GAZÁWA.—RESIDENCE IN KÁTSENA.
_Saturday, Jan. 18._—We made a good start with our camels, which, having
been treated to a considerable allowance of salt on the first day of our
halt, had made the best possible use of these four days’ rest to recruit
their strength. At the considerable village of Kálgo, which we passed at
a little less than five miles beyond our encampment, the country became
rather hilly, but only for a short distance. Tamarinds constituted the
greatest ornament of the landscape. A solitary traveller attracted our
notice on account of his odd attire, mounted as he was on a bullock with
three large pitchers on each side. Four miles beyond Kálgo the character
of the country became suddenly changed, and dense groups of dúm-palms
covered the ground. But what pleased me more than the sight of these
slender forked trees was when, half an hour after mid-day, I recognized
my splendid old friend the bóre-tree, of the valley Bóghel, which had
excited my surprise in so high a degree, and the magnificence of which at
its first appearance was not at all eclipsed by this second specimen in
the fertile regions of Negroland. Soon afterwards we reached the fáddama
of Gazáwa; and, leaving the town on our right hidden in the thick forest,
we encamped a little further on in an open place, which was soon crowded
with hucksters and retailers. I was also pestered with a visit from
some half-caste Arabs settled in the town; but fortunately, seeing that
they were likely to wait in vain for a present, they went off, and were
soon succeeded by a native mʿallem from the town, whose visit was most
agreeable to me.
About sunset the “serkí-n-turáwa,” or consul of the Arabs, came to pay
his regards to Elaíji, and introduced the subject of a present, which, as
he conceived, I ought to make to the governor of the town as a sort of
passage-money; my protector, however, would not listen to the proposal,
but merely satisfied his visitor’s curiosity by calling me into his
presence and introducing him to me. The serkí was very showily and
picturesquely dressed—in a green and white striped tobe, wide trousers
of a speckled pattern and colour, like the plumage of the Guinea-fowl,
with an embroidery of green silk in front of the legs. Over this he wore
a gaudy red bernús, while round his red cap a red and white turban was
wound crosswise in a very neat and careful manner. His sword was slung
over his right shoulder by means of thick hangers of red silk ornamented
with enormous tassels. He was mounted on a splendid charger, the head and
neck of which was most fancifully ornamented with a profusion of tassels,
bells, and little leather pockets containing charms, while from under the
saddle a shabrack peeped out, consisting of little triangular patches in
all the colours of the rainbow.
This little African dandy received me with a profusion of the finest
compliments, pronounced with the most refined and sweet accent of which
the Háusa language is capable. When he was gone my old friend Elaíji
informed me that he had prevented the “consul of the Arabs” from exacting
a present from me, and begged me to acknowledge his service by a cup of
coffee, which of course I granted him with all my heart. Poor old Elaíji!
He died in the year 1854, in the forest between Gazáwa and Kátsena, where
from the weakness of age he lost his way when left alone. He has left
on my memory an image which I shall always recall with pleasure. He was
certainly the most honourable and religious man among the Kél-owí.
The market in our encampment, which continued till nightfall, reached its
highest pitch at sunset, when the people of the town brought ready-made
“túwo,” each dish, with rather a small allowance, selling for three
kurdí, or not quite the fourth part of a farthing. I, however, was happy
in not being thrown upon this three-kurdí supper; and while I indulged in
my own home-made dish, Gajére entertained me with the narrative of a nine
days’ siege, which the warlike inhabitants of Gazáwa had sustained, ten
years previously, against the whole army of the famous Bello.
_Sunday, Jan. 19._—We remained encamped, and my day was most agreeably
and usefully spent in gathering information with regard to the regions
which I had just entered. There was first Maʿadi, the slave of Ánnur, a
native of Bórnu, who when young had been made prisoner by the Búdduma of
the lake, and had resided three years among these interesting people,
till having fallen into the hands of the Welád Slimán, then in Kánem,
he at length, on the occasion of the great expedition of the preceding
year, had fallen into the power of the Kél-owí. Although he owed the
loss of his liberty to the freebooting islanders, he was nevertheless a
great admirer of theirs, and a sincere vindicator of their character. He
represented them as a brave and high-spirited people, who made glorious
and successful inroads upon the inhabitants of the shores of the lake
with surprising celerity, while at home they were a pious and God-fearing
race, and knew neither theft nor fraud among themselves. He concluded
his eloquent eulogy of this valorous nation of pirates by expressing his
fervent hope that they might for ever preserve their independence against
the ruler of Bórnu.
I then wrote, from the mouth of Gajére and Yáhia (another of my friends),
a list of the places lying round about Gazáwa, as follows: On the east
side, Mádobí, Maíjirgí, Kógena na kay-debu, Kórmasa, Kórgom, Kánche (a
little independent principality); Gumdá, half a day east of Gazáwa, with
numbers of Ásbenáwa; Démbeda, or Dúmbida, at less distance; Shabáli,
Babíl, Túrmeni, Gínga, Kandémka, Sabó-n-kefí, Zángoni-n-ákwa, Kúrni,
Kurnáwa, Dángudaw. On the west side, where the country is more exposed
to the inroads of the Fúlbe or Féllani, there is only one place of
importance, called Tindúkku, which name seems to imply a close relation
to the Tuarek. All these towns and villages are said to be in a certain
degree dependent on Raffa, the “babá” (_i.e._ great man or chief) of
Gazáwa, who, however, himself owes allegiance to the supreme ruler of
Marádi.
