THE BORDER REGION OF THE DESERT.—THE TAGÁMA.
_Friday, Dec. 27._—At length we were to exchange our too easy wandering
for the rate of real travelling. Early in the morning a consultation
was held with the elder men of the Kél-táfidet, who had come from their
villages. We then set out, taking leave of the regions behind us, and
looking forward with confidence and hope to the unknown or half-known
regions before us. The valley continued to be well clothed with a
profusion of herbage, but it was closely hemmed in on both sides; after a
march, however, of four miles and a half, it widened again to more than a
mile, and began gradually to lose its character of a valley altogether;
but even here the allwot was still seen, although of a stunted and dry
appearance. We then left the green hollow which is the valley Bargót,
and I thought we should now enter upon the Hammáda, or “ténere;” but
after a while the valley again approached close on our left. To my
disappointment, we encamped even before noon, at the easy northern slope
of the rocky ground, where there is a watering-place called Aghálle. The
afternoon, however, passed away very pleasantly, as I had a conversation
with the old chief, who honoured me with a visit, and touched on many
points of the highest interest.
_Saturday, Dec. 28._—Starting at a tolerably early hour, we ascended
the slope; but no sooner had we reached the level of the plain than
we halted, beating the drum until all the different strings of camels
had come up; we then proceeded. At first the plain consisted almost
exclusively of gravel overgrown with herbage and allwot, with only now
and then a rock seen projecting; but gradually it became more pebbly,
and was then intersected by a great many low crests of rock, consisting
chiefly of gneiss. We gradually ascended towards a low ridge called
Abadárjen, remarkable as forming in this district the northern border
of the elevated sandy plain which seems to stretch across a great part
of the continent, and forms the real transition land between the rocky
wilderness of the desert and the fertile arable zone of Central Africa.
This sandy ledge is the real home of the giraffe and of the _Antilope
leucoryx_. Just about noon we entered upon this district, leaving the
rocky range at less than a mile on our left, and seeing before us a
sandy level, broken only now and then by blocks of granite thickly
overgrown with the “knotted” grass called bú rékkebah, and dotted with
scattered talha-trees. Two miles further on we encamped. A very long
ear of géro (_Pennisetum typhoïdeum_), which was broken from a plant
growing wild near the border of the path, was the most interesting object
met with to-day, while an ostrich egg, though accidentally the very
first which we had yet seen on this journey, afforded us more material
interest, as it enabled us to indulge our palates with a little tasteful
_hors d’œuvre_, which caused us more delight, perhaps, than scientific
travellers are strictly justified in deriving from such causes. Our
caravan to-day had been joined by Gajére, a faithful servant of Ánnur,
who was coming from Ágades, and who, though a stranger at the time, very
shortly became closely attached to me, and at present figures among the
most agreeable reminiscences of my journey.
_Sunday, Dec. 29._—When we started we were surprised at the quantity
of hád with which the plain began to be covered. This excellent plant
is regarded by the Arab as the most nutritious of all the herbs of the
desert, for the camel, and in the western part of that arid zone it
seems to constitute its chief food. Numerous footprints of giraffes were
seen, besides those of gazelles and ostriches, and towards the end of
the march those of the Welwaiji, the large and beautiful antelope called
_leucoryx_, from the skin of which the Tuarek make their large bucklers.
Further on, the plain presented some ups and downs, being at times naked,
at others well wooded and overgrown with grass. At length, after a good
day’s march, we encamped. To-day we made the acquaintance of another
native of Middle Sudán, the name of which plays a very important part
in the nomenclature of articles of the daily market in all the towns
and villages. This was the mágaria (called by the Kanúri “kúsulu”), a
middle-sized tree, with small leaves of olive-green colour, and producing
a fruit nearly equal in size to a small cherry, but in other respects
more resembling the fruit of the cornel (_Cornus_), and of light-brown
colour. This fruit, when dried, is pounded and formed into little cakes,
which are sold all over Háusa as “túwo-n-magária,” and may be safely
eaten in small quantities even by a European, to allay his hunger for a
while, till he can obtain something more substantial; for it certainly
is not a very solid food, and if eaten in great quantities has a very
mawkish taste.
While the cattle and the asses went on already in the dark, the camels
were left out during the night to pick up what food they could; but
early in the morning, when they were to be brought back, a great many of
Ánnur’s camels could not be found. Hereupon the old chief himself set
his people an example, and galloping to the spot where their traces had
been lost, he recovered the camels, which were brought in at an early
hour. Meanwhile, however, being informed how difficult it would be to
obtain water at the well before us, in the scramble of people which
was sure to take place, I arranged with Overweg that while I remained
behind, with Mohammed and the things, he should go on in advance, with
the Gatróni and Ibrahim, to fill the water-skins; and we afterwards
had reason to congratulate ourselves on this arrangement, for the well,
though spacious and built up with wood, contained at the time but a
very moderate supply of muddy water for so large a number of men and
beasts. Its name is Terguláwen. This locality, desolate and bare in
the extreme, is considered most dangerous on account of the continual
ghazzias of the Awelímmiden and Kél-gerés, who are sure to surprise and
carry off the straggling travellers who, if they would not perish by
thirst, must resort to this well. Our whole road from our encampment,
for more than seven hours and a half, led over bare, barren sand-hills.
