Politically, Gallabat is a place of much importance, as the principal
station on the frontier between Abyssinia and the Anglo-Egyptian
dominions. It is the terminus of the telegraph line whose course
we had followed along a part of our route, and I shall presently
explain why I think it would be difficult to carry the wire from
this point into Menelek’s country.
The town consists of two main thoroughfares and of the scattered
“tokhuls” which form the villages throughout Abyssinia and the
Eastern Soudan. It contains about eight hundred inhabitants. Formerly,
I have no doubt, there was a larger population, but this place, like
all other trading centres in the land, suffered severely in the days
of the Dervish ascendency. The “shops,” which abut upon the main
roads, are hovels in a row under a heavily thatched roof, and are
separated by rough and ragged partitions of cane thatch. They are
“business premises” only, and the proprietor and his family dwell
elsewhere. A considerable trade is carried on by Abyssinians who come
to Gallabat to sell coffee; sometimes they have a leopard’s skin
or other hunter’s trophy to barter in addition. They exchange their
goods chiefly for cotton, which is used in the making of _shamas_ and
other garments worn in Abyssinia. Sir S. Baker mentions a commerce
in bees’-wax and hides, but I saw no evidence of it in Gallabat,
and I think it must have declined.
The traffic in coffee proceeds regularly during the dry season, but
ceases, of course, when the rains make the neighbouring Abyssinian
hill-country impassable. A square, in which there are booths, is
set apart for the use of the Abyssinian traders. In the middle of
it are the large scales in which the coffee is weighed, and I was
much interested to learn that not only the amount of the import duty
payable to the Egyptian Customs, but also the sum charged as export
duty by the Abyssinian Government, was here determined by the weight
of the bundles. The latter tax is retained at the time in the hands
of the Anglo-Egyptian officials, and is afterwards remitted by them
to Menelek’s Revenue Department. I need hardly add that this is a
recent arrangement, and it seems to show that British influence in
the Soudan has inspired confidence at Addis Abiba.
The town of Gallabat is five miles distant from the bed of the
Atbara. It is built on the slope above a small watercourse. This
rivulet and the adjacent supply of drinking water which the
inhabitants use are—in all but details—as they were in Sir
Samuel Baker’s time. He thus described them:—“We were horribly
disgusted at the appearance of the water. A trifling stream of about
two inches in depth trickled over a bed of sand, shaded by a grove
of trees. The putrefying bodies of about half a dozen monkeys, three
or four camels, and the remains of a number of horses, lay in and
about the margin of the water. Nevertheless, the natives had scraped
small holes in the sand as filters, and thus they were satisfied with
this poisonous fluid; in some of these holes the women were washing
their filthy clothes.”[21] There are three wells in the town from
which good water is obtained. The soldiers of the garrison use this
supply, and it is available for all who will take the trouble to
draw from it. But generally, the inhabitants, either because they
are too indolent to pull up buckets or from mere adherence to custom,
prefer the “poisonous fluid” procured in the traditional way.
Our quarters were in the dismantled Dervish fort, which lies on
the summit of the hill, above the town. The thick brick wall which
surrounded it is now ruinous. In the enclosure are barracks for
a detachment of the Arab Battalion, a small rest-house, and the
telegraph station.
We set our boys to pitch three tents for us, and before long I had
the indescribable delight of tubbing in my portable rubber bath.
After this we received, in the rest-house, the interpreter whom
Menelek had sent to await us. His name was Johannes. I learned
that he had been three weeks in Gallabat, so perhaps it had been
expected that we should travel more rapidly than we did. With him
were an assistant, by name Walda Mariam, officially attached to his
“mission,” and a servant.
Johannes was a tall, handsome man, with grizzled hair and beard. In
person he seemed cleanly, but his _shama_—the toga-like robe,
also known as “quarry,”[22] which is universally worn by
Abyssinians—was soiled. It is unfashionable, and even a breach of
established custom, for a man to appear in a clean _shama_ except at
rare intervals. As all sorts and conditions of men in the country
are infested by vermin it may be imagined that an Abyssinian’s
clothes usually add nothing to the pleasure of his company.
Our interpreter had spent three years in Marseilles, and we
found that he and his followers conformed to the requirements of
civilization as regards dirt much more closely than the generality
of his countrymen. I do not know whether Parkyns’s description of
the use of butter as pomade still holds good in parts of Abyssinia;
probably not very widely, as Mr. Wylde tells us that “European hats
are getting very common, and are generally of the bowler, wideawake,
or Terai patterns,”[23] but in the western provinces, where nearly
all the people whom we met were peasants, we saw no sign either of
this innovation or that the dairy had been drawn upon to smarten
the _coiffure_. Nevertheless, greasiness of person was the rule.
