THE BORDER-COUNTRY OF THE MARGHI.
_Friday, June 6._—We now commenced travelling more in earnest. Íbrahíma
had been busy looking after his master’s subjects, who had been carried
away into slavery, all about the villages in the neighbourhood, but with
very little success. Our road passed close by Ujé Kásukulá, which to-day
looked quite deserted; and then through a populous country with numerous
villages and fine pasture-grounds, where I saw the plant called “wálde”
by the Fúlbe.
I had taken great pains in Kúkawa, while gathering information about the
country whither I was going, to ascertain from my informants whether snow
ever lies there on the tops of the mountains or not; but I could never
get at the truth, none of the natives whom I interrogated having ever
visited North Africa, so as to be able to identify what he saw on the
tops of the mountains in his country with the snow seen in the north.
Áhmedu bel Mejúb, indeed, knew the Atlas, and had seen snow on some of
the tops of that range; but he had paid little attention to the subject,
and did not think himself justified in deciding the question. Now this
morning, when we obtained once more a sight of Mount Dalántubá, marking
out, as it were, the beginning of a mountainous region, we returned again
to the subject; and all that my companions said led me to believe that I
might really expect to see snow on the highest mountains of Ádamáwa. But
after all I was mistaken; for they were speaking of clouds. Unfortunately
Bíllama had taken another path, so that to-day I had no one to tell me
the names of the villages which we passed. Some geographers think this
a matter of no consequence—for them it is enough if the position of the
chief places be laid down by exact astronomical observation; but to me
the general character of a country, the way in which the population is
settled, and the nature and character of those settlements themselves,
seem to form some of the chief and most useful objects of a journey
through a new and unknown country.
Having marched for more than two hours through an uninterrupted scene
of agriculture and dense population, we entered a wild tract covered
principally with the beautiful large bush of the tsáda, the fruit of
which, much like a red cherry, has a pleasant acid taste, and was eaten
with great avidity, not only by my companions, but even by myself.
But the scene of man’s activity soon again succeeded to this narrow
border of wilderness; and a little before we came to the village Túrbe,
which was surrounded by open cultivated country, we passed a luxuriant
tamarind-tree, in the shade of which a blacksmith had established his
simple workshop. The group consisted of three persons, the master heating
the iron in the fire; a boy blowing it with a small pair of bellows, or
“búbutú,” and a lad fixing a handle in a hatchet. On the ground near them
lay a finished spear. Riding up to salute the smith, I asked him whence
the iron was procured, and learnt that it was brought from Madégelé, in
Búbanjídda. This is considered as the best iron hereabouts; but a very
good sort of iron is obtained also in Mándará.
We halted for the hot hours of the day near a village belonging to the
district Shámo, which originally formed part of the Marghí country, but
has been separated from it and annexed to Bórnu, its former inhabitants
having either been led into slavery or converted to Islám—that is to say,
taught to repeat a few Arabic phrases, without understanding a word of
them. The inhabitants of the village brought us paste of Guinea-corn
and milk, which, mixed together, make a palatable dish. From this place
onward, ngáberi, or holcus, prevails almost exclusively, and argúm móro,
or _Pennisetum typhoïdeum_, becomes rare.
Some native traders, armed with spears and driving before them asses
laden with salt, here attached themselves to our troop; for the road
further on is so much infested by robbers, that only a large body of
men can pass it in safety. The country which we now entered bore but
too evident proofs of the unfortunate condition to which it is reduced,
forming a thick forest, through which nevertheless, here and there, the
traces of former cultivation and the mouldering remains of huts are to be
seen. According to Bíllama, as late as a few years ago a large portion
of this district was inhabited by Kanúri and Gámerghú, the latter, most
probably, having taken possession of the lands abandoned by the Marghí;
but ʿAli Déndal, who has ruled it for Abú Bakr, the son of ʿOmár, a youth
without intelligence, and only anxious to make the most of his province,
has ruined it by his rapacity: he, however, was soon to be ruined
himself. There was a small spot where the forest had been cleared away
for cultivation,—a proof that the natives, if they were only humanely
treated by the government, would not be wanting in exertion.
The forest was partly filled up by a dense jungle of reed-grass, of such
a height as to cover horse and rider. The soil is of a black, boggy,
argillaceous nature, and full of holes, which make the passage through
this tract extremely difficult in the latter part of the rainy season.
My companions also drew my attention to the bee-hives underground, from
which a peculiar kind of honey is obtained, which I shall repeatedly have
occasion to mention in the course of my narrative.
After three hours’ march through this wild and unpleasant country, we
reached a small village called Yerímarí, which, according to Bíllama,
had formerly been of much greater size; at present it is inhabited by a
few Marghí Mohammedan proselytes. There being only one hut in the yard
assigned to us, I preferred pitching my tent, thinking that the storm
which had threatened us in the afternoon had passed by, as the clouds had
gone westwards. However, I soon learned that, in tropical climes, there
is no certainty of a storm having passed away, the clouds often returning
from the opposite quarter.
We had already retired to rest when the tempest burst upon us with
terrible fury, threatening to tear my weak little tent to pieces.
Fortunately the top-ropes were well fastened; and, planting myself
against the quarter from whence the wind blew, I succeeded in keeping it
upright. The rain came down in torrents; and, though the tent excluded
it tolerably well from above, the water rushed in from below and wetted
my luggage. But as soon as it fairly begins to rain, a traveller in a
tolerable tent is safe; for then the heavy gale ceases. Sitting down upon
my camp-stool, I quietly awaited the end of the storm, when I betook
myself to the hut, where I found Mʿallem Katúri and Bú-Sʿad comfortably
stretched.
