[Illustration: THE SOURCE OF THE BLUE NILE SHOWING LAKE IN
THE DISTANCE.
_See p._ 136.]
THE SOURCE OF THE
BLUE NILE
A RECORD OF A JOURNEY THROUGH THE SOUDAN TO LAKE TSANA
IN WESTERN ABYSSINIA, AND OF THE RETURN TO
EGYPT BY THE VALLEY OF THE ATBARA
WITH
A NOTE ON THE RELIGION, CUSTOMS, ETC.
OF ABYSSINIA
BY
ARTHUR J. HAYES, L.S.A. (LOND.)
MEDICAL OFFICER, QUARANTINE OFFICE, SUEZ
AND
AN ENTOMOLOGICAL APPENDIX
BY
E. B. POULTON, LL.D., F.R.S.
HOPE PROFESSOR OF ZOOLOGY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD
_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS AND MAPS_
LONDON
SMITH, ELDER & CO., 15, WATERLOO PLACE
1905
_(All rights reserved)_
PRINTED BY
WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,
LONDON AND BECCLES.
PREFACE
In Africa the centre of interest shifts quickly, from Khartoum to the
Cape, from the Congo to Morocco. Before now it has lain in Abyssinia,
for Englishmen especially. It may be found there again. If so, the
theatre of action will probably be the little known region of Western
Abyssinia, and that district of the Anglo-Egyptian Nile Province which
adjoins it.
Geographically, Western Abyssinia dominates the south-east of the
Soudan. The Soudan, as every one in England knows now, is not a
continuation of the Desert of Sahara, but a land that once flowed with
milk and honey, and may again. It contains vast tracts of soil
perfectly adapted for the cultivation of cotton. A hostile force
descending from Abyssinia has the enormous advantage of moving from
difficult into easy country with an open line of retreat into almost
inaccessible mountains. An expedition from the Soudan, on the other
hand, would be confronted, after traversing miles of uninhabited hilly
wastes, by the necessity of forcing its way up mule-paths winding among
precipices.
There is no reason why peace should not be permanently established
between Egypt and Ethiopia, if the Abyssinian slave-raids are stopped.
But the changes and chances of international politics bring about
strange consequences. Rumours, not without foundation, have been
circulated recently of new engagements entered into by the Negus giving
far-reaching concessions to Americans. Other Powers are busy, and a
diplomatic—and spectacular—mission started lately from Berlin for Addis
Abbiba. There is room in the country for all nations to find commercial
opportunities. But if influences hostile to Great Britain became
dominant in Western Abyssinia, a danger to the Soudan—and not to the
Soudan only—would have arisen, the seriousness of which few people at
home, perhaps, rightly realize. I make no further apology for bringing
some account of a journey from Khartoum to Lake Tsana before the public.
My heartiest thanks are due to my friend, Mr. Godfrey Burchett, without
whose aid in preparing for publication the rough notes of a traveller’s
diary, this book would not have come into existence. I cannot too
cordially acknowledge my indebtedness to him.
I wish to acknowledge also my great obligation to Sir W. Garstin, who,
on behalf of the Egyptian Government, has allowed me to reproduce the
map of Lake Tsana, published in his Report on the Basin of the Upper
Nile (1904); to Professor Poulton for his kindness in preparing the
entomological appendix to this volume; and to Mr. C. E. Dupuis for
permission to publish interesting photographs taken by him. And I have
the pleasure of cordially thanking Mr. John Murray for leave given me
to make extracts from “Life in Abyssinia,” by Mansfield Parkyns, and
the “Narrative of the British Mission to Theodore, King of Abyssinia,”
by Hormuzd Rassam; Messrs. Macmillan and Co., for similar permission in
the case of “The Nile Tributaries of Abyssinia,” by Sir Samuel Baker;
Messrs. C. Arthur Pearson, Ltd., in the case of “Abyssinia,” by Herbert
Vivian; Messrs. Chapman & Hall in the case of “A Narrative of a Journey
through Abyssinia,” by Henry Dufton; and Mr. Augustus Wylde in the case
of “Modern Abyssinia.” It would have been impossible to publish the
collated information about the Soudan and Abyssinia contained in this
volume without the privilege kindly granted me by these gentlemen.
