JOURNEY TO ÁGADES.
_Friday, October 4._—At length the day arrived when I was to set out on
my long-wished-for excursion to Ágades. For although at that time I was
not aware of the whole extent of interest attaching to that place, it had
nevertheless been to me a point of the strongest attraction. For what can
be more interesting than a considerable town, said to have been once as
large as Tunis, situated in the midst of lawless tribes, on the border
of the desert and of the fertile tracts of an almost unknown continent,
established there from ancient times, and protected as a place of
rendezvous and commerce between nations of the most different character,
and having the most various wants? It is by mere accident that this town
has not attracted as much interest in Europe as her sister town, Timbúktu.
It was a fine morning, with a healthy and refreshing light breeze,
invigorating both body and mind. The old chief, who had never before
visited our encampment, now came out to pay us his compliments,
assuring me once more that “my safety rested upon his head.” But his
heart was so gladdened at witnessing our efforts to befriend the other
great men of his country that his habitual niggardliness was overcome,
and with graceful hospitality he resigned one of his bullocks to our
party. The little caravan I was to accompany consisted of six camels,
five-and-thirty asses, and two bullocks, one of which was allotted to
me, till my protector Hámma should be able to hire a camel for me. But
although well accustomed to ride on horseback as well as on a camel, I
had never yet in my life tried to sit astride on the broad back of a
bullock; and the affair was the more difficult as there was no saddle,
nor anything to sit upon, except parcels of luggage not very tightly
fastened to the animal’s back and swinging from one side to the other.
After the first bullock had been rejected, as quite unfit, in its wild,
intractable mood, to carry me, or indeed anything else, and when it had
been allowed to return to the herd, the second was at length secured,
the luggage fastened somehow on his back, and I was bid to mount. I must
truly confess that I should have been better pleased with a horse, or
even an ass; but still, hoping to manage matters, I took my seat, and,
bidding my fellow-travellers farewell, followed my black companions up
the broad valley by which we had come from the north. But we soon left
it, and ascended the rocky ground, getting an interesting view of the
broad and massive Mount Eghellál before us. Having at first thought my
seat rather too insecure for making observations, I grew by degrees a
little more confident, and, taking out my compass, noted the direction
of the road, when suddenly the baggage threatened to fall over to the
right, whereupon I threw the whole weight of my body to the left, in
order to keep the balance; but I unluckily overdid it, and so all at once
down I came, with the whole baggage. The ground was rocky, and I should
inevitably have been hurt not a little if I had not fallen upon the
muzzle of my musket, which I was carrying on my shoulder, and which being
very strong, sustained the shock, and kept my head from the ground. Even
my compass, which I had open in my left hand, most fortunately escaped
uninjured, and I felt extremely glad that I had fallen so adroitly, but
vowed never again to mount a bullock.
I preferred marching on foot till we reached the valley Eghellúwa, where
plenty of water is found, in several wells. Here we halted a moment, and
I mounted behind Hámma on the lean back of his camel, holding on by his
saddle; but I could not much enjoy my seat, as I was greatly annoyed
by his gun sticking out on the right, and at every moment menacing my
face. I was therefore much pleased when we reached the little village
of Tiggeréresa, lying on the border of a broad valley well clothed with
talha-trees, and a little further on encamped in a pleasant recess
formed by projecting masses of granite blocks; for here I was told we
should surely find camels, and in fact Hámma hired two for me, for four
mithkáls each, to go to and return from Ágades. Here we also changed
our companions, the very intelligent Mohammed, a son of one of Ánnur’s
sisters, returning to Tin-téllust, while the turbulent Mohammed (I
called him by no other name than Mohammed bábo hánkali), our friend from
Afís, came to attend us, and with him Hámmeda, a cheerful and amiable
old man, who was a fair specimen of the improvement derivable from
the mixture of different blood and of different national qualities;
for while he possessed all the cheerfulness and vivacity of the Góber
nation, his demeanour was nevertheless moderated by the soberness and
gravity peculiar to the Berber race, and though, while always busy,
he was not effectively industrious, yet his character approached very
closely to the European standard. He was by trade a blacksmith, a more
comprehensive profession in these countries than in Europe, although in
general these famous blacksmiths have neither iron nor tools to work
with. All over the Tuarek country the “énhad” (smith) is much respected,
and the confraternity is most numerous. An “énhad” is generally the
prime minister of every little chief. The Arabs in Timbúktu call these
blacksmiths “mʿallem,” which may give an idea of their high rank and
respected character. Then there is also the “mʿallema,” the constant
female companion of the chief’s wife, expert above all in beautiful
leather work.
