EAST OF BAGUEZAN, AOUDERAS, AND TARROUAJI
After collecting specimens for some little time in the pleasant
neighbourhood of Timia, I set out to return to my base camp on
Baguezan, not by the route I had come, but round by the east side
of the mountain, via Tebernit valley, and thereafter along the
southern base until we should come to the pass above Tokede which I
had originally climbed. There is no pass in the northern or eastern
mountain-sides of Baguezan.
The journey by this route occupied four days, as against two and
a half days by the more direct route on the western side by which
I had travelled outward to Timia. But, in general, the east side
of Baguezan is easier to travel along with camels than the rugged
western side, for there it is possible to skirt the margin of the
stony foothills that lie out from the base and travel along the
edge of the sand or over fairly level gravel-covered ground.
The eastern aspect of Baguezan Mountains differs from that of the
west in that it presents a more abrupt mountain face and has less
bulwark of rugged foothills than in the west, where the whole
country below the plateau is broken and mountainous; while out
beyond the foothill margin on the east side, east of the shallow
Tebernit valley, the land stretches away in a flat-looking plain,
which contains very few detached hills, and, in places, bears a
fair growth of open acacia bush.
Leaving Tebernit valley and advancing round the south-east corner
of Baguezan the Ouna and Nabaro rivers are crossed: wide dry
stream-beds rising from deep crevices in the mountain-side. There
are some particularly large acacias growing on the banks of the
Ouna river, while there is a deserted village on the south bank of
the stream. Altitude, a short distance north of Ouna river, 3,300 ft.
So completely deserted is Ouna village and the whole territory,
that I see, as I have seen elsewhere, confident gazelles resting
in the street spaces, while their footprints mark the sand even to
the very doors of the dwellings.
Dorcas Gazelles are fairly plentiful in the country east of
Baguezan, and there are also a few Dama Gazelles, while there are
Wild Sheep on the mountain faces; but, so far as the latter are
concerned, the rugged western side of the mountain is much the
better hunting-ground.
The flatness of the country east of Baguezan continues round into
the south-east for a long way, and it is not until Adekakit river
is reached that the aspect changes and one begins to enter rugged
foothills.
Adekakit river, which rises in a remarkably deep ravine on the
mountain face, is a broad river-bed, with fairly fertile banks, which
support some dum palms, and the south side of the mountain appears
to be the only locality around Baguezan base where those trees grow.
By the time Teouar is reached, one has entered a land of mountain
foothill environment and encounters many scenes of rugged
beauty. Particularly fine in that respect is the journey up the
Tessouma river-bed from Teouar to Tokede. The stream-bed is here
very broad, and well garbed with trees on either bank, dum palm, a
few date palms, acacia and “Abisgee” bush, while its course is
channelled, latterly in a deep twisting rock-banked gorge, through
a land of mountains, some of which have such grotesque shapes and
towering heights that they command acute admiration and attention.
Teouar village (altitude, 3,050 ft.) stands on high stony ground
on the east bank of the river. It is a deserted village of stone
huts. Across the river there are some date palms, and here we found
two natives cultivating the ground beneath the palms in spite of
their constant fear of robbers. So great is their dread, that at our
approach to Teouar we descried two figures fleeing into the hills
until I sent the goumiers in chase of them, and to hail them that we
were friends. One was armed with a huge heavy long-barrelled rifle,
long out of date, while the other had only a hand-spear.
I have already described the ascent from Tokede to Baguezan plateau,
so that the final stage of my journey back into Baguezan need not
here be dwelt on.
It was early in July when I re-entered Baguezan, and I was astonished
and delighted at the change which, owing to considerable rain
showers in June, had taken place during my absence. Where all
had been bleak and overshadowed with the melancholy grey of bare
rocky hills, there are now valleys bearing green-leafed trees and
green grass, while even among the rocks there is a faint tint of
greenness where thin grass or small plant or tiny bush has precarious
lodgment. But I note no bright display of flowers, which is because
the few flowering bushes and plants have blooms that are small and
modest, and are hidden at any distance by the fullness of growth
of green leaf and grass blade. Butterflies, hitherto remarkably
scarce, are now numerous on Baguezan on account of the prevailing
spring-like conditions, but they are not of great variety of kind,
nor brilliantly coloured, nor large of size, being chiefly of
desert forms.
The few days I remained on Baguezan were occupied, when not
collecting, in packing away boxes of specimens in readiness to
travel, and in mending my bush-clothes which were now in a sad
state of raggedness.