A. J. HAYES.
SUEZ, 1905.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
TO FACE PAGE
THE SOURCE OF THE BLUE NILE, SHOWING LAKE IN THE
DISTANCE _Frontispiece_
THE START AHEAD OF THE CARAVAN 4
CHILDREN AT NO. 6 STATION, BETWEEN HALFA AND ABOU HAMED,
EAT THE REMAINS OF LUNCH, CURRY AND RICE 4
THE WELCOME AT ABOU HARRAS 13
VILLAGE MUSICIANS AT ABOU HARRAS 14
THE WELLS AT THE FOOT OF GEBAL ARANG 18
MR. FLEMMING’S HOUSE AT GEDAREF 22
REST-HOUSE BETWEEN GOZ REGEB AND ADARAMA 22
GUM-BEARING MIMOSA TREES 30
TRYING THE TEMPERATURE OF A PATIENT AT THE DOCTOR’S PARADE 30
RAIN COUNTRY 64
THE KNOTTED SAPLING NOW BECOME A TREE 66
MESSENGER SENT TO STOP US GOING DOWN TO THE LAKE 68
HOUSES AT DELGI 79
WASHING OUT “TEDJ” POTS AT DELGI 79
A CASE OF LEPROSY 104
FORDING THE RIVER GUMARA 106
INTERESTED IN THE PHOTOGRAPHIC CAMERA 110
WOMEN DANCING AT THE FEAST OF THE EPIPHANY 110
THE “CANDELABRA EUPHORBIA” ON THE EDGE OF A DRY WATER-COURSE 114
BETWEEN SARA AND KORATA 114
THE CHURCH AT KORATA CONTAINING THE FRESCOES 118
THE PORTUGUESE BRIDGE OVER THE BLUE NILE 118
FRESCOES IN THE CHURCH AT KORATA 120
OUR GUIDE BETWEEN KORATA AND WOREB 132
THE DONKEYS CROSSING THE FERRY 140
THE MULES SWIMMING THE FERRY 140
PUSHING THE DONKEYS INTO THE WATER, PREPARATORY TO THEIR
BEING FERRIED ACROSS 142
INTERIOR OF THE CHURCH AT BAHARDAR GEORGIS 154
MARKET-DAY AT ZEGI 162
INTERVIEWING THE SULTAN OF DELGI 170
THE SULTAN OF DELGI, AN OLD PRIEST, AND SLAVE CARRYING
THE SHIELD 170
HEAD OF A HAARTEBEEST 184
“LATES NILOTICUS” CAUGHT WITH A TROUT-ROD 184
HADENDOWA, CAMEL-DRIVER 186
DINKA BOY, CAMEL-DRIVER 186
SOUDANESE WITH AMULETS 190
AT THE WELL, GORATIA 190
KASSALA HILL AND MARKET-PLACE 204
THE MOUDIRIEH AT KASSALA 206
TENTS PITCHED IN THE ENCLOSURE OF THE MOUDIRIEH AT KASSALA 206
GOZ REGEB GRANITE STONE, MIMOSA SCRUB IN THE DISTANCE 208
GOZ REGEB STONES 208
ROCKS AT GOZ REGEB 210
ROCKS AT GOZ REGEB HILL 210
A MIRAGE, SHOWING GOZ REGEB HILL IN THE DISTANCE 212
LORD KITCHENER’S BRIDGE OVER THE ATBARA, NEAR BERBER 214
MAPS
THE ANGLO-EGYPTIAN SOUDAN _At end of Volume_
LAKE TSANA „
THE
SOURCE OF THE BLUE NILE
CHAPTER I
In October, 1902, I was acting as Medical Inspector of the native
quarter of Alexandria. Cholera had kept the staff busy, and we had
brought the number of cases down to about fifteen in the last days
of the month. I had passed the disinfecting gangs in review one
morning before sending them to their allotted quarters of the town,
and had just resumed my work in the hospital, when I heard a voice
sing out to me—without preliminary—“Hayes, would you like to
go to Abyssinia?”