[Illustration]
In order to avoid, as much as possible, attracting the attention of the
natives, I had taken no tent with me, and sheltered myself at night under
the projecting roof of the granite blocks, my Kél-owí friends sleeping
around me.
_Saturday, October 5._—Hámma was so good as to give up to me his fine
tall méheri, while he placed his simple little saddle or “kíri” on the
back of the young and ill-trained camel hired here, a proceeding which
in the course of our journey almost cost him his ribs. In truth I had
no saddle, yet my seat was arranged comfortably by placing first two
leathern bags filled with soft articles across the back of the camel,
and then fastening two others over them lengthwise, and spreading my
carpet over all. Even for carrying their salt, the Kél-owí very rarely
employ saddles, or if they do, only of the lightest description, made of
straw, which have nothing in common with the heavy and hot “hawiya” of
the Arabs.
The country through which we travelled was a picturesque wilderness,
with rocky ground intersected at every moment by winding valleys and dry
watercourses richly overgrown with grasses and mimosas, while majestic
mountains and detached peaks towered over the landscape, the most
interesting object during the whole day being Mount Cheréka, with its
curious double peak, as it appeared from various sides, first looking
as if it were a single peak, only bifurcated at the top, then after a
while showing two peaks, separated almost to the very base, and rising
in picturesque forms nearly to the same elevation. Unfortunately our
road did not lead us near it, although I was as anxious to explore this
singular mountain as to visit the town of Ásodi, which some years ago
attracted attention in Europe. We had sent a present to Astáfidet, the
chief of the Kél-owí residing here, and probably I should have been well
received; but Hámma would not hear of our going there now, so we left the
town at no great distance to the right, and I must content myself with
here inserting the information obtained from other people who had been
there repeatedly.
[Illustration]
Ásodi, lying at no great distance from the foot of Mount Cheréka, which
forms the most characteristic feature of the surrounding landscape, was
once an important place, and a great resort for merchants, though as it
is not mentioned by any Arabic writer, not even by Leo, it would seem
to be of much later origin than Ágades. Above a thousand houses built
of clay and stone lie at present in ruins, while only about eighty are
still inhabited; this would testify that it was once a comparatively
considerable place, with from eight to ten thousand inhabitants. Such
an estimate of its magnitude is confirmed by the fact that there were
seven tamizgídas, or mosques, in the town, the largest of which was
ornamented with columns, the “mamber” alone being decorated with three,
while the naves were covered in partly with a double roof made of the
stems of the dúm-tree, and partly with cupolas. The town, however, seems
never to have been enclosed with a wall, and in this respect, as well
as in its size, was always inferior to Ágades. At present, although the
population is scattered about, the market of Ásodi is still well provided
with provisions, and even with the more common merchandise. The house of
the amanókal of the Kél-owí is said to stand on a little eminence in the
western part of the town, surrounded by about twenty cottages. There is
no well inside, all the water being fetched from a well which lies in a
valley stretching from north to south.
[Illustration]
Conversing with my companions about this place, which we left at a short
distance to our right, and having before us the interesting picture of
the mountain range of Búnday, with its neighbouring heights, forming
one continuous group with Mount Eghellál, we reached the fine valley
Chizólen, and rested in it during the hottest hours of the day, under
a beautiful talha-tree, while the various beasts composing our little
caravan found a rich pasturage all around.
Having taken here a sufficient supply of very good water from hollows
scooped in the sand, we continued our march over rocky ground thickly
covered with herbage, and surmounted on our right by the angular outlines
and isolated sugar-loaves of a craggy ridge, while on our left rose the
broad, majestic form of Mount Eghellál. As evening came on I was greatly
cheered at the sight of a herd of well-fed cattle returning from their
pasture-grounds to their night quarters near the village of Eghellál,
which lies at the foot of the mountain so named. They were fine, sturdy
bullocks, of moderate size, all with the hump, and of glossy dark-brown
colour. In the distance, as the Eghellál began to retire, there appeared
behind it, in faint outlines, Mount Bághzen, which of late years has
become so famous in Europe, and had filled my imagination with lofty
crests and other features of romantic scenery. But how disappointed was
I when, instead of all this, I saw it stretching along in one almost
unbroken line! I soon turned my eyes from it to Mount Eghellál, which now
disclosed to us a deep chasm or crevice (the channel of powerful floods),
separating a broad cone, and apparently dividing the whole mountain mass
into two distinct groups.