There was an exciting stir in the encampment at about ten o’clock in
the morning, illustrative of the restless struggle going on in these
regions. A troop of about forty horsemen, mostly well mounted, led on by
the serkí-n-Gumdá, and followed by a body of tall, slender archers, quite
naked but for their leathern aprons, passed through the different rows of
the áïri, on their way to join the expedition which the prince of Marádi
was preparing against the Féllani.
About noon the natron caravan of Háj Al Wáli, which I had seen in
Tasáwa, came marching up in solemn order, led on by two drums, and
affording a pleasant specimen of the character of the Háusa people.
Afterwards I went into the town, which was distant from my tent about
half a mile. Being much exposed to attacks from the Mohammedans, as the
southernmost Pagan place belonging to the Marádi-Góber Union, Gazáwa
has no open suburbs outside its strong stockade, which is surrounded
by a deep ditch. It forms almost a regular quadrangle, having a gate
on each side, built of clay, which gives to the whole fortification a
more regular character, besides the greater strength which the place
derives from this precaution. Each gateway is twelve feet deep, and
furnished on its top with a rampart sufficiently capacious for about a
dozen archers. The interior of the town is almost of the same character
as Tasáwa; but Gazáwa is rather more closely built, though I doubt
whether its circumference exceeds that of the former place. The market
is held every day, but, as might be supposed, is far inferior to that
of Tasáwa, which is a sort of little _entrepôt_ for the merchants
coming from the north, and affords much more security than Gazáwa,
which, though an important place with regard to the struggle carried on
between Paganism and Islamism in these quarters, is not so with respect
to commerce. The principal things offered for sale were cattle, meat,
vegetables of different kinds, and earthenware pots. Gazáwa has also a
máriná, or dyeing-place, but of less extent than that of Tasáwa, as most
of its inhabitants are Pagans, and wear no clothing but the leathern
apron. Their character appeared to me to be far more grave than that
of the inhabitants of Tasáwa, and this is a natural consequence of the
precarious position in which they are placed, as well as of their more
warlike disposition. The whole population is certainly not less than ten
thousand.
Having visited the market, I went to the house of the mʿallem, where I
found several Ásbenáwa belonging to our caravan enjoying themselves in
a very simple manner, eating the fruits of the kaña, which are a little
larger than cherries, but not so soft and succulent. The mʿallem, as
I had an opportunity of learning on this occasion, is a _protégé_ of
Elaíji, to whom the house belongs. Returning with my companions to our
encampment, I witnessed a very interesting sort of dance, or rather
gymnastic play, performed on a large scale by the Kél-owí, who being
arranged in long rows, in pairs, and keeping up a regular motion, pushed
along several of their number under their arms—not very unlike some of
our old dances.
_Monday, Jan. 20._—Starting early in the morning, we felt the cold very
sensibly, the thermometer standing at 48° Fahr. a little before sunset.
Cultivated fields interrupted from time to time the underwood for the
first three miles, while the “ngílle,” or “kába,” formed the most
characteristic feature of the landscape; but dúm-palms, at first very
rarely seen, soon became prevalent, and continued for the next two miles.
Then the country became more open, while in the distance to the left
extended a low range of hills. New species of trees appeared, which I had
not seen before, as the “kókia,” a tree with large leaves of a dark-green
colour, with a green fruit of the size of an apple, but not eatable. The
first solitary specimens of the gigiña, or deléb-palm, which is one of
the most characteristic trees of the more southern regions, were also met
with.
Moving silently along, about noon we met a considerable caravan, with a
great number of oxen and asses led by two horsemen, and protected in the
rear by a strong guard of archers; for this is one of the most dangerous
routes in all Central Africa, where every year a great many parties are
plundered by marauders, no one being responsible for the security of this
disputed territory. We had here a thick forest on our left, enlivened
by numbers of birds; then about two o’clock in the afternoon we entered
a fine undulating country, covered with a profusion of herbage, while
the large gámshi-tree, with its broad fleshy leaves of the finest green,
formed the most remarkable object of the vegetable kingdom. All this
country was once a bustling scene of life, with numbers of towns and
villages, till, at the very commencement of this century, the “Jihádi,”
or Reformer, rose among the Fúlbe of Góber, and, inflaming them with
fanatic zeal, urged them on to merciless warfare against Pagans as well
as Mohammedans.
It was here that my companions drew my attention to the tracks of the
elephant, of whose existence in the more northern regions we had not
hitherto seen the slightest trace; so that this seems to be the limit
of its haunts on this side; and it was shortly afterwards that Gajére
descried in the distance a living specimen making slowly off to the east;
but my sight was not strong enough to distinguish it. Thus we entered the
thicker part of the forest, and about half-past four in the afternoon
reached the site of the large town of Dánkama, whither Mágajin Háddedu,
the king of Kátsena, had retired after his residence had been taken by
the Fúlbe, and from whence he waged unrelenting but unsuccessful war
against the bloody-minded enemies of the religious as well as political
independence of his country. Once, indeed, the Fúlbe were driven out of
Kátsena; but they soon returned with renewed zeal and with a fresh army,
and the Háusa prince was expelled from his ancient capital for ever.
After several battles, Dánkama, whither all the nobility and wealth of
Kátsena had retired, was taken, ransacked, and burnt.
A solitary colossal kúka (baobab), representing in its huge, leafless,
and gloomy frame the sad recollections connected with this spot, shoots
out from the prickly underwood which thickly overgrows the locality,
and points out the market-place, once teeming with life. It was a most
affecting moment; for, as if afraid of the evil spirits dwelling in
this wild and deserted spot, all the people of the caravan, while we
were thronging along the narrow paths opening between the thick prickly
underwood, shouted with wild cries, cursing and execrating the Féllani,
the authors of so much mischief; all the drums were beating, and every
one pushed on in order to get out of this melancholy neighbourhood as
soon as possible.