It was the Chief Inspector of the Sanitary Department who asked the
question. By the evening I had made up my mind, and told him that I
should be glad to take the chance. However, I heard nothing more of
the matter till the middle of November. Then I received a telegram
directing me to make my preparations in Cairo. And I had no time to
waste; for I learned that the expedition to which I was attached
would start in seven days. The “jumping-off place” would be
close to Khartoum.
Twenty years earlier the journey thither would have had a lingering
fascination of romance. Ten years earlier it would probably
have brought the traveller by painful paths to the Land of No
Return. To-day it lies within the range of the prudent tourist who
prefers safe adventures between regular meals. He is much indebted
to Lord Kitchener.
In Cairo I joined my companions Mr. Dupuis and Mr. Crawley. They had
had arrangements for the expedition in hand for many months; indeed,
it had been planned for the previous year, but the illness of Sir
William Garstin at Khartoum delayed it. On November 27 we reached
Assouan. Like hundreds of my fellow-countrymen, I photographed the
great dam, and the temple of Philæ. Our next stage was by post-boat
to Wady Halfa, where we arrived on December 1. In the evening of that
day we took train on the Soudan Government Railway. The following
morning I had a new experience; for I had never before seen the
mirage from the window of a railway carriage.
The granite rocks seemed to rise out of a great lake. The illusion
was so perfect that I used it as a test of my black “boy’s”
shrewdness. I called him, and said, “Look at the water!” His
answer was, “It is not the water. It is the water-thief, your
excellency.”
In this desolate land, with a burning sky over it, there are no
trees. It is all of a piece, and the different parts of it give no
sense of varied locality. The stations are not named but numbered,
and here the water is stored in zinc tanks. Command of the tanks
means command of the country—an important fact in connection with
possible _émeutes_ of native troops.
At Abou Hamed we reached the Nile again, and saw vegetation. Warm
baths are provided in the station. We jumped out of the train in
our pyjamas and rushed into luxury.
The railway follows the river to Helfiah, on the opposite side
of the river to Khartoum. Here I first beheld our camels, the
steadily stubborn source of infinite vexation. All that is hard and
heart-breaking in the character of the desert is incarnate in the
camel. At Helfiah we engaged Soudanese “boys,” settled matters
with officials, and finished our preparations for shooting big game.
I went to the Soudan Club at Khartoum, and strolled about the town
in the spirit of an inquiring tourist. It is carefully administered,
and is laid out in three sections. The best houses are being built by
the riverbank. Plans of these must be submitted for approval. They
are mostly of red brick, and well constructed. Smaller houses, the
“second class,” have their sites behind the big residences. The
“third-class” district is still further back. The object of
this caste system applied to builders’ enterprise is to secure
that there shall be a fine promenade along the river front, and no
mean streets near to it. The British and Egyptian flags are hoisted
side by side over the quarters of the army of occupation. The
Gordon College—the other tribute to the man’s work—is a big,
square, red-brick building. It seems to insist on its resemblance
to barracks. No dahabeahs are seen on the Nile here; the boats
are feluccas. Having made these notes of a tripper I returned to
Helfiah. This was on December 5.
We dined in our camp, and slept in our tents for the first time, and
I ceased to be a tourist, and became a member of an expedition. My
companions and I showed the servants how to pitch the tents and peg
them, and we apportioned loads to the camels. The camel is—not
metaphorically—foul-mouthed. We put some of the boys up to try the
paces of the animals, trusting chiefly to one who had served in the
Camel Corps under Kitchener. I watched the exhibition of ungainly
shuffling with the face of one who judges, but I thought of the
hours during which I should be shaken under the glaring sun.