The camping-ground was chosen at no great distance beyond the well, in
a shallow valley or depression ranging east and west, and bordered by
sand-hills on its south side, with a little sprinkling of herbage. The
wind, which came down with a cold blast from the north-north-east, was so
strong that we had great difficulty in pitching the tent.
_Tuesday, Dec. 31._—Last day of 1850. A cold day, and a mountainous
country. After we had crossed the sand-hills, there was nothing before us
but one flat expanse of sand, mostly bare, and clothed with trees only
in favoured spots. The most remarkable phenomenon was the appearance of
the feathery bristle, the _Pennisetum distichum_, which on the road to
Ágades begins much further northwards. Indeed, when we encamped we had
some difficulty in finding a spot free from this nuisance, though of
course the strong wind carried the seeds to a great distance. All our
enjoyment of the last evening of the old year centred in an extra dish of
two ostrich eggs.
_Wednesday, Jan. 1, 1851._—This morning the condition in which the people
composing the caravan crawled out of their berths was most miserable
and piteous; and moreover, nobody thought of starting early, as several
camels had been lost. At length, when the intense cold began to abate,
and when the animals had been found, everybody endeavoured to free
himself and his clothing from the bristles, which joined each part of
his dress to the others like so many needles; but what one succeeded in
getting rid of was immediately carried by the strong wind to another, so
that all were in every respect peevish when they set out at half-past
nine o’clock. Nevertheless the day was to be a very important one to me,
and one on which princely favour was to be shown to me in a most marked
manner.
I have remarked above that on the day I started for Ágades the old chief
made a present of a bullock to the other members of the mission; but in
this present I myself did not participate, and I had not yet received
anything from him. Perhaps he was sensible of this, and wanted to give me
likewise a proof of his royal generosity; but I am afraid he was at the
same time actuated by feelings of a very different nature. He had several
times praised my Turkish jacket, and I had consoled him with a razor or
some other trifle; he had avowedly coveted my warm black bernús, and had
effected, by his frank intimations, nothing more than to make me draw my
warm clothing closer round my body. In order to bear the fatigue of the
journey more easily, he had long ago exchanged the little narrow kígi,
or méheri-saddle, for the broad pack-saddle, with a load of salt, as a
secure seat.
He was one of the foremost in his string, while I, mounted upon my
Bu-Séfi (who, since the loss of my méheri, had once more become my
favourite saddle-horse), was riding outside the caravan, separated
from him by several strings of camels. He called me by name; and on my
answering his call, he invited me to come to him: to do this I had to
ride round all the strings. At length I reached him. He began to complain
of the intense cold, from which he was suffering so acutely, while I
seemed to be so comfortable in my warm clothes; then he asked if the
ostrich eggs of yesterday evening had pleased us, whereupon I told him
that his people had cheered us greatly by contributing, with their gift,
to enable us to celebrate our chief festival. He then put his hand into
his knapsack, and drawing forth a little cheese, and lifting it high up,
so that all his people might see it, he presented the princely gift to
me, with a gracious and condescending air, as a “mágani-n-dári” (a remedy
against the cold), words which I, indeed, was not sure whether they were
not meant ironically, as an intimation that I had withheld from him the
real mágani-n-dári, my black bernús.
We were gladdened when, about noon, the plain became clothed with
brushwood, and after a while also with bú rékkebah. Large troops of
ostriches were seen—once a whole family, the parents, with several young
ones of various ages, all running in single file, one after the other.
We encamped at half-past three in the afternoon, on a spot tolerably
free from karéngia, where we observed a great many holes of the fox,
the fének, or ñauñáwa (_Megalotis famelicus_), particularly in the
neighbourhood of ant-hills. There were also the larger holes of the
earth-hog (_Orycteropus Æthiopicus_), an animal which never leaves its
hole in the daytime, and is rarely seen even by the natives. The holes,
which are from fourteen to sixteen inches in diameter, and descend
gradually, are generally made with great accuracy.
The following day the country during the first part of our march
continued rather bare; but after half-past two in the afternoon it became
richer in trees and bushes, forming the southern zone of this sandy
inland plateau, which admits of pastoral settlements. The elevation of
this plain or transition zone seems to be in general about two thousand
feet above the level of the sea. We encamped at length in the midst of
prickly underwood, and had a good deal of trouble before we could clear a
spot for pitching the tent.