[Illustration]
At six o’clock in the evening we encamped in the shallow valley of
Eghellál, at some distance from the well, and were greatly delighted
at being soon joined by Háj ʿAbdúwa, the son of Fátima (Ánnur’s eldest
sister), and the chief’s presumptive heir, a man of about fifty years of
age, and of intelligent and agreeable character. I treated him with a
cup or two of coffee well sweetened, and conversed with him awhile about
the difference between Egypt, which he had visited on his pilgrimage,
and his own country. He was well aware of the immense superiority even
of that state of society; but on the other hand he had not failed to
observe the misery connected with great density of population, and he
told me, with a certain degree of pride, that there were few people in
Aïr so miserable as a large class of the inhabitants of Cairo. Being
attacked by severe fever, he returned the next morning to his village,
Táfidet, but afterwards accompanied the chief Astáfidet on his expedition
to Ágades, where I saw him again. I met him also in the course of my
travels twice in Kúkawa, whither he alone of all his tribe used to go in
order to maintain friendly relations with that court, which was too often
disturbed by the predatory habits of roving Kél-owí.
[Illustration]
_Sunday, October 6._—Starting early, we soon reached a more open country,
which to the eye seemed to lean towards Mount Bághzen; but this was
only an illusion, as appeared clearly from the direction of the dry
watercourses, which all ran from east to west-south-west. On our right we
had now Mount Ágata, which has given its name to the village mentioned
above as lying at its foot. Here the fertility of the soil seemed greatly
increased, the herbage becoming more fresh and abundant, while numerous
talhas and abísgas adorned the country. Near the foot of the extensive
mountain group of Bághzen, and close to another mountain called Ajúri,
there are even some very favoured spots, especially a valley called
Chímmia, ornamented with a fine date-grove, which produces fruit of
excellent quality. As we entered the meandering windings of a broad
watercourse we obtained an interesting view of Mount Belásega. The plain
now contracted, and, on entering a narrow defile of the ridges, we had to
cross a small pass, from the top of which a most charming prospect met
our eyes.
[Illustration]
A grand and beautifully shaped mountain rose on our right, leaving,
between its base and the craggy heights, the offshoots of which we were
crossing, a broad valley running almost east and west, while at the
eastern foot of the mountain a narrow but richly adorned valley wound
along through the lower rocky ground. This was Mount Abíla, or Bíla,
which is at once one of the most picturesque objects in the country of
Aír, and seems to bear an interesting testimony to a connection with that
great family of mankind which we call the Semitic; for the name of this
mountain, or rather of the moist and “green vale” at its foot (throughout
the desert, even in its most favoured parts, it is the valley which
generally gives its name to the mountain), is probably the same as that
of the well-known spot in Syria from which the province of Abilene has
been named.
[Illustration]
A little beyond the first dry watercourse, where water was to be scooped
out a few feet under the surface of the ground, we rested for the heat
of the day; but the vegetation around was far from being so rich here as
in the valley Tíggeda, at the eastern foot of the picturesque mountain,
where, after a short march in the afternoon, we encamped for the night.
This was the finest valley I had yet seen in the country. The broad
sandy bed of the torrent, at present dry, was bordered with the most
beautiful fresh grass, forming a fine turf, shaded by the richest and
densest foliage of several kinds of mimosa, the tabórak or _Balanites_,
the tághmart, the abísga, and tunfáfia, while over all this mass of
verdure towered the beautiful peaks which on this side start forth from
the massive mountain, the whole tinged with the varied tints of the
setting sun. This delicious spectacle filled my heart with delight, and
having sat down a little while quietly to enjoy it, I made a sketch of
the beautiful forms of the mountain peaks. Just before encamping we had
passed a small chapel in ruins, surrounded by a cemetery. At that time I
thought this valley identical with the Tekádda (as the name is generally
spelt), mentioned by Ebn Khaldún and by Ebn Batúta as an independent
little Berber state between Gógo and Káhir, lying on the road of the
pilgrims; but I found afterwards that there is another place which has
better claims to this identification.