Having passed a little after sunset a large granitic mass projecting from
the ground, called Korremátse, and once a place of worship, we saw in
the distance, in front, the fires of those parties of the aïri which had
preceded us; and greeting them with a wild cry, we encamped on the uneven
ground in great disorder, as it had become quite dark. After a long march
I felt very glad when the tent was at length pitched. While the fire
was lighted, and the supper preparing, Gajére informed me that, besides
Dánkama, Bello destroyed also the towns of Jankúki and Madáwa in this
district, which now presents such a frightful wilderness.
In the course of the night the roar of a lion was heard close by our
encampment.
_Tuesday, Jan. 21._—We started, with general enthusiasm, at an early
hour; and the people of our troop seeing the fires of the other divisions
of the salt caravan in front of us still burning, jeered at their
laziness, till at length, on approaching within a short distance of the
fires, we found that the other people had set out long before, leaving
their fires burning. A poor woman, carrying a load on her head, and
leading a pair of goats, had attached herself to our party in Gazáwa; and
though she had lost her goats in the bustle of the previous afternoon,
she continued her journey cheerfully and with resignation.
After five hours’ march the whole caravan was suddenly brought to a
stand for some time, the cause of which was a ditch of considerable
magnitude, dug right across the path, and leaving only a narrow passage,
the beginning of a small path which wound along through thick, thorny
underwood. This, together with the ditch, formed a sort of outer defence
for the cultivated fields and the pasture-grounds of Kátsena, against any
sudden inroad. Having passed another projecting mass of granite rock, we
passed two small villages on our left, called Túlla and Takumáku, from
whence the inhabitants came out to salute us. We encamped at length in a
large stubble-field, beyond some kitchen-gardens, where pumpkins (dúmma)
were planted, two miles north-east from the town of Kátsena. While we
were pitching my tent, which was the only one in the whole encampment,
the Sultan or Governor of Kátsena came out with a numerous retinue of
horsemen, all well dressed and mounted; and having learnt from Elaíji
that I was a Christian traveller belonging to a mission (a fact, however,
which he knew long before), he sent me soon afterwards a ram and two
large calabashes or dúmmos filled with honey—an honour which was rather
disagreeable to me than otherwise, as it placed me under the necessity of
making the governor a considerable present in return. I had no article of
value with me, and I began to feel some unpleasant foreboding of future
difficulties.
An approximative estimate of the entire number of the salt caravan, as
affording the means of accurately determining the amount of a great
national commerce carried on between widely separated countries, had
much occupied my attention, and having in vain tried on the road to
arrive at such an estimate, I did all I could to-day to obtain a list
of the different divisions composing it; but although Yáhia, one of the
principal of Ánnur’s people, assured me that there were more than thirty
troops, I was not able to obtain particulars of more than the following;
viz. encamped on this same ground with us was the salt caravan of Ánnur,
of Elaíji, of Hámma with the Kél-táfidet, of Sálah, of Háj Makhmúd with
the Kél-tagrímmat, of Ámaki with the Amákita, of the Imasághlar (led by
Mohammed dan Ággeg), of the Kél-azanéres, of the Kél-ínger (the people
of Zingína), of the Kél-ágwau, and finally that of the Kél-chémia. No
doubt none of these divisions had more than two hundred camels laden with
salt, exclusive of the young and the spare camels; the whole of the salt,
therefore, collected here at the time was at the utmost worth one hundred
millions of kurdí, or about eight thousand pounds sterling. Beside the
divisions of the aïri which I have just enumerated as encamped on this
spot, the Erázar were still behind, while the following divisions had
gone on in advance: the Kél-n-Néggaru; the Iseráraran, with the chief
Bárka and the támberi (war chieftain) Nasóma; and the Ikázkezan, with the
chiefs Mohammed Irólagh and Wuentúsa.
We may therefore not be far from the truth if we estimate the whole
number of the salt caravan of the Kél-owí of this year at two thousand
five hundred camels. To this must be added the salt which had gone to
Zínder, and which I estimate at about a thousand camel-loads, and that
which had been left in Tasáwa for the supply of the markets of the
country as far as Góber, which I estimate at from two hundred to three
hundred camel-loads. But it must be borne in mind that the country of
Ásben had been for some time in a more than ordinarily turbulent state,
and that consequently the caravan was at this juncture probably less
numerous than it would be in quiet times.
Being rather uneasy with regard to the intention of the governor of the
province, I went early the next morning to Elaíji, and assured him that
besides some small things, such as razors, cloves, and frankincense, I
possessed only two red caps to give to the governor, and that I could
not afford to contract more debts by buying a bernús. The good old man
was himself aware of the governor’s intention, who, he told me, had made
up his mind to get a large present from me, otherwise he would not allow
me to continue my journey. I wanted to visit the town, but was prevented
from doing so under these circumstances, and therefore remained in the
encampment.