I may mention here that bodily cleanliness is not only unusual in
Abyssinia, but raises a doubt as to the genuineness of a man’s
religious profession. In this respect matters have not changed since
Parkyns’s time. “St. John’s is the only cleanly day in the
calendar; for in the evening the whole population, male and female,
old and young, go down to bathe. It is a fact, that, excepting on
this occasion, there are many of the number, who, beyond washing
their hands before and after meals, and their feet after a journey,
never trouble the water from one year’s end to another. My
habit of washing every day in the European fashion gave rise to
much scandal on my first arrival; and it was constantly inquired,
‘Is he a Mussulman, that he thus washes, and so often?’”[24]
The Abyssinians are fond of shaking hands, and it is impossible
to avoid this civility without giving serious offence. Nearly all,
owing to their independence of soap, suffer from a complaint once
associated—wrongly, no doubt—with a highland region nearer home,
and the result was that none of the Europeans of our party escaped
_scabies_.
Johannes possessed a felt sombrero, which he held in his hand when
we received him in the rest-house. Like most of his countrymen, he
wore a cartridge-belt around his middle. He also carried a revolver
in his belt. His “boy” held his rifle. Altogether the interpreter
was a picturesque but piratical figure, and it occurred to me that a
group of Abyssinian “villains” would be effective in a melodrama.
The interpreter bowed to the earth each time we addressed him. He
had brought letters for us from Menelek and from Colonel Harrington,
the British Minister at Addis Abiba, which is now the capital of
the country. The king’s letter is a kind of superior passport,
which is generally granted to Europeans who enter his realm with
his consent. It is useful, but is not too obsequiously respected in
all parts of the land. Johannes had a fair knowledge of French—a
matter of importance to one of his calling, seeing that the
Abyssinians and the French are neighbours, and that an increasing
amount of the commerce and traffic of the country is likely to
pass through Jibuti. A railway has been commenced from that point,
and a concession obtained from Menelek for its extension into his
dominions. Mr. Herbert Vivian has recently pointed out the important
developments which may be brought about by the construction of
the line.[25]
The Dervish fort at Gallabat is literally a “cockatrice den.”
We speared eight or nine fine specimens upon the walls, using
our knives, and among them was the largest black scorpion I had
seen. The rest-house swarmed with these disquieting arthrogastra, and
one of our servants was stung during the evening. Parkyns remarked
that, though he had several times endured the sting himself without
serious consequences, he had heard of many instances which had ended
fatally.[26] Our boy probably had in his mind a similar dismal record,
for he howled till midnight. I had very little sympathy with him,
especially as he prevented me from sleeping. He, like the other
servants, had been provided with boots but persisted in running
about the fort barefoot.
I was delighted by the change of scenery which commenced at Gallabat
after the long tracts of desert and mimosa forest. To the eastward,
the Abyssinian mountains were visible, and there is a most stirring
splendour in the sight of the distant peaks when one beholds them
in the pink, hot glow of sunset.
An escort of ten men had been appointed for us. All these were
Abyssinians by race, but “naturalized” Egyptians, serving in the
Arab Battalion, and they spoke Arabic in addition to their native
tongue. There was an odd significance in the fact that our journey to
Lake Tsana familiarized the inhabitants of the western provinces of
Menelek’s kingdom with an Italian uniform which had become British.
On December 27 we “lazed” and enjoyed our indolence. Our only
activity was to make trial of our patent donkey saddles. We had
seventy of these, and found them anything but serviceable. The
natives fasten the loads on the donkeys by long thongs of hide,
giving about six girths for each animal. Our saddles allowed but
one girth, and, as the consequence, the loads slipped round. On
the 28th my companions went to take measurements in the course of
the Atbara. I remained in Gallabat and superintended the conversion
of camel loads into donkey loads. This involved getting the right
weight of flour and corn—fifty pounds—into the sacks. It was
troublesome work done by trying people, and the supervision of it
would have taxed the patience of a saint.
On the 29th we were all busy with the baggage, sorting our
supplies. We took with us sufficient for six weeks. The remainder
was left in the zaptieh,[27] and we fully expected that the rats and
the white ants would clear it up for us before our return. Our cook
had a touch of malarial fever, and during the day I gave him thirty
grains of phenacetine and nine grains of quinine. These quantities
were effective.
We were to start on the following morning, and sat longer
than usual over dinner, and many yarns were told about Egyptian
officials. One—I hope it is not a stale story to my readers—ran as
follows:—An Egyptian battalion, under a native officer, had been
sent to a remote district. The commander had orders to telegraph to
head-quarters if anything unusual occurred. He sent off a message
announcing that one of his soldiers had died suddenly, and that he
awaited instructions. The reply was, “Bury the man, but make sure he
is dead first.” The native officer thereupon reported by telegram,
“Have buried soldier, and know he is dead, because I hit him on the
head with a fishplate.” It need hardly be said that the fishplate
was not of the kitchen but the railway kind.