_Saturday, June 7._—We set out at a tolerably early hour, being all very
wet. The rain had been so heavy that the labours of the field could be
deferred no longer; and close to the village we saw a couple sowing
their little field, the man going on in advance, and making holes in
the ground at equal distances with a hoe of about five feet long (the
“kíski kúllobe”), while his wife, following him, threw a few grains of
seed into each hole. These people certainly had nothing to lose; and in
order not to risk their little stock of seed, they had waited till the
ground was thoroughly drenched, while some people commit their grain to
the ground at the very setting in of the rainy season, and risk the loss
of it if the rains should delay too long. After we had passed a small
village called Keríkasáma, the forest became very thick; and for a whole
hour we followed the immense footprints of an elephant, which had found
it convenient to keep along the beaten path, to the great annoyance of
succeeding travellers, who had, in consequence, to stumble over the deep
holes made by the impression of its feet.
About eleven o’clock we reached the outskirts of Molghoy, having passed,
half an hour before, a number of round holes, about four feet wide and
five feet deep, made intentionally, just at the spot where the path was
hemmed in between a deep fiumara to the left and uneven ground to the
right, in order to keep off a sudden hostile attack, particularly of
cavalry. Molghoy is the name of a district rather than of a village; as
the pagan countries, in general, seem to be inhabited, not in distinct
villages and towns, where the dwellings stand closely together, but in
single farms and hamlets, or clusters of huts, each of which contains
an entire family, spreading over a wide expanse of country, each
man’s fields lying close around his dwelling. The fields, however, of
Molghoy had a very sad and dismal aspect, although they were shaded and
beautifully adorned by numerous karáge-trees. Though the rainy season had
long set in, none of these fine fields were sown this year, but still
presented the old furrows of former years; and all around was silent
and inert, bearing evident signs, if not of desolation, at least of
oppression.
I had already dismounted, being a little weak and fatigued after my last
sleepless night’s uncomfortable drenching, hoping that we should here
pass the heat of the day; but there seemed to be nothing left for us to
eat, and after some conversation with a solitary inhabitant, Bíllama
informed me that we were to proceed to another village, which likewise
belongs to Molghoy. We therefore continued our march, and soon after
entered a dense forest, where we had more enjoyment of wild fruits,
principally of one called “fóti,” of the size of an apricot, and with
three large kernels, the pulp of which was very pleasant. Behind the
little hamlet Dalá Dísowa I saw the first specimen of the sacred groves
of the Marghí—a dense part of the forest surrounded with a ditch, where,
in the most luxuriant and widest-spreading tree, their god “Tumbí” is
worshipped.
It was one o’clock in the afternoon when we reached the village where
we expected to find quarters. It also is called Molghoy, and is divided
into two groups by a watercourse or komádugu (as the Kanúri, dílle as
the Marghí call it) about twenty-five yards wide, and enclosed by steep
banks. My kashélla, deprived of his former irresistible authority, was
now reduced to politeness and artifice; and having crossed the channel,
which at present retained only a pool of stagnant water, and was richly
overgrown with succulent grass, we lay down on its eastern bank in the
cool shade of some luxuriant kúrna-trees, the largest trees of this
species I have ever seen, where we spread all our luggage, which had been
wetted the preceding night, out to dry, while the horses were grazing
upon the fresh herbage. In this cool and pleasant spot, which afforded a
view over a great part of the village, I breakfasted upon “chébchebé,” a
light and palatable Kanúri sweatmeat, and upon “núfu,” or habb’ el azíz,
dug up in large quantities almost over the whole of Bórnu.
By-and-by, as another storm seemed impending, we looked about for
quarters, and I with my three servants and Mʿallem Katúri took possession
of a small courtyard enclosed with a light fence four feet high composed
of mats and thorny bushes, which contained four huts, while a fifth,
together with the granary, had fallen in. The huts, however, were rather
narrow, encumbered as they were with a great deal of earthenware, besides
the large “gébam” or urn, containing the necessary quantity of corn
for about a week, and the “bázam” or the water-jar; and the doors—if
doors they could be called—were so extremely small, while they were
raised about a foot from the ground, that a person not accustomed to the
task had the greatest difficulty to creep in. These narrow doors were
direct proofs of the great power of the rains in these climes, against
which the natives have to protect themselves, as well as the raised and
well-plastered floors of the huts, while reed is still the prevalent and
almost exclusive material for the whole building. As for my own hut, it
had the advantage of a contrivance to render the passage of the opening
a little more easy, without diminishing the protection against the
inclemency of the weather; for that part of the front of the hut which
intervened between the doorway and the floor of the hut was movable, and
made to fold up. Each family has its own separate courtyard, which forms
a little cluster of huts by itself, and is often a considerable distance
from the next yard. This kind of dwelling has certainly something very
cheerful and pleasant in a simple and peaceable state of society, while
it offers also the great advantage of protecting the villages against
wholesale conflagrations, but it is liable to a very great disadvantage
in a community which is threatened continually by sudden inroads from
relentless enemies and slave-hunters.
The storm luckily passing by, I walked through the village, and visited
several courtyards. The inhabitants, who, at least outwardly, have become
Mohammedans, go entirely naked, with the exception of a narrow strip
of leather, which they pass between the legs and fasten round their
waist. But even this very simple and scanty covering they seem to think
unnecessary at times. I was struck by the beauty and symmetry of their
forms, which were thus entirely exposed to view, and by the regularity
of their features, which are not disfigured by incisions, and in some
had nothing of what is called the Negro type; but I was still more
astonished at their complexion, which was very different in different
individuals, being in some of a glossy black, and in others of a light
copper, or rather rhubarb colour, the intermediate shades being almost
entirely wanting. Although the black shade seemed to prevail, I arrived
at the conclusion that the copper colour was the original complexion of
the tribe, the black shade being due to intermixture with surrounding
nations. But the same variety of shades has been observed in many other
tribes, as well on this continent as in Asia.