_Monday, October 7._—We began a most interesting day’s march, winding
first along the valley Tíggeda (which now, in the cool of the morning,
was enlivened by numerous flocks of wild pigeons), and then over
a short tract of rocky ground entering the still more picturesque
“Erázar-n-Ásada,” on the west only lined by low rocky ridges, but
bordered towards the east by the steep massive forms of the Dógem. Here,
indeed, a really tropical profusion of vegetation covered the whole
bottom of the valley, and scarcely left a narrow low passage for the
camels, the rider being obliged to stoop every moment to avoid being
swept off his seat. The principal tree here is the dúm-tree, or _Cucifera
Thebaïca_, which I had not seen since Selúfiet; but here it was in the
wild picturesque state into which it soon relapses if left to nature.
There was, besides, a great variety of the acacia tribe, all growing most
luxuriantly, and interwoven with creepers, which united the whole mass
of vegetation into one thick canopy. I regret that there was no leisure
for making a sketch, as this valley was far more picturesque even than
Aúderas, of which I have been able to give the reader a slight outline.
In this interesting valley we met two droll and jovial-looking musicians,
clad in a short and narrow blue shirt, well fastened round their loins,
and a small straw hat. Each of them carried a large drum, or tímbali,
with which they had been cheering the spirits of a wedding-party, and
were now proceeding to some other place on a similar errand. We then
met a large slave-caravan, consisting of about forty camels and sixty
slaves, winding along the narrow path, hemmed in by the rank vegetation,
and looking rather merry than sad, the poor blacks gladdened, doubtless,
by the picturesque landscape, and keeping up a lively song in their
native melody. In the train of this caravan, and probably interested
in its lawless merchandise, went Snúsi and Awed el Khér, two of the
camel-drivers with whom we had come from Múrzuk, and who probably had
laid out the money gained from the English mission in the very article
of trade which it is the desire of the English Government to prohibit.
This is a sinister result of well-meant commercial impulses, which will
probably subsist as long as the slave-trade itself exists on the north
coast of Africa.[8]
On emerging from the thick forest, we obtained the first sight of
the majestic cone of the Dógem, while a very narrow ravine or cleft
in the steep cliffs on our left led to the village, Ásada. We then
began to ascend, sometimes along narrow ravines, at others on sloping
rocky ground, all covered with herbage up to the summits of the lower
mountains. In this way we reached the highest point of the pass, about
2,500 feet, having the broad cone of the Dógem on our left, which I then
thought to be the most elevated point in Aír, though, as I mentioned
above, the old chief Ánnur maintained that the Tímge is higher. This
conspicuous mountain most probably consists of basalt; and, from what I
shall observe further on, it may be inferred that the whole group of the
Bághzen does so too. From this pass we descended into the pebbly plain of
Erázar-n-Déndemu, thickly overgrown with small talha-trees, and showing
along the path numerous footprints of the lion, which are extremely
common in these highland wildernesses, which, while affording sufficient
vegetation and water for a variety of animals, are but thinly inhabited,
and everywhere offer a safe retreat. However, from what I saw of him, he
is not a very ferocious animal here.
The weather meanwhile had become sultry; and when, after having left the
plain, we were winding through narrow glens, the storm, the last of the
rainy season, broke out; and through the mismanagement of the slaves,
not only our persons, but all our things were soaked with the rain.
Our march became rather cheerless, everything being wet, and the whole
ground covered with water, which along the watercourses formed powerful
torrents. At length we entered the gloomy, rugged valley of Tághist,
covered with basaltic stones, mostly of the size of a child’s head, and
bordered by sorry-looking rocky hills.
Tághist is remarkable as the place of prayer founded by the man who
introduced Islám into Central Negroland,[9] and thus gave the first
impulse to that continual struggle which, always extending further and
further, seems destined to overpower the nations at the very equator, if
Christianity does not presently step in to dispute the ground with it.
This man was the celebrated Mohammed ben ʿAbd el Kerím ben Maghíli, a
native of Búda, in Tawát,[10] and a contemporary and intimate friend of
the Sheikh eʾ Soyúti, that living encyclopædia and key-stone, if I may be
allowed the expression, of Mohammedan learning.