On the following morning, December 30, we had further proof of the
defects of the saddles which had been provided as baggage-gear for
the donkeys. When, after much tedious work, we had balanced the load
on an animal, we started it on the road and turned our attention to
another. Five minutes later, the beast that had been despatched was
brought back with its load under its stomach. My companions toiled
on through the heat of the day; but I fear my services became rather
like those of the fly on the wheel, for the malarial fever had got
hold of me, and the commencement of a bout with it nearly took me
off the list of effectives.
We made a start at last, a little after eleven o’clock, with the
intention of travelling about eight miles, and crossed the stream
below Gallabat by a stony ford, over which water a few inches deep
was running. I was told that this rivulet is never quite dry, and I
observed that in the bed of it were the stagnant pools usually found
in the watercourses of this district. We had seen the last of the
camels at Gallabat, and my companions and I now rode mules. They are
the best mounts in the rough, steep, and almost trackless region which
forms the western border of Abyssinia. Horses would be useless here
for a journey, either to carry men or for purposes of haulage; and
I doubt if ponies could anywhere be found that would be more than an
encumbrance, at least for long and steady travelling at a fair pace. I
believe that the Abyssinians of the Highlands use horses in their
hunting expeditions and slave-raiding forays—at all events they do
in their campaigns in their own country—and I have little doubt that
the inhabitants of the lofty hill district adjoining the border tract,
who are of mixed race and bandits by immemorial tradition, use any
animals they can lay their hands on when they, like Roderick Dhu and
his men, “with strong hands redeem their share” from travelling
merchants or Soudanese villagers. But these are “spurts” of work,
rapid dashes made by unencumbered men, not plodding regular marches,
and, generally speaking, those who cannot pass through this country
on a mule or an ass must use their own feet or not go at all.
When my companions and I had advanced about four miles, we halted
for lunch at a pleasant spot beside a brook. After the meal, some
guinea-fowl were seen, and one was bagged. No doubt many more were
hit and lost, as usual, among the high grass. We were in the saddle
again at three o’clock, and reached our camping-ground an hour
and a half later.
The fever had a grip of me by this time, and I rested in bed, and
soon felt the benefit of a dose of quinine. It enabled me to tackle
my dinner, and that is no small boon to a sick traveller.
Our boys had cut down trees and formed a zareba, within which the
donkeys were penned to prevent them from straying and give them
protection from hyenas.[28] I lay idly watching the camp-fires and
listening to the occasional outbreaks of scuffling and braying among
the donkeys, and presently fell asleep till dawn.
The country which we entered on that day is full of rounded
hills. Boulders crop out from the surface of them, and they are
separated by ravines with sandy beds. There is no regularity in the
configuration of these hills, and no uniformity in their size. When
I saw them they were covered either with dried grass or with mimosa
scrub.
The region which we had now reached is, as I have said, impassable
in the wet season, and Abyssinia is then impregnable as far as its
western boundary is concerned. The violence of the storms and the
rush of rain are such that it is doubtful whether even a line of
telegraph posts and wires could be carried through the district
with a likelihood that it would be in working order for any length
of time between May and September. The floods would probably be as
prohibitive to an underground system of wires as to one overhead,
and in both cases allowance would have to be made for the extreme
electrical disturbances which often occur at brief intervals during
the rainy season.
I have already referred to the raids that take place from the
Abyssinian side when the country can be traversed, and will only
add here that they are carried out frequently enough to maintain a
supply of slaves for all persons in the country whose prosperity
raises them above the degree of a peasant. For example, when we
reached Gallabat on the return journey we found that eighty-three
Soudanese had been carried off during an incursion which had been made
since we left the place. It is needless to insist on the difficulties
that may arise from raids of this kind undertaken by people who are,
nominally at least, subjects of the Negus.
I can testify that slaves are found everywhere in Western Abyssinia,
but among the female victims I never had the good fortune to behold
one of the class which impressed Sir Samuel Baker so pleasantly
at Gallabat. He wrote, “On my return to camp I visited the
establishments of the various slave merchants; these were arranged
under large tents formed of matting, and contained many young
girls of extreme beauty, ranging from nine to seventeen years of
age. These lovely captives, of a rich brown tint, with delicately
formed features and eyes like those of the gazelle, were natives
of the Galla, on the borders of Abyssinia, from which country they
are brought by the Abyssinian traders to be sold for the Turkish
harems. Although beautiful, these girls are useless for hard labour;
they quickly fade away and die unless kindly treated. They are the
Venuses of that country, and not only are their faces and figures
perfection, but they become extremely attached to those who show
them kindness. There is something peculiarly captivating in the
natural grace and softness of these young beauties, whose hearts
quickly respond to those warmer feelings of love that are seldom
known among the sterner and coarser tribes. They are exceedingly
proud and high-spirited, and are remarkably quick at learning. At
Khartoum, several of the Europeans of high standing have married
these charming ladies, who have invariably rewarded their husbands
by great affection and devotion. The price of one of these beauties
of nature at Gallabat was from twenty-five to forty dollars.”[29]