On January 29 my companions and I started early for the little
hill beside the river on which I had set up a “cairn” the
day before. This is the first rising ground beyond the outlet of
the Blue Nile. (It ought to be named after some kingly, heroic,
half-divine figure that looms in the dawn of legend, but—with my
modest compliments to future geographers—it has since been called
Hayes’s Hill.)
At the foot of it, just below the first cataract in the stream, is a
ferry. It is a primordial means of transit into Godjam. Two men are
in charge of a papyrus boat which they paddle across, using a pole in
the manner of a canoe-paddle, as the water is too deep for punting. At
this spot Dupuis had some survey work in hand which involved taking a
rope to the opposite bank. Our Berthon boat had been brought down to
the riverside, and Crawley and I rowed over towing the line astern and
made it fast to a tree. Crawley returned, and I remained at leisure
in Godjam and used my camera and fishing-rod to wile away the time.
I saw some natives using a net like a seine in the shallow water
just below the rapids. They had some very fair catches, and among
the fishes which they hauled ashore I noticed in particular one of
a blue colour which had what appeared to me to be a red sucker on
its snout. I have no idea to what species it belonged.
My friends finished their mapping about one o’clock, and then
we lunched in the shade of a mimosa. While we sat there we had an
opportunity of watching the Habashes’ method of getting donkeys
across the stream. They were pushed into the water, then four to six
men would scramble on to the crazy _tankoa_, which looked as if it
must sink under their weight. Each man would now seize a donkey by
the ear, and then the boat would start guided by the old ferryman
in the stern. Thus the donkeys had to swim alongside the raft—it
is no more than that—and as their heads were held above water,
they could scarcely come to harm.
We saw that it would save us much time and trouble if our beasts were
towed across in this way, and, after some deliberation, we asked the
ferryman what his charge would be for transporting seventy donkeys. He
replied that he would do it for seven dollars. This, on consideration,
seemed a fair bargain, and we resolved to make an early start on
the following day. The baggage was to go over in our own boat, which
could be hauled across by means of a line made fast on both banks.
After concluding this arrangement we went back to camp, carrying
the rope with us. It might have tempted Charon—I don’t know his
Abyssinian name—if we had left it. We had sent Walda Mariam as
an envoy to King Tecla Haimanot, whose lands we should enter after
crossing the river. The king was in residence not far off, and in
the evening our man returned with a satisfactory message giving
us all necessary permission. The jurisdiction of Tecla Haimanot
extended only ten or twelve miles northward beside the lake, and we
found that we should have to obtain the consent of Ras Mangousha,
whose dominions march here with those of the King of Godjam, before
we could complete the circuit of the lake.
[Illustration: THE DONKEYS CROSSING THE FERRY.
_See p._ 140.]
[Illustration: THE MULES SWIMMING THE FERRY.
_See p._ 140.]
We made an early start on the morning of the 30th. I went to the ferry
and had our Berthon boat put together. We found that our plan answered
excellently. Our boat, loaded with baggage, was easily hauled over,
and by a quarter to ten half a score of donkeys had been carried
across in tow of the ferrymen’s _tankoa_. Some of the boys would
put their arms under a donkey and lift it bodily into place by the
ferryboat at the starting-point, where the water was shallow. It
was a scrambling, pushing, splashing business, and they thoroughly
enjoyed standing in the stream and basking in the sunshine. A number
of Habashes from Woreb helped, and our crossing was a merry, pleasant
scene. The mules did not go “by ferry,” but swam over with men
beside them, as at other deep water passages. It was all done and
we had landed in Godjam without mishap of any kind by a quarter-past
one. The last load that I took over in our boat consisted of nine of
our men, rather more passengers, I fancy, than I was “licensed to
carry.” We scrambled up some rocks on the further side, and then
found ourselves on level ground, where travelling would be easy.
Fully half of the donkeys had been reloaded by the time we finished
lunch, and we moved ahead with this detachment. The country on the
further side of the Nile seemed to me to be in a more prosperous
state. There was more cultivation of dhurra and grain. The natives
were fatter and looked, by comparison, “well-to-do.” I heard
afterwards that the ruler here is not so extortionate as certain
other chieftains. I believe that we were the first Europeans to
traverse this part of Godjam.