_Friday, Jan. 3._—Soon after setting out on our march, we met a caravan
consisting of twenty oxen laden with corn, and further on passed a herd
of cattle belonging to the Tagáma, a most cheerful sight to us. We then
encamped, before ten o’clock, a little beyond a village of the same
tribe, which, from a neighbouring well, bears the name In-asámet. The
village consisted of huts exactly of the kind described by Leo; for
they were built of mats (_stuore_) erected upon stalks (_frasche_), and
covered with hides over a layer of branches, and were very low. Numbers
of children and cattle gave to the encampment a lively aspect. The well
is rather deep, not less than seventeen fathoms.
We had scarcely encamped, when we were visited by the male inhabitants
of the village, mounted upon a small, ill-looking breed of horses. They
proved to be somewhat troublesome, instigated as they were by curiosity,
as well as by their begging propensities; but in order to learn as much
as possible, I thought it better to sacrifice the comfort of my tent,
and converse with them. They were generally tall men, and much fairer
than the Kél-owí; but in their customs they showed that they had fallen
off much from ancient usages, through intercourse with strangers. The
women not only made the first advances, but, what is worse, they were
offered even by the men—their brethren or husbands. Even those among the
men whose behaviour was least vile and revolting did not cease urging
us to engage with the women, who failed not to present themselves soon
afterwards. It could scarcely be taken as a joke. Some of the women
were immensely fat, particularly in the hinder regions, for which the
Tuarek have a peculiar and expressive name—tebúllodén. Their features
were very regular, and their skin was fair. The two most distinguished
amongst them gave me their names as Shabó and Támatu, which latter word,
though signifying “woman” in general, may nevertheless be also used as a
proper name. The wealthier among them were dressed in black túrkedí and
the zénne, the poorer in white cotton. The dress of most of the men was
also white, but the chief peculiarity of the latter was, that several
of them wore their hair hanging down in long tresses. This is a token
of their being Aníslimen, or Merábetín (holy men), which character they
assume notwithstanding their dissolute manners. They have no school, but
pride themselves on having a mʿallem appointed at their mesállaje, which
must be miserable enough. Having once allowed the people to come into my
tent, I could not clear it again the whole day. The names of the more
respectable among the men were Kílle, el Khassén, Efárret, Cháy, Ríssa,
Khándel, and Amaghár (properly “the Elder”). All these people, men and
women, brought with them a variety of objects for sale, and I bought from
them some dried meat of the welwaiji (_Antilope leucoryx_), which proved
to be very fine, as good as beef; others, however, asserted that it was
the flesh of the “rákomi-n-dáwa,” or giraffe.
Hunting, together with cattle-breeding, is the chief occupation of the
Tagáma, and they are expert enough with their little swift horses to
catch the large antelope as well as the giraffe. Others engage in the
salt trade, and accompany the Kél-gerés on their way to Bilma, without,
however, following them to Sókoto, where, for the reason which I shall
presently explain, they are not now allowed to enter; but they bring
their salt to Kanó. In this respect the Tagáma acknowledge also, in a
certain degree, the supremacy of the Sultan of Agades. Their slaves
were busy in collecting and pounding the seeds of the karéngia, or úzak
(_Pennisetum distichum_), which constitutes a great part of their food.
Whatever may be got here is procurable only with money; even the water
is sold, the waterskin for a zekka of millet; but of course grain is
here very much cheaper than in Aír, and even than in Ágades. Altogether
the Tagáma form at present a very small tribe, able to muster, at the
utmost, three hundred spears; but most of them are mounted on horseback.
Formerly, however, they were far more numerous, till Íbram, the father of
the present chief, undertook, with the assistance of the Kél-gerés, the
unfortunate expedition against Sókoto (then governed by Bello), of which
Clapperton has given a somewhat exaggerated account. The country around
is said to be greatly infested by lions, which often carry off camels.
_Saturday, Jan. 4._—Our setting out this morning, after the camels
were all laden and the men mounted, was retarded by the arrival of a
queen of the desert, a beauty of the first rank, at least as regarded
her dimensions. The lady, with really handsome features, was mounted
upon a white bullock, which snorted violently under his immense burden.
Nevertheless this luxurious specimen of womankind was sickly, and
required the assistance of the tabíb, or “ne-meglán,” a title which
Overweg had earned for himself by his doctoring, though his practice was
rather of a remarkable kind; for he used generally to treat his patients,
not according to the character of their sickness, but according to the
days of the week on which they came. Thus he had one day of calomel,
another of Dover’s powder, one of Epsom salts, one of magnesia, one
of tartar emetic, the two remaining days being devoted to some other
medicines; and it of course sometimes happened that the man who suffered
from diarrhœa got Epsom salts, and he who required opening medicine was
blessed with a dose of Dover’s powder. Of course my friend made numerous
exceptions to this calendary method of treating disease, whenever time
and circumstances allowed him to study more fully the state of a patient.