Living in the time when the great Sónghay empire began to decline from
that pitch of power which it had reached under the energetic sway of
Sónni ʿAli and Mohammed el Háj Áskia, and stung by the injustice of
Áskia Ismʿaíl, who refused to punish the murderers of his son, he turned
his eyes on the country where successful resistance had first been
made against the all-absorbing power of the Asáki, and which, fresh and
youthful as it was, promised a new splendour, if enlightened by the
influence of a purer religion. Instigated by such motives, partly merely
personal, partly of a more elevated character, Mohammed ben ʿAbd el Kerím
turned his steps towards Kátsena, where we shall find him again; but on
his way thither he founded in this spot a place of prayer, to remain
a monument to the traveller of the path which the religion of the One
God took from the far east to the country of the blacks. The “msíd,” or
“mesálla,” at present is only marked by stones laid out in a regular way,
and enclosing a space from sixty to seventy feet long, and fifteen broad,
with a small mehhráb, which is adorned (accidentally or intentionally, I
cannot say) by a young talha-tree. This is the venerated and far-famed
“Makám eʾ Sheikh ben ʿAbd el Kerím,” where the traveller coming from the
north never omits to say his prayers; others call it Msíd Sídi Baghdádi,
the name Baghdádi being often given by the blacks to the Sheikh, who had
long resided in the east.
At length we descended from the rugged ground of Tághist into the
commencement of the celebrated valley of Aúderas, the fame of which
penetrated to Europe many years ago. Here we encamped, wet as we were, on
the slope of the rocky ground, in order to guard against the humidity of
the valley. Opposite to us, towards the south, on the top of a hill, lay
the little village Aërwen wan Tídrak. Another village, called Ífarghén,
is situated higher up the valley, on the road from Aúderas to Damerghú.
On our return I saw in this valley a barbarous mode of tillage, three
slaves being yoked to a sort of plough, and driven like oxen by their
master. This is probably the most southern place in Central Africa where
the plough is used; for all over Sudán the hoe or fertaña is the only
instrument used for preparing the ground.
[Illustration]
_Tuesday, October 8._—While the weather was clear and fine, the valley,
bordered on both sides by steep precipices, and adorned with a rich
grove of dúm-trees, and bush and herbage in great variety, displayed its
mingled beauties, chiefly about the well, where, on our return journey,
I made the accompanying sketch. This valley, as well as those succeeding
it, is able to produce not only millet, but even wheat, wine, and dates,
with almost every species of vegetable; and there are said to be fifty
garden fields (gónaki) near the village of Ífarghén. But too soon we left
this charming strip of cultivation, and ascended the rocky ground on our
right, above which again rose several detached hills, one of which had
so interesting and well-marked a shape that I sketched its outlines. The
road which we followed is not the common one. The latter, after crossing
very rugged ground for about fifteen miles, keeps along the fine deep
valley Télwa for about ten miles, and then ascending for about an hour,
reaches Ágades in three hours more. This latter road passes by Tímelén,
where at times a considerable market is said to be held. Having descended
again, we found the ground in the plain covered with a thin crust of
natron, and further on met people busy in collecting it; but it is not
of very good quality, nor at all comparable to that of Múnio or to that
of the shores of Lake Tsád. There are several places on the border
between the desert and the fertile districts of Negroland which produce
this mineral, which forms a most important article of commerce in Middle
Sudán. Another well-known natron district is in Zabérma; but in Western
Sudán natron is almost unknown, and it is only very rarely that a small
sample of it can be got in Timbúktu. Many of the Kél-owí have learnt
(most probably from the Tedá or Tébu) the disgusting custom of chewing
tobacco intermixed with natron, while only very few of them smoke.
The monotony of the country ceased when we entered the valley Búdde,
which, running in the direction of our path from south-south-west to
north-north-east, is adorned with a continuous strip of dúm-trees,
besides abísga and talha; but the latter were of rather poor growth in
the northern part of the valley. Having crossed at noon the broad sandy
watercourse, which winds through the rich carpet of vegetation, and where
there happened to be a tolerably large pond of water, we encamped in
the midst of the thicket. Here the mimosas attained such an exuberance
as I had scarcely observed even in the valley Ásada, and being closely
interwoven with “gráffeni” or climbing plants, they formed an almost
impenetrable thicket. From the midst of this thorny mass of vegetation
a beautiful ripe fruit, about an inch and a half long, of the size of a
date and of dark-red colour, awakened the desire of the traveller; but
having eaten a few, I found them, though sweet, rather mawkish.