[Illustration]
Being allowed to stray about at my leisure, I observed in one house
a really beautiful female in the prime of womanhood, who, with her
son, a boy of about eight or nine years of age, formed a most charming
group, well worthy of the hand of an accomplished artist. The boy’s
form did not yield in any respect to the beautiful symmetry of the most
celebrated Grecian statues, as that of the praying boy, or that of the
_diskophóros_. His legs and arms were adorned with strings of iron beads,
such as I shall have occasion to describe more distinctly further on,
made in Wándalá, which are generally worn by young people; his legs
were as straight as possible: his hair, indeed, was very short, and
curled, but not woolly. He, as well as his mother and the whole family,
were of a pale or yellowish-red complexion, like rhubarb. His mother,
who was probably twenty-two years of age, was a little disfigured by a
thin pointed metal plate about an inch long, of the figure represented
here, which was stuck through her under lip. This kind of barbarous
ornament is called in the language of these people “seghéum,” and is very
differently shaped, and generally much smaller than that worn by this
woman; indeed it is often a mere thin tag. It is possible that its size
varies according to the character of the females by whom it is worn.
However small it may be, it can hardly be fastened in the lip without
being very inconvenient, and even painful, at least at first; at any
rate it is less monstrous than the large bone which is worn by the Músgu
women in the same way. These simple people were greatly amused when they
saw me take so much interest in them; but while they were pleased with
my approval, and behaved very decently, they grew frightened when I set
about sketching them. This is the misfortune of the traveller in these
regions, where everything is new, and where certainly one of the most
interesting points attaches to the character of the natives,—that he will
very rarely succeed in persuading one of them to stand while he makes
an accurate drawing of him. The men are generally tall, and, while they
are young, rather slender; some of the women also attain a great height,
and in that state, with their hanging breasts, form frightful objects in
their total nakedness, especially if they be of red colour.
In another courtyard, I saw two unmarried young girls busy at housework:
they were about twelve years of age, and were more decently clad, wearing
an apron of striped cotton round their loins; but this was evidently a
result of Mohammedanism. These also were of copper colour; and their
short curled hair was dyed of the same hue by powdered camwood rubbed
into it. They wore only thin tags in their under lips, and strings of red
glass beads round their neck. Their features were pleasing, though less
handsome than those of the woman above described. They were in ecstasies
when I made them some little presents, and did not know how to thank me
sufficiently.
I had scarcely returned from my most interesting walk when the
inhabitants of the neighbouring yards, seeing that I was a good-natured
sort of man who took great interest in them, and hearing from my people
that in some respects I was like themselves, sent me a large pot of
their intoxicating beverage, or “komíl,” made of Guinea-corn, which,
however, I could not enjoy, as it was nothing better than bad muddy
beer. Instead of confusing my brains with such a beverage, I sat down
and wrote about two hundred words in their own language, which seemed to
have no relation to any of the languages with which I had as yet become
acquainted, but which, as I found afterwards, is nearly related to, or
rather only a dialect of the Bátta language, which is spread over a large
part of Ádamáwa or Fúmbiná, and has many points of connection with the
Músgu language, while in certain general principles it approaches the
great South African family. Having received, besides my home-made supper
of mohámsa, several bowls of “déffa,” or paste of Guinea-corn, from the
natives, I had a long pleasant chat in the evening with the two young
girls whom I have mentioned above, and who brought two fowls for sale,
but were so particular in their bartering, that the bargain was not
concluded for full two hours, when I at length succeeded in buying the
precious objects with shells, or kúngona, which have no more currency
here than they had since we left Kúkawa, but which these young ladies
wanted for adorning their persons. They spoke Kanúri with me, and their
own language between themselves and with some other women who joined
them after a while. In vain I tried to get a little milk; although the
inhabitants in general did not seem to be so badly off, yet they had
lost all their horses and cattle by the exactions of Bórnu officers.
Indeed it is really lamentable to see the national wellbeing and humble
happiness of these pagan communities trodden down so mercilessly by their
Mohammedan neighbours. The tempest which had threatened us the whole
afternoon discharged itself in the distance.
_Sunday, June 8._—We set out at a tolerably early hour, to pass a forest
of considerable extent. In the beginning it was rather light, such as the
Kanúri called “dírridé,” and at times interrupted by open pasture-ground
covered with the freshest herbage, and full of the footprints of
elephants of every age and size. Pools of stagnant water were seen in all
directions, and flowers filled the air with a delicious fragrance; but
the path, being full of holes, and of a miry consistence, became at times
extremely difficult, especially for the camels. As for ourselves we were
well off, eating now and then some wild fruit, and either sucking out the
pulp of the “tóso,” or devouring the succulent root of the “katakírri.”
The tóso is the fruit of the _Bassia Parkii_, called kadeña by the Háusa
people, and consists almost entirely of a large kernel of the colour and
size of a chestnut, which is covered with a thin pulp inside the green
peel: this pulp has a very agreeable taste, but is so thin that it is
scarcely worth sucking out. The tree in question, which I had lost sight
of entirely since I left Háusa, is very common hereabouts; and the people
prepare a good deal of butter from the kernel, which is not only esteemed
for seasoning their food, but also for the medicinal qualities ascribed
to it, and which I shall repeatedly have occasion to mention. As for the
katakírri, it is a bulbous root, sometimes of the size of a large English
potato, the pulp being not unlike that of a large radish, but softer,
more succulent, and also very refreshing and nutritious. The juice has a
milky colour. A man may easily travel for a whole day with nothing to eat
but this root, which seems to be very common during the rainy season in
the woody and moist districts of Central Africa—at least as far as I had
occasion to observe. It is not less frequent near the Niger and in Kébbi
than it is here; but I never observed it in Bórnu, nor in Bagírmi. It
requires but little experience to find out where the bulbous root grows,
its indication above ground being a single blade about ten inches high;
but it sometimes requires a good deal of labour to dig up the roots, as
they are often about a foot or a foot and a half under ground.