However, in the hurry in which we just then were he could scarcely make
out what the imaginary or real infirmity of this lady was, and I cannot
say what she got. She was certainly a woman of great authority, as the
old chief himself was full of kind regard and deference to her. We were
rather astonished that he exchanged here his brown mare for a lean
white horse, the owners of which seemed, with good reason, excessively
delighted with their bargain. At length we got off, proceeding towards
the land of promise in an almost direct southerly course. After three
miles’ march, the thick bush “dílu” made its appearance in the denser
underwood, and the country became more hilly and full of ant-holes, while
in the distance ahead of us, a little to our left, a low range became
visible, stretching east and west. Suddenly the ground became a rocky
flat, and the whole caravan was thrown into disorder. We did not at
first perceive its cause, till we saw, to our great astonishment, that a
steep descent by a regular terrace was here formed, at least a hundred
feet high, which conducted to a lower level—the first distinct proof
that we had passed the Hammáda. The vegetation here was different, and
a new plant made its appearance, called “ágwau,” a middle-sized bush,
consisting of a dense cluster of thick branches of very white wood, at
present without leaves, the young shoots just coming out; melons also
were plentiful here, but they had no taste. The rocky descent only
extended to a short distance towards the west, when it broke off, while
on our left it stretched far to the south-east. When we had kept along
this plain for a little more than two miles, we passed, a short distance
on our right, a large pond, or “tébki,” of water, called “Fárak,”
spreading out in a hollow. I had here a long conversation with my
frolicsome friend Mohammed Ánnur’s cousin, who was also going to Sudán;
I told him that his uncle seemed to know his people well, and showed his
wisdom in not leaving such a wanton youngster as himself behind him. He
was, as usual, full of good humour, and informed me that Ánnur’s troop
was almost the first, being preceded only by the caravan of Sálah, the
chief of Égéllat. He prided himself again on his exploits in the late
ghazzia, when they had overtaken the Éfadaye marauders in Tálak and
Búgarén. Further on we passed the well called Fárak, which was now dry,
and encamped two miles beyond it in a district thickly overgrown with
karéngias.
_Sunday, Jan. 5._—We had scarcely started, when I observed an entirely
new species of plant, which is rather rare in Central Negroland, and
which I afterwards met in considerable quantities along the north shore
of the so-called Niger, between Timbúktu and Tosáye. It is here, in
Háusa, called “kumkúmmia,” a euphorbia growing from one and a half to two
feet in height, and is very poisonous; indeed, hereabouts, as in other
districts of Central Africa, it furnishes the chief material with which
arrows are poisoned. The principal vegetation consisted of “árza” (a
species of laurel) and dílu; and further on parasitical plants were seen,
but not in a very vigorous state. Altogether the country announced its
fertility by its appearance, and a little before noon, when low ranges
of hills encompassed the view on both sides, and gave it a more pleasant
character, we passed, close on our left, another pastoral settlement of
half mat and half leather tents, enlivened by numerous cattle and flocks,
and leaning against a beautiful cluster of most luxuriant trees. But more
cheerful still was the aspect of a little lake or tank of considerable
extent, and bordered all around with the thickest grove of luxuriant
acacias of the kind called “baggarúwa,” which formed overhead a dense
and most beautiful canopy. This little lake is called “Gúmrek,” and
was full of cattle, which came hither to cool themselves in the shade
during the hot hours of the day. In this pleasant scenery we marched
along, while a good number of horsemen collected around us, and gave
us a little trouble; but I liked them far better, with their rough and
warlike appearance, than their more civilized and degraded brethren of
the day before. At about half-past two we encamped on the border of a
dry watercourse with a white sandy bed, such as we had not seen for a
long time. But here we made the acquaintance of a new plant and a new
nuisance; this is the “aidó,” a grass with a prickly involucrum of black
colour, and of larger size and stronger prickles than the karéngia (or
_Pennisetum distichum_), and more dangerous for naked feet than for the
clothes. A new string of camels joined us here, led on by Mohammed Ánnur.
_Monday, Jan. 6._—We were greatly surprised at the appearance of the
weather this morning; the sky was covered with thick clouds, and even
a light rain fell while the caravan was loading. We felt some fear on
account of the salt; but the rain soon ceased. In the course of my
travels, principally during my stay in Timbúktu, I had more opportunities
of observing these little incidental rainfalls of the cold season, or
“the black nights,” during January and February; and further on, as
occasion offers, I shall state the result of my observations.
At a little more than a mile from our camping ground, the aspect of the
country became greatly changed, and we ascended a hilly country of a very
remarkable character, the tops of the hills looking bare, and partly
of a deep, partly of a greyish black, like so many mounds of volcanic
_débris_, while the openings or hollows were clothed with underwood.
Here our companions began already to collect wood as a provision for
the woodless corn-fields of Damerghú; but we were as yet some distance
off. Ascending gradually, we reached the highest point at nine o’clock,
while close on our right we had a hill rising to greater elevation, and
here we obtained an interesting view, just as the sun burst through
the clouds, over the hilly country before us, through which a bushy
depression ran in a very winding course. Along this tortuous thread
of underwood lay our path. As we were proceeding, Ibrahím, our Furáwi
freeman, who was a very good marksman for a black, brought down a large
lizard (_Draconina_) “demmó,” or, as the Arabs call it, “wárel,” which
was sunning itself on a tree; it is regarded by the people as a great
delicacy. A little before noon the country seemed to become more open,
but only to be covered with rank reeds ten feet high—quite a new sight
for us, and a great inconvenience to the camels, which stumbled along
over the little hillocks from which the bunches of reeds shot forth.