Here too I first became acquainted with the troublesome nature of the
“karéngia,” or _Pennisetum distichum_, which, together with the ant,
is to the traveller in Central Africa his greatest and most constant
inconvenience. It was just ripe, and the little burr-like seeds attached
themselves to every part of my dress. It is quite necessary to be always
provided with small pincers, in order to draw out from the fingers the
little stings, which, if left in the skin, will cause sores. None even of
the wild roving natives is ever without such an instrument. But it is not
a useless plant; for, besides being the most nourishing food for cattle,
it furnishes even man with a rather slight, but by no means tasteless
food. Many of the Tuarek, from Bórnu as far as Timbúktu, subsist more
or less upon the seeds of the _Pennisetum distichum_, which they call
“úzak.” The drink made of it is certainly not bad, resembling in coolness
the fúra or ghussub-water.
From the circumstance that our Kél-owí were here cutting grass for the
camels, I concluded that the next part of our journey would lead through
an entirely sterile tract; but though the herbage was here exuberant, it
was not at all wanting further on. Having left the valley awhile to our
right, we soon re-entered it, and crossed several beautiful branches of
it very rich in vegetation. We then encamped on an open place beyond
the southernmost branch, close to a cemetery of the Imghád who inhabit
a small village to the east called Tawár Nwaijdúd, and further on some
other villages, called Téndau, Tintabórak, and Emélloli. While, with the
rest of our companions, we tried to make ourselves comfortable on the
hard ground and under the open canopy of heaven, Hámma and Mohammed took
up their quarters with the Imghád, and, according to their own statement
on their return the following morning, were very hospitably treated,
both by the male and female part of the inhabitants. As for the Imghád
who live in these fertile valleys round Ágades, they are divided into
numerous sections, of which I learnt the following names: the Ehér-heren,
the Kél-chísem, the Taranaiji, the Edárreban, the Yowúswosan, the
Efeléngeras, the Éheten, the Tariwáza, the Ihíngemángh, the Egemmén, the
Edellén, the Kél-tédele, and the Ikóhanén.
_Wednesday, October 9._—Our route led us over stony ground till we
reached another favoured valley, called Tefárrakad, where, owing to the
watercourse being divided into several branches, vegetation is spread
over a larger space. Here, while our Kél-owí hung a little behind, two
Imghád, mounted on camels, attached themselves to us and became rather
troublesome; but they looked so famished and thin that they awakened pity
rather than any other feeling, their dress and whole attire being of the
poorest description. Further on, when we had left the valley and ascended
rocky ground, we met a small caravan of the same mixed kind as our own
troop—camels, bullocks, asses, and men on foot; they were returning to
their village with provision of Negro millet, which they had bought in
Ágades.
We had scarcely advanced three miles when we descended again into another
long, beautiful hollow in the rocky ground, the valley Bóghel, which,
besides a fine grove of dúm-trees, exhibits one very large and remarkable
specimen of the tree called baure[11] in Háusa, a large ficus with ample
fleshy leaves of beautiful green. This specimen, so far to the north,
measured not less than twenty-six feet in circumference at the height of
eight feet from the ground, and was certainly eighty feet high, with a
full, widespreading crown. I scarcely remember afterwards to have seen in
all Sudán a larger baure than this. Here, for the first time, I heard the
Guinea-fowl (“táliat” or “tailelt” in Temashight, “zabó” in Háusa); for I
did not see it, the birds keeping to the thick and impenetrable underwood
which filled the intervals between the dúm-trees.
At noon the wood, which was rather more than half a mile in breadth,
formed one continued and unbroken cluster of thicket, in the most
picturesque state of wild luxuriance, while further on, where it became a
little clearer of underwood, the ground was covered with a sort of wild
melon; but my friend the blacksmith, who took up one of them and applied
his teeth to it, threw it away with such a grimace that I rather suspect
he mistook a colocynth, “jan-gunna,” for a melon, “gunna.” Numbers of
the _Asclepias gigantea_, which never grows on a spot incapable of
cultivation, bore testimony to the fertility of the soil, which was soon
more clearly demonstrated by a small corn-field still under cultivation.