The soil gradually became worse; the trees were of a most uniform
description, being all mimosas, and all alike of indifferent growth,
while only here and there a large leafless _Adansonia_ stretched forth
its gigantic arms as if bewailing the desolation spread around, where
human beings had formerly subsisted: for the kúka or baobab likes the
dwelling of the Negro, and he, on the other hand, can scarcely live
without it; for how could he season his simple food without the baobab’s
young fresh leaves, or sweeten and flavour his drink without the slightly
acid pulp wherein the kernels are imbedded? The herbage was reduced
to single tufts of coarse grass four or five feet high; and the path
became abominable, not allowing a moment’s inattention or thoughtful
abstraction, from fear of being thrown off, the next minute, into a
swampy hole.
Thus we went on cheerlessly, when about eleven o’clock the growth of
the trees began to improve, and I observed a tree, which I did not
remember to have seen before, of middle size, the foliage rather thin
and of light-green colour; it is called “kamándu” in Kanúri, and “bóshi”
in Háusa. The country, however, does not exhibit a single trace of
habitation, either of the past or present time; and on our right no
village was said to be nearer than Díshik at the distance of half a
day’s journey, and even that was reported to be now deserted by its
inhabitants. At length the monotonous gloomy forest gave way to scattered
clusters of large trees, such as generally indicate the neighbourhood
of man’s industry, and we soon after emerged upon beautiful green
meadow-lands stretching out to the very foot of the Wándalá mountains,
the whole range of which, in its entire length from north to south, lay
open to view. It was a charming sight, the beautiful green of the plain
against the dark colour of the mountains, and the clear sunny sky; and I
afterwards regretted deeply that I had not made a slight sketch of the
country from this spot, as near the village the same wide horizon was no
longer visible.
It was one o’clock in the afternoon when we reached the first cluster
of huts belonging to the village or district of Ísge, or Íssege, which
spread to a considerable extent over the plain, while horses and sheep
were feeding on the adjacent pastures, and women were cultivating the
fields. A first glance at this landscape impressed me with the conviction
that I had at length arrived at a seat of the indigenous inhabitants,
which, although it had evidently felt the influence of its overbearing
and merciless neighbours, had not yet been altogether despoiled by
their hands. Vigorous and tall manly figures, girt round the loins
with a short leathern apron, and wearing, besides their agricultural
tools, the “danísko” (handbill), or a spear, were proudly walking about
or comfortably squatting together in the shade of some fine tree, and
seemed to intimate that this ground belonged to them, and that the
foreigner, whoever he might be, ought to act discreetly. As for their
dress, however, I almost suspected that, though very scanty, it was put
on only for the occasion; for, on arriving at the first cluster of huts,
we came abruptly upon a hollow with a pond of water, from which darted
forth a very tall and stout bronze-coloured woman, totally naked, with
her pitcher upon her head,—not only to my own amazement, but even to that
of my horse, which, coming from the civilized country of Bórnu, which is
likewise the seat of one of the blackest races in the interior, seemed to
be startled by such a sight. However, I have observed that many of those
simple tribes deem some sort of covering, however scanty it might be,
more essential for the man than the woman.
We first directed our steps towards the western side of the village,
where in a dense cluster of huts was the dwelling of the nominal
“bíllama,” that is to say, of a man who, betraying his native country,
had placed himself under the authority of the Bórnu people, in the hope
that, with their assistance, he might gratify his ambition by becoming
the tyrant of his compatriots. Here we met Íbrahíma, who with his
countryman had arrived before us. Having obtained from the important
bíllama a man who was to assign us quarters, we returned over the wide
grassy plain towards the eastern group, while beyond the quarter which we
were leaving I observed the sacred grove, of considerable circumference,
formed by magnificent trees, mostly of the _ficus_ tribe, and surrounded
with an earthen wall.
At length we reached the eastern quarter; but the owners of the
courtyards which were selected for our quarters, did not seem at all
inclined to receive us. I had cheerfully entered with Bú-Sad the
courtyard assigned to me, in order to take possession of it, and my
servant had already dismounted, when its proprietor rushed furiously in,
and, raising his spear in a most threatening attitude, ordered me to
leave his house instantly. Acknowledging the justice of his claims to
his own hearth, I did not hesitate a moment to obey his mandate; but I
had some difficulty in persuading my servant to go away peaceably, as he
was more inclined to shoot the man. This dwelling in particular was very
neatly arranged; and I was well able to sympathize with the proprietor,
who saw that his clean yard was to be made a stable and littered with
dirt. The yards contained from five to seven huts, each of different
size and arrangement, besides a shed, and gave plain indications of an
easy and comfortable domestic life.
Bíllama, that is to say, my guide, who seemed not to have been more
fortunate than myself in his endeavour to find a lodging, being rather
crestfallen and dejected, we thought it best to give up all idea of
sheltered quarters, and, trusting to our good luck, to encamp outside.
We therefore drew back altogether from the inhabited quarter, into the
open meadow, and dismounted beneath the wide-spreading shade of an
immense kúka, or “bokki,” at least eighty feet high, the foliage of
which being interwoven with numbers of climbing plants, such as I very
rarely observed on this tree, formed a most magnificent canopy. While
my tent was being pitched here, a number of natives collected round us,
and squatting down in a semicircle eyed all my things very attentively,
drawing each other’s attention to objects which excited their curiosity.
They were all armed; and as there were from thirty to forty, and
hundreds more might have come to their assistance in a moment, their
company was not so agreeable as under other circumstances it might have
been. The reason, however, why they behaved so inhospitably towards me
evidently was, that they took me for an officer of the king of Bórnu:
but this impression gave way the longer they observed my manners and
things; indeed, as soon as they saw the tent, they became aware that it
was not a tent like those of their enemies, and they came to the same
conclusion with regard to the greater part of my luggage. In many places
in Negroland I observed that the bipartite tent-pole was a most wonderful
object to the natives, and often served to characterize the Christian.