On 4th July I left Baguezan mountains and set out to Agades,
having, by camel courier, received a request to come in to meet the
commandant of the Territoire Militaire du Niger, who was to arrive
at Agades from Zinder in a few days in the course of a round of
inspection of outlying posts.
I journeyed back to Agades by the way I had come, and spent
three very enjoyable days at the Fort in the society of fellow
Europeans—a great treat when one has been long alone except for
native following.
In connection with the last remark, being _alone_ on work of
this kind has, I have concluded, one advantage, which may be set
against its harshness in denying companionship; and that is the
rare opportunity which it gives to undistracted study. When a man
in ordinary business life wishes to pursue deep study, it is common
habit to select a quiet room where he may sit alone in undisturbed
contemplation of his subject. And a similar privacy has, I believe,
its advantages to the man out on the trail: alone, he is better
equipped to give undivided attention to study, so long as the period
of research is not too protracted and the strain of loneliness not
unbearable to the point of depression. But besides this advantage
to study, besides the fate which circumstances may impose, I would
be one of the first to say to anyone contemplating a journey beyond
civilised frontiers: “Never go without a well-tried comrade—if
you can help it.”
[Illustration: TEOUAR, A TYPICAL DESERTED VILLAGE OF AÏR.]
But to return to my narrative. On the way in to Agades I experienced
a rain-storm, which illustrates how local such occurrences often
are. My caravan was five miles north-east of Agades on the evening
of 7th July, when we saw black threatening clouds rolling in the
distance apparently over Agades, and, judging it prudent not to
run into the storm, we camped at Azzal for the night. At Azzal we
experienced strong wind and a very light shower, but on entering
Agades next morning we learned that on the previous evening a regular
tornado had descended upon the place (which wrecked the wireless
plant) and torrential rains had fallen. The after result will
be that at Agades (without rain until this storm) the vegetation
will now rapidly grow fresh and green, while Azzal and the other
places unwatered will remain dormant. Hence at this season parts
of Aïr may be green, like Baguezan and localities further north,
and others parched and leafless.
It was during this journey to Agades that some particularly fine
deceptive mirages were seen. At times lakes of blue water bordered
with marsh would be apparent away in the distance, always, of
course, to fade out long before the traveller could draw near to
the alluring picture. The whole illusion is perfectly clear to the
healthy traveller, but what a thing of torture such picture could be
to any unfortunate man in search of water in the barren land—lakes
lying before our eyes, but for ever receding out of agonised reach.
After my brief visit to Agades, which had interrupted previous plans,
I turned again northward, with the purpose of travelling to Aouderas,
where I had originally intended to go direct from Baguezan.
On the way north I camped at Azzal (altitude, 1,825 ft.) for a
week to make some collections, and, in particular, to capture some
specimens of the beautiful Bee-eater, _Merops albicollis albicollis_,
which up to that time I had not seen elsewhere.
It was here, at the settlement on the banks of the Azzal river,
which contains many of the natives evacuated from northern Aïr,
that I found the Chief of Iferouan with a number of his tribe about
him. His people had been accustomed to grow wheat at Iferouan, and it
was interesting to note that they had commenced, with considerable
success, to establish the same crop cultivation at Azzal, with the
aid of deep wells and primitive irrigation. But the Chief declared
that he and his people longed to be free to return to Iferouan—
“Our hearts are there, not in Azzal.” A sentiment which recalled
the words of the Chief of Baguezan in decrying the Sahara south of
Aïr as of no attraction to his people: “There are no mountains
there, and how could we live without them!”
The Chief of Iferouan had been across Africa on the old pilgrim
route, which he described to me as follows: From the country of
the Tuaregs in the neighbourhood of Timbuktu the route crosses
Upper Senegal to Zinder on the Niger river, thence it skirts the
northern borders of Sokoto (Nigeria), and then strikes north-east
to Agades, and continues through Aïr via Aouderas, Aguellal, and
Iferouan (or alternatively via Assodé), thereafter continuing away
northward to Tripoli on the seaboard of the Mediterranean, touching
on the way the important points of Ghat, Rhadames, and Djebel. So
far as this ancient pilgrim route concerns Aïr, the old caravan
roads are still to be seen with undiminished clearness when they
pass over stony ground where no sand accumulates and not a blade
of vegetation has root. At such places one may see ten to fifteen
single foot-wide paths running parallel to each other camel-width
apart, light-coloured clearly defined lines where the dark gravel
surface of the natural ground has been brushed aside or powdered
down by passage of countless feet. When those old roads lead off
such stony ground through rocks between hills or over ridges, where
the way is barred with rocks and boulders, the road changes always
to a narrow much-worn single defile, which turns and twists where
passage for camels has been found possible, or, by labour of hands,
made possible. Again, when those old roads enter and continue along
the loose sandy bed of a dry river, there remains no sign of track
whatever, as all marks have been long washed away by wind and flood.