[Illustration]
The governor, who spends a great deal of his time in a country house
which he has recently built outside the town, about noon held a sort of
review of several hundred horsemen, whose horses, in general, were in
excellent condition. They were armed with a straight sword hanging on the
left, a long heavy spear for thrusting, and a shield, either of the same
description as that of the Tuarek, of oblong shape, made of the hide of
the large antelope (_Leucoryx_), or else of bullock’s or elephant’s hide,
and forming an immense circular disc of about five feet in diameter;
some of them wore also the dagger at the left arm, while I counted not
more than four or five muskets. Their dress was picturesque, and not
too flowing for warlike purposes, the large shirt, or shirts (for they
generally wear two), being fastened round the breast with an Egyptian
shawl with a red border; and even those who were dressed in a bernús
had it wound round their breasts. Most of them wore black “ráwani,” or
shawls, round their faces, a custom which the Féllani of Háusa have
adopted from the Tuarek merely on account of its looking warlike; for
they have no superstitious reason for covering the mouth. The harness
of the horses was all of Háusa manufacture, the saddles very different
from those of the Tuarek (which seem to be identical with the old Arab
saddles). The stirrups formed a very peculiar kind of medium between the
large, unwieldy stirrups of the modern Arab and the small ones of the
Tuarek and Europeans, the sole of the stirrup being long, but turned
down at both ends, while it is so narrow that the rider can only thrust
the naked foot into it. I could not understand the principle upon which
this kind of stirrup is made. It appeared to me a most absurd specimen of
workmanship.
The Féllani in Kátsena have good reason to be on their guard against the
Kél-owí, who, in an underhand way, are always assisting the independent
Háusa states of Góber and Marádi in their struggle, and might some day
easily make common cause with them to drive out these arrogant intruders
from the conquered provinces. In fact they have done all in their power
to attain this object; and Ánnur’s policy is so well known to the Féllani
that once when he came to Kátsena he received most shameful treatment
at their hands. Afterwards I was visited by el Wákhshi, and paid him
in return a visit at that part of the encampment where some of his
merchandise was deposited, for he himself was living in the town. Here he
introduced to me a person who was very soon to become one of my direst
tormentors, the bare remembrance of whom is even now unpleasant; it was
the háj Bel-Ghét, a man born in Tawát, but who had long been settled in
Kátsena, and though not with the title, yet in reality holding the office
of a “serkí-n-turáwa.”
A troop of eight mounted royal musicians (“masukídda-n-serkí”), who had
been playing the whole day before the several divisions of the “aïri,”
came likewise to my tent in the course of the afternoon, and gratified my
ears with a performance on their various instruments. There was the drum,
or “ganga,” very much like our own instrument of that kind, and of about
the same size as the common regimental drum; the long wind instrument,
or “pampámme;” a shorter one, a sort of flute, or “elgaita;”[15] a sort
of double tambourine, or “kalángo;” a simple tympanum, or “koso;” a
sort of double Egyptian darabúka, called “jójo;” and a small horn, or
“kafó.” The most common among them is the “jójo,” which in Háusa is
the chief instrument made use of in an expedition, and, if accompanied
by the voice, is not disagreeable. With these various instruments the
well-mounted horsemen made a pretty good noise; but it was neither
harmonious nor characteristic: to all this pompous imitative music I
prefer a few strains with natural feeling by a solitary maimólo. I was
obliged to reward my entertainers with a large quantity of cloves, as I
had scarcely anything else left.
I was rather astonished to hear that the Ásbenáwa do not pay
passage-money to the governor according to the number of their camels,
but that every freeman among them makes him a present of one kántu of
salt. For every beast of burden, be it pack-ox or donkey, five hundred
kurdí are generally paid.
_Thursday, Jan. 23._—Having assorted such a present as I could afford, I
protested once more to Elaíji that, my other luggage having gone on in
advance to Kanó, I had but very little to offer the governor.
I went about noon with my protector and a great number of Ásbenáwa to
offer the governor my compliments and my present. Sitting down under
a tree at a considerable distance from the spot where he himself was
seated, we waited a little, till we should be called into his presence,
when his brother, who held the office of ghaladíma, came to us—a man
of immense corpulency, resembling a eunuch. Indeed, nothing but the
cut of his face, his aquiline nose and rather light colour, and the
little goatlike beard which ornamented his chin could expose him to the
suspicion of being a Púllo or Ba-Féllanchi.[16] He wanted to treat my
business apart from that of Elaíji, who, however, declared that he had
come only for my sake. While the fat ghaladíma was returning to inform
his brother of what he had heard, a troop of well-mounted Kélesárar (who,
as I was told, are settled at present in the province of Kátsena) came
up at full speed. It was not long before a servant came from the serkí,
inviting me alone into his presence.
Mohammed Béllo Yeríma, the eldest son of the former well-known governor,
Mʿallem Ghomáro,[17] was seated under a widespreading and luxuriant
tamarind-tree, dressed simply in a large white shirt with a black ráwani
round his face. The Ásbenáwa, who formed a large semicircle around him,
were dressed most gaudily. Stepping into the opening of the semicircle,
I saluted the governor, telling him that as I and my companions had
lost, on the border of Asben, almost all the valuable property we had
brought with us, and as the few things left to me had gone on to Kanó,
he ought to excuse me for being unable at the present moment to offer
him a present worthy of his high position; that it was my desire to go
on without delay to Kanó, in order to settle my affairs, and to proceed
to Bórnu, where we expected to receive fresh supplies, after which one
of our party certainly would go to Sókoto, in order to pay our respects
to the Emír el Múmenín. The governor answered my address with much
apparent kindness, telling me that I was now in his “imána,” or under
his protection, and that he had no other purpose but to do what would
be conducive to my advantage. He then asked the news of my companions,
though he knew all about them, and did not appear to take the least
offence at Mr. Overweg’s going to Marádi, although the people and the
ruler of that place were his most inveterate enemies. But things must
not be looked upon here as they would be in Europe; for here people are
accustomed to see strangers from the north pay visits to all sorts of
princes, whatever may be their policy. However, while he spoke in rather
friendly terms to me, and while my presents were received thankfully by
the servants, he declared to the people who were sitting near him that
as the ruler of Bórnu had laid hold of one of my companions, and that of
Marádi of the other, he should be a fool if he were to let me pass out of
his hands. I therefore took leave of him with no very light heart.