This time, however, we did not come to friendly terms; but the reader
will be gratified to see how differently these people treated me on my
return from Fúmbiná.
While our party was rather quietly and sullenly sitting near the tent,
a number of Fúlbe, who had been staying in this district for some time,
came to pay their respects to me. They were a very diminutive set of
people, and, excepting general traits of resemblance and language,
were unlike those proud fellow countrymen of theirs in the west; but
I afterwards found that the Fúlbe in the eastern part of Ádamáwa are
generally of this description, while those about the capital have a far
more noble and dignified appearance. I think this may be not so much a
mark of a difference of tribe, as a consequence of the low circumstances
of those settled at a great distance from the seat of government, who,
being still engaged in struggling for their subsistence, have not raised
themselves from their original condition of humble cattle-breeders, or
“berroróji,” to the proud rank of conquerors and religious reformers.
Their colour certainly was not the characteristic rhubarb-colour of the
Fúta Púllo, nor the deep black of the Toróde, but was a greyish sort of
black, approaching what the Frenchmen call the _chocolat-au-lait_ colour,
while their small features wanted the expressiveness which those of the
light Púllo generally have. They all wore shirts, which however were
deficient in that cleanliness which in general is characteristic of this
race. These simple visitors might perhaps have proved very interesting
companions, if we had been able to understand each other; but as they
spoke neither Arabic, nor Háusa, nor Kanúri, while I was but a beginner
in their language, our conversation flowed but sluggishly.
I had observed in all the dwellings of the natives a very large species
of fish laid to dry on the roofs of the huts; and being not a little
astonished at the existence of fish of such a size in this district,
where I was not aware that there existed any considerable waters, I
took the earliest opportunity of inquiring whence they were brought,
and, having learnt that a considerable lake was at no great distance,
I intimated to Bíllama my wish to visit it. I therefore mounted on
horseback with him in the afternoon, and then passing behind the eastern
quarter of Íssege, and crossing a tract covered with excellent herbage,
but so full of holes and crevices that the horses had great difficulty in
getting over it, we reached a fine sheet of water of considerable depth,
stretching from west to east, and full of large fish. All along the way
we were met by natives returning from fishing, with their nets and their
spoil. The fish measure generally about twenty inches in length, and
seem to be of the same kind as that caught in the Tsád. The banks of the
water, except on the west side, where we stood, were so hemmed in with
rushes that I could not form a satisfactory estimate of its magnitude
and real character; but it seems to be a hollow which is filled by the
rivulet or torrent which I surveyed in its upper course the following
day, and which seems to pass at a short distance to the east of this
lake. The latter, however, is said always to contain water, which, as far
as I know, is not the case with the river; but certainly even the lake
must become much shallower in the dry season.
A small torrent joins the lake near its south-western corner; and on the
banks of this torrent I observed a rounded mass of granite rising to the
height of about fifteen feet, this being the only eminence in the whole
plain. Though it was not elevated enough to allow me a fair survey of
the plain itself, it afforded a splendid and interesting panorama of the
mountains. The whole range of mountains, which forms the western barrier
of the little country of Wándalá, lay open before me at the distance of
about twenty miles, while behind it, towards the south, mountains of more
varied shape, and greater elevation, became more visible. It was here
that I obtained the first view of Mount Méndefi, or Míndif, which, since
it was seen by Major Denham on his adventurous expedition against some of
the Felláta settlements to the south of Morá, has become so celebrated
in Europe, giving rise to all sorts of conjectures and theories. It
might, indeed, even from this point be supposed to be the centre of a
considerable mountain mass, surrounded as it is by several other summits
of importance, particularly the Mechíka and Umshi, whilst it is in
reality nothing more than a detached cone starting up from a level plain,
like the Mount of Mbutúdi on a smaller scale, or that of Tákabéllo, with
both of which Íbrahíma used to compare it, or the Alantíka on a larger
scale. Its circumference at the base certainly does not exceed probably
from ten to twelve miles, as it is partly encompassed by the straggling
village of the same name, which seems to stretch out to a considerable
length, or rather to be separated into two or three distinct clusters.
The place has a market every Friday, which is of some importance.
From my position the top of the mount presented the shape here
delineated; and even through the telescope the Míndif, as well as the
singular mount of Kamálle, of which I shall soon have to speak, seemed to
be of a whitish or greyish colour, which led me to the conclusion that
it consisted of a calcareous rock. It was not till a much later period
that I learnt, from a native of the village of Míndif, that the stone
was originally quite black, not only on the surface, but all through,
and extremely hard, and that the white colour is merely due to immense
numbers of birds, which habitually frequent it, being nothing else than
guano. I think, therefore, that this mount will eventually prove to be a
basaltic cone, an ancient volcano—a character which seems to be indicated
by the double horn of its summit. Its height scarcely exceeds five
thousand feet above the surface of the sea, or less than four thousand
feet above the plain from which it rises.
[Illustration]
But while my attention was engaged by this mountain, on account of
its having been so much talked of in Europe, another height attracted
my notice much more, on account of its peculiar shape. This was Mount
Kamálle, which just became visible behind the continuous mountain-chain
in the foreground, like a columnar pile rising from a steep cone; it
likewise seemed of a greyish colour. Between this remarkable peak and
Mount Míndif several cones were descried from a greater distance, while
west from the latter mountain the elevated region seemed to cease.
The highest elevation of the Wándalá range, which is called Magár, I
estimated at about three thousand feet, while the chain in general did
not rise more than two thousand five hundred feet above the level of the
sea, or about one thousand five hundred feet above the plain. This part
of the mountain-chain forms the natural stronghold of a pagan king whom
my Kanúri companion constantly called “Mai Sugúr,” but whose proper name
or title seems to be “Lá.”
