EXPEDITION TO KÁNEM.
_Thursday, Sept. 11._—Having decided upon leaving the town in advance of
the Arabs, in order to obtain leisure for travelling slowly the first
few days, and to accustom my feeble frame once more to the fatigues of
a continual march, after a rest of forty days in the town, I ordered
my people to get my luggage ready in the morning. I had plenty of
provisions, such as zummíta, dwéda or vermicelli, mohámsa, and nákia, a
sort of sweetmeat made of rice with butter and honey; two skins of each
quality. All was stowed away with the little luggage I intended taking
with me on this adventurous journey, in two pairs of large leathern
bags or kéwa, which my two camels were to carry. When all was ready, I
went to the vizier, in order to take leave of him and arrange with my
former servant, Mohammed ben Sʿad, to whom I owed thirty-five dollars.
Háj Beshír, as usual, was very kind and amiable; but as for my former
servant, having not a single dollar in cash, I was obliged to give him a
bill upon Fezzán, for seventy-five dollars. There was also a long talk on
the subject of an enormous debt due to the Fezzáni merchant Mohammed eʾ
Sfáksi; and as it was not possible to settle it at once, I was obliged to
leave its definite arrangement to Mr. Overweg.
All this disagreeable business, which is so killing to the best hours,
and destroys half the energy of the traveller, had retarded my departure
so long that the sun was just setting when I left the gate of the
town. My little caravan was very incomplete; for my only companion on
emerging from the gate into the high waving fields of Guinea-corn, which
entirely concealed the little suburb, was an unfortunate young man whom
I had not hired at all, my three hired servants having stayed behind
on some pretext or other. This lad was Mohammed ben Áhmed, a native of
Fezzán, whom I wanted to hire, or rather hired, in Gúmmel, in March
last, for two Spanish dollars a month, but who, having been induced, by
his companions in the caravan with which he had just arrived from the
north, to forego the service of a Christian, had broken his word, and
gone on with the caravan of the people from Sókna, leaving me with only
one useful servant. But he had found sufficient leisure to repent of his
dishonourable conduct, for, having been at the verge of the grave in
Kanó, and being reduced to the utmost misery, he came to Kúkawa, begging
my pardon, and entreating my compassion; and, after some expostulation,
I allowed him to stay without hiring him, and it was only on seeing his
attachment to me in the course of time, that I afterwards granted him a
dollar a month, and he did not obtain two dollars till my leaving Zínder,
in January 1853, on my way to Timbúktu, when I was obliged to augment the
salary of all my people. This lad followed me with my two camels.
All was fertility and vegetation, though these fields near the capital
are certainly not the best situated in Bórnu. I felt strengthened by
the fresh air, and followed the eastern path, which did not offer any
place for an encampment. Looking round, I saw at length two of my men
coming towards us, and found to the left of the track, on a little sandy
eminence, a convenient spot for pitching my tent. I felt happy in having
left the monotony and closeness of the town behind me. Nothing in the
world makes me feel happier than a wide, open country, a commodious tent,
and a fine horse. But I was not quite comfortable; for, having forgotten
to close my tent, I was greatly annoyed by the mosquitoes, which
prevented my getting any sleep. The lake being very near, the dew was so
heavy that next morning my tent was as wet as if it had been soaked with
water.
_Friday, Sept. 12._—Notwithstanding these inconveniences, I awoke in the
morning with a grateful heart, and cared little about the flies, which
soon began to attack me. I sat down outside the tent to enjoy my liberty:
it was a fine morning, and I sat for hours tranquilly enjoying the most
simple landscape (the lake not being visible, and scarcely a single tree
in sight) which a man can fancy. But all was so quiet, and bespoke such
serenity and content, that I felt quite happy and invigorated. I did not
think about writing, but idled away the whole day. In the evening my
other man came, and brought me a note from Mr. Overweg, addressed to me
“in campo caragæ Æthiopiensis” (karága means wilderness).
_Saturday, Sept. 13._—I decided late in the morning, when the dew had
dried up a little, upon moving my encampment a short distance, but had to
change my path for a more westerly one, on account of the large swampy
ponds, formed at the end of the rainy season in the concavity at the foot
of the sandhills of Dawerghú. The vegetation is rich during this season,
even in this monotonous district. Having at length entered the corn, or
rather millet-fields of Dawerghú, we soon ascended the sandhills, where
the whole character of the landscape is altered; for, while the dum-bush
almost ceases, the rétem, _Spartium monospermum_, is the most common
botanical ornament of the ground where the cultivation of the fields has
left a free spot, whilst fine specimens of the mimosa break the monotony
of the fields. Having passed several clusters of cottages forming an
extensive district, I saw to the right an open space descending towards a
green sheet of water, filling a sort of valley or hollow where, a short
time afterwards, when the summer harvest is over, the peculiar sort of
sorghum called másakwá is sown. Being shaded by some fine acacias, the
spot was very inviting, and, feeling already tired, sick and weak as I
was, though after a journey of only two hours, I determined to remain
there during the heat of the day. I had scarcely stretched myself on
the ground, when a man brought me word that a messenger, sent by Ghét,
the chief of the Welád Slimán, had passed by with the news that this
wandering and marauding tribe had left Búrgu and returned to Kánem. This
was very unpleasant news, as, from all that I had heard, it appeared to
me that Búrgu must be an interesting country, at least as much so as
Asben or Aír, being favoured by deep valleys and ravines, and living
sources of fine water, and producing, besides great quantities of
excellent dates, even grapes and figs, at least in some favoured spots.
The morning had been rather dull, but before noon the sun shone forth,
and our situation on the sloping ground of the high country, overlooking
a great extent of land in the rich dress of vegetable life, was very
pleasant. There was scarcely a bare spot: all was green, except that
the ears of the millet and sorghum were almost ripe, and began to
assume a yellowish-brown tint; but how different is the height of the
stalks, the very largest of which scarcely exceeds fifteen feet, from
those I saw afterwards on my return from Timbúktu, in the rich valleys
of Kébbi. Several Kánembú were passing by, and enlivened the scenery.
