes the commerce of Gógó in the words:—
وتجارة اهل بلد كوكوا بالملح وهو نقدهم
“The commerce of Gógó consists of salt, and salt is their standard currency.”
[17]See Caillié’s Travels to Timbuctoo, ii. p. 119; and about Tegháza, or, as he writes, Trasas, or Trarzas, p. 128.
[18]El Bekrí, p. 171. In the time of Ébn Haukál (a. H. 960) the salt was brought from Aúlíl to Aúdaghost.
[19]El Bekrí, p. 173:—
وتبايع اهل سلي بالذرة والملح وحلق النحاس وازر لطاف من قطن يسمونها الشكيات - الازر المسماة بالشكياتن
[20]Caillié, Journey to Timbúctoo, ii. p. 33.
[21]P. 96. Here Jackson states the average size of such a caravan at 10,000 camels; and even the more cautious M. Gråberg de Hemsö repeats these statements in his “Specchio di Morocco,” p. 144. seq. “Ciononostante (le caravane) conducono talvolta seco da 16 fino a 20 mila cammelli.”
[22]Gråberg de Hemsö, Specchio di Morocco, p. 146. Besides slaves, he enumerates as articles of export from Timbúktu to Morocco, ivory, rhinoceros horns, incense, gold dust, cotton strips (? verghe), jewels, ostrich feathers of the first quality, gum copal, cotton, pepper, cardamom, asafœtida, and indigo.
DIARY CONTINUED.
Being enabled to collect a good deal of information, as far as my situation allowed, I did not choose to accompany the Sheikh when he again went to the tents on the 24th of January. He promised that he would only stay a day or two, but he did not return until the 29th. On this occasion I took the liberty of reminding him that he was not over-scrupulous in keeping his word; but, in his amiable way, he evasively replied, “that if a person had only one fault, or ‘ʿaíb,’ it was of no consequence.” Among my informants at this time, two Kanúri travellers, who had visited all the countries of the Wángaráwa, or Eastern Mandingoes, and one of whom had penetrated even as far as the Gold Coast, were most distinguished. Besides a good deal of information, especially with regard to the topography of the country of Mósi, they gave me an account of the petty struggle between the Swedish and the Tonáwa or Asanti; and they also informed me that the Mósi people had plundered the villages of Dúna, Kúbo, and Isáy, all of them belonging to the province of Dalla, which we had passed on our road hither, and where, they said, no inhabitants were now left. The sheikho Áhmedu, after having collected an expedition against the Íregenáten, had changed his plans, in order to march against the mountain stronghold of Konna; but, as we afterwards heard, he was repulsed by the natives, the Sáro, who, relying upon their strong position, defended themselves with great valour.
Meanwhile, the salt, the staple produce of Timbúktu, gradually became dearer, the large “rás” fetching now 3800 shells; for, as I have stated, the price constantly increases, caravans not being enabled to visit the place during the following months, till the end of April, on account of the large blood-flies infesting the river. A small caravan containing from forty to fifty camels, which arrived on the 28th, was one of the latest that came into the town.
Thus ended the month of January, with utter disappointment at the failure of my expected departure, and with nothing but empty promises. After a sleepless night, I awoke on the 1st of February full of anxiety. I felt really afraid lest my host, notwithstanding his friendly disposition towards me, might keep me here the whole summer. At length I eased my mind in a slight degree by writing a letter to the Sheikh, wherein I made him a witness against himself, in having so repeatedly given me his word, that I should certainly leave this city and proceed on my home journey. But matters, indeed, now looked more serious, another Púllo officer of well-known energy, viz. Átkar, the governor of Gúndam and Díre, having arrived with a considerable troop of armed men from Hamda-Állahi, and another man of still more importance, Áhmed el Férreji, was soon expected. The Fúlbe seemed fully resolved to vindicate their power and authority over the town; and, in order to show that they were masters of the place, they exacted this year a tribute of 2000 shells on each slave with great severity.
Uncertain as were my prospects, I contrived to pass my time usefully by applying myself to the study of the idiom of the Western Tawárek, with Mohammed ben Khottár, the Sheikh’s nephew, and a Tárki of the name of Músa, for my teachers. Thus endeavouring to master my impatience, I listened with composure to the several rumours which were repeatedly spread with regard to the arrival of the various brothers of the Sheikh, an event which, according to his statement, formed now the only reason for delaying my departure. But in a long private conversation which I had with him on the 4th, when I urged him more than usual, he began to appeal to my humane feelings, and, discarding all political motives, confessed that the chief reason which detained him was the pregnancy of his wife, and earnestly begged me to await the result of this event.