Next morning we were up at sunrise. We had not yet lost touch of the
British breakfast-table, for we ate sausages and poached eggs. Then
the camels were loaded and the tents were struck, and at mid-day we
started—three Englishmen, six native servants, forty camels, and
ten camel-men. Our route lay along the north bank of the Blue Nile,
over a beaten track in a wilderness of loose sand. A few scattered
thorny mimosa bushes are the only vegetation. I timed the camels
and found they travelled about 3¼ miles an hour. At two o’clock
the temperature was 104° F. in the shade, but all the surroundings
were new to me, and I enjoyed the journey in spite of the monotony of
the country. It is all bare desert, and one never loses sight of the
mirage. At one point I watched a flock of goats, which looked exactly
as if they were knee deep in water. We reached Soba, fourteen miles
up the river, at sundown. Here there is a pleasant and clean little
rest-house built of straw. We had kept ahead of our baggage-train,
which arrived an hour later. People in England who speak of tea
as refreshing do not know the full meaning of that word. The cups
were filled for men who had fasted since breakfast at 7.30, except
for a welcome drink of river water on arrival, and were served
with biscuits and sardines. After this, the happiness of a wash,
and an eight o’clock dinner. A meal of curry and rice and tinned
roast beef is not a severe hardship, and the only _contretemps_
on our first day in the desert was the discovery that we must put
ourselves on short rations of candles. A mistake had been made about
the quantity ordered, and we were ill supplied. But there was a clear
moon. We turned in to sleep in the open, and the sandflies found us
and were glad; for we were fresh blood, and they were small enough
to crawl through the meshes of the mosquito curtains.
[Illustration: THE START AHEAD OF THE CARAVAN.
_See p._ 4.]
[Illustration: CHILDREN AT NO. 6 STATION, BETWEEN HALFA AND ABOU
HAMED, EAT THE REMAINS OF LUNCH, CURRY AND RICE.
_See p._ 2.]
The first signs of dawn brought us out of bed next morning. We were
in good luck; for the servants had kept a fire alight all night, and
hot water was ready for us. There was beatitude in a warm bath after
the plague of sandflies. We started at daybreak; there was no change
in the track or the country. Heat, a high wind and dust spoiled the
journey in the morning. We halted to lunch under the largest mimosa
bush we could find, which gave as much shade as a telegraph pole.
Crawley opened his big artist’s umbrella, which should have been
a successful aid to comfort, but it tried conclusions with the wind
and was worsted. We started again at two o’clock, and arrived in
the evening at our camping-ground opposite the pleasant village
of Sheik-el-Obeid. Our guns played the part of poulterer for us
and varied our diet. In the morning Dupuis had shot a brace of
sand-grouse, and in the khor[1] below our camp I had the luck to
bag a teal. The temperature fell rapidly after sundown, and the
night was very cold. The mosquitoes were numbed and did not stir,
but the camels did, and I found them as effective in promoting a
vigil. All night long they were browsing on the mimosa scrub; they
relish the thorns, which are about two inches long. I heard them
pull the branches, and then, when one was released, it recoiled into
place with a swish. There was a continuous noise of this movement,
and it vaguely reminded me of breaking water.
The camels were hobbled, and stumbled from bush to bush. I constantly
expected that one would stumble upon my bed. They loomed up, shadowy
and grotesque, in the light of the bearers’ fires, and I had a
kind of nightmare of them without sleep.
On the 8th we were up before sunrise. Probably the camels, after
supping all night, were tired. I say “probably”; for the camel is
an aberrant type, and one can only guess its sensations. They were
unwilling to barak[2] to receive their loads, and were grunting,
snarling, and growling. When one of these beasts seems likely to
become unmanageable, the camel-man “bridles” it by passing his
index finger through the orifice between its nostrils. In breaking
in young ones, a stout thorn, shaped as a peg, is used in the same
position.
We started at 7.30, and walked ahead of the baggage train with our
guns. At nine o’clock, when the sun had gained power, we took to the
saddle. The country through which we passed is cultivated during the
rainy season; it is scored with ravines, hollowed out by the rush of
water in the wet months, and is uncomfortable ground for travellers.