My present consisted of two fine red caps, a piece of printed calico
which I had bought in Múrzuk for four Spanish dollars, but which was of
a pattern not much liked in Sudán, an English razor and scissors, one
pound of cloves, another of frankincense, a piece of fine soap, and a
packet of English needles. Though it certainly was not a very brilliant
present, yet, considering that I did not want anything from him, it was
quite enough; but the fact was that he wanted something more from me, and
therefore it was not sufficient.
Early the following morning, while it was still dark, a servant of the
governor came with Elaíji to my tent, requesting me to stay voluntarily
behind the caravan. Though this would have been the best plan, had I
known that the governor had set his heart upon keeping me back, yet I
could not well assent to it, as I had nothing at all with me, not even
sufficient to keep me and my people for a short time from starving. I
therefore told him that it was impossible for me to stay behind, and
prepared to go on with the caravan which was setting out. This, however,
Elaíji would not allow me to do, but while all the divisions of the aïri
started one after the other, he himself remained behind with several of
the principal men of the caravan, till Háj Bel-Ghét came and announced
that it was necessary for me to go to the town, there to await the
decision of the governor. Seeing that nothing was to be done but to obey,
and having in vain shown my letter of recommendation from the Sultan
of Ágades, from which, as I had feared from the beginning, nothing was
inferred but that I had been directly forwarded by him to the Governor
of Kátsena in order to see me safe to Sókoto, I took leave of Elaíji,
thanking him and his friends for their trouble, and followed Bel-Ghét and
his companion Músa into the town.
The immense mass of the wall, measuring in its lower part not less than
thirty feet, and its wide circumference, made a deep impression upon
me. The town (if town it may be called) presented a most cheerful rural
scene, with its detached light cottages, and its stubble-fields shaded
with a variety of fine trees; but I suspect that this ground was not
entirely covered with dwellings even during the most glorious period of
Kátsena. We travelled a mile and a half before we reached the “zínsere,”
a small dwelling used by the governor as a place of audience—on account,
as it seems, of a splendid widespreading fig-tree growing close to it,
and forming a thick shady canopy sufficient for a large number of people.
I, however, was conducted to the other side of the building, where a
quadrangular chamber projects from the half-decayed wall, and had there
to wait a long time, till the governor came into town from his new
country seat. Having at last arrived, he called me, and, thanking me for
remaining with him, he promised that I should be well treated as his
guest, and that without delay a house should be placed at my disposal. He
was a man of middle age, and had much in his manners and features which
made him resemble an actor; and such he really is, and was still more so
in his younger days.
Taking leave of him for the present, I followed Bel-Ghét to my quarters;
but we had still a good march to make, first through detached dwellings
of clay, then leaving the immense palace of the governor on our left,
and entering what may be strictly called the town, with connected
dwellings. Here I was lodged in a small house opposite the spacious
dwelling of Bel-Ghét; and though on first entering I found it almost
insupportable, I soon succeeded in making myself tolerably comfortable
in a clean room neatly arranged. It seemed to have once formed the snug
seat for a well-furnished harím; at least the dark passages leading to
the interior could not be penetrated by a stranger’s eye. We had scarcely
taken possession of our quarters when the governor sent me a ram and two
ox-loads of corn—one of “dáwa,” and the other of “géro.” But instead of
feeling satisfied with this abundant provision, we were quite horrified
at it, as I with my three people might have subsisted a whole year on
the corn sent us; and we began to have uneasy forebodings of a long
detention. Indeed, we suspected, and were confirmed in our suspicion
by the statements of several people, that it was the governor’s real
intention to forward me directly to Sókoto, a circumstance which
alienated from me my servants—even the faithful Mohammed el Gatróni, who
was much afraid of going there.
However, my new protector, Bel-Ghét, did not leave me much time for
reflection, but soon came back to take me again to the governor.
Having sat awhile in the cool shade of the tree, we were called into
his audience-room, which was nothing more than the round hut or dérne
(“zaure” in Kanúri) which generally forms the entrance and passage-room
in every Púllo establishment. Besides myself, the háj Bel-Ghét, and
his constant companion Músa, there was also the wealthy merchant Háj
Wáli, whom I had seen in Tasáwa, when he tried to persuade me to follow
the men sent to take me to Zínder, while he now sought to represent
the governor of Kátsena as the greatest man in all Negroland, and the
best friend I could have. The governor soon began to display his talent
as an actor, and had the unfortunate letter from the Sultan of Ágades
read, interpreted, and commented upon. According to the sagacious
interpretation of these men, the purport of the letter was to recommend
me expressly to this governor as a fit person to be detained in his
company. All my representations to the effect that my friend ʿAbd el
Káder had recommended me in exactly the same terms to the governors of
Dáura and Kanó, and that I had forwarded a letter from Ágades to the Emír
el Múmenín, in Sókoto, informing him that as soon as we had received
new supplies from the coast one of us at least would certainly pay him
a visit, which under present circumstances, robbed and destitute as we
were, we could not well do, were all in vain; he had an answer for every
objection, and was impudent enough to tell me that a message had been
received from Marádi, soliciting me to go thither; that as Bórnu had
laid hold of one of my companions, and Marádi of the other, so he would
lay hold of me, but of course only in order to become my benefactor (“se
al khére”). Seeing that reply was useless, and that it was much better
to let this lively humourist go through his performance, and to wait
patiently for the end of the comedy, I took leave of him, and returned to
my quarters.