When the heat of the sun began to abate, I set my little caravan once
more in motion, and passed on through the level country, which in the
simplicity of my mind I thought beautiful, and which I greatly enjoyed.
After about an hour’s march, we passed a large pond or pool, situated
to the left of the road, and formed by the rains, bordered by a set of
trees of the acacia tribe, and enlivened by a large herd of fine cattle.
Towards evening, after some trouble, we found a path leading through the
fields into the interior of a little village, called Alairúk, almost
hidden behind the high stalks of millet. Our reception was rather cold,
such as a stranger may expect to find in all the villages situated near
a capital, the inhabitants of which are continually pestered by calls
upon their hospitality. But, carrying my little residence and all the
comforts I wanted with me, I cared little about their treatment; and my
tent was soon pitched in a separate courtyard. But all my enjoyment was
destroyed by a quarrel which arose between my horseman and the master of
the dwelling, who would not allow him to put his horse where he wished:
my horseman had even the insolence to beat the man who had received us
into his house. This is the way in which affairs are managed in these
countries.
_Sunday, Sept. 14._—After a refreshing night I started a little later
than on the day previous, winding along a narrow path through the fields,
where, besides sorghum, karás (_Hibiscus esculentus_) is cultivated,
which is an essential thing for preparing the soups of the natives, in
districts where the leaves of the kúka, or monkey-bread-tree, and of the
hajilíj, or _Balanites_, are wanting; for though the town of Kúkawa has
received its name from the circumstance that a young tree of this species
was found on the spot where the Sheikh Mohammed el Kánemi, the father
of the ruling sultan, laid the first foundation of the present town,
nevertheless scarcely any kúka is seen for several miles round Kúkawa.
The sky was cloudy, and the country became less interesting than the
day before. We met a small troop of native traders, with dried fish,
which forms a great article of commerce throughout Bórnu; for, though
the Kanúri people at present are almost deprived of the dominion, and
even the use, of the fine sheet of water which spreads out in the midst
of their territories, the fish, to which their forefathers have given
the name of food (bú-ni, from bú, to eat), has remained a necessary
article for making their soups. The fields in this part of the country
were not so well looked after, and were in a more neglected state; but
there was a tolerable variety of trees, though rather scanty. Besides
prickly underwood of talhas, there were principally the hajilíj or bíto
(_Balanites Ægyptiaca_), the selím, the kórna, the serrákh, and the
gerredh or _Mimosa Nilotica_. Further on, a short time before we came
to the village Kalíkágorí, I observed a woman collecting the seeds of
an eatable _Poa_, called “kréb” or “kashá,” of which there are several
species, by swinging a sort of basket through the rich meadow-ground.
These species of grasses afford a great deal of food to the inhabitants
of Bórnu, Bagírmi, and Wadáÿ, but more especially to the Arab settlers
in these countries, or the Shúwa; in Bórnu, at least, I have never seen
the black natives make use of this kind of food, while in Bagírmi it
seems to constitute a sort of luxury even with the wealthier classes. The
reader will see, in the course of my narrative, that in Máseñá I lived
principally on this kind of _Poa_. It makes a light palatable dish, but
requires a great deal of butter.
After having entered the forest and passed several small waterpools, we
encamped near one of these, when the heat of the sun began to make itself
felt. This district abounded in mimosas of the species called gerredh,
úm-el-barka, or “kingar,” which affords a very excellent wood for saddles
and other purposes, while the coals prepared from it are used for making
powder. My old talkative, but not very energetic companion Bu-Zéd, was
busy in making new pegs for my tent, the very hard black ground of Bórnu
destroying pegs very soon, and in the meantime, assisted by Hosén ben
Hár, gave me a first insight into the numerous tribes living in Kánem
and round the Bahar el Ghazál. The fruits of the gerredh, which in their
general appearance are very like those of the tamarind-tree, are a very
important native medicine, especially in cases of dysentery; and it is,
most probably, to them that I owed my recovery when attacked by that
destructive disease during my second stay in Sókoto in September 1854.
The same tree is essential for preparing the water-skins, that most
necessary article for crossing the desert. The kajíji was plentiful in
this neighbourhood. The root of this little plant, which is about the
size of a nut, the natives use in the most extensive way for perfuming
themselves with.
Late in the afternoon we continued our journey through the forest, which
was often interrupted by open patches. After having pursued the path for
some miles, we quitted it, and travelled in a more easterly direction
through a pleasant hilly country, full of verdure, and affording
pasturage to a great many cattle; for the Kánembú, like the Fúlbe, go
with their herds to a great distance during certain seasons of the year,
and all the cattle from the places about Ngórnu northwards is to be found
in these quarters during the cold season. But not being able to find
water here, we were obliged to try the opposite direction, in order to
look for this element so essential for passing a comfortable night. At
length, late in the evening, traversing a very rugged tract of country,
we reached the temporary encampment, or berí, of a party of Kánembú with
their herds, whilst a larger berí was moving eastward. Here also we were
unable to find water, and even milk was to be got but sparingly.
