THE JALLONKA WILDERNESS; A WARLIKE TALE.
WE continued at Kinytakooro until noon of the 22nd of April, when we
removed to a village about seven miles to the westward, the inhabitants
of which, being apprehensive of hostilities from the Foulahs of Fooladoo,
were at this time employed in constructing small temporary huts among the
rocks, on the side of a high hill close to the village. The situation
was almost impregnable, being everywhere surrounded with high precipices,
except on the eastern side, where the natives had left a pathway
sufficient to allow one person at a time to ascend. Upon the brow of the
hill, immediately over this path, I observed several heaps of large loose
stones, which the people told me were intended to be thrown down upon the
Foulahs if they should attempt the hill.
At daybreak on the 23rd we departed from this village and entered the
Jallonka Wilderness. We passed in the course of the morning the ruins of
two small towns which had lately been burnt by the Foulahs. The fire
must have been very intense, for I observed that the walls of many of the
huts were slightly vitrified, and appeared at a distance as if covered
with a red varnish. About ten o’clock we came to the river Wonda, which
is somewhat larger than the river Kokoro; but the stream was at this time
rather muddy, which Karfa assured me was occasioned by amazing shoals of
fish. They were indeed seen in all directions, and in such abundance
that I fancied the water itself tasted and smelt fishy. As soon as we
had crossed the river, Karfa gave orders that all the people of the
coffle should in future keep close together, and travel in their proper
station. The guides and young men were accordingly placed in the van,
the women and slaves in the centre, and the freemen in the rear. In this
order we travelled with uncommon expedition through a woody but beautiful
country, interspersed with a pleasing variety of hill and dale, and
abounding with partridges, guinea-fowl, and deer, until sunset, when we
arrived at a most romantic stream, called Co-meissang. My arms and neck
having been exposed to the sun during the whole day, and irritated by the
rubbing of my dress in walking, were now very much inflamed and covered
with blisters, and I was happy to embrace the opportunity, while the
coffle rested on the bank of the river, to bathe myself in the stream.
This practice, together with the cool of the evening, much diminished the
inflammation. About three miles to the westward of the Co-meissang we
halted in a thick wood and kindled our fires for the night. We were all
by this time very much fatigued, having, as I judged, travelled this day
thirty miles, but no person was heard to complain. Whilst supper was
preparing, Karfa made one of the slaves break some branches from the
trees for my bed. When we had finished our supper of kouskous, moistened
with some boiling water, and put the slaves in irons, we all lay down to
sleep; but we were frequently disturbed in the night by the howling of
wild beasts, and we found the small brown ants very troublesome.
_April_ 24.—Before daybreak the bushreens said their morning prayers, and
most of the free people drank a little _moening_ (a sort of gruel), part
of which was likewise given to such of the slaves as appeared least able
to sustain the fatigues of the day. One of Karfa’s female slaves was
very sulky, and when some gruel was offered to her she refused to drink
it. As soon as day dawned we set out, and travelled the whole morning
over a wild and rocky country, by which my feet were much bruised, and I
was sadly apprehensive that I should not be able to keep up with the
coffle during the day; but I was in a great measure relieved from this
anxiety when I observed that others were more exhausted than myself. In
particular, the woman slave who had refused victuals in the morning began
now to lag behind, and complain dreadfully of pains in her legs. Her
load was taken from her and given to another slave, and she was ordered
to keep in the front of the coffle. About eleven o’clock, as we were
resting by a small rivulet, some of the people discovered a hive of bees
in a hollow tree, and they were proceeding to obtain the honey when the
largest swarm I ever beheld flew out, and, attacking the people of the
coffle, made us fly in all directions. I took the alarm first, and, I
believe, was the only person who escaped with impunity. When our enemies
thought fit to desist from pursuing us, and every person was employed in
picking out the stings he had received, it was discovered that the poor
woman above mentioned, whose name was Nealee, was not come up; and as
many of the slaves in their retreat had left their bundles behind them,
it became necessary for some persons to return and bring them. In order
to do this with safety, fire was set to the grass a considerable way to
the eastward of the hive, and, the wind driving the fire furiously along,
the party pushed through the smoke and recovered the bundles. They
likewise brought with them poor Nealee, whom they found lying by the
rivulet. She was very much exhausted, and had crept to the stream in
hopes to defend herself from the bees by throwing water over her body;
but this proved ineffectual, for she was stung in the most dreadful
manner.