Overjoyed at having at length reached the region of the famous Míndif,
and full of plans for the future, I remounted my horse. While returning
to our encampment, my companion, who was altogether a sociable and
agreeable sort of person, gave me some more information with regard to
the Marghí, whom he represented as a numerous tribe, stronger even at
the present time than the Manga, and capable of sending thirty thousand
armed men into the field. He told me that it was their peculiar custom
to mourn for the death of a young man, and to make merry at the death
of an old one—an account which I found afterwards confirmed, while his
statement that they buried the dead in an upright position together with
their weapons, furniture, and some paste of Indian corn, did not prove
quite correct. In many respects they claim great superiority over their
neighbours; and they practise even to a great extent inoculation for
small-pox, which in Bórnu is rather the exception than the rule.
Fortunately for us in our out-of-doors encampment, the sky remained
serene; and while, after a very frugal supper, we were reclining on
our mats in the cool air of the evening, an interesting and animated
dispute arose between Bíllama, Mʿallem Katúri, and Mohámmedu—the Ádamáwa
messenger whom I have represented above as a very communicative, sociable
person—about the water of Íssege, whence it came, and whither it flowed.
Mohámmedu, who notwithstanding his intelligence and sprightliness was not
free from absurd prejudices, contended, with the utmost pertinacity, that
the water in question issued from the river Bénuwé at Kobére and ran into
the Sháry, a river with which he was acquainted only by hearsay. But my
prudent and experienced old Mʿallem contested this point successfully,
demonstrating that the river rose in the mountains far to the north of
the Bénuwé. Thus we spent the evening quite cheerfully; and the night
passed without any accident, all the people sleeping in a close circle
round my tent.
_Monday, June 9._—At an early hour we set out on our journey, being
joined by several of the Fúlbe, who had come the day before to salute me,
while only one of our caravan remained behind, namely the horseman of
Malá Ibrám. This whole district had formerly belonged to the last-named
person; but he had lately ceded it to Abú-Bakr, the son of Sheikh ʿOmár:
but we have seen what a precarious possession it was. The country through
which we passed was varied and fertile, although the sky was overcast;
and I was struck with the frequency of the poisonous euphorbia, called
“karúgu” by the Kanúri. Further on, the crop stood already a foot high,
and formed a most pleasant object. We then entered a dense forest,
where the danger became considerable, an evident proof of the lawless
state of the country being seen in the village Yésa, which was in some
degree subject (“imána,” as the people call it, with an Arabic name)
to the Sheikh ʿOmár, but had been ransacked and burnt about forty days
previously by the tribe of the Gulúk. It was the first village on this
road the huts of which were entirely of the construction called by the
Kanúri “bóngo.”
Having stopped here a few minutes to allow the people to recruit
themselves, we pushed on with speed, and soon passed the site of another
village, which had been destroyed at an earlier period, having close
on our left a fertile plain in a wild state, over which the mountain
chain was still visible, with a glance now and then at the Míndif and
Kamálle. Suddenly there was visible on this side a river from thirty to
forty yards broad, and enclosed by banks about twelve feet high, with a
considerable body of water, flowing through the fine but desolate plain
in a northerly direction, but with a very winding course and a moderate
current; and it henceforth continued on our side,—sometimes approaching,
at others receding, and affording an agreeable cool draught, instead of
the unwholesome stagnant water from the pools, impregnated with vegetable
matter, and very often full of worms, and forming certainly one of the
chief causes of disease to the foreign traveller. In this part of the
forest the karáge was the most common tree, while besides it there was
a considerable variety,—the tosó or kadeña, the koráwa, the kabúwi, the
zíndi, and the acacia-like paipáya; the fruit of the tóso, or rather
its thin pulp, and the beautiful cream-fruit of the gónda-bush (_Annona
palustris?_) remaining our favourite dainties.
Suddenly the spirit of our little troop was roused; some naked pagans
were discovered in the bushes near the stream, and so long as it was
uncertain whether or not they were accompanied by a greater number, my
companions were in a state of fright; but as soon as it was ascertained
that the black strangers were but few, they wanted to rush upon and
capture them as slaves; but Íbrahíma, with a dignified air, cried out,
“Imána, imána,” intimating that the tribe was paying tribute to his
master the governor of Yóla; and whether it was true or not, certainly
he did well to keep these vagabonds from preying upon other people while
their own safety was in danger.
At a quarter past eleven o’clock we reached the outskirts of Kófa, a
village, which had been ransacked and destroyed entirely by Kashélla
ʿAli,—the very act which had given rise to the complaints on the side
of the governor of Ádamáwa, who claimed the supremacy over this place.
Several huts had been already built up again very neatly of bongo; for
this had now become the general mode of architecture, giving proof of our
advancing into the heart of the tropical climes. And as the dwellings
were again rising, so the inhabitants were likewise returning to their
hearths.
A most interesting and cheerful incident in these unfortunate and
distracted lands, where the traveller has every day to observe
domestic happiness trodden under foot, children torn from the breasts
of their mothers, and wives from the embraces of their husbands, was
here exhibited before us. Among the people recovered from slavery by
Íbrahíma’s exertions was a young girl, a native of this village, who, as
soon as she recognized the place from which she had been torn, began to
run as if bewildered, making the circuit of all the huts. But the people
were not all so fortunate as to see again those whom they had lost; there
were many sorrowful countenances among those who inquired in vain for
their sons or daughters. However, I was pleased to find that Bíllama was
saluted in a friendly way by the few inhabitants of the place, proving,
as I thought, that, when governor of this southernmost district of Bórnu,
he had not behaved so cruelly.
The country hereabouts showed a far more advanced state of vegetation
than that from whence we had come, the young succulent grass reaching to
the height of a foot and a half, while the corn (dáwa, or holcus) in one
field measured already thirty inches in height. The fresh meadow grounds
were interspersed with flowers; and a beautiful specimen of the “kangel,”
measuring eight inches in diameter, was brought to me by Bíllama, being
the only specimen which I have ever observed of this peculiar flower.