Further on, the ground (being evidently very marshy during the rainy
season) was so greatly torn and rent by deep fissures that the caravan
was obliged to separate into two distinct parties. The very pleasant and
truly park-like hilly country continued nearly unchanged till one o’clock
in the afternoon, when, at a considerable distance on our left, we got
sight of the first corn-fields of Damerghú, belonging to the villages of
Kulakérki and Banuwélki.
This was certainly an important stage in our journey. For although we had
before seen a few small patches of garden-fields, where corn was produced
(as in Selúfiet, Áuderas, and other favoured places), yet they were on
so small a scale as to be incapable of sustaining even a small fraction
of the population; but here we had at length reached those fertile
regions of Central Africa which are not only able to sustain their own
population, but even to export to foreign countries. My heart gladdened
at this sight, and I felt thankful to Providence that our endeavours had
been so far crowned with success; for here a more promising field for our
labours was opened, which might become of the utmost importance in the
future history of mankind.
We soon after saw another village, which several of our companions
named Olalówa, and which may indeed be so called, although I thought at
the time they applied to it the name of the more famous place further
on, with which they were acquainted, and I afterwards convinced myself
that such was really the case. The country became open and level, the
whole ground being split and rent by fissures. While I was indulging
in pleasing reveries of new discoveries and successful return, I was
suddenly startled by three horsemen riding up to me and saluting me
with a “Lá ílah ilá Allah.” It was Dan Íbra (or Íbram, the “Son of
Ibrahím”), the famous and dreaded chief of the Tamizgída, whom the ruler
of Tin-téllust himself in former times had not been able to subdue, but
had been obliged to pay him a sort of small tribute or transit-money, in
order to secure the unmolested passage of his caravans on their way to
Sudán. The warlike chief had put on all his finery, wearing a handsome
blue bernús, with gold embroidery, over a rich Sudán tobe, and was
tolerably well mounted. I answered his salute, swearing by Allah that
I knew Allah better than he himself, when he became more friendly, and
exchanged with me a few phrases, asking me what we wanted to see in this
country. He then went to take his turn with Mr. Richardson. I plainly saw
that if we had not been accompanied by Ánnur himself, and almost all our
luggage sent on in advance, we should have had here much more serious
colloquies.
After having ascended a little from the lower ground, where evidently,
during the rains, a large sheet of water collects, and having left on
our right a little village surrounded by stubble-fields, we passed along
the western foot of the gently sloping ground on whose summit lies the
village (“úngwa”) Sámmit. It was past four o’clock in the afternoon when
we encamped upon an open stubble-field, and we were greatly cheered at
observing here the first specimen of industry in a good sense; for of
industry in a bad sense the Tagáma had already given us some proof. As
soon as we were dismounted two muscular blacks, girded with leather
aprons round their loins, came bounding forward, and in an instant
cleared the whole open space around us, while in a few minutes several
people, male and female, followed, offering a variety of things for sale,
such as millet, beans (of two sorts), and those cakes called dodówa,
which were duly appreciated by the late Captain Clapperton for the
excellent soup made of them. Of their preparation I shall speak when we
meet the first tree of that species, the dorówa, the name of the cake and
that of the tree being distinguished by the change of a consonant. The
cakes obtained here, however, as I afterwards learned, were of a most
inferior and spurious character—of that kind called “dodówa-n-bósso”
in Háusa, and in some districts “yákwa.” We felt here the benefit of
civilization in a most palpable way, by getting most excellent chicken
broth for our supper. Our servants, indeed, were cooking the whole night.
_Tuesday, Jan. 7._—There were again a few drops of rain in the morning.
Soon after starting, we were greeted by the aspect of a few green
kitchen-gardens, while we were still gradually ascending. On reaching
the highest level, we obtained a sight of the mountains of Damerghú
(“dúwatsu-n-Damerghú,” as they are called), a low range stretching
parallel with the road towards the east, while ahead of us, and westward,
the country was entirely open, resembling one unbroken stubble-field.
Having crossed a hollow with a dry pond and some trees, we had at about
eight o’clock a village close on our right, where, for the first time, I
saw that peculiar style of architecture which, with some more or less
important varieties, extends through the whole of Central Africa.