Late in the evening the governor sent for Mohammed, who could scarcely
be expected, with his fiery and inconsiderate behaviour, to improve the
state of things; and as the governor’s dwelling was a good way off, I
was obliged to allow him to go armed with a pair of pistols, which soon
attracted the attention of our host, who complained bitterly that while
all the petty chiefs had received from us such splendid presents, he, the
greatest man in Negroland, had got nothing. Mohammed having told him that
the pistols belonged to me, he wanted me to present them to him; but this
I obstinately refused, as I was convinced that the whole success of our
further proceedings depended on our firearms.
I was rather glad when el Wákhshi called upon me the following morning,
as I trusted he might help me out of the scrape. After conversing with
him about my situation, I went out with him to stroll about the town. We
had gone, however, but a little way when Bel-Ghét saw us, and reprimanded
me severely for going out without asking his permission. Growing rather
warm at such humiliating treatment, I told him, in very plain terms,
that as long as the governor refrained from posting soldiers before my
door I would regard myself as a free man, and at liberty to go where I
chose. Seeing that he could not wreak his anger directly upon me, he
tried to do it indirectly, by reprimanding my companion for going about
with this “káfer,” and confirming the “káfer” in his refractoriness
against the will of the Sultan. Not feeling much honoured with the title
thus bestowed on me, I told him that as yet nobody in the whole town
had insulted me with that epithet, but that he alone had the insolence
to apply it. When the miserable fellow saw me irritated he did not
hesitate to declare that, though well versed in the Kurán, he had been
entirely unaware of the meaning of “káfer,” and begged me to give him
full information about the relations of the English to the various
Mohammedan states. When I came to speak about Morocco he interrupted me,
as, being a native of Gurára, he might be presumed to know the relations
of those countries better than I did; and he insisted that the English
were not on good terms with the Emperor of Morocco and were not allowed
to visit Fás (Fez). I then declared to him that there could scarcely be
a more unmistakable proof of the friendly relations existing between the
English and Mulʿa ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán than the present of four magnificent
horses, which the latter had lately sent to the Queen of England. He
then confessed that he was more of an antiquarian, and ignorant of the
present state of matters; but he was quite sure that during the time of
Mulʿa Ismʿaíl it certainly was as he had stated. To this I replied, that
while all the Mohammedan states, including Morocco, had since that time
declined in power, the Christians, and the English in particular, had
made immense steps in advance. We then shook hands, and I left the poor
Moslim to his own reflections.
Proceeding with el Wákhshi on our intended promenade, and laughing at
the scrape into which he had almost got by changing (in the dispute
with Bel-Ghét) the honorary title of the latter, “Sultàn ben eʾ Sultán”
(Sultan, son of Sultan), into that of “Shitán ben eʾ Shitán” (Satan, son
of Satan), we went to the house of a ghadámsi, where we found several
Arab and native merchants collected together, and among them a ghadámsi
who bore the same name as that which, for more friendly intercourse
with the natives, I had adopted on these journeys, namely, that of
ʿAbd el Kerím. This man had accompanied ʿAbd Allah (Clapperton) on his
second journey from Kanó to Sókoto, and was well acquainted with all the
circumstances attending his death. He was greatly surprised to hear that
“Ríshar” (Richard Lander), whom he had believed to be a younger brother
of Clapperton, had not only successfully reached the coast, after his
circuitous journey to Danróro, and after having been dragged back by
force from his enterprising march upon Fanda, but had twice returned
from England to those quarters before he fell a victim to his arduous
exertions.
I then returned, with my old Ghadámsi friend, to my lodgings, where
Bel-Ghét came soon after us, and once more begged my pardon for having
called me “káfer.”
Afterwards el Wákhshi brought me a loaf of sugar, that I might make a
present of it to Bel-Ghét. On this occasion he cast his eyes on a small
telescope which I had bought in Paris for six francs, and begged me
to give it to him for the loaf of sugar which he had just lent me. I
complied with his wish. Taking the loaf of sugar with me, and the two
other letters of the Sultan of Ágades, as well that addressed to the
Governor of Dáura, as that to the Governor of Kanó, I went to Bel-Ghét,
and, presenting him with the sugar as a small token of my acknowledgment
for the trouble he was taking in my behalf, I showed him the letters as
a proof that the Sultan of Ágades never intended to forward me to his
friend the Governor of Kátsena as a sort of “abenchí” or a _tit-bit_
for himself, but that he acknowledged entirely my liberty of action,
and really wished to obtain protection for me wherever I might choose
to go. Bel-Ghét, being touched by the compliments I paid him, affected
to understand now for the first time the real circumstances of my case,
and promised to lend me his assistance if I would bind myself to return
to Kátsena from Bórnu, after having received sufficient supplies from
the coast. This I did to a certain degree, under the condition that
circumstances should not prove unfavourable to such a proceeding; indeed
I doubted at that time very much whether I should be able to return this
way again. But when I did re-visit Kátsena in the beginning of 1853, with
a considerable supply of presents, and met before the gates of the town
this same man, who had been sent to compliment me on the part of the same
governor, it was a triumph which I could scarcely have expected. The old
man was on the latter occasion almost beside himself with joy, and fell
upon my neck exclaiming, over and over again, “ʿAbd el Kerím! ʿAbd el
Kerím!” while I told him, “Here I am, although both my companions have
died; I am come to fulfil my promise. I am on my way to Sókoto, with
valuable presents for the Emír el Múmenín.”