_Monday, Sept. 15._—Before we were ready to move, the whole nomadic
encampment broke up, the cattle going in front, and the men, women,
and children following with their little households on asses. The most
essential or only apparatus of these wandering neatherds are the tall
sticks for hanging up the milk to secure it; the “sákti” or skins for
milk and water, the calabashes, and the kórió. The men are always armed
with their long wooden shields, the “ngáwa fógobe,” and their spears,
and some are most fantastically dressed, as I have described on a former
occasion. After having loaded our camels, and proceeded some distance,
we came to the temporary abode of another large herd, whose guardians
at first behaved unfriendly, forbidding our tasting a drop of their
delicious stuff; but they soon exchanged their haughty manners for the
utmost cordiality when Mʿadi, an elder brother of Fúgo ʿAlí, our friend
in Maduwári, recognized me. He even insisted on my encamping on the
spot, and staying the day with him; and it was with difficulty that he
allowed me to pursue my march, after having swallowed as much delicious
milk as my stomach would bear. Further on we joined the main road, and
found to the left of it a handsome pool of muddy water, and filled two
skins with it. Certainly there is nothing worse for a European than this
stagnant dirty water; but during the rainy season, and for a short time
afterwards, he is rarely able to get any other.
Soon after, I had another specimen of the treatment to which the natives
are continually exposed from the king’s servants in these countries; for,
meeting a large herd of fine sheep, my horseguard managed to lay hold of
the fattest specimen of the whole herd, notwithstanding the cries of the
shepherd, whom I in vain endeavoured to console by offering him the price
of the animal. During the heat of the day, when we were encamped under
the scanty shade of a few gáwo, my people slaughtered the sheep; but, as
in general, I only tasted a little of the liver. The shade was so scanty,
and the sun so hot, that I felt very weak in the afternoon when we went
on a little.
_Tuesday, Sept. 16._—I felt tolerably strong. Soon after we had started,
we met a great many horses which had been sent here for pasturage, and
then encountered another fish kafla. My horseman wanted me all at once to
proceed to the town of Yó, from whence he was to return; and he continued
on without stopping, although I very soon felt tired, and wanted to
make a halt. The country, at the distance of some miles south from the
komádugu, is rather monotonous and barren, and the large tamarind-tree
behind the town of Yó is seen from such a distance that the traveller,
having the same conspicuous object before his eyes for such a length
of time, becomes tired out before he reaches it. The dúm-palm is the
principal tree in this flat region, forming detached clusters, while the
ground in general is extremely barren.
Proceeding with my guardian in advance, we at length reached the town, in
front of which there is a little suburb; and being uncertain whether we
should take quarters inside or outside, we entered it. It consisted of
closely packed streets, was extremely hot, and exhaled such an offensive
smell of dried fish, that it appeared to me a very disagreeable and
intolerable abode. Nevertheless we rode to the house of the shitíma, or
rather, in the full form, Shitíma Yóma (which is the title the governor
bears), a large building of clay. He was just about taking another
wife; and large quantities of corn, intended as provision for his new
household, were heaped up in front of it.[81] Having applied to his men
for quarters, a small courtyard with a large hut was assigned to us in
another part of the town, and we went there; but it was impossible for me
to make myself in any way comfortable in this narrow space, where a small
gáwo afforded very scanty shade. Being almost suffocated, and feeling
very unwell, I mounted my horse again and hastened out of the gate, and
was very glad to have regained the fresh air. We then encamped about six
hundred yards from the town, near a shady tamarind tree; and I stretched
my feeble limbs on the ground, and fell into a sort of lethargy for some
hours, enjoying a luxurious tranquillity; I was so fatigued with my
morning’s ride, that I thought with apprehension on what would become of
me after my companions had joined me, when I should be obliged to bear
fatigue of a quite different description.
As soon as I felt strong enough to rise from my couch, I walked a few
paces in order to get a sight of the river or “komádugu.” It was at
present a fine sheet of water, the bed entirely full, “tsimbúllena,” and
the stream running towards the Tsád with a strong current; indeed, I then
scarcely suspected that on another occasion I should encamp for several
days in the dry bed of this river, which, notwithstanding the clear and
undoubted statements of the members of the former expedition with regard
to its real character, had been made by Captain W. Allen to carry the
superfluous waters of the Tsád into the Kwára. The shores of the komádugu
near this place are quite picturesque, being bordered by splendid
tamarind-trees, and “kínzim,” or dúm-palms, besides fine specimens of the
acacia tribe on the northern shore. At the foot of the tamarind-trees a
very good kind of cotton is grown, while lower down, just at this season
of the year, wheat is produced by irrigating regularly laid out grounds
by way of the shadúf or “lámbuna.” Cotton and small quantities of wheat
are the only produce of this region, besides fish and the fruit of the
_Cucifera_ or dúm-palm, which forms an essential condiment for the
“kunú,” a kind of soup made of Negro millet; for the place is entirely
destitute of any other _Cerealia_, and millet and sorghum are grown only
to a small extent. Cattle also are very scarce in Yó; and very little
milk is to be procured. Fish is the principal food of the inhabitants, of
which there are several very palatable species in the river, especially
one of considerable size, from eighteen to twenty inches long, with a
very small mouth, resembling the mullet.
I saw also a specimen of the electric-fish, about ten inches long, and
very fat, which was able to numb the arm of a man for several minutes. It
was of an ashy colour on the back, while the belly was quite white; the
tail and the hind fins were red. Mr. Overweg made a slight sketch of one.
During the night a heavy gale arose, and we had to fasten the ropes
attached to the top of the pole; but the storm passed by, and there was
not a drop of rain; indeed the rainy season, with regard to Bórnu, had
fairly gone by.
_Wednesday, Sept. 17._—Enjoyed in the morning the scenery and the fresh
air of the river. Men were coming to bathe, women fetching water, and
passengers and small parties were crossing the river, swimming across
with their clothes upon their heads, or sitting on a yoke of calabashes
with the water up to their middle. A kafla or “karábka” of Tébu people
from Kánem had arrived the day before, and were encamped on the other
side of the river, being eager to cross; but they were not allowed to do
so till they had obtained permission; for, during several months, this
river or valley forms annually a sort of quarantine line, whilst, during
the other portion of the year, small caravans, at least, go to and fro at
their pleasure.
The only boat upon the water was a mákara, formed by several yokes of
calabashes, and of that frail character described by me in another
part of this work, in which we ourselves were to cross the river.