During the day we shot five pigeons and a sand-grouse. Beside the
river we saw and heard great numbers of demoiselle cranes, but found
it impossible to get within gun-range of them. They have scouts on
the watch both when they are in flight and when they settle, and
as soon as the warning cry is given by the outpost the shooter’s
chance is gone.
We reached our camping-ground, near Bushagra, before five o’clock,
and pitched one tent for our own use in case a dust storm should
come upon us. I bathed on the brink of the river, but kept out of
the pool for fear of crocodiles. As yet I had seen none, but I made
their acquaintance quite closely enough later in the journey. The
night was warm, and we slept in the open on the bank of the Nile.
I began the next day (December 9) with a lucky shot. I had put my
gun and a No. 3 cartridge—the only one I had—on the table near my
bed before turning in, as I hoped that the demoiselles might be less
cautious before daybreak. I was up an hour before dawn, and loaded my
gun. I could hear the croaking of the birds for a long distance, and
knew from the sound that they were moving. Just at the moment when I
was ready, three cranes sailed over the camp. They were within range;
and when I fired, a fine demoiselle collapsed and came to the ground
in a heap. These birds make good eating.
All the country in this district has the same character. The low
mimosa scrub is varied by patches of land which are cultivated in the
rainy season. The Khalifa had his powder and cartridge factory at
Bushagra, and possibly the natives thought that European vengeance
might fall on them for this reason. In any case the Soudanese here
showed nervousness, and made off when they saw us coming.
We ate another British breakfast—porridge and sausages—and
then started on foot with our guns at half-past seven. A tramp of
five miles gave us no sport, and we mounted our camels about nine
o’clock. Our road lay through the hottest country I have ever
known, and the temperature rose hourly as the day advanced. Smoked
glasses ease the eyes a little, and there is shade under one’s
white umbrella, but nothing seems able to allay the thirst which this
land causes. It is a mistake to suppose that one must go east of Suez
to gain experience of true human drought. The water in my bottle[3]
lasted, and only just lasted, through the journey.
Hot, parched men, in a hot, uninteresting land, are not likely to
be in their best temper, and we had to bear with our guide. He had
asserted that he knew the whole country, but he barely knew how to
follow the track, and seemed to lack ideas of time and distance. We
asked him, “When shall we reach the river again?” He pointed to
a large section of the heavens and answered, “When the sun reaches
there.” He could not tell us the names of villages which lay on
our route, and our maps were not trustworthy.
We reached the river bank after our halt at lunch-time, but left it
again, and my camel’s action appeared to be more back-breaking and
monotonous than ever. Two hours in the saddle seemed like four, and
Xenophon’s Greeks were not more delighted to behold the sea than I
was by the sight of the blue water as we approached it late in the
afternoon. Our camping ground was beside the stream, and I rushed
to the brink with my enamelled mug; the water was rather muddy,
but the draught seemed like nectar.
I tried for a fish, without success. When I returned to camp I heard
a camel grunting loudly and dismally. On going to discover the cause,
I found the animal fastened to the ground by cords, while a man was
scarifying its back with live cinders. The object is to produce
counter-irritation as a remedy for cysts. I arrived too late to
deliver the unhappy beast from the horrors of Soudanese veterinary
treatment, as the operation had just been completed. However, I gave
the Arabs “a piece of my mind.” They may not have understood my
Arabic, but they could not mistake the meaning.
We had covered twenty miles during the day and camped beside a khor,
opposite to a village called Baranku, which is situated on an island
in the river.
On the following morning we started with our guns and walked ahead
of the camels. Besides pigeons, we shot plovers of two kinds which I
had not seen before. Our route throughout the day was over fertile
soil, perfectly adapted for the cultivation of cotton. At present,
grain (durrha) is grown here, and apparently only one crop is raised
annually, after the summer rains. But Dupuis told me that if a canal
were cut and a system of irrigation established the soil would bear
“the kindly fruits of the earth” all the year round. Villages are
numerous in this district, and we never lost sight of one or other
of them during our day’s journey. I noticed a great disproportion
between the numbers of male and female inhabitants. In a hamlet in
which I made inquiry there were eighteen women to one man. Nearly all
the men had perished in the days of the Mahdi and Osman Digna. As
a consequence, the women worked in the fields, while their few
surviving consorts led lives of idleness. I suppose they were
considered, and considered themselves, too valuable to be subjected
to fatigue. They were too poor to buy tobacco, or smoking might
have kept them silent. As it was, when they were not asleep they
were talking, and I wondered how they could possibly find topics
for incessant conversation.