These huts, in as far as they are generally erected entirely with the
stalks of the Indian corn, almost without any other support except that
derived from the feeble branches of the _Asclepias gigantea_, certainly
do not possess the solidity of the huts of the villages of Asben, which
are supported by a strong framework of branches and young trees; but they
greatly surpass them in cleanliness, on account of the large available
supply of the light material of which they are built. It is, however,
to be remarked that the inhabitants of this district depend in a great
measure for their fuel, too, upon the stalks of the Indian corn. The huts
in general are lower than those in Asben, and are distinguished from
them entirely by the curved top of the thatched roof, which sustains
the whole. In examining these structures one cannot but feel surprised
at the great similarity which they bear to the huts of the aboriginal
inhabitants of Latium, such as they are described by Vitruvius and other
authors, and represented occasionally on terra-cotta utensils, while
the name in the Bórnu or Kanúri language, “kósi,” bears a remarkable
resemblance to the Latin name “casa,” however accidental it may be. It is
still more remarkable that a similar name, “kúde,” is given to a cottage
in the Tamil and other Asiatic languages.
More remarkable and peculiar than the huts, and equally new and
interesting to us, as the most evident symptom of the great
productiveness of this country, were the little stacks of corn scattered
among the huts, and in reality consisting of nothing but an enormous
basket made of reeds, and placed upon a scaffold of thick pieces of wood
about two feet high, in order to protect the corn against the “kúsu” and
the “gará” (the mouse and the ant), and covered over on the top with a
thatched roof, like that of the huts. Of these little corn-stacks we
shall find some most interesting architectural varieties in the course
of our travels. The “gará,” or white ant (_Termes fatalis_), is here the
greatest nuisance, being most destructive to the corn, as well as to all
softer kinds of house-furniture, or rather to the houses themselves.
Every possible precaution must be taken against it. The “kúsu,” or mouse,
abounds here in great numbers, and of several species: particularly
frequent is the jerbóa (_dipus_) which for the traveller certainly forms
a very pleasant object to look at as it jumps about on the fields, but
not so to the native, who is anxious about his corn.
While reflecting on the feeble resistance which this kind of architecture
must necessarily offer in case of conflagration, particularly as water
is at so great a distance, I perceived almost opposite to this little
hamlet a larger one, called Mája, on the other side of the road, and
shaded by some thorn-trees. From both villages the people came forth to
offer cheese and Indian corn for sale. They differed widely from the
fanatical people among whom we had been travelling; most of them were
Pagans and slaves. Their dress was mean and scanty; this of course is an
expensive article in a country where no cotton is produced, and where
articles of dress can only be obtained in exchange for the produce of
the country. On a field near the path the Guinea-corn was still lying
unthreshed, though the harvest had been collected two months before. The
threshing is done with long poles. The whole of Damerghú produces no
durra or sorghum, but only millet or _Pennisetum typhoïdeum_, and all,
as far as I know, of the white species. Further on, the stubble-fields
were pleasantly interrupted by a little pasture-ground, where we saw a
tolerably large herd of cattle. Then followed a tract of country entirely
covered with the monotonous _Asclepias gigantea_, which at present is
useful only as affording materials for the framework of the thatched
roofs, or for fences. It is worthless for fuel, although the pith is
employed as tinder. The milky juice (which at present is used by the
Pagan natives, as far as I know, only to ferment their gíya, and which
greatly annoys the traveller in crossing the fields, as it produces spots
on the clothes, and even injures the hair of the horses) might become an
important article of trade. The cattle, at least in districts where they
have not good pasturage, feed on the leaves of the asclepias.
We were gradually ascending, and reached at about a quarter past ten
o’clock the summit of a rising ground the soil of which consisted of
red clay. Altogether it was an undulating country, appearing rather
monotonous, from its almost total want of trees, but nevertheless of the
highest interest to one just arrived from the arid regions of the north.
Having passed several detached farms, which left a very agreeable
impression of security and peacefulness, we came upon a group of wells,
some dry, but others well filled, where besides cattle, a good many
horses were led to water, a cheerful and to us quite a novel sight; many
more were seen grazing around on the small patches of pasture-ground
which interrupted the stubble-fields, and some of them were in splendid
condition—strong and well-fed, and with fine, sleek coats; all of them
were of brown colour. But there was another object which attracted
our attention; the trough at the well was formed of a tortoise-shell
of more than two feet in length, and on inquiry we learnt that this
animal, of a large size, is not at all rare in this district. It was
already mentioned, as common in these regions, by the famous Andalusian
geographer el Bekri.
Villages, stubble-fields, tracts covered with tunfáfia (the _Asclepias_),
detached farms, herds of cattle, and troops of horses tranquilly grazing
succeeded each other, while the country continued undulating, and
was now and then intersected by the dry bed of a watercourse. Having
passed two divisions of the aïr, or aïri, which had preceded us, and
had encamped near some villages, we obtained quite a new sight—a large
quadrangular place called Dam-mágaji (properly Dan Mágaji, “the Son of
the Lieutenant,” after whom it is called), surrounded with a clay wall,
spreading out at a short distance on our left, while in the distance
before us, in the direction of Zínder, a high cone called Zozáwa became
visible. Leaving a village of considerable size on our right, at a
quarter to three o’clock we reached a small hamlet, from which numbers
of people were hurrying forward, saluting us in a friendly and cheerful
manner, and informing us that this was Tágelel, the old chief’s property.