After a journey of three-quarters of an hour we approached the village
of Bahardar Georgis. Before entering the hamlet we had to conform to
a singular usage. Two men had stationed themselves beside the track,
one on each side of it, and they held a _shama_ across it. We asked
Johannes what this meant, and he told us that it was to protect the
villagers from the power of the “evil eye.” This is lost if the
stranger who may possess it passes under the _shama_. We had to
move the greasy robe aside and go beneath it, hoping rather than
believing that it was not verminous. The Habashes are extremely
superstitious in this respect. It is customary to screen a person
of rank with a shama when he drinks, to safeguard him from the same
peril, and such persons are frequently kept from view likewise while
they eat their meals. Mr. Hormuzd Rassam, being a high dignitary, was
carefully shielded in this way to his no slight disgust. He wrote:
“As the generality of the garments spread out for our seclusion
had not been washed for months, and probably not since they were
first worn, the reader’s imagination may be left to conceive the
odour which surrounded us on these occasions. But even if they had
been washed no later than the previous day, the disagreeable smell
of rancid butter with which the natives besmear their heads would
suffice to render any such curtain almost intolerable.”[83]
We had to use care in the selection of our camping-ground near
Bahardar Georgis. Much of the ground is covered by the papyrus
plant, and this shows dampness and, by consequence, risk of
fever. We finally selected a spot on some high ground, where
there was a dry, red soil. This happened to be close to a little
settlement of the curious people called _Waitos_, who are only
found in this district. They inhabited two or three huts near the
village. Mr. Rassam has given a concise and interesting account of
them: “The Waitos are Mussulmans of the Maliky sect, and although
Mohammedanism recognizes no castes among its adherents, nevertheless
these people, who subsist upon the flesh of the hippopotamus”
(which is considered unclean by all other Abyssinians), “are looked
down upon by their co-religionists, who consider it a degradation
to associate with them. A few among them cultivate a little grain,
but the flesh of the hippopotamus forms their staple food. . . . I
was unable to obtain any satisfactory account of the origin of this
peculiar people. It is just possible, however, that there may be
some relationship between them and the _Watos_, a tribe of Gallas
inhabiting the banks of the Hawash, south of Shoa, who are also
said to live on the flesh of the hippopotamus.”[84] Stecker,
who was scrupulously accurate in almost every particular which
he mentioned, said that the _Waitos_ were, “strictly speaking,
a Pagan sect (_eigentlich Heiden-secte_)”[85] but in this he was
mistaken. Oddly enough, these people, though they are, in a sense,
outcasts, are exclusive, and proud of their isolation.
[Illustration: PUSHING THE DONKEYS INTO THE WATER PREPARATORY TO
THEIR BEING FERRIED ACROSS.
_See p._ 141.]
On the morning of January 31 my companions took the Berthon boat
and a whole cargo of surveyors’ gear, and started to complete the
work for which the expedition had been organized. A full account
of the results will be found in Sir William Garstin’s official
Report on the Sources of the Nile. My services were not requested,
and I certainly have had more practice in surveying symptoms than
ground. I stayed in camp for awhile, and then walked to the river with
angling-tackle, and landed a fair-sized fish with a spoon-bait. It
was of the perch family.
The country around Bahardar Georgis is flat, as I have said, and in
places swampy. The marshy tracts are overgrown by papyrus, and it is
not easy to distinguish them before one is both on and in them. On
this moist ground we saw flocks of wild geese and various species of
ibis. In the neighbourhood of the village I first observed the bird
known as _buphaga Africana_. It pitched upon the backs of any of our
donkeys that had sores, and caught the flies that settled there. The
bodies of these birds are gray, and scarcely distinguishable from
the donkey’s hide. Their beaks are red, and, at a little distance,
I noticed that they exactly resembled a sore on the beasts which they
infested. This colouring seems a remarkable example of evolution in
the direction of “protective mimicry.” They worry cattle also,
and it is well known that they peck the animals to make raw places,
which then attract the flies that are caught upon them. I believe
that they also use their beaks to mimic sores, for my attention was
first drawn to the birds by the semblance of abrasions on the spinal
area of some of the donkeys, where I knew that none existed. No
doubt the beaks, used thus, are a successful trap.
During the day I received a visit from an Abyssinian artist who
lived at Bahardar Georgis. He came to beg colours from us, if we had
any; I have no notion how the Habashes compound their pigments. He
told me that he had a commission to execute some paintings for the
church. I could only give him some pieces of red and blue pencil. He
was extremely grateful for these, and bestowed upon me some samples
of his art.