Unfortunately it was not possible to enjoy quietly and decently the
beautiful shade of the splendid tamarind-trees, on account of the number
of waterfowl and pelicans which reside in their branches.
On removing some of my luggage, I found that the white ants were busy
destroying, as fast as possible, my leather bags and mats; and we
were accordingly obliged to remove everything, and to place layers of
branches underneath. There are great numbers of ants hereabouts; but only
moderately sized ant-hills are seen; nothing like the grand structures
which I afterwards saw in Bagírmi.
_Thursday, Sept. 18._—About two hours after midnight Mr. Overweg arrived,
accompanied by one of the most conspicuous of the Welád Slimán, of the
name of Khálef-Allah, announcing the approach of our little troop; which
did not, however, make its appearance until ten o’clock in the morning,
when the most courageous and best mounted of them galloped up to my tent
in pairs, brandishing their guns. There were twenty-five horsemen, about
a dozen men mounted upon camels, and seven or eight on foot, besides
children. They dismounted a little to the east of our tents, and formed
quite an animated encampment; though of course quarrels were sure to
break out soon.
Feeling a little stronger, I mounted with my fellow-traveller in the
afternoon, in order to make a small excursion along the southern shore of
the river, in a westerly direction. The river, in general, runs from west
to east; but here, above the town, it makes considerable windings, and
the shore is not so high as at the ford. The vegetation was beautiful;
large tamarind-trees forming a dense shade above, whilst the ground was
covered with a great variety of plants and herbs just in flower. On
the low promontories of the shore were several small fishing villages,
consisting of rather low and light huts made of mats, and surrounded by
poles for drying the fish, a great many of which, principally of the
mullet kind, were just suspended for that purpose. Having enjoyed the
aspect of the quiet river-scenery for some time, we returned round the
south side of the town. The ground here is hilly; but I think the hills,
though at present covered with verdure, are nothing more than mounds of
rubbish formed in the course of time round the town, which appears to
have been formerly of greater extent.
_Friday, Sept. 19._—Overweg and I, accompanied by Khálef-Allah and a
guide, made an excursion down the river, in order, if possible, to
reach its mouth; but the experiment proved that there is no path on
the southern shore, the track following the northern bank: for on that
side, not far from the mouth, lies a considerable Kánembú place called
Bóso, though, in the present weak state of the Bórnu kingdom, much
exposed to the incursions of the Tuarek. Having penetrated as far as a
village, or rather a walled town, named Fátse, the walls of which are
in a decayed state, and the population reduced to a dozen families, we
were obliged to give up our intended survey of the river. As for myself,
I was scarcely able to make any long excursion; for on attempting to
mount my horse again, I fainted, and fell senseless to the ground, to
the great consternation of my companions, who felt convinced my end was
approaching. We therefore returned to our encampment. In the evening I
had a severe attack of fever.
_Saturday, Sept 20._—It had been determined the day before that we
should cross the river to-day, and the governor’s permission had been
obtained; but as the vizier’s messenger had not yet arrived, we decided
upon waiting another day. Feeling a little better, I made a rough sketch
of the town, with the dúm-palms around it, and prepared myself, as well
as I was able, for the fatiguing march before me. We had a good specimen
to-day of the set of robbers and freebooters we had associated with in
order to carry out the objects of the mission. The small Tébu caravan,
which I mentioned above as having arrived from Kánem, and which had
brought the news that the people of Wadáÿ had made an alliance with all
the tribes hostile to the Welád Slimán, in order to destroy the latter,
had not been allowed to cross the river until to-day. They were harmless
people, carrying very little luggage (chiefly dates) upon a small number
of oxen; but as soon as they had crossed, our companions held a council,
and, the opinion of the most violent having gained the upper hand, they
fell upon the poor Tébu, or Kréda, as they call them, and took away
all their dates by force. The skins were then divided: and the greater
part of them had already been consumed or carried away, when an old
Arab arrived, and, upbraiding his companions with their mean conduct,
persuaded them to collect what remained, or that could be found, and
restore it to the owners. In the evening the vizier’s messenger arrived,
and the crossing of the river was definitely fixed for the next day.
_Monday, Sept. 22._—Rose early, in order to get over in time, there being
no other means of crossing than two mákara, each consisting of three
yokes of calabashes. The camels, as is always the case, being the most
difficult to manage, had to cross first; and after much trouble and many
narrow escapes (owing principally to the unevenness of the bottom of the
valley, the water channel having formed a deep hollow—at present from
ten to eleven feet deep—near the southern shore, while in the middle the
bottom rises considerably, leaving a depth of only six or seven feet)
they all got safely over, and were left to indulge in the foliage of the
beautiful mimosas which embellish the northern border of the river. The
horses followed next, and lastly we ourselves with the luggage.
About nine o’clock in the morning I found myself upon the river on my
three-yoked “mákara,” gliding through the stream in a rather irregular
style of motion, according as the frail ferry-boat was drawn or pushed
by the two black swimmers yoked to it. It was a beautiful day, and the
scenery highly interesting; but, having been exposed to the sun all
the morning, I was glad to find a little shade. When all the party had
successively landed, and the heat of the day had abated, we loaded our
camels and commenced our march. We were now left entirely to the security
and protection which our own arms might afford us; for all the country
to the north of the komádugu has become the domain of freebooters, and
though nominally Sheikh ʿOmár’s dominion stretches as far as Berí, and
even beyond that place, nevertheless his name is not respected here,
except where supported by arms.
The country through which we were passing bore the same character as that
for some miles round the capital; a very stiff, black soil, clothed with
short grass and a few trees far between. Having encountered a flock of
sheep, our friends gave chase; and after they had laid hold of three fat
rams, we decided to encamp.