We now saw that the village consisted of two distinct groups, separated
from each other by a cluster of four or five tsámias, or tamarind-trees,
the first poor specimens of this magnificent tree, which is the
greatest ornament of Negroland. Our camping-ground was at first somewhat
uncomfortable and troublesome, it being absolutely necessary to take
all possible precautions against the dreadful little foe that infests
the ground wherever there is arable land in Sudán—the white ant; but we
gradually succeeded in making ourselves at home and comfortable for the
next day’s halt.
The greatest part of the following day was spent in receiving visits. The
first of these was interesting, although its interest was diminished by
the length to which it was protracted. The visitor was a gallant freeborn
Ikázkezan, of a fine, though not tall figure, regular, well-marked
features, and fair complexion, which at once bespoke his noble birth;
he was clad in a very good red bernús, of the value of seventy thousand
kurdí in Kanó, and altogether was extremely neatly and well dressed. He
came first on horseback with two companions on camels, but soon sent his
horse and companions away, and squatted down in my tent, apparently for
a somewhat long talk with me, and he remained with me for full three
hours. But he was personally interesting, and a very fine specimen of
his tribe, and the interest attaching to his person was greatly enhanced
by his having accompanied the expedition against the Welád Slimán, which
none of our other friends the Kél-owí had done. On this account I was
greatly pleased to find that his statements confirmed and corroborated
the general reports which we had heard before. He was all admiration at
the large fortification which, as soon as they heard that the Tuarek
intended an expedition against them, the Arabs had constructed at
Késkáwa, on the shore of Lake Tsád (carrying trees of immense size from
a great distance), and where they had remained for two months awaiting
the arrival of their enraged foe. He expressed his opinion that nothing
but the great God Himself could have induced them to leave at length
such a secure retreat and impregnable stronghold, by crazing their wits
and confounding their understandings. I also learnt that these daring
vagabonds had not contented themselves with taking away all the camels of
the Kél-owí that came to Bilma for salt, but, crossing that most desolate
tract which separates Kawár or Hénderi Tedá (the Tébu country) from Aír,
pursued the former as far as Agwáu.
At the time I conversed with my Ikázkezan friend about this subject I
was not yet aware how soon I was to try my fortune with the shattered
remains of that Arab horde, although its fate had formed an object of the
highest interest to the expedition from the beginning. As for ourselves,
my visitor was perfectly well acquainted with the whole history of our
proceedings, and he was persuaded that, out of any material, we were able
to make what we liked, but especially fine bernúses—an opinion which gave
rise to some amusing conversation between us.
This interesting visitor was succeeded by a great many tiresome people,
so that I was heartily glad when Overweg, who had made a little excursion
to a great pond of stagnant water, at the foot of the hill of Farára,
the residence of Mákita, returned, and, lying outside the little shed
of tanned skins, which was spread over his luggage, drew the crowd away
from my tent. Overweg, as well as Ibrahím, who had accompanied him, had
shot several ducks, which afforded us a good supper, and made us support
with some degree of patience the trying spectacle of a long procession of
men and women laden with eatables, passing by us in the evening towards
the camping-ground of the chief, while not a single dish found its way to
us; and though we informed them that they were missing their way, they
would not understand the hint, and answered us with a smile. Many severe
remarks on the niggardliness of the old chief were that evening made
round our fire. While music, dancing, and merriment were going on in the
village, a solitary “maimólo” found his way to us, to console the three
forsaken travellers from a foreign land, by extolling them to the skies,
and representing them as special ministers of the Almighty.
_Wednesday, Jan. 8._—Aír, or rather Asben, as we have seen above, was
originally inhabited by the Góber race—that is to say, the most noble
and original stock of what is now, by the natives themselves, called the
Háusa nation; but the boundaries of Asben appear not to have originally
included the district of Damerghú, as not even those of Aír do at the
present day, Damerghú being considered as an outlying province and the
granary of Aír. On the contrary, the name of Damerghú (which is formed of
the same root as the names Daw-erghú, Gam-erghú, and others, all lying
round Bórnu proper) seems to show that the country to which it applied
belonged to the Kanúri race, who are in truth its chief occupants even
at the present day, the Bórnu population being far more numerous than
the Háusa; and though a great many of them are at present reduced to
a servile condition, they are not imported slaves, as Mr. Richardson
thought, but most of them are serfs or prædial slaves, the original
inhabitants of the country. It is true that a great many of the names
of the villages in Damerghú belong to the Háusa language, but these I
conceive to be of a former date. The district extends for about sixty
miles in length, and forty in breadth. It is altogether an undulating
country, of very fertile soil, capable of maintaining the densest
population, and was in former times certainly far more thickly inhabited
than at present. The bloody wars carried on between the Bórnu king ʿAli
ʿOmármi on the one side, and the Sultan of Ágades and the Tuarek of Aír
on the other, must have greatly depopulated these border districts.