Leaving Bel-Ghét in better humour, I went with el Wákhshi to his house,
where he treated me and two Ásbenáwa with a dish of roasted fowl and
dates, after which I proceeded with him through the decayed and deserted
quarter where the rich Ghadámsíye merchants once lived, and through some
other streets in a rather better state, to the market-place, which forms
a large regular quadrangle, with several rows of sheds, or runfá, of
the same style as those in Tasáwa, but much better and more regularly
built. Of course there was here a better supply of native cotton cloth
and of small Nuremberg wares, in the market, than in the former place;
but otherwise there was nothing particular, and altogether it was dull,
showing the state of decay into which this once splendid and busy
emporium of Negroland had fallen.
The most interesting thing I observed in the market were limes, of
tolerably large size and extremely cheap, and the beautiful large fruit
of the gónda (_Carica Papaya_), which had just begun to ripen; however,
the latter was rather dear, considering the low price of provisions
in general, a fine papaw being sold for from twenty-five to thirty
kurdí, a sum which may keep a poor man from starvation for five days.
In Kanó I afterwards saw this fruit cut into thin slices, which were
sold for one “urí” (shell) each. Having sat for a long time with el
Wákhshi in a runfá, without being exposed to any insult whatever, though
I was necessarily an object of some curiosity, I returned home and
passed the evening quietly with my people, Gajére giving me reason all
the time for the utmost satisfaction with his faithful and steadfast
behaviour. Besides being sincerely attached to me, he was persuaded
that he possessed influence enough to get me out of my scrape; and thus
he informed me, as a great secret, that he had forwarded a message to
Ánnur, giving him full information of my case, and that in consequence I
might give myself no further trouble, but rely entirely upon that chief’s
assistance. While he was thus cheering my spirits in the evening, as we
lay round the fire in our courtyard, he frequently repeated the words,
“Kasó mutúm dondádi uyátaso, kádda kakíshi da kúmmia,” contrasting his
own faithfulness with the faithless, frivolous behaviour of Mohammed el
Túnsi, whom he called “mógo mutúm” (a bad sort of fellow). But Gajére
also had his own reasons for not being so very angry at our delay, as the
lean mare which I had hired of him had a sore back and was in a rather
weak state, so that a little rest and a full measure of corn every day
was not so much amiss for her.
El Wákhshi returned the same evening, giving me hope that I might get off
the next day. However, this proved to be empty talk; for the following
day my business with the pompous Béllo made no progress, he demanding
nothing less from me than one hundred thousand kurdí or cowries—a sum
certainly small according to European modes of thinking, barely exceeding
8_l._, but which I was quite unable to raise at the time. Béllo was
mean enough to found his claims upon his noble but quite uncalled-for
hospitality, having given me, as he said, two rams, two vessels of honey,
and two loads of corn, altogether worth from eleven to twelve thousand
cowries; and I now felt myself fully justified in changing his noble
title “Sultán, ben Sultán” into that of “Dellál, ben dellál” (Broker,
son of a broker). Even my old friend el Wákhshi took the occasion of
this new difficulty of mine to give vent to his feelings as a merchant,
saying that this was the “dʿawa” (the curse) attending our (the English)
proceedings against the slave-trade. And it must be confessed that the
merchants of Ghadámes have suffered a great deal from the abolition
of the slave-trade in Tunis, without being compensated for this loss
by the extension or increased security of legitimate commerce. Seeing
that the slave-trade is still carried on in Núpe or Nýffi, where, they
are persuaded, the English could prevent it if they would, and that it
is there carried on not by Mohammedans but by Christians, they have
plausible grounds for being angry with the English nation.
I had a highly interesting discussion with my old fanatical friend
Bel-Ghét. It seems that after I had protested against his calling me
“káfer” the other day, he had held a consultation on this subject with
some people of his own faith; and his zeal being thus revived, he
returned to-day to urge the point. He began with questioning me about
the different nations that professed Christianity, and which among them
were the “kofár;” for some of them, he was quite sure, were, and deserved
to be, so called. I replied that the application of the word depended
on the meaning attached to it, and that if he understood by the word
káfer anybody who doubted of the mission of Mohammed, of course a great
many Christians were kofár; but if, with more reason, he called by this
name only those who had no idea of the unity of God, and venerated other
objects besides the Almighty God, that it could then be applied only to
a few Christians, particularly to those of the Greek, and to the less
enlightened of the Catholic Church, though even these venerated the
crucifix and the images rather as symbols than as idols. But I confessed
to him that, with regard to the unity of the Divine Being, Islám
certainly was somewhat purer than the creeds of most of the Christian
sects; and I acknowledged that, just at the time when Mohammed appeared,
Christianity had sunk considerably below the level of its pristine
purity. The old man went away pleased with what I had told him, and
swore that he would not again call the English kofár, but that, with my
permission, he would still apply that name to the “Mósko” (the Russians).
In the afternoon his son, a man of about five and thirty, came to visit
me, accompanied by a sheríf from Yeman, who had been to Bombay, and was
well acquainted with the English; he was now on his way to Timbúktu, in
order to vindicate his right of inheritance to the property of a wealthy
merchant who had died there. In this, however, he was unsuccessful; and
when I reached Timbúktu in September, 1853, he had left it some time
previously with broken spirits and in great distress. He perished on his
way home. He was an amiable and intelligent man, and visited me several
times. From him and his companion I received intimation of a large
“Christian book,” bound in leather, with edges and lock made of metal, in
the possession of a Púllo or Ba-Féllanchi in the town; but no one could
tell me whether it was manuscript or print, and although I offered to
pay for a sight of it, I never succeeded in my object. It might be one
of those heavy books which Clapperton, when dying, told Lander rather to
leave behind than take with him to England.