When the slatees had picked out the stings as far as they could, she was
washed with water and then rubbed with bruised leaves; but the wretched
woman obstinately refused to proceed any farther, declaring that she
would rather die than walk another step. As entreaties and threats were
used in vain, the whip was at length applied; and after bearing patiently
a few strokes she started up and walked with tolerable expedition for
four or five hours longer, when she made an attempt to run away from the
coffle, but was so very weak that she fell down in the grass. Though she
was unable to rise, the whip was a second time applied, but without
effect; upon which Karfa desired two of the slatees to place her upon the
ass which carried our dry provisions; but she could not sit erect, and
the ass being very refractory it was found impossible to carry her
forward in that manner. The slatees, however, were unwilling to abandon
her, the day’s journey being nearly ended; they therefore made a sort of
litter of bamboo-canes, upon which she was placed, and tied on it with
slips of bark. This litter was carried upon the heads of two slaves, one
walking before the other, and they were followed by two others, who
relieved them occasionally. In this manner the woman was carried forward
until it was dark, when we reached a stream of water at the foot of a
high hill called Gankaran-Kooro, and here we stopped for the night, and
set about preparing our supper. As we had only ate one handful of meal
since the preceding night, and travelled all day in a hot sun, many of
the slaves who had loads upon their heads were very much fatigued, and
some of them _snapped their fingers_, which among the negroes is a sure
sign of desperation. The slatees immediately put them all in irons, and
such of them as had evinced signs of great despondency were kept apart
from the rest, and had their hands tied. In the morning they were found
greatly recovered.
_April_ 25.—At daybreak poor Nealee was awakened, but her limbs were now
become so stiff and painful that she could neither walk nor stand; she
was therefore lifted, like a corpse, upon the back of the ass, and the
slatees endeavoured to secure her in that situation by fastening her
hands together under the ass’s neck, and her feet under the belly, with
long slips of bark; but the ass was so very unruly that no sort of
treatment could induce him to proceed with his load, and as Nealee made
no exertion to prevent herself from falling she was quickly thrown off,
and had one of her legs much bruised. Every attempt to carry her forward
being thus found ineffectual, the general cry of the coffle was
_Kang-tegi_, _kang-tegi_ (“Cut her throat, cut her throat”)—an operation
I did not wish to see performed, and therefore marched onwards with the
foremost of the coffle. I had not walked above a mile, when one of
Karfa’s domestic slaves came up to me, with poor Nealea’s garment upon
the end of his bow, and exclaimed, _Nealee affeeleeta_ (“Nealee is
lost”)! I asked him whether the slatees had given him the garment as a
reward for cutting her throat. He replied that Karfa and the
schoolmaster would not consent to that measure, but had left her on the
road, where undoubtedly she soon perished, and was probably devoured by
wild beasts.
The sad fate of this wretched woman, notwithstanding the outcry before
mentioned, made a strong impression on the mind of the whole coffle, and
the schoolmaster fasted the whole of the ensuing day in consequence of
it. We proceeded in deep silence, and soon afterwards crossed the river
Furkoomah, which was about as large as the river Wonda. We now travelled
with great expedition, every one being apprehensive he might otherwise
meet with the fate of poor Nealee. It was, however, with great
difficulty that I could keep up, although I threw away my spear and
everything that could in the least obstruct me. About noon we saw a
large herd of elephants, but they suffered us to pass unmolested; and in
the evening we halted near a thicket of bamboo, but found no water, so
that we were forced to proceed four miles farther to a small stream,
where we stopped for the night. We had marched this day, as I judged,
about twenty-six miles.