Accompanied by ten goumiers, I left Azzal on the 19th July _en route_
to Aouderas, three days’ journey north. At Dabaga, on the Azzal
river, we branched off the route to Baguezan, and headed due north
until we cut into the Tilisdak river, when we turned eastward until
Aouderas was reached. I will not enter upon detailed description
of the journey to Aouderas, for the barren country was of the
same rugged, stony, hill-dotted nature as that described south of
Baguezan. The altitude at Dabaga registered 2,100 ft., at Germat, on
the Tilisdak river, 2,350 ft., and at Aouderas, 2,700 ft., so that
(as experienced on the journey to Baguezan) a decided ascent takes
place between Agades (1,710 ft.) and the base of the most southern
mountain ranges, once the sand plains are left behind and the true
rock region of Aïr entered.
Fortunately it was not a very long journey to Aouderas, for the
climate at this time was particularly trying, as it was the season
preceding the Rains, which period, and the period just after the
Rains, are the most unhealthy for European or native, and much
sickness (principally malaria) then prevails. At these times many
of the days are unpleasantly hot and enervating—days that from
sunrise to sunset are breathless and sultry and heavily oppressive.
While, as to the intensity of the heat, an afternoon temperature
on 20th July registered 102° Fahr. in the shade.
The little village of Aouderas is tucked away in an open glen in
the foothills of Aouderas mountains, and is surrounded on all sides
by rugged hills and mountainous landscape. The Aouderas river runs
through the glen, and the village is built upon its banks. In places
where there are small pockets of level ground between the river-bank
and the rising hill-side, there are a goodly number of date palms
growing in the gardens of grain cultivated beneath their shade,
which makes very attractive scenes after the barren greyness of
the land to the south.
I was warmly received by the Chief of Aouderas and his tribe, who
had news that I was coming, and, to my surprise, I found, as on no
other like occasion, that a hut had already been built for me on a
nicely cleared space of ground. I find that all Aïr natives know of
“the Hunting White Man” now, and each new place that I visit,
where there are natives, my welcome increases in cordiality and
there is less suspicion of the stranger.
On the day I entered Aouderas there was a caravan of natives, with
camels and donkeys, camped there, who, with a posse of goumiers,
were, in obedience to orders from Agades, on their way north to
Iferouan to gather dates, which are now ripening. Some of those
natives openly declared that they were afraid of the journey, and
related to me the following story: “Last year, at this season,
a party went north on the same errand, and, in the night, when
camped at Iberkom, they were surprised by Tébu robbers, and three
of them were killed and two captured and bound and carried off,
as were also all the donkeys which were to have transported the
dates to Agades.”
During the time I camped at Aouderas I spent much time in the
mountains and witnessed many of the wild magnificent scenes which
are to be found on the tops and in rock-girt valleys, whether one
travels eastward or westward or northward among the many ranges. In
the detached Amattasa mountains, west of Aouderas, I hunted to an
altitude of 4,000 ft., which is near to but not the highest summit;
and in the Aouderas mountains, north of the village, I reached
an altitude over 3,000 ft., which, however, is a long way from
the summit of this massive rugged range. There is some very fine
scenery in the Amattasa range, while on the east side of it there is
a rocky river-bed which has a course in a cliff-banked gully that
cuts deeply below the level of the surrounding land. The natives
call this river the Tarare. Immediately below a ruined village of
the same name there is, in this stream, a remarkable dry waterfall
of great height, while in deep cavities in the rock at the bottom
there are pools of open water and some green vegetation; the only
place in Aïr where I have found a river containing open water in
the dry season which was long-lying and not the outcome of recent
rains. The cliffs of the fall and the sheer banks on either side were
the haunts of numerous dark-coloured apes, which stared curiously
upon the strange intruders and barked repeatedly. There is, also,
a cave at the foot of the east bank which the Chief of Aouderas
declares used to be the home of lions.