_Tuesday, Jan. 28._—I at length succeeded in arranging matters with the
governor. Early in the morning I sent Mohammed to el Wákhshi in order to
try and settle the business, telling him that I was ready to make any
possible sacrifice; and he sent me a bernús for fifty-two thousand kurdí.
While I was hesitating about contracting a new debt of such magnitude
(in my poor circumstances), Bel-Ghét, who evidently feared that if I
gave one large present to the governor, he himself would get nothing,
intimated to me that it would be better to choose several small articles.
El Wákhshi therefore procured a caftan of very common velvet, a carpet, a
sedríye or close waistcoat, and a shawl, which altogether did not exceed
the price of thirty-one thousand kurdí; so that I saved more than twenty
thousand. In order, however, to give to the whole a more unpremeditated,
honorary, and professional appearance, I added to it a pencil, a little
frankincense, and two strong doses of Epsom salts.
While Bel-Ghét was engaged in negotiating peace for me with the eccentric
governor, I went with el Wákhshi and Gajére to the market, and thence
proceeded with the latter, who, stout and portly, strode before me with
his heavy spear, like a stately bodyguard or “kavás,” to the house
of Mánzo, an agent of Masáwaji, who always lives here, and paid him
our compliments. Passing then by the house of the Sultan of Ágades
(“gída-n-serkí-n-Agades”), who occasionally resides here, we went to the
“kófan Gúga” (the north-western gate of the town), which my companion
represented to me as belonging entirely to the Ásbenáwa; for as long as
Kátsena formed the great emporium of this part of Africa the aïri used to
encamp in the plain outside this gate. The wall is here very strong and
high, at least from without, where the height is certainly not less than
from five and thirty to forty feet, while in the interior the rubbish
and earth has accumulated against it to such a degree that a man may
very easily look over it; the consequence is that during the rains a
strong torrent, formed here, rushes out of the gate. On the outside there
is also a deep, broad ditch. We returned to our lodging by way of the
“máriná” and the market, both of which places were already sunk in the
repose and silence of night.
I had scarcely re-entered my dark quarters, when Bel-Ghét arrived,
telling me that the governor did not want my property at all; however,
to do honour to my present, he would condescend to keep the caftan and
the carpet, but he sent me back the sedríye and the shawl—of course to be
given as a present to his agent and commissioner, my noble friend from
Gurára. The governor, however, was anxious to obtain some more medicines
from me. He at the same time promised to make me a present of a horse.
Although I had but a small store of medicines with me, I chose a few
powders of quinine, of tartar-emetic, and of acetate of lead, and gave
him a small bottle with a few drops of laudanum, while it was arranged
that on the following morning I should explain to the governor himself
the proper use of these medicines.
The next morning, therefore, I proceeded with Bel-Ghét, to whose swollen
eye I had successfully applied a lotion, and whose greediness I had
satisfied with another small present on the way to the “zínsere.” He
wished to show me the interior of the immense palace, or the “fáda;” but
he could not obtain access to it, and I did not see it till on my second
visit to Kátsena.
Béllo received me in his private apartment, and detained me for
full two hours while I gave him complete information about the use
of the medicines. He wanted, besides, two things from me, which I
could not favour him with—things of a very different character, and
the most desired by all the princes of Negroland. One of these was a
“mágani-n-algúwa” (a medicine to increase his conjugal vigour); the
other, some rockets, as a “mágani-n-yáki” (a medicine of war), in order
to frighten his enemies.
Not being able to comply with these two modest wishes of his, I had great
difficulty in convincing him of my goodwill; and he remained incredulous
to my protestations that we had intentionally not taken such things as
rockets with us, as we were afraid that if we gave such a thing to
one prince, his neighbour might become fiercely hostile to us. But he
remarked that he would keep such a gift a secret. I was very glad he
did not say a word more about the pistols; but in order to give me a
proof that he knew how to value fine things, he showed me the scissors
and razor which I had given him the other day, for which he had got a
sheath made, and wore them constantly at his left side. He then told me
he would make me a present of an “abi-n-háwa” (something to mount upon),
intimating already by this expression that it would not be a first-rate
horse, as I had not complied with his heart’s desire, but that it would
be furnished with saddle and harness, and that besides he would send me a
large “hákkori-n-gíwa” (an elephant’s tooth) to Kanó. This latter offer I
declined, saying that, though my means were very small at present, I did
not like to turn merchant. He reminded me then of my promise to return;
and we parted the best of friends. Notwithstanding the injustice of every
kind which he daily commits, he has some sentiment of honour; and feeling
rather ashamed for having given me so much trouble for nothing, as he
was aware that it would become known to all his fellow-governors, and
probably even to his liege lord, the Emír el Múmenín, he was anxious to
vindicate his reputation. It was from the same motive that he begged me
most urgently not to tell anybody that I had made him the presents here,
adding, that he would afterwards say that he had received them from me
from Kanó.
Having returned home, I thankfully received the compliments which were
made me from different quarters on account of the fortunate issue of my
affair with this “munáfekí,” or evil-doer; and although the horse, which
was not brought till next morning after we had been waiting for it a long
while, proved rather ill-looking and poor, being scarcely worth more than
ten thousand kurdí, or four dollars, and though the saddle was broken and
harness wanting altogether, I was quite content, and exulted in my good
fortune. But before leaving this once most important place I shall try to
give a short historical sketch of its past, and an outline of its present
state.