All this time, on account of the unusual height which the inundation had reached this year, a great deal of sickness prevailed in the town; and among the various people who fell a sacrifice to the disease was the son of Táleb Mohammed, the richest and most influential Arab merchant in the place, whose life I should have liked very much to save; but, seeing that the cure was very uncertain, I thought it more prudent (as I always did in such cases) not to give him any medicine at all.
Having staid several days in the town, we again went out to the tents in the afternoon of the 8th, in the company of Rummán and Mushtába, two Tawárek chiefs who had come to pay the Sheikh a visit. On emerging from the Áberaz, I had with the latter a horse-race to some distance. As the Fullán seemed to have some projects against the Tawárek, and had strengthened their military power in the town of Gúndam, these Berber tribes were very much irritated against the former; they had even made an attack on a boat, and killed one of the Fullán and wounded another, while those of their tribe who were settled nearest to Gúndam thought it more prudent to change their dwelling-place, and to migrate further eastward.
According to the profession of the two chiefs who accompanied us, they did not wish to be at peace with that warlike tribe which is daily spreading in every direction; but, notwithstanding their personal valour, the Tawárek are so wanting in unity that they can never follow any line of policy with very great results, while those who have a little property of their own are easily gained over by the other party. Thus, instead of sticking closely to the Sheikh, and enabling him to make a firm stand against the Fullán, they seriously affected his interest at this time, by plundering, disarming, and slaying four Tawáti, who belonged to a small caravan that arrived on the 11th, and who, like all their countrymen, enjoyed the special protection of the Sheikh.
My friend seemed at this moment to doubt the arrival of his brothers, not less than that of Alkúttabu, the great chief of the Awelímmiden, and endeavoured to console me for the long delay of my departure by saying that it was the custom with them to keep their guests at least a year in their company. He informed me, at the same time, that he wanted to make me a present of a horse, and that I might then, if I liked, give one of my own horses to Alkúttabu. He was this day more communicative than usual, and sat a long time with me and his pupils, delivering to us a lecture on the equal rank of the prophets, who, he said, had each of them one distinguishing quality, but that none of them ought to be preferred to the other. He dwelt particularly on the distinguished qualities of Moses, or Músa, who was a great favourite with him, although he was far from being friendly disposed towards the Jews, the spirit of Mohammed Ben ʿAbd el Kerím el Maghíli, who hated that nation from the bottom of his heart, and preached the Jihád against it, having communicated itself to the Mohammedan inhabitants of this part of Negroland.
At another time my friend entered, without any prejudice, into the subject of wine and pork, and he had not much to say against the argument with which I used to defend myself from attacks in this respect; viz. that while we believed religion to concern the soul and the dealings of men towards each other, we thought all that regarded food was left by the Creator to man himself; but, of course, he would have been greatly shocked if he had beheld the scenes exhibited every evening by gin palaces in the midst of the very acme of European civilisation.
At other times again, taking out of his small library the Arabic version of Hippocrates, which he valued extremely, he was very anxious for information as to the identity of the plants mentioned by the Arab authors. This volume of Hippocrates had been a present from Captain Clapperton to Sultan Bello of Sókoto, from whom my friend had received it among other articles as an acknowledgment of his learning. I may assert, with full confidence, that those few books taken by the gallant Scotch captain into Central Africa have had a greater effect in reconciling the men of authority in Africa to the character of Europeans, than the most costly present ever made to them; and I hope, therefore, that gifts like these may not be looked upon grudgingly by people who would otherwise object to do anything which might seem to favour Mohammedanism.
We staid at the tents till the 14th; the time, on this occasion, hanging less heavily upon my hands than formerly, in consequence of the more cheerful and communicative disposition of my host, and because I was able to gather some little information. The weather, too, was more genial. We had a really warm day on the 13th, and I employed the fine morning in taking a long walk over the several small sandy ridges which intersect this district. There were just at the time very few people about here who might cause me any danger, and I only fell in with the goatherds, who were feeding their flocks by cutting down those branches of the thorny trees which contained young offshoots and leaves. But the Sheikh, having received some private information, suspected that our enemies might make another attempt against my safety; and having requested me to send my servant, ʿAbd-Alláhi, into the town, in the course of the day, to inform my people that we were about to return, he mounted with me, after the moon had risen, and we again entered our old quarters.