_Tuesday, Sept. 23._—For the first four hours of our march the character
of the surrounding country remained nearly the same; it then opened, and
became better cultivated; and soon after we saw the clay walls of Báruwa,
though scarcely to be distinguished, owing to the high mounds of rubbish
imbedding them on all sides. Near the south-west gate of the town the
road leads over the high mound (which destroys entirely the protection
the wall might otherwise afford to the inhabitants), and lays its whole
interior open to the eyes of the traveller. It consists of closely packed
huts, generally without a courtyard, but shaded here and there by a
mimosa or kúrna, and affords a handsome specimen of a Central African
dwelling-place. The inhabitants, whose want of energy is clearly seen
from the nature of the mounds, do not rely upon the strength of their
walls; and to the disgrace of the sheikh of Bórnu, who receives tribute
from them, and places a governor over them, they likewise pay tribute to
the Tuarek. They belong in general to the Kánembú tribe; but many Yédiná,
or Búdduma, also are settled in the town. Their principal food and only
article of commerce is fish, which they catch in great quantities in
the lake, whose nearest creeks are, according to the season, from two
to three miles distant, and from which they are not excluded, like the
inhabitants of Ngórnu and other places, on account of their friendly
relations with the warlike pirates of the lake. As for corn, they have
a very scanty supply, and seem not to employ the necessary labour to
produce it, perhaps on account of the insecure state of the country,
which does not guarantee them the harvest they have sown. Cotton they
have none, and are obliged to barter their fish for cotton strips or
articles of dress. Indeed, gábagá or cotton strips, and kúlgu or white
cotton shirts, are the best articles which a traveller, who wants to
procure fish for his desert journey by way of Bilma (where dry fish is
the only article in request), can take with him.
At the well on the north side of the town, which does not furnish very
good water, the horsemen belonging to our troop awaited the camels. Only
a few scattered hajilíj (_Balanites Ægyptiaca_) and stunted talha-trees
spread a scanty shade over the stubble-fields, which were far from
exhibiting a specimen of diligent cultivation; and I was very glad when,
having taken in a small supply of water, we were again in motion. We
soon left the scanty vestiges of cultivation behind us, and some bushes
of the siwák (_Capparis sodata_) began to enliven the country. At eleven
o’clock, having mounted a low range of sand-hills, we obtained a first
view of the Tsád, or rather of its inundations. The whole country now
began to be clothed with siwák. Having kept for about half-an-hour along
the elevated sandy level, we descended, and followed the lower road,
almost hidden by the thickest vegetation. This lower road, as well as
our whole track to Ngégimi, became entirely inundated at a later period
(in 1854), and will perhaps never more be trodden: in consequence, when
I came this way in 1855 we were obliged to make a circuit, keeping along
the sandy level nearer to the site of the ancient town of Wúdi.
Shortly afterwards we encamped, where the underwood had left a small
open space, at the eastern foot of a low hill. The prickly jungle was
here so dense that I searched a long time in vain for a bare spot to lie
down upon, when, to my great satisfaction, I found Bú-Zéd clearing me
a place with his axe. The swampy shore of the lake was only about four
hundred yards from our resting-place; but the spot was not well chosen
for an encampment, and it was found necessary to place several watches
during the night, notwithstanding which, a skin of mine, full of water,
disappeared from the stick upon which it was suspended, and the Arabs
tried to persuade me that a hungry hyæna had carried it off; but it was
most probable that one of themselves had been in want of this necessary
article of desert travelling.
_Wednesday, Sept. 24._—We continued our march through the luxuriant
prickly underwood, full of the dung and footsteps of the elephant. Here
and there the _capparis_ had been cut away, and large fireplaces were to
be seen, where the roots had been burnt to ashes. The tripods, of which
several were lying about, are used for filtering the water through these
ashes, which takes from them the salt particles which they contain. This
water is afterwards boiled, and thus the salt obtained. This salt is then
taken to Kúkawa by the Kánembú whilst those who prepare it are Búdduma.
On our return from Kánem we met large numbers of this piratical set
of islanders; and on my home journey in 1855, I saw them in the full
activity of their labours. This salt, weak and insipid as it is, is at
least of a better quality than that which the people in Kótoko prepare
from neat-dung. In Míltu, on the Upper Shári, or Bá-busó, salt of a
tolerable quality is obtained from a peculiar species of grass growing in
the river. The Músgu, as we shall see, prepare this necessary article (or
at least something like it) from the ashes of the stalks of millet and
Indian corn.
After we had emerged from the underwood into the open country, we passed
a considerable salt manufactory, consisting of at least twenty earthen
pots. Large triangular lumps of salt were lying about, which are shaped
in moulds made of clay. Several people were busy carrying mud from an
inlet of the lake which was close at hand, in order to make new moulds.
Keeping close along the border of the latter, and enjoying the fresh
breeze which had before been kept from us by the forest, we halted early
in the afternoon. A small Tébu caravan was also encamped here, no doubt
with the intention of passing the night; but they did not like the
neighbourhood of our friends, and, loading immediately, started off.
Our path now lay through fertile pasture-grounds, with a line of
underwood to our left. It was a fine cool morning. We passed a large
pool of fresh water, frequented by great numbers of waterfowl of
various species. Overweg, on his fine and tall, but rather heavy and
unwieldy charger, made an unsuccessful attempt to overtake a pair of
kelára (_Antilope Arabica?_ _Aigocerus ellipsiprymnus?_), who scampered
playfully away through the fine grassy plain. At nine o’clock we reached
the far-famed place Ngégimi, and were greatly disappointed at finding an
open, poor-looking village, consisting of detached conical huts, without
the least comfort, which, even in these light structures, may well be
attained to a certain degree. The hungry inhabitants would not receive
anything in exchange for a few fowls which we wanted to buy, except
grain, of which we ourselves, in these desolate regions, stood too much
in need to have given it away without an adequate substitute.