Traces of former cultivation were evident on all sides. There can
scarcely be the least doubt that these valleys, which were expressly
left to the care of the degraded tribes or the Imghád, on condition of
their paying from the produce a certain tribute to their masters, once
presented a very different aspect; but when the power of the ruler of
Ágades dwindled away to a shadow, and when the Imghád, who received from
him their kaid or governor, “tágaza,” ceased to fear him, preferring
robbery and pillage to the cultivation of the ground, these fine valleys
were left to themselves, and relapsed into a wilderness.
We encamped at an early hour in the afternoon near the watercourse, but
did not succeed in obtaining water by digging, so that we could not even
cook a little supper. Further down the valley there had been a copious
supply of water; and we had passed there a numerous caravan of asses
near a large pool; but my companions, who were extremely negligent in
this respect, would not then lay in a supply. Several Tuarek, or rather
Imóshagh and Imghád, encamped around us for the night, and thus showed
that we were approaching a centre of intercourse.
_Thursday, October 10._—Owing to our want of water, we started at a
very early hour, and, ascending gradually, after a little more than
three miles, reached the height of the pebbly plateau on which the
town of Ágades has been built. After having received several accounts
of this naked “hammáda” or “ténere” stretching out to the distance of
several days, I was agreeably surprised to find that it was by no means
so dreary and monotonous as I had been led to expect, forming now and
then shallow depressions a few feet only lower than the pebbly surface,
and sometimes extending to a considerable distance, where plenty of
herbage and middle-sized acacia were growing. The road was now becoming
frequented, and my companions, with a certain feeling of pride, showed me
in the distance the high “Mesállaje,” or minaret, the glory of Ágades.
Having obtained a supply of water, and quenched our thirst, to my great
astonishment we proceeded to encamp at half-past seven in the morning in
one of these shallow hollows; and I learnt that we were to stay here the
whole day till near sunset, in order to enter the town in the dark.
We were here met by two horsemen from Ágades (the son of the kádhi and a
companion), who, I suppose, had come out on purpose to see us. They had a
very _chevaleresque_ look, and proved highly interesting to me, as they
were the first horsemen I had seen in the country. The son of the kádhi,
who was a fine, tall man, was well dressed in a tobe and trousers of silk
and cotton; he carried only an iron spear besides his sword and dagger,
but no shield. But for me the most interesting part of their attire was
their stirrups, which are almost European in shape, but made of copper.
Of this metal were made also the ornaments on the harness of their
horses; their saddles also were very unlike what I had yet seen in these
countries, and nearly the same as the old Arab saddle, which differs
little from the English.
While encamped here, I bought from Hámma a black Sudán tobe, which,
worn over another very large white tobe or shirt, and covered with a
white bernús, gave me an appearance more suited to the country, while
the stains of indigo soon made my complexion a few shades darker. This
exterior accommodation to the custom of the natives my friend Hámma
represented as essential for securing the success of my undertaking; and
it had, besides, the advantage that it gave rise to the rumour that the
Sultan of Ágades himself had presented me with this dress.
At length, when the sun was almost down, and when it was known that the
Kél-gerés and Itísan (who had come to Ágades in very great numbers, in
order to proceed on their journey to Bilma after the investiture of the
new Sultan) had retreated to their encampments at some distance from
the town, we started, and were soon met by several people, who came to
pay their compliments to my companions. On entering the town, we passed
through a half-deserted quarter, and at length reached the house of
Ánnur, where we were to take up our abode. But arriving in a new place
at night is never very pleasant, and must be still less so where there
are no lamps; it therefore took us some time to make ourselves tolerably
comfortable. But I was fortunate in receiving hospitable treatment from
our travelling companion ʿAbd el Káder, who, being lodged in a chamber
close to mine, sent me a well-prepared dish of kuskusu, made of Indian
corn. I could not relish the rice sent by one of Ánnur’s wives, who
resides here, owing to its not being seasoned with any salt, a practice
to which I became afterwards more accustomed, but which rather astonished
me in a country the entire trade of which consists in salt.
Having spread my mat and carpet on the floor, I slept well, in the
pleasing consciousness of having successfully reached this first object
of my desires, and dreaming of the new sphere of inquiry on which I had
entered.