February 16th.This morning one of my men, the Zaberma half-caste, Sambo, whom I had taken into my service at the residence of Galaijo, came to request to be dismissed my service. In the afternoon I went to pay my respects to the Sheikh, and was rather astonished to hear him announce my departure more seriously and more firmly than usual: but the reason was, that he had authentic news that his elder brother, Sídi Mohammed, whose arrival he had been expecting so long, and whom he wanted to leave in his stead when obliged to escort me the first part of my journey, was close at hand. The big drum having really announced his arrival at the tents, we mounted on horseback, half an hour before midnight, and arrived at the encampment a little before two o’clock in the morning. Here everything, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, bore a festive character, and a large tent had been pitched for the noble visitor at the foot of the hilly slope, the top of which was occupied by the Sheikh’s own tents.
The eldest member of this princely family was a man a little above the middle height and strongly built, with a fine commanding expression of countenance, and manners more stern and warlike than those of El Bakáy, but not wanting in affability and natural cheerfulness. In the position in which I was placed, as a stranger, not only of a foreign country and nationality, but of an opposite creed, and as the cause of so many difficulties to these people in their political affairs, I could not expect that this man would receive me, at our first interview, with remarkable kindness and cordiality. It was therefore not to be wondered at that, in the beginning, he asked me a great many questions which it was not agreeable for me to answer in the presence of strangers.
Next day, Hammádi, the son of El Mukhtár, the near relative of El Bakáy, and the latter’s chief adversary, and therefore my enemy, arrived with several followers at the encampment. El Bakáy constrained himself, for his elder brother’s sake, to remain in the same tent with Hammádi; but Sídi Alawáte, the younger and more reckless brother, was not to be persuaded to enter the tent as long as his hated cousin was there. He spent the day in my tent till his enemy was gone. Sídi Mohammed did not seem to be at all unfavourably disposed towards Hammádi, and wanted even to enter the town in his company; but he was obliged to yield to the combined efforts of his two younger brothers, who refused the company of their cousin.
This was the first opportunity I had of seeing Hammádi, with whom I had wished from the beginning to be on friendly terms, but was forced by the policy of my host to avoid all intercourse with him, and thus to make him my adversary, as he was that of the Sheikh. I had received a favourable account of his learning from different quarters; but his personal appearance was certainly not very prepossessing. He was of a stout figure, with broad coarse features, strongly marked with the small-pox, and of a very dark complexion, his descent from a female slave being his chief disadvantage.
Sídi Mohammed was very anxious to get into the town, but El Bakáy, with his usual slowness, and perhaps this time longer detained by the interesting situation of his wife, made his appearance at a very late hour in the afternoon, and endeavoured to defer our departure till the next day; but his elder brother was too energetic to be thus put off, and having given sufficient vent to his dissatisfaction on account of the too great influence which Mrs. Bák (that was the name of El Bakáy’s wife) exercised over his brother, and asking me with an ingenious turn whether I knew who was more influential than sheikho Áhmedu ben Áhmedu and lorded it over his brother, he mounted his horse and sent his young nephew to tell his father that he was ready and was expecting him. Thus forced against his own inclination, the Sheikh at length disengaged himself from his family, and we went into the town in the company of a few horsemen who had come out to pay their respects to Sídi Mohammed, firing a few shots as we entered the place.
Of course, in a town where no strong government is established, and where every great man exercised all the influence and power of which he was capable, due homage and tribute were to be rendered to this potentate of the desert who came to honour it with a visit. A musical performance took place in front of the house of the Sheikh, where he took up his quarters; and each foreign merchant prepared a gift, according to his wealth, by which to obtain the protection of this man, or rather to forestall his intrigues. These gifts were by no means small; and I felt a great deal of compassion for my friend ʿAlí ben Táleb, whose present, although by no means trifling, was sent back by Sídi Mohammed as neither adequate to the dignity of the receiver nor to that of the giver. I myself also found it necessary to make to this dignitary a respectable present. I gave him the finest bernús or Arab mantle which I had still left, besides a black tobe, and sundry smaller articles.