_April_ 26.—This morning two of the schoolmaster’s pupils complained much
of pains in their legs, and one of the slaves walked lame, the soles of
his feet being very much blistered and inflamed; we proceeded,
notwithstanding, and about eleven o’clock began to ascend a rocky hill
called Boki-Kooro, and it was past two in the afternoon before we reached
the level ground on the other side. This was the most rocky road we had
yet encountered, and it hurt our feet much. In a short time we arrived
at a pretty large river, called Boki, which we forded; it ran smooth and
clear over a bed of whinstone. About a mile to the westward of the river
we came to a road which leads to the north-east towards Gadou, and seeing
the marks of many horses’ feet upon the soft sand, the slatees
conjectured that a party of plunderers had lately rode that way to fall
upon some town of Gadou; and lest they should discover upon their return
that we had passed, and attempt to pursue us by the marks of our feet,
the coffle was ordered to disperse and travel in a loose manner through
the high grass and bushes. A little before it was dark, having crossed
the ridge of hills to the westward of the river Boki, we came to a well
called _Cullong Qui_ (White Sand Well), and here we rested for the night.
_April_ 27.—We departed from the well early in the morning, and walked on
with the greatest alacrity, in hopes of reaching a town before night.
The road during the forenoon led through extensive thickets of dry
bamboos. About two o’clock we came to a stream called Nunkolo, where we
were each of us regaled with a handful of meal, which, according to a
superstitious custom, was not to be eaten until it was first moistened
with water from this stream. About four o’clock we reached Sooseeta, a
small Jallonka village, situated in the district of Kullo, which
comprehends all that tract of country lying along the banks of the Black
River, or main branch of the Senegal. These were the first human
habitations we had seen since we left the village to the westward of
Kinytakooro, having travelled in the course of the last five days upwards
of one hundred miles. Here, after a great deal of entreaty, we were
provided with huts to sleep in, but the master of the village plainly
told us that he could not give us any provisions, as there had lately
been a great scarcity in this part of the country. He assured us that,
before they had gathered in their present crops, the whole inhabitants of
Kullo had been for twenty-nine days without tasting corn, during which
time they supported themselves entirely upon the yellow powder which is
found in the pods of the _nitta_, so called by the natives, a species of
mimosa, and upon the seeds of the bamboo-cane, which, when properly
pounded and dressed, taste very much like rice. As our dry provisions
were not yet exhausted, a considerable quantity of kouskous was dressed
for supper, and many of the villagers were invited to take part of the
repast; but they made a very bad return for this kindness, for in the
night they seized upon one of the schoolmaster’s boys, who had fallen
asleep under the bentang tree, and carried him away. The boy fortunately
awoke before he was far from the village, and, setting up a loud scream,
the man who carried him put his hand upon his mouth and ran with him into
the woods; but afterwards understanding that he belonged to the
schoolmaster, whose place of residence is only three days’ journey
distant, he thought, I suppose, that he could not retain him as a slave
without the schoolmaster’s knowledge, and therefore stripped off the
boy’s clothes and permitted him to return.
_April_ 28.—Early in the morning we departed from Sooseeta, and about ten
o’clock came to an unwalled town, called Manna, the inhabitants of which
were employed in collecting the fruit of the nitta-trees, which are very
numerous in this neighbourhood. The pods are long and narrow, and
contain a few black seeds, enveloped in the fine mealy powder before
mentioned; the meal itself is of a bright yellow colour, resembling the
flour of sulphur, and has a sweet mucilaginous taste. When eaten by
itself it is clammy, but when mixed with milk or water it constitutes a
very pleasant and nourishing article of diet.
The language of the people of Manna is the same that is spoken all over
that extensive and hilly country called Jallonkadoo. Some of the words
have a great affinity to the Mandingo, but the natives themselves
consider it as a distinct language. Their numerals are these:—
One Kidding.
Two Fidding.
Three Sarra.
Four Nani.
Five Soolo.
Six Seni.
Seven Soolo ma fidding.
Eight Soolo ma sarra.
Nine Soolo ma nani.
Ten Nuff.
The Jallonkas, like the Mandingoes, are governed by a number of petty
chiefs, who are in a great measure independent of each other. They have
no common sovereign, and the chiefs are seldom upon such terms of
friendship as to assist each other even in war-time. The chief of Manna,
with a number of his people, accompanied us to the banks of the Bafing,
or Black River (a principal branch of the Senegal), which we crossed upon
a bridge of bamboos of a very singular construction. The river at this
place is smooth and deep, and has very little current. Two tall trees,
when tied together by the tops, are sufficiently long to reach from one
side to the other, the roots resting upon the rocks, and the tops
floating in the water. When a few trees have been placed in this
direction, they are covered with dry bamboos, so as to form a floating
bridge, with a sloping gangway at each end, where the trees rest upon the
rocks. This bridge is carried away every year by the swelling of the
river in the rainy season, and is constantly rebuilt by the inhabitants
of Manna, who, on that account, expect a small tribute from every
passenger.