Mr. Vogel, however, told me afterwards that he had occasionally observed
it in Mándará (Wándalá).
Having dismounted under a tamarind-tree for the hot hours of the day,
Bíllama, with the assistance of my old Mʿallem, gave me a list of
some of the larger places in the Marghí country. West-south-west from
the Marghí live the Bábur or Bábir, scattered in small hamlets over a
mountainous basaltic district, with the exception of their principal
seat Biyú, which is called after the name, or probably rather the title,
of their chief. This place is said to be as far from Kófa as Kúkawa is
from the same place, and is reported to be of large size. The Bábur have
in certain respects preserved their independence, while in others, like
the Marghí, they have begun to yield to the overwhelming influence of
their Mohammedan neighbours. But the Marghí claim superiority over their
kinsmen in point of personal courage; for of their relationship there can
be no doubt.
When the sun began to decline, we pursued our march, in order to reach
Laháula, where we were to pass the night. The unsafe state of the country
through which we were passing was well indicated by the circumstance
that even the circumspect Íbrahíma mounted the poor mare given to him by
Sheikh ʿOmár, which he had spared till now. He moreover exchanged his
bow for a spear. A thick tempest was gathering on the Wándalá mountains,
while our motley troop wound along the narrow path,—at times through
forest or underwood, at others through fine cornfields; but the country
afforded a wilder and more varied aspect after we had crossed a little
watercourse,—rocks projecting on all sides, sandstone and granite being
intermixed, while in front of us a little rocky ridge, thickly overgrown
with trees and bushes, stretched out, and seemed to hem in our passage.
Suddenly, however, a deep recess was seen opening in the ridge, and a
village appeared, lying most picturesquely in the natural amphitheatre,
thus formed by the rocks and trees protruding everywhere from among the
granite blocks, and giving a pleasant variety to the whole picture.
This was Laháula; but we had some difficulty in getting into it, the
entrance to the amphitheatre being closed by a strong stockade, which
left only a very narrow passage along the cliffs on the eastern side, not
nearly large enough for camels; and while our troop, pushing forward in
vain, fell into great confusion, the storm came on, and the rain poured
down upon us in torrents. Fortunately, the shower, although heavy, did
not last long, and we succeeded at length in getting in, and soon reached
the first huts of the village; but our reception was not propitious.
The first person who came to meet us was a mother, roused by the hope
of seeing her son return as a free man from Kúkawa, where he had been
carried into slavery, and filling the whole village with her lamentations
and curses of the Kanúri, when she heard that her beloved had not come
back, and that she should never see him again. This of course made a
bad impression upon the inhabitants, and while ʿAshi, their chief, a
man who, after an unsuccessful struggle with my companion Bíllama, when
governor of these districts, had submitted to the sheikh, received us
with kindness and benevolence, his son, in whose recently and neatly
built hut the old man wished to lodge me, raised a frightful alarm, and
at length, snatching up his weapon, ran off with the wildest threats. I
therefore thought it best not to make use of the hut unless forced by
another storm, and notwithstanding the humidity, I took up my quarters
under a shed before the hut, spreading my carpet and jirbíye—woollen
blanket from Jirbi—over a coarse mat of reed, as unfortunately at that
time I had no sort of couch with me. There was an object of very great
interest in our courtyard. It was a large pole about nine feet high
above the ground, with a small cross pole which sustained an earthen
pot of middling size. This was a “sáfi,” a sort of fetish, a symbolic
representation, as it seems, of their god “féte,” the sun. It was a pity
that we were not placed in a more comfortable position, so as to be
enabled to make further inquiries with regard to this subject.
ʿAshi was kind enough to send me a large bowl of honey-water, but I was
the only one of the caravan who received the least proof of hospitality;
and I made myself quite comfortable, though we thought it best to look
well after our firearms. During the night we were alarmed by a great
noise, proceeding from the frightful shrieks of a man; and, on inquiry,
we found that he had been disturbed in his sleep by a hyæna catching hold
of one of his legs. Íbrahíma informed us the next morning, that a very
large party among the inhabitants had entertained the design of falling
during the night upon our troop and plundering us; and that nothing but
the earnest representations of ʿAshi had restrained them from carrying
out their intention,—the old man showing them how imprudent it would
be, by one and the same act to draw upon themselves the vengeance of
their two overwhelming neighbours, the sheikh of Bórnu in the north,
and the governor of Fúmbiná in the south. Altogether the night was not
very tranquil; and a storm breaking out at some distance, I crept into
the hut, but there was no rain, only thunder and lightning. All the huts
here are provided with a serír, or diggel, made of branches, upon which a
coarse mat of reeds is spread.
The village seems not to be very large, containing certainly not
more than about five hundred single huts, but the situation is very
advantageous, enabling the inhabitants in an instant to retire upon the
natural fortress of blocks overhead. They possess scarcely a single cow,
but seem to prepare a great deal of vegetable butter. At least large
heaps of the chestnut-like kernels of the _Bassia Parkii_ were lying
about in the courtyards. They have also a great deal of excellent honey.
_Tuesday, June 10._—Leaving our quarters early, and emerging from the
rocky recess by the same opening through which we had entered it the
preceding evening, we halted a short time in order that the whole
caravan might form closely together, for we had now the most dangerous
day’s march before us, where stragglers are generally slain or carried
into slavery by lurking enemies. Our whole troop was not very numerous,
consisting of five horsemen and about twenty-five armed men on foot, with
three camels, six sumpter-oxen, and three asses, our strength consisting
entirely in my four muskets and four pairs of pistols. It was a very
fine morning, and after the last night’s storm the whole country teemed
with freshness and life. Moreover, it was of a varied nature, the ground
consisting, at times, of bare granite, with large blocks of quartz, at
others covered with black vegetable soil, with ironstone here and there,
and torn by numerous small periodical watercourses descending from the
rocky chain on our right, and carrying the moisture of the whole region
towards the river, which still flowed on the left of our track; while
granite-blocks and small ridges projected everywhere, the whole clothed
with forest more or less dense, and with a great variety of foliage.