In other respects the town at this time became rather quieter, and trade was more dull. The small caravan of the Tájakánt, some members of which had only spent a few days in the town, left on the 20th; and the only articles which they took with them were salt and a little calico. Even directly from the north, along the most frequented route, the trade became insignificant; and a party of merchants who arrived from Tawát on the following day was exceedingly small. Among them were two respectable Ghadámsíye merchants, but having resided three or four months in Tawát, they brought neither recent news nor letters for me. However, they came just in time, as on the 22nd a countryman of theirs, of some importance, died, and I learned on this occasion something about the property of merchants in this place. The deceased was a tolerably wealthy man; among the property which he left there being found about 2000 mithkál in gold, a considerable sum of money for this place, although it did not belong to himself, but to the Tíniyan, or the well-known Ghadámsi family of the Tíni, whose agent he was. The house where he lived was worth 200 mithkál.
Having, while in the town, much time at my disposal, and only little intercourse with the people, I had made ready another parcel containing the information which I had been able to collect for sending to Europe; and it was well that I had done so, as early on the 26th a small troop of poor Tawáti traders left for their native home. But, unfortunately, this parcel did not find Her Britannic Majesty’s agent to whom it was addressed at Ghadámes, as he had left his post for the Crimea; and thus my family was thrown into the deepest grief in consequence of the rumour of my death; all my effects were buried; and when I arrived at length in Háusa, where I had reckoned to find every thing that I wanted, I found even the supplies which I had left drawn away from me, as from a dead man.
Almost the whole of January and the beginning of February had been in general cold, with a thick and foggy atmosphere, well representing that season which the Tawárek call with the emphatic and expressive name “the black nights,” éhaden esáttafnén; and all this time the river was continually rising or preserving the highest level which it had reached. But on the 17th the river, after having puzzled us several times as to its actual state, had really begun to decrease, and almost immediately afterwards the weather became clearer and finer, thus testifying to the assertion of the Tawárek—who have exchanged their abodes in the desert for this border district along the river, as well as the Arabs, who give to this season the name of the forty nights—that the river never begins really to decrease before the end of this period. The greatest danger from the inundation is just at this time, when the waters recede, as the rising ground on which the hamlets along the shore are situated has been undermined and frequently gives way; and we received intelligence on the 22nd that the hamlet of Bétagungu, which is situated between Kábara and Gúndam, had been destroyed in this manner.
Although I had enjoyed a greater degree of security for some time, my situation, after a short respite, soon assumed again a serious character, and hostile elements were gathering from different quarters; for, while a very important mission was just approaching from Hamda-Alláhi, on the 25th we received the news that ʿAbidín, that member of the family of Mukhtár who followed a policy entirely opposite to that of El Bakáy, was reported to be near, and he was conducted into the town by Hammádi with considerable display.
In the morning of the following day, just as the atmosphere changed from bright to gloomy, a powerful Púllo officer, and a prince of the blood, Hámedu, a son of Mohammed Lebbo, entered the town with a numerous troop on horseback and on foot, among whom were ten musketeers. They marched past my house on purpose, although the direct road from Kábara did not lead that way, in order to frighten me, while I, with the intention of showing them that they had entirely failed in their object, opened the door of my house, displaying in the hall all my firearms, and my people close at hand ready to use them.
But my little band became more and more reduced, for when the chief of my followers, the Méjebrí, ʿAlí el Ágeren, saw a fresh storm gathering against me, he disclaimed any further obligation towards me, notwithstanding the salary which he continued to receive. But, as I had given him up long before, this further manifestation of his faithlessness did not make a great impression upon me. On the other hand, I had attached to myself, by the present which I had bestowed upon him, the eldest brother of the family upon whose good-will, under the present circumstances, a great deal depended.
Thus approached the 27th of February, when the real character of the mission from Hamda-Alláhi, of which Hámedu had only been the forerunner, was disclosed. Having been in a lazy and rather melancholy mood the whole day, I was reclining on my simple couch in the evening, when I was surprised by the Sheikh’s nephew entering abruptly, and, although betraying by his sad and serious countenance that something very grave oppressed his mind, yet squatting silently down without being able or feeling inclined to say a word. Scarcely had he left me, when my Tawáti friend, Mohammed el ʿAísh, who continued to show me a great deal of kindness and sympathy, called me into the Sheikh’s presence. I was ushered in with great precaution through the hall and up the narrow winding staircase, and found the three brothers in the terrace-room engaged in serious consultation.