The situation of this place is very unfavourable, since the ruler of
Bórnu has restricted his real dominion within the border of the komádugu,
and the poor inhabitants are constantly in fear of being molested by
a ghazzia of the Tuarek. Indeed, two years later, this village was
plundered by these freebooting hordes; and some months afterwards, in
the year 1854, the remainder of the population, who had not been carried
away into captivity, were obliged, by the high floods of the lagoon, to
leave their old dwelling-place altogether, and build a new village on the
slope of the sand-hills, where I found it at the end of May 1855. As for
Wúdi (a large place, once an occasional residence of the Bórnu kings)
and Lári, both mentioned by Denham and Clapperton, they have long been
deserted, Wúdi having been taken and ransacked by the Tuarek in the year
1838, and Lári a little later. At present only a few palm-trees (said to
yield a kind of date far superior to the little black Kánem dates) in the
sand-hills about eight miles south-west from Ngégimi, indicate the site
of the once celebrated Wúdi. Ngégimi was then nominally under the control
of Kashélla Hasen or Hassan.
Plunged into sad reflections on the fate of this once splendid empire
of Kánem, and the continued progress of the Berber race into the heart
of Sudán, I hung listlessly upon my horse, when, on leaving this
uncomfortable dwelling-place, we took our course over the unbroken plain,
once no doubt the bottom of the lake, and soon to become once more a
part of it. Sometimes it was dry and barren, at others clothed with rich
verdure, while on our left it was bordered by a range of sand-hills, the
natural limit of the lagoon. At a little before noon we came to a deep
inlet of the lake, spreading the freshest verdure all around in this now
desolate country. Having watered our horses, and taken in a sufficient
supply of this element for the night, we crossed the plain, here not more
than a thousand yards wide, and ascended a broad promontory of the range
of sand-hills, where we encamped.
It was a delightful spot, where the heart might have expanded in the
enjoyment of freedom. In front of us to the south-east, the swampy lands
of the lagoon, one immense ricefield (as it ought to be at least), spread
out to the borders of the horizon; but no “white water,” or open sea,
was to be seen, not even as much as connected channels, nothing but one
immense swampy flat, stretching out as far as the eye could reach. To the
south the green pasturages, along which we had come, extended far beyond
Ngégimi. It was a picture of one of the most fertile spots of the earth
doomed to desolation. But there was a feeble spark of hope in me that it
would not always be so; and I flattered myself that my labours in these
new regions might contribute to sow here the first germs of a new life, a
new activity.
My companions and friends did not seem to share in my feelings: for,
wholly intent upon mischief, they had been roving about, and having
fallen in with some Kánembú cattle-breeders, they had plundered them not
only of their milk, but also of the vessels which contained it; and in
the afternoon some respectable old men applied to Mr. Overweg and myself,
the only just people they were sure to find amongst this wild band of
lawless robbers, for redress, and we were happy, not only to restore to
them their vessels, but also to make them a few small presents.
_Thursday, Sept. 25._—Descending from our lofty encampment, we continued
our march in the narrow grassy plain, between the sand-hills to the
north, and another blue inlet of the lake to the south, where the rich
pasture-grounds extended further into the lake. It was about seven
o’clock in the morning when we had the good fortune to enjoy one of the
most interesting scenes which these regions can possibly afford. Far to
our right was a whole herd of elephants, arranged in regular array, like
an army of rational beings, slowly proceeding to the water. In front
appeared the males, as was evident from their size, in regular order;
at a little distance followed the young ones; in a third line were the
females; and the whole were brought up by five males of immense size. The
latter (though we were at some distance, and proceeding quietly along)
took notice of us, and some were seen throwing dust into the air; but we
did not disturb them. There were altogether ninety-six.
The fine fresh pasture-grounds some time afterwards gave way to a drier
plain, covered with a species of heath, and the country presented rather
a melancholy appearance. A little before ten o’clock we came to a large
herd of cattle or “berí,” collected round a small hamlet or dawar,
consisting of light, high-topped huts of corn-stalks, fastened together
by three rings of straw, and lightly plastered with a little cowdung. But
although we obtained some milk, some of our friends, not content with
filling their stomachs, laid hold of a fine pony and carried it off,
under the pretext that it belonged to the Búdduma, who, as they asserted,
were the enemies of the sheikh; and when we had started again, and
encountered a small caravan of oxen laden with dates, not only were all
the skins containing the dates taken, but another ruffian laid hold of
one of the beasts of burden and dragged it away with him, notwithstanding
the lamentations of its owner. And yet the people who were thus treated
were subjects of the king of Bórnu, and the Welád Slimán were his
professed friends and hirelings.
Fine fresh pasture-grounds, and melancholy tracts clothed with nothing
but heath, succeeded each other, whilst not a single tree broke the
monotony of the level country. At length we encamped near a deserted
village of cattle-breeders, consisting of about twenty small conical
huts, built in the form of a large circle. We had scarcely begun to make
ourselves comfortable, when a noisy quarrel arose about the dates so
unjustly taken from their owners, and some of the Arabs concerned in the
dispute came to my tent in order to have their claims settled, when the
whole particulars of the shameless robberies committed in the course of
the day, came under my notice, and especially that of the horse. But this
was a delicate subject, and one that excited the angry passions of those
concerned—so much so that one of them, named Ibrahím, came running with
his loaded gun straight into my tent, threatening to blow out the brains
of anybody who spoke of injustice or robbery. As for Bakhér, and ʿAbd eʾ
Rahmán, who were the actual possessors of the horse, they were about to
leave by themselves.
The violent proceedings of our protectors had spread such terror
throughout these almost desolate regions, that in the evening, solely
from fear, two oxen and a quantity of milk were sent from a neighbouring
berí as presents. The night was fresh, but not cold, and a very heavy dew
fell.