In the afternoon we passed several villages, at none of which we could
procure a lodging, and in the twilight we received information that two
hundred Jallonkas had assembled near a town called Melo, with a view to
plunder the coffle. This induced us to alter our course, and we
travelled with great secrecy until midnight, when we approached a town
called Koba. Before we entered the town the names of all the people
belonging to the coffle were called over, and a freeman and three slaves
were found to be missing. Every person immediately concluded that the
slaves had murdered the freeman and made their escape. It was therefore
agreed that six people should go back as far as the last village, and
endeavour to find his body, or collect some information concerning the
slaves. In the meantime the coffle was ordered to lie concealed in a
cotton-field near a large nitta-tree, and nobody to speak except in a
whisper. It was towards morning before the six men returned, having
heard nothing of the man or the slaves. As none of us had tasted
victuals for the last twenty-four hours, it was agreed that we should go
into Koba and endeavour to procure some provisions. We accordingly
entered the town before it was quite day, and Karfa purchased from the
chief man, for three strings of beads, a considerable quantity of ground
nuts, which we roasted and ate for breakfast. We were afterwards
provided with huts, and rested here for the day.
About eleven o’clock, to our great joy and surprise, the freeman and
slaves who had parted from the coffle the preceding night entered the
town. One of the slaves, it seems, had hurt his foot, and the night
being very dark they soon lost sight of the coffle. The freeman, as soon
as he found himself alone with the slaves was aware of his own danger,
and insisted on putting them in irons. The slaves were at first rather
unwilling to submit, but when he threatened to stab them one by one with
his spear, they made no farther resistance; and he remained with them
among the bushes until morning, when he let them out of irons, and came
to the town in hopes of hearing which route the coffle had taken. The
information that we received concerning the Jallonkas who intended to rob
the coffle was this day confirmed, and we were forced to remain here
until the afternoon of the 30th, when Karfa hired a number of people to
protect us, and we proceeded to a village called Tinkingtang. Departing
from this village on the day following, we crossed a high ridge of
mountains to the west of the Black River, and travelled over a rough
stony country until sunset, when we arrived at Lingicotta, a small
village in the district of Woradoo. Here we shook out the last handful
of meal from our dry provision-bags, this being the second day, since we
crossed the Black River, that we had travelled from morning until night
without tasting one morsel of food.
_May_ 2.—We departed from Lingicotta; but the slaves being very much
fatigued, we halted for the night at a village about nine miles to the
westward, and procured some provisions through the interest of the
schoolmaster, who now sent forward a messenger to Malacotta, his native
town, to inform his friends of his arrival in the country, and to desire
them to provide the necessary quantity of victuals to entertain the
coffle for two or three days.
_May_ 3.—We set out for Malacotta, and about noon arrived at a village
near a considerable stream of water which flows to the westward. Here we
determined to stop for the return of the messenger who had been sent to
Malacotta the day before; and as the natives assured me there were no
crocodiles in this stream, I went and bathed myself. Very few people
here can swim, for they came in numbers to dissuade me from venturing
into a pool where they said the water would come over my head. About two
o’clock the messenger returned from Malacotta, and the schoolmaster’s
elder brother, being impatient to see him, came along with the messenger
to meet him at this village. The interview between the two brothers, who
had not seen each other for nine years, was very natural and affecting.
They fell upon each other’s neck, and it was some time before either of
them could speak. At length, when the schoolmaster had a little
recovered himself, he took his brother by the hand, and turning round,
“This is the man,” said he, pointing to Karfa, “who has been my father in
Manding. I would have pointed him out sooner to you, but my heart was
too full.”