After I had taken my seat, they informed me that the Fullán were making a last attempt against my safety, and that, together with Kaúri, the former emír, a distinguished nobleman of the name of Mohammed el Férreji, had arrived in Kábara accompanied by a troop of about one hundred men, and that the latter messenger had addressed to my host two letters of very different character and tenour, one being full of manifestations of friendship, and the other couched in most threatening terms, to the effect that something serious would happen if he did not send me off before he (Férreji) entered the town. But, no active course of proceedings was resolved upon, although Mohammed, who was the most energetic of the three, proposed that we should mount on horseback and pass the night on the road to Kábara, partly in order to prevent the inhabitants of the town from joining the Fullán in that place, in conformity with the order which they had received, partly in order to intercept anything that might come from the hostile camp. While proposing this energetic measure, the chief of Ázawád was playing with his four-barreled musket, which, even under these momentous circumstances, excited my curiosity almost more than anything else, as I had never seen anything like it in Europe. It was of excellent workmanship, but I could not say of what peculiar character, as it did not bear any distinct mark of nationality. Of course I suspected, when I first beheld it, that it had belonged to the late unfortunate Major Laing, but I was distinctly assured by all the people, though I would scarcely believe it, that this was not the case, and that it had been purchased from American traders at Portendik. At present it was rather short, the uppermost part having been taken off in consequence of an accident; but it was nevertheless a very useful weapon and not at all heavy. It was made for flints, there being only two cocks, but a cannon to each barrel.
Having discussed various proposals with regard to my safety, with characteristic slowness, and coupling serious observations with various amusing stories, Sídi Mohammed sat down and wrote a formal protest in my favour, and sent it to the emír Kaúri. However, I doubt whether, on a serious inquiry, this paper would have been regarded by Christians as very flattering to their position in the world; the principal argument brought forward by my noble friend and protector for not dealing with me in so cruel a manner being, that I was not “ákáfir” than the “ráís,” meaning that I was not a greater “káfir,” or unbeliever, than Major Laing; for, besides not being very complimentary, it left it open to our adversaries to reply, that they did not intend to treat me worse than the Major had been treated, who, as is well known, having been forced to leave the town, was barbarously murdered in the desert.
A messenger from the emír having arrived, the Sheikh himself made a long speech, telling him under what circumstances I had reached this place, and that now I had once placed myself under his protection, there was nothing but honourable peace, both for himself and his guest, or war. Upon this the messenger observed in an ironical manner, that, El Férreji (who had been sent to compromise with the Sheikh) being a learned man like himself, everything would end well; meaning, that they would know, if not able to succeed by force, how to vanquish him with arguments taken from their creed. Another protest having been sent to Táleb Mohammed, who, as I stated before, although nothing but a merchant, exercised a great political influence in this anarchical place, I went home to refresh myself with a cup of tea, and then made preparations for the eventual defence of my house, and for hiding the more valuable of my effects: after which I returned to the residence of El Bakáy, about midnight, and found the holy man himself, armed with a double-barreled gun, about to enter the great segífa, or parlour, which he had allotted to his faithful and discreet storekeeper, Táleb el Wáfi. Here we sat down; and soon about forty men gathered round us, armed partly with spears and partly with muskets, when, after a great deal of useless talk as to what was to be done, it was agreed upon to send one messenger to the Tawárek chiefs, Rummán and Mushtába, whose acquaintance I had made on a former occasion, and who at present were encamped in Mushérrek, a locality rich in pasture-grounds and well protected by three branches of the river, to the south-west of the town,—and another messenger to our friends the Kel-úlli, in order to summon these people to our assistance.
Meanwhile the Sheikh, seated on the raised platform of clay which occupied the left corner of the parlour, entertained the sleepy assembly with stories of the prophets, especially Músa and Mohammed, and the victories achieved by the latter, in the beginning of his career, over his numerous adversaries. The quiet of the listless assembly was only disturbed for a time by a shriek issuing from the northern part of the town, and everybody snatched his gun and ran out; but it was soon found that the alarm was caused by our own messengers, who, on leaving the place, had disturbed the repose of the inhabitants of the suburb, or “Áberaz,” the latter supposing them to belong to a foray of the predatory and enterprising Welád ʿAlúsh, who were then infesting Ázawád.