_Friday, Sept. 26._—Reached about noon the first large cluster of huts of
the village of Berí, after having followed a very numerous and fine herd
of cattle (one of the finest I saw in the interior of the continent) for
awhile, with the urgent desire of obtaining a drink of fresh milk, and
then crossed a tolerably deep inlet of the lagoon. Here we encamped on a
terribly hot sandy spot, without any shade, some two hundred yards from
the village, which stretches in a long line from north to south.
Berí is a place of importance, at least since the date of the greatest
splendour of the Bórnu kingdom, and is frequently mentioned in the
history of the great king Edrís Alawóma, written during his lifetime by
his chief Imám Ahmed. Its situation is such as to render it of great
importance as a station; for here the army proceeding from Bórnu to the
interior of Kánem leaves the shore of the lagoon, and has generally to
make a long stay, in order to regain strength for the ensuing march, and
to supply itself with fresh provisions. Till a few years previously, a
Bórnu governor of the name of Shitíma Aba had been residing here; but he
had given up the place, and preferred living in the capital.
But here I must add, that there are two places called Berí, distant
from each other a few miles, the one where we were encamped being
called Berí-kurá, the Great Berí, the other with the surname “futé”
(the western), from its more westerly situation; but it is at present
greatly reduced, and we had left it unobserved on one side. The greater
part of the inhabitants of Berí are Kánembú, and belong to the clan of
the Sugúrti, a large division of that tribe, which, however, in the last
struggle of the old dynasty, suffered greatly. Besides these, a good many
Búdduma are settled here.
I was very glad when, after another severe quarrel, the young horse was
at length given up by the robbers, as likewise the beast of burden. One
of the oxen sent yesterday as a present was slaughtered to-day, and
divided amongst the whole band. As for myself, I made merry on a little
fresh milk; for though the people are, and appear to have been from their
birth (for “berí” means cattle-herd), in possession of numerous herds
of cattle, nevertheless, in the village, as is often the case, there is
very little milk—only just as much as is required for the use of the
owners themselves—the cattle being at a great distance. Very little can
be obtained here, and corn is scarcely cultivated, owing to the insecure
and desperate state of the country. The inhabitants are in continual
intercourse with the Yédiná, that section of the Kótoko who inhabit the
islands in the lake, and who are generally called Búdduma. But of course
the distance of their village from the lagoon varies considerably; and
the nearest branch or inlet at present was that which we had crossed in
the morning, and from which the inhabitants supplied themselves with
water. The want of firewood is greatly felt; scarcely a single tree is to
be met with in the neighbourhood.
_Saturday, Sept. 27._—We now left the shores of the lake, ascending a
little, but had a difficult march this morning in order to avoid the many
small boggy inlets and natron-lagoons which are formed by the lake, and
wind along through the sand-hills. With regard to these natron-lakes,
which, after the report of Major Denham, have led to many erroneous
conjectures respecting Lake Tsád, I have to observe that the natron or
soda is not originally contained in the water, but in the ground, and
that all the water of Lake Tsád is fresh; but when a small quantity
of water, after the lake has retired from the highest point of its
inundation, remains in a basin the soil of which is filled with soda, the
water of course becomes impregnated with this quality. The consequence
is, that there are many basins round Lake Tsád which, according to the
season, are either fresh or brackish; for the soda contained in the
ground has very little effect so long as the basin is deep, and does
not begin to make itself felt till the water becomes shallow. Of this
same character seems to be Lake Bóro in Kánem, which I shall mention
hereafter. I here remind the reader of what I have stated above with
regard to the importance of the natron-trade between Bórnu and Núpe or
Nýffi.
Having no guide—for who would willingly trust himself in the hands of
such lawless robbers as our companions?—we found it rather difficult work
to get out of this labyrinth of lagoons; and after a few miles we came to
a narrow but very boggy inlet, which it was thought necessary to cross.
Riding a lively horse, an excellent “sayár,” I was rather in advance,
and had only three horsemen in front of me; on coming to the bog,
the nature of which it was easy to perceive, we rode one after the
other,—Khálef-Allah being in front of me. The first horseman went in,
made a few steps, and then came down; but he got his horse upon his legs
again, went on, and again sunk into the bog, but being near the firm
ground, got over tolerably well. As soon as those who were before me saw
this they stopped their horses short, and wanted to return, pressing my
horse upon his side, who, being annoyed by the morass, made a vacillating
movement forward, and fell upon his knees; upon being raised he made
some wild exertions to get through, but after two or three ineffectual
attempts, he again fell on his side, and I under him. The morass here
was about four feet deep; and I received several smart blows from the
forelegs of my horse, upon the head and shoulders, before I was fortunate
enough to extricate myself from this interesting situation. Being clad in
a white bernús over a Nýffi tobe, with a pair of pistols in my belt, my
appearance may be easily conceived when, after a great deal of labour,
I succeeded in reaching firm ground. I had still the difficult task of
extricating my horse, which, after wild and desperate exertions, lay
motionless in the bog. I had on this occasion a good specimen of the
assistance we were likely to receive from our companions in cases of
difficulty; for they were looking silently on without affording me any
aid. Mr. Overweg was some distance behind, and, when he came up, was
enabled to supply me with dry clothing.
The spot would have been quite interesting but for this accident, as
there was here, favoured by the rich soil and this very morass, a
beautiful plantation of red ngáberi or sorghum, of that peculiar kind
called mósogá, or rather, másakwá, in the highest state of exuberance,
and just beginning to ripen; it was the finest specimen I saw on my whole
journey. Fortunately the sun was moderately warm, as I began to feel very
chilly after my involuntary bath. We continued our march at first along
another hollow containing fresh water, and then, ascending a little, came
upon a sandy level well clothed with herbage and trees of the mimosa
kind. Here we seemed to be entirely out of reach of the lake; and great
was our astonishment when, a little after nine o’clock, we came close
upon another fine sheet of fresh, blue water. It was a great satisfaction
to me, in the state I was in, that we encamped at so early an hour on its
northern border, where some serrákh afforded a tolerable shade. I was
busy drying my clothes, arms, saddle-cloths, and journals, when there
appeared certain indications of an approaching storm; and in order to
avoid being wetted twice in the same day, I got my tent pitched. After
a furious gale the rain poured down, and about a dozen of my companions
took refuge in my small, frail dwelling; but all were not so fortunate as
to escape a wetting, for the rain, being very heavy, came in at the door.