We reached Malacotta in the evening, where we were well received. This
is an unwalled town. The huts for the most part are made of split cane,
twisted into a sort of wicker-work, and plastered over with mud. Here we
remained three days, and were each day presented with a bullock from the
schoolmaster. We were likewise well entertained by the townspeople, who
appear to be very active and industrious. They make very good soap by
boiling ground nuts in water, and then adding a ley of wood-ashes. They
likewise manufacture excellent iron, which they carry to Bondou to barter
for salt. A party of the townspeople had lately returned from a trading
expedition of this kind, and brought information concerning a war between
Almami Abdulkader, king of Foota-Torra, and Damel, king of the Jaloffs.
The events of this war soon became a favourite subject with the singing
men and the common topic of conversation in all the kingdoms bordering
upon the Senegal and Gambia; and, as the account is somewhat singular, I
shall here abridge it for the reader’s information. The king of
Foota-Torra, inflamed with a zeal for propagating his religion, had sent
an embassy to Damel similar to that which he had sent to Kasson, as has
been previously related. The ambassador on the present occasion was
accompanied by two of the principal bushreens, who carried each a large
knife fixed on the top of a long pole. As soon as he had procured
admission into the presence of Damel, and announced the pleasure of his
Sovereign, he ordered the bushreens to present the emblems of his
mission. The two knives were accordingly laid before Damel, and the
ambassador explained himself as follows:—“With this knife,” said he,
“Abdulkader will condescend to shave the head of Damel, if Damel will
embrace the Mohammedan faith; and with this other knife Abdulkader will
cut the throat of Damel if Damel refuses to embrace it: take your
choice.” Damel coolly told the ambassador that he had no choice to make;
he neither chose to have his head shaved nor his throat cut; and with
this answer the ambassador was civilly dismissed. Abdulkader took his
measures accordingly, and with a powerful army invaded Damel’s country.
The inhabitants of the towns and villages filled up their wells,
destroyed their provisions, carried off their effects, and abandoned
their dwellings as he approached. By this means he was led on from place
to place, until he had advanced three days’ journey into the country of
the Jaloffs. He had, indeed, met with no opposition, but his army had
suffered so much from the scarcity of water that several of his men had
died by the way. This induced him to direct his march towards a
watering-place in the woods, where his men, having quenched their thirst
and being overcome with fatigue, lay down carelessly to sleep among the
bushes. In this situation they were attacked by Damel before daybreak
and completely routed. Many of them were trampled to death as they lay
asleep by the Jaloff horses; others were killed in attempting to make
their escape; and a still greater number were taken prisoners. Among the
latter was Abdulkader himself. This ambitious, or, rather, frantic
prince, who but a month before had sent the threatening message to Damel,
was now himself led into his presence as a miserable captive. The
behaviour of Damel on this occasion is never mentioned by the singing men
but in terms of the highest approbation; and it was indeed so
extraordinary in an African prince that the reader may find it difficult
to give credit to the recital. When his royal prisoner was brought
before him in irons, and thrown upon the ground, the magnanimous Damel,
instead of setting his foot upon his neck and stabbing him with his
spear, according to custom in such cases, addressed him as
follows:—“Abdulkader, answer me this question. If the chance of war had
placed me in your situation, and you in mine, how would you have treated
me?” “I would have thrust my spear into your heart,” returned
Abdulkader, with great firmness; “and I know that a similar fate awaits
me.” “Not so,” said Damel; “my spear is indeed red with the blood of
your subjects, killed in battle, and I could now give it a deeper stain
by dipping it in your own; but this would not build up my towns, nor
bring to life the thousands who fell in the woods. I will not,
therefore, kill you in cold blood, but I will retain you as my slave,
until I perceive that your presence in your own kingdom will be no longer
dangerous to your neighbours, and then I will consider of the proper way
of disposing of you.” Abdulkader was accordingly retained, and worked as
a slave for three months; at the end of which period Damel listened to
the solicitations of the inhabitants of Foota-Torra, and restored to them
their king. Strange as this story may appear, I have no doubt of the
truth of it. It was told me at Malacotta by the negroes; it was
afterwards related to me by the Europeans on the Gambia, by some of the
French at Goree, and confirmed by nine slaves who were taken prisoners
along with Abdulkader by the watering-place in the woods and carried in
the same ship with me to the West Indies.