Having thus sat up the whole night, full of curious reflections on these tragi-comic scenes, I returned to my quarters about five o’clock in the morning, and endeavoured to raise my exhausted spirits by means of some coffee. However, our precautions, insufficient as they might seem to a European, had had their full effect, and the Púllo messenger did not dare to enter the town before noon, and even then, although joined by about sixty horsemen from the townspeople, was afraid to traverse our warlike quarter.
Meanwhile Sídi Mohammed and Álawáte had left the town with a troop of armed men, under the pretext of observing the movements of the enemy, but perhaps in order to show them that they themselves did not coincide with all the views of the Sheikh. Going then to the residence, I found nearly two hundred people assembled there, most of them armed, and including among their number even the Púllo, Mohammed ben ʿAbd-Alláhi, who did not conceal the greater friendship he felt for the Sheikh than for his own countrymen, the Fúlbe of Hamda-Alláhi. While I was there, Mohammed Sʿaíd, the officer who had been sent to capture me on a previous occasion, was despatched as a messenger by Férreji, the new officer; and, under the present circumstances, disguising all hostile intentions, he was desirous to know what was the reason of this show of arms; such not being in accordance with the Sheikh’s former character, and it being rather his duty to bestow hospitable treatment upon his old friend, El Férreji.
Although this was rather a curious distortion of facts, I was still more astonished at the answer of the Sheikh, who replied, that he had only followed the example of his two brothers. But the business was not settled in this manner. Late in the evening there was another serious consultation in the terrace-room of the Sheikh, and Sídi Álawáte was despatched to Férreji to elicit from him an indication of his real intentions. Sídi Mohammed, meanwhile, in order to pass away the time, opened a cheerful and jocose conversation, by questioning me respecting the social position and the various relations of the other sex in my own country,—a subject which always possesses a great deal of attraction, even amongst the most serious of the Mohammedans.
Having then been obliged to withdraw, as Álawáte had pretended that he could only communicate his message from the officer sent from Hamda-Alláhi to El Bakáy himself, I returned home; but, long after midnight, I received a visit from the latter, who came to inform me that Férreji had brought nothing but favourable letters from Hamda-Alláhi, having written, as he said, the threatening letter from Kábara merely at the instigation of the Sahelíye, or merchants from Morocco; and that he himself, on his part, had assured Férreji that, if Sheikho Áhmedu left me alone, I should be forwarded on my home journey after a short delay; but adding, that the Fúlbe ought to assist him from the public revenue, in order to hasten my departure.
The same day I witnessed an interesting episode in the private life of these people. The Sheikh’s mother-in-law having died, he went to pray for her soul at the “ródha,” or sepulchre, of Sídi Mukhtár, a sacred locality a few hundred yards on the east side of the town, which in my career in this place was to become of greater importance to me. Such is the reverence which these Arabs have for the female portion of their tribe. There are, moreover, several women famed for the holiness of their life, and even authoresses of well-digested religious tracts, among the tribe of the Kunta.
Political circumstances were not quite so favourable as my host wanted to represent them to me; as, like many other people, he was not very particular, when endeavouring to obtain a good object, about saying things that were not quite true: and the following day, when Férreji paid a visit to the Sheikh, he designated me as a war-chief and a “mehárebi,” or freebooter, who ought not to be allowed to remain any longer in the town. Altogether it was fortunate that El Bakáy had provided for the worst by sending for the Kel-úlli, who arrived in the course of the afternoon, about sixty strong, with great military demonstrations and beating of shields. It was on this occasion that I first made the acquaintance of this warlike tribe, who, notwithstanding their degraded position as Imghád, have made themselves conspicuous by totally annihilating the formerly powerful tribe of the Ígelád and Ímedídderen, who in former times ruled over Timbúktu and were hostile to the Kunta. The Kél-úlli are distinguished among all the tribes of the neighbourhood by three qualities which, to the European, would scarcely seem possible to be united in the same person, but which are not unfrequently found combined in the Arab tribes, viz. “réjela,” or valour; “sírge,” or thievishness; and “dhiyáfa,” or generous hospitality.