Passing north of Amattasa mountains, the river Tarare runs out into
a very wide valley of dark gravel ground, with hills and mountains
on all sides; and this is the way through from Aouderas Glen to the
Assada valley, which lies between Baguezan and Béla mountains, and
which I had viewed, further north, from the head of the north-west
pass out of Baguezan.
The Chief of Aouderas, whose name is Ochullu, proved to be a fine
hunter, and thoroughly friendly, and together we hunted in all
directions, sleeping among the mountains at night on occasions,
so that we might travel farther and be high in the hills at break
of day.
Besides collecting birds, and small mammals, and butterflies in
the Aouderas neighbourhood, I had the good fortune to kill three
wild sheep (wily difficult animals to approach), one of them a nice
museum specimen, which was skinned complete, while another proved to
be the largest of the kind which I shot in Aïr, weighing 164 lbs.,
but was, unfortunately, no use as a specimen, as it had one massive
horn diseased at the base.
Ochullu was not nearly so active among the rocks as Minerou (the
Chief of Baguezan), and whereas Minerou had led me many a pretty
dance among wild mountain-tops, I found it was now my turn to
reverse the position and give Ochullu some gruelling experiences.
With reference to this subject I received about this time a letter
from the Commanding Officer at Agades, which contained the following
paragraph: “Minerou has come to Agades; he told me you are not fat,
you climb the rocks like the Ragin-douchi (wild sheep), and you are
very fond of rats; so everything is right.” Let me hasten to add
that even although I may be lean, I do not eat rats. (The amusing
remark of Minerou is intended to refer to my efforts to collect
small rodents of all kinds.)
But, to return to the subject of the preceding paragraph, if not a
hard hunter, Ochullu was a wise one, who knew every crevice in the
mountains and the habits of our quarry, so that it was a pleasure
to set out with him.
Ochullu has a memorable mark upon his person, which I shall always
associate with this “Child of the mountains”—a deep sword
wound slashed across his left side, which was often exposed when he
lifted his arm and the loose mantle drapings of his sleeve uncovered
his swarthy side, which, below the armpit, was bare to the waist.
Ochullu, like all Tuaregs, is familiar with robbers and with
fighting. In fact I believe he is inclined to be a bit of an
independent outlaw himself, for he showed me a hiding-place, high in
the Aouderas range, where he and his tribe had fled from the French
soldiers during the 1916 rising, and where they had hidden till a
peaceable truce was arranged. While now, at the time of my visit,
he does not appear altogether content to acknowledge the authority
of the newly appointed Sultan of Agades.
Among other interesting things, Ochullu showed me where last year,
one afternoon, twelve robbers had come in close to Aouderas and
lain in hiding in a ravine while two of their band went right in
to the village outskirts and spoke as friends to a native woman,
gathering wood, whom they craftily questioned as to the inmates
of the village. They sought to obtain news of the movements of
the white men in Agades; whether there were any soldiers in the
neighbourhood, whether or not the Chief of Aouderas was at home in
the village, and how many rifles the natives possessed. However,
Ochullu and some armed men chanced to be at home at the time, which
circumstance was apparently disquieting to the robbers, for they
thereafter prudently withdrew, taking with them two camels which
they had found grazing near where they lay in hiding. But that
same band proceeded to Baguezan, and it was they who a few days
later raided camels of Baguezan and killed the late Chief Yofa,
as I have previously related.
Ochullu made some interesting remarks with regard to Rains. Thus far
it has been a rainless year at Aouderas, like last year, and Ochullu
declares that if rain does not fall with the present moon (full
moon, 27th July, to-morrow), none will come this year. Further,
he told me that Aouderas would still have water in the wells in the
event of no proper rainfall occurring for a period of four years,
while he says Iferouan, Timia, and Azzal all suffer want if there
is not rainfall in two years.
Ochullu is very superstitious, and declares that if only the Sultan
of Agades would call all the people of the land together and make
a great united prayer to Allah, they would then surely have rain.
On 1st August I left Aouderas and started south, intending to return
to Agades to commence the long journey south to Kano, after circling
round the eastern side of the Massif of Tarrouaji.
Accompanied by the goumiers, I departed from Aouderas at dusk after
warm leave-taking with Ochullu and many of his tribe, among whom I
had been made welcome from the start; while I carried away a number
of bundles of fresh dates (the first of the season), presented by
the Chief in final token of goodwill: a gift which I afterwards
conveyed all the way home to England. We travelled till very late by
light of the full moon, and camped out in the stony Ararouat plains,
which I had passed through before on the way to Baguezan.