We halted for the night on the bank of the river, two miles
from Rufa’a, which is the second largest town on the Blue
Nile. Miralai[4] Blewitt Bey, the Moudir[5] of Rufa’a, sent a
police officer with a courteous message, expressing his desire to do
all in his power to assist us. A welcome gift of eggs and fresh milk
reached us a few hours later, and at the same time two night-watchmen
(Gaffirs) arrived for the protection of the camp. We were heartily
grateful for our countryman’s good-will. Dupuis dined with him
that evening, while Crawley and I remained in charge of the camp.
In the course of the afternoon I applied iodoform to the back of one
of the camels, to keep the flies from a sore. All the drivers came
clamouring to me after this, importuning me to treat every scratch
on the beasts of burden in the same way. One wishes to conform to
the tradition of ready helpfulness which is, happily, associated
with the medical profession, but I declined to become physician in
ordinary to the forty camels, as far as abrasions were concerned.
Next morning our troublesome guide sought me out to complain
of symptoms of dyspepsia. He remarked that he was incessantly
spitting—a circumstance which I had already noticed with disgust. I
told him that if he swallowed the water which Allah gave him in his
mouth, it would make his food move from the place where he had the
pain, which was a punishment from Providence for his wastefulness. He
asked many questions to make sure that I knew what I was talking
about, and then left me, much impressed. My “prescription” had
the desired effect, and he gave up his objectionable habit.
The morning of December 11 was very cold for these low latitudes. Just
before sunrise the thermometer sank to 43° F. When we were ready
to start, we found that the head baggage-man was drunk. He had
been tippling “marissa,” which the villagers brew from fermented
barley. The man leered vacantly and was incapable of work. Considering
the thirst and the opportunities there was little drunkenness among
our boys in the Soudan, and we had no further trouble from this
source. But the precepts of the Prophet did not keep those who
accompanied us into Abyssinia from the vile beer of the country.
Blewitt Bey, on his pony, met us just after we had mounted our camels,
and rode five miles with us. He gave us most valuable information
about the land in which our road lay, and we were sorry when he said
good-bye with best of wishes for our success.
We were in the saddle nearly eight hours and travelled about
twenty-three miles. We reached our camping-ground at Abou Harras at
five o’clock. The sun set almost immediately, and we, who were
in advance, pitched our three tents by moonlight. The last of the
baggage train did not arrive till an hour and a half later, and the
drunken “Sheik of the Afsh”[6] was not with it.
The country through which we passed was similar to that which we had
seen on the previous day. It is perfectly fertile. We had left the
sand and mimosa scrub behind us, and were in a well-wooded region,
with abundant undergrowth of bushes. The open ground is covered by
grass which grows to a height of nine feet in the rainy season,
but was now dried and matted under foot. It supplies pasturage
for cattle, and I saw a herd of kine grazing on it. They were in
fine condition. I handed my mug to the herdsman and asked him for
some milk. He gave it to me willingly, and I thought it the best I
had tasted since I left England in 1899. It seemed to me that this
district offered a valuable field to British capital and enterprise.
I extract from my diary the following unsystematic notes, with an
apology to the reader:—The butterflies which I saw most frequently
on the journey were the clouded yellow and the red tip. The brimstone
and painted yellow are seen occasionally. The familiar cabbage white
is found on the banks of the river. I heard no singing bird except
the chaffinch, but I saw a pair of blackbirds, tits of many kinds,
and fly-catchers. A long-tailed species, which is a little smaller
than a ring-dove, is very common. It was called “albicora” by
our black boys.
[Illustration: THE WELCOME AT ABOU HARRAS.
_See p._ 13.]