Having kept on through this kind of country for about two miles and a
half, we reached the deserted “ngáufate,” or encampment of Bú-Bakr, a
brother of Mohammed Láwl, the governor of Ádamáwa, who had last year made
an expedition into these districts, and stationing his army on this spot,
had overrun the country in all directions. The encampment consisted of
small round huts made of branches and grass, such as the guro-caravan
generally erects daily on its “zango” or halting-place. Here we began to
quicken our pace, as we were now at the shortest distance from the seats
of the Báza, a powerful and independent pagan tribe, with a language, or
probably dialect, of their own, and peculiar customs, who live at the
foot of the eastern mountain-chain, while we left on our right Kibák
and some other Marghí villages. In order to lessen a little the fatigue
of the march, my attentive companion Bíllama brought me a handful of
“gaude,” a yellow fruit of the size of an apricot, with a very thick
peel, and, instead of a rich pulp, five large kernels filling almost the
whole interior, but covered with a thin pulp of a very agreeable taste,
something like the gónda.
At half-past nine, when the forest was tolerably clear, we obtained
a view of a saddle-mount at some distance on our right, on the other
side of which, as I was informed, the village Womde is situated:
further westward lies Úgu, and, at a still greater distance, Gáya.
Meanwhile we pushed on with such haste—the old Mʿallem and Bú-Sʿad,
on horseback, driving my two weak camels before them as fast as they
could—that the line of our troop became entirely broken; the fatáki, or
tugúrchi, with their pack-oxen, and several of the dangarúnfu—namely the
little tradesmen who carry their small parcels of merchandise on the
head—remaining a great distance behind; but although I wished several
times to halt, I could not persuade my companions to do so; and all
that I was able to do for the safety of the poor people who had trusted
themselves to my protection, was to send Bíllama to the rear with orders
to bring up the stragglers. I shall never forget the euphonious words
of the old Mʿallem with which he, though usually so humane, parried my
entreaties to give the people time to come up; mixing Háusa with Kanúri,
he kept exclaiming, “Awennan karága babu dádi” (“This is by no means a
pleasant forest”), while he continued beating my poor camels with his
large shield of antelope’s hide. At length, having entered a very dense
thicket, where there was a pond of water, we halted for a quarter of an
hour, when Bíllama came up with the rear, bringing me, at the same time,
a splendid little gónda-fruit, which he knew I was particularly fond of.
Continuing then our march with our wonted expedition, we reached a little
before one o’clock cultivated fields, where the slaves—“field hands,” as
an American would say—of the people of Úba were just resting from their
labour in the shade of the trees. As the slaves of Mohammedans, they all
wore the leathern apron. Here we began to ascend, having a small rocky
eminence on our right, and a more considerable one on our left, while in
the distance, to the west, various mountain groups became visible. This
line of elevation might seem to form the water partition between the
basin of the Tsád and that of the Great River of Western Africa, but I am
not sure of it, as I did not become distinctly aware of the relation of
the rivulet of Múbi to that of Báza.
Be this as it may, this point of the route probably attains an elevation
of about two thousand feet, supposing that we had ascended about eight
hundred feet from Ujé, the elevation of which is twelve hundred feet
above the level of the sea. Having then crossed, with some difficulty,
on the part of the camels, a rugged defile, enclosed by large granite
blocks, we began to descend considerably, while Mohámmedu drew my
attention to the tree called “bijáge” in Fulfúlde, which grows between
the granite blocks, and from which the people of Fúmbiná prepare the
poison for their arrows. However I was not near enough to give even the
most general account of it; it seemed to be a bush of from ten to twelve
feet in height, with tolerably large leaves of an olive colour.
Emerging from this rocky passage, we began gradually to overlook the
large valley stretching out to the foot of the opposite mountain chain,
which seemed from this place to be uninterrupted. Its general elevation
appeared to be about eight hundred feet above the bottom of the valley.
We then again entered upon cultivated ground, and turning round the spur
of the rocky chain on our right, on the top of which we observed the huts
of the pagans, we reached the wall of Úba at two o’clock in the afternoon.
The eastern quarter of this town, the northernmost Púllo settlement
in Ádamáwa on this side, consisting of a few huts scattered over a
wide space, has quite the character of a new and cheerless colony in
Algeria; the earthen wall is low, and strengthened with a light double
fence of thorn bushes. The western quarter, however, is more thickly
and comfortably inhabited; and each cluster of huts, which all consist
of bongo, or rather búkka bongo, “jwarubokáru,” is surrounded with a
little corn-field. It was pleasant to observe how the fences of mats,
surrounding the yards, had been strengthened and enlivened by young
living trees of a graceful slender appearance, instead of dull stalks,
giving to the whole a much more cheerful character than is generally the
case with the villages in other parts of Negroland, particularly in Bórnu
proper, and promising in a short time to afford some cool shade, which is
rather wanting in the place.
Passing the mosque, the “judírde,” a spacious quadrangular building,
consisting entirely of halls built of mats and stalks, which must be
delightfully cool in the dry season, but extremely damp during the rains,
and including a large open space, we reached the lamórde (the house of
the governor, or lámido); it lies on one side of a small square, or
“belbel.” Bíllama and Bú-Sʿad having here fired a couple of rounds, we
were soon shown into our quarters. These were of rather an indifferent
description, but lying at the northern border of the inhabited quarter,
and not far from the foot of the rocky ridge, they had the advantage of
allowing us freedom of movement.