I shall first mention five places which owe their celebrity and
importance, not to their size or the number of their inhabitants, but
rather to their political rank, being the temporary residences of the
chiefs. I name first Kúla-n-kérki—not the village mentioned above as
being seen in the distance, but another place, half a day’s journey
(“wúëni,” as the Háusa people say) east from Tágelel—of considerable
size, and the residence of the chief Músa, who may with some truth be
called master of the soil of Damerghú, and is entitled serkí-n-Damerghú
in the same sense in which Mazáwaji was formerly called serkí-n-Asben;
and to him all the inhabitants of the district, with the sole exception
of the people of the three other chiefs, have to do homage and present
offerings. Olalówa, about three miles or three miles and a half
south-west of Tágelel, is rather smaller than Kúla-n-kérki. It is the
residence of Mazáwaji, a man of the same family as Ánnur, who, till a
short time before our arrival in Aír, was “amanókal-n-Kél-owí,” residing
in Ásodi, in the place of Astáfidet. Though he has left Aír voluntarily,
he still retains the title “serkí-n-Kél-owí,” and is a friendly and
benevolent old man. Olalówa has a market-place provided with rúnfona,
or rúnfas (sheds), where a market is held every Sunday; but it is not
well attended by the inhabitants of the other places, owing to the
fear entertained of Mazáwaji’s slaves, who seem (mild as their master
is) to be disposed to violence. Farára, the residence of Mákita, or
Ímkiten, the man who played the chief part during the interregnum, or
rather the reign of anarchy in Ásben, before the installation of ʿAbd
el Káder, is situated about two miles from Tágelel, on the west side of
the road which we were to take, on the top of a hill, at the foot of
which is a very extensive lagoon of water, from which the inhabitants
of Tágelel also, and of many surrounding villages, draw their supply.
Tágelel, the residence of Ánnur, although of small size (the two groups
together containing scarcely more than a hundred and twenty cottages), is
nevertheless of great political importance in all the relations of this
distracted country. Here also I will mention Dankámsa, the residence of
an influential man of the name of Úmma, which in a certain respect enjoys
the same rank as the four above-named villages.
I will also add in this place the little which I was able to learn about
the mixed settlements of Tuarek and black natives between Damerghú
and Múniyo. As these places are the chief centres whence proceed the
predatory excursions which are carried on continually against the
northern districts of Bórnu, information with regard to them is not
easily obtained. The chief among them is the principality of Alákkos,
or Elákwas, about three (long) days north-east from Zínder, and two
from Gúre, the present residence of Muniyóma. The ruling class in this
sequestered haunt of robbers and freebooters seems to belong to the tribe
of the Tagáma, and the name of the present chief is Abu-Bakr, who can
lead into the field perhaps two hundred horsemen. The chief place bears
the same name as the whole principality, and besides it there are but a
few small places, among which I learnt the name of Dáucha. Alákkos is
celebrated among the hungry inhabitants of the desert, on account of its
grain, and in the desert-song the verse which celebrates the horse of
Tawát is followed by another one celebrating the grain of Alákkos, “tádak
Elákwas.”
Quite apart seems to be a place called Gáyim, which is governed by a
chief called Kámmedán, and I know not whether another place called Kárbo
be comprised in the same principality or not. These are the great haunts
of the freebooters, who infest the border districts, from Damerghú to the
very heart of Kánem.
_Thursday, Jan. 9._—This was the great market-day in Tágelel, on which
account our departure was put off till the following day; but the market
did not become thronged until a late hour. I went there in the afternoon.
The market-place, which was about eight hundred yards distant from our
encampment, towards the west, upon a small hilly eminence, was provided
with several sheds or rúnfas. The articles laid out for sale consisted of
cotton (which was imported), tobacco, ostrich eggs, cheese, mats, ropes,
nets, earthenware pots, gúras (or drinking-vessels made of the _Cucurbita
ovifera_ and _C. lagenaria_) and kórios (or vessels made of a fine sort
of reed, for containing fluids, especially milk); besides these there
were a tolerable supply of vegetables, and two oxen, for sale. The buyers
numbered about a hundred.
In the afternoon two magozáwa, or Pagans, in a wild and fanciful attire
(the dry leaves of Indian corn or sorghum hanging down from their
barbarous headdress and from the leather apron which was girt round their
loins and richly ornamented with shells and bits of coloured cloth),
danced in front of our tents the “devil’s dance,” a performance of great
interest in regard to the ancient Pagan customs of these countries, and
to which I may have occasion to revert when I speak about Dodó, or the
evil spirit, and the representation of the souls of the dead.
Tágelel was a very important point for the proceedings of the mission,
on several accounts; for here we had reached the lands where travellers
are able to proceed singly on their way, and here Overweg and I were to
part from Mr. Richardson, on account of the low state of our finances, in
order to try what each of us might be able to accomplish single-handed
and without ostentation, till new supplies should arrive from home.