The storm lasted more than an hour; and everything, including horses and
camels, being thoroughly soaked, it was decided to remain here for the
night.
_Sunday, Sept. 28._—For some reason or another, but chiefly in order
to slaughter the other ox, divide it, and cut it up into “gedíd,” we
remained here the whole morning; and the sun had long passed into zawál
(past noon) when we started through the sandy and slightly undulating
country full of herbage, principally of the plant called “nesí,” besides
bú rékkebah or _Avena Forskalii_, the bur-feathered prickle (_Pennisetum
distichum_), and various kinds of mimosa, chiefly consisting of the
talha, and úm-el-barka (_Mimosa Nilotica_.) Our companions found several
ostrich-eggs, and met a large troop of gazelles. The country then became
more thickly wooded, and, where we encamped for the night, presented
a very interesting character; but the danger from wild beasts was
considerable, and the roar of a lion was heard throughout the greater
part of the night.
_Monday, Sept. 29._—Started early: the character of the country continued
the same as yesterday, and presented beautiful specimens of the mimosa,
here breaking down from age, at another place interwoven with creepers,
one species of which produces the red juicy fruit called “fito” by the
Kanúri, and has been mentioned by me before. It was nearly eight o’clock
when, proceeding in groups, two of our horsemen, on passing near a very
large and thick gherret, suddenly halted, and with loud cries hastened
back to us. We approached the spot, and saw a very large snake hanging
in a threatening attitude from the branches of the tree; on seeing us
it tried to hide itself; but after firing several balls, it fell down,
and we cut off its head. It measured 18 ft. 7 in. in length, and at the
thickest part 5 in. in diameter, and was of a beautifully variegated
colour. Two natives, who had attached themselves to our troop the day
before, cut it open and took out the fat, which they said was excellent.
The ride was truly interesting; but by degrees it became too much for me,
and after seven hours’ march I was so utterly exhausted as to be obliged
to halt, and lie down. Most of the Arabs remained with us; others, with
ʿAli ben ʿAisa, went on to the well. When we pursued our march in the
afternoon, the country for the first three hours was more level, but
then became very hilly; and at five o’clock we ascended a considerable
elevation to our left, the highest point in the whole country, but
perhaps not more than six or seven hundred feet above the level of the
Tsád. From here we crossed two very pretty valleys, or dells, especially
the second one, where there were very curious hilly projections of a
calcareous stone. But these valleys were very poor indeed, in comparison
with the valley or hénderi Fóyo, situated at some distance from the
well where we encamped for the night; for its bottom presented one
uninterrupted mass of vegetation, impenetrable in many spots. Here the
botanist might be sure to find some new species, although the principal
trees were the kúrna (_Cornus_), serrákh, úm-el-barka or _Mimosa
Nilotica_, hajilíj or _Balanites_, and the talha (_M. ferruginea_), but
all interwoven with creepers, and offering the most delightful shade.
These valleys, which afford the only watering-places, must of course
be very dangerous during the night, on account of the wild beasts,
principally lions, of which there are great numbers hereabouts. Here our
companions received a messenger from Ghét, the young chief of the Welád
Slimán.
_Tuesday, Sept. 30._—We remained in the forenoon and during the heat of
the day in our encampment. While stretched out in the shade of a fine
mimosa, I obtained some valuable information regarding the various tribes
dwelling in Kánem, and the districts of their settlements. But it will
be better, instead of inserting it here, to collect all the information
I received at different times into one general account, which shall be
given in the Appendix.
In the afternoon the camels and the heavier portion of the troop were
allowed to start in advance, and the horsemen followed about half-an-hour
afterwards, after having watered the horses; but instead of taking care
to follow the footsteps of the camels in a wild country where there was
no regular path, they rode on negligently, and soon became aware that
they had missed the track. There now began a very disorderly riding in
all directions. This fatigued me greatly, for nothing is so vexing to a
weak man as to ramble about without knowing when he is likely to reach
the place of repose so much looked for. After sending scout after scout,
we at length found the track, and reached our men in the dark.
_Wednesday, Oct. 1._—Having set out early, after nearly two hours ride we
were met by a single horseman coming towards us from the encampment of
the Welád Slimán, and bidding us welcome to their wild country. They kept
starting up from the thicket on our right and left, firing their muskets
and saluting us with their usual war-cry, “Yá riyáb, yá riyáb.” Having
thus advanced for about half-an-hour, we came to a halt, in order to
receive in a more solemn form the warlike compliments of a larger troop
of horsemen, led on by a person of some importance.
The dust raised by the horsemen having subsided a little, and the country
being clearer of wood, we now saw before us the whole cavalry of the
Welád Slimán drawn up in a line in their best attire, their chief Ghét
the son of Séf el Nasr ben Ghét, and his uncle ʿOmár the son of Ghét and
brother of ʿAbd el Jelíl, in the midst of them. This stately reception,
not having been anticipated by Overweg and myself, made a great
impression upon us; but we were not left to gaze long, but were desired
by our Arab companions to ride in advance of the line in compliment to
the chiefs. We accordingly put our steeds into a gallop, and riding
straight up to our new friends, saluted them with our pistols. Having
answered our compliments, and bidding us welcome to their wild abode, the
young Ghét galloping along at the head of his squadrons, his sword drawn,
and with the continuous cry “Yá riyáb, yá riyáb,” they led us to the
encampment, and we had a place shown to us where we might pitch our tents.