Continuing at dawn on the following day, we crossed the extensive
gravel-covered plain which lies between the Ararouat river and the
northern base of Tarrouaji, and camped about noon on the In Ouajou
river (altitude, 2,750 ft.), a small dry river-bed in flat country
north of the massive hill range.
In the late afternoon a thunderstorm advanced over us, and, much
to my relief, some rain fell; for, previous to leaving Aouderas,
I had been warned that no water is to be found anywhere in the
neighbourhood of Tarrouaji in the dry season, and all the goumiers
were averse to my attempting to make the journey. Nevertheless,
I had set out; but when search for water in the neighbourhood of
our In Ouajou camp had proved completely fruitless, I began to fear
that our plight would force me to give up the intention of going
round Tarrouaji—and then the storm broke, leaving small pools
of water in its wake, and an awkward situation was saved. As the
natives put it: “Allah had listened to me.”
_3rd August_. I remarked this morning, after the rain, a few short
hours of dawn, when earth was damp and grass roots already green
and the pipe of wilderness birds filled the air with unwonted
cheerfulness. . . . For a moment spring in the desert . . . ere
stilled in its birth by scorching sun and driving sand.
Travelled from daylight to dusk round the eastern base of Tarrouaji,
and camped at a pool of water, which was found close in under the
hills after some searching.
From the north and east the massif of Tarrouaji appears a great
jumble of hills of no great height, which do not die out at the
plain’s edge with the impressive strength that may be found in
great mountain slopes or towering cliffs, but rather do they tail
away in broken diminishing lines to outlying plains, where little
straggling hills of rock are seen as far as the eye can penetrate.
On the following day I did not resume caravan travel, but left the
goumiers in camp and set out before dawn to climb into Tarrouaji
hill-tops. During the day the highest of numerous altitudes recorded
was 3,100 ft., and, so far as I could judge by eye, I doubt if any
of the innumerable crowded hill-tops which constitute this range
exceed that figure. As the altitude of our camp on the east base of
the range was 2,300 ft., the actual elevation of the range itself,
to its highest points, in that quarter was therefore only 800 ft.
Those hills hold wild and barren scenes and no fertility, and are
seldom, if ever, entered by natives, which accounts, no doubt,
for the number of Barbary Sheep which I found inhabiting this range
and the ease with which I could approach them. Hitherto I had been
mightily pleased if I got a single shot at sheep during a day’s
hunting, but on this day I killed no fewer than four animals,
and looked upon half a dozen others within range which I allowed
to go unharmed. It was here that I secured the best head taken
by me in Aïr of the new subspecies of Barbary Sheep (_Ammotragus
lervia angusi_).
_5th August._—We left our camp on the east side of Tarrouaji in
the middle of the night, and travelled on round to the south side
of the range as far as the district known as Tin-Daouin, where
we camped for the day while I skinned a specimen of vulture I had
shot. Thunder had been over us yesterday, but very little rain fell;
however, to-day we entered country where it was apparent there
had been heavy rain yesterday, for the ground was water-soaked,
and the sands of the river-beds were cast in freshly lain wavelets
as the result of flood an hour or two subsided.
_6th August._—We saddled our camels and were away at dawn, and
travelled till 3.30 p.m., when we camped in Tin-Teborag valley
(altitude, 1,900 ft.), having left the hills of Tarrouaji behind
and advanced near to Agades, which now lay due west not far
distant. Throughout the day the country was rolling and somewhat
roughly broken, while a number of broad valleys were crossed
at intervals where river tributaries trend south to join the
mainstream Tin-Daouin, which passes eastward in a flat valley well
away from the hills. Those valleys, with river-bed in their centre,
are wide and very shallow, as is usual everywhere in lowland in
Aïr, with little or no banks; merely a slight slope of gravel
or rock surroundings, terminating where sand and grass tussocks
and trees of the valley begin. Much of the undulating country is
of pleasant warm-coloured browns and greys in certain morning and
evening lights: wide stretches of ground surface of pebbles of an
orderly smallness and sameness, as smoothly and well-arranged as a
pebble beach on sea-shore which the tide has just left. Indeed the
whole outlook in such foothill gravel country of an early morn is
remarkable: strange because of the absence of earth and vegetation,
but with an artistic appeal to the eye on account of its striking
orderliness and cleanness and uncommon purity of colour.
On the following evening we travelled in to Agades: my travels
in the mountains of Aïr at an end, and the long journey south to
Nigeria all that lay between me and the completion of my travels.