I presented him to Dupuis, who was greatly interested by his
pictures, and kindly took the trouble to discover, after much
rummaging, an old box of paints. This he gave to the youth, whose
delight was indescribable. He promised Dupuis works of art in his
best style. In the evening he came to our camp again, and I showed
him the Christmas Number of _Pearson’s Magazine_. This pleased him
highly, especially when he found that he was to be the possessor of
it. The three coloured plates caused him an ecstasy of wonder and
pleasure, and the respective artists—and the colour-printers—have
a venerating admirer by the lake-side.
My friends returned to camp rather later than they had expected,
but were well pleased by the result of the day’s work. They found
that at this season of the year the discharge from the lake into the
river was at the rate of forty-two cubic metres to the second. And
they brought some guinea-fowl to the larder. The future proprietor
of the Blue Nile Hotel and pension on Lake Tsana will always be able
to offer his guests fish and poultry.
On February 1 my companions started on foot, accompanied by Johannes,
a pack-mule and some boys, to see the first falls in the course of
the Blue Nile, and the ancient stone bridge which spans the river
at this point.[86] These falls are twenty-one miles below the outlet
of the stream from the lake.
I remained in charge of the camp, and, to wile away the time, took
our boat out upon the lake. This caused a great sensation among the
villagers, who had seen nothing of my friends’ excursion in it
the previous day. The Habashes flocked to the edge of the water,
but whenever I rested on the oars for a few moments, they rushed
screaming into their huts. Apparently they regarded me as a naval
force, and thought I meant to carry Bahardar Georgis by a _coup de
main_. Perhaps they remembered King Theodore’s descent upon the
island of Dek. “He was in pursuit, it appears, of a refractory
chief under Ras Ali, who had taken refuge on the island. In less
than twenty-four hours he had two hundred canoes constructed, in
which he suddenly appeared off the place with five hundred chosen
warriors.”[87] I should think that this was the only occasion on
which the _tankoa_ was used in war, and have a feeling of compassion
for the five hundred warriors.
We noticed that at this place the children seemed especially
frightened of white men. Perhaps their mothers used us as bogeys
to terrify those that were troublesome. We found that we could soon
regain the confidence of the people by giving them any little picture,
no matter of what; prints from advertisements of furniture or clothes
served quite well. They received these with delight.
On the next day (February 2) my friends returned to camp, having
made short work of their tramp of forty-two miles. Crawley had
shot an oribi, a species of gazelle, on the way to the falls, and
Dupuis secured one on the march back. The former had served as tasty
rations to the party on the journey, the latter came into our larder,
and the prospect of venison after a long course of guinea-fowl was
very pleasant.
They had met a small body of Habashes on the road, who attempted to
turn them back, and these men loaded their rifles as a menace. They
were probably soldiers of the King of Godjam, but as the Abyssinian
troops wear no uniform it is difficult to distinguish those who are
“in the service” from those who are not. As among the Boers,
the combatant can at any time become a non-combatant if he has time
to hide his rifle and cartridges. My friends took no notice of the
hostile demonstration and rode on. Nothing came of it. Probably the
threat was intended to extort money. Usually we were well received,
and I attribute this to the sound judgment of our chief, who took
care to leave the villages near which we camped a little richer than
we found them.
The bridge is a most interesting relic of the times of Portuguese
ascendency in Abyssinia. I am indebted to Dupuis for permission
to reproduce his photograph of it. The following account of its
construction is taken from Dr. Johnson’s translation of Father
Jerome Lobo’s[88] “Voyage to Abyssinia.” I quote the passage
_in extenso_ because it contains a reference to a question which has
been much discussed, though it has merely an academic interest,
viz. whether Lake Tsana, or the river which is its principal
tributary, should be regarded as the true source of the Blue Nile.
“The Nile, which the natives call Abavi” (Abai), “that is the
father of waters, rises first in Sacala, a province of the kingdom
of Goiama” (Godjam), “which is one of the most fruitful and
agreeable of all the Abyssinian dominions. This province is inhabited
by a nation of the Agaus, who call themselves Christians, but by
daily intermarriages they have allied themselves to the Pagan Agaus,
and adopted all their customs and ceremonies. These two nations are
very numerous, fierce, and unconquerable, inhabiting a country full
of mountains, which are covered with woods, and hollowed by nature
into vast caverns, many of which are capable of containing several
numerous families and hundreds of cows. To these recesses the Agaus
betake themselves when they are driven out of the plain, where it is
almost impossible to find them and certain ruin to pursue them. This
people increases extremely, every man being allowed so many wives
as he hath hundreds of cows; and it is seldom that the hundreds are
required to be complete.
“In the eastern part of this kingdom, on the declivity of a
mountain, whose descent is so easy that it seems a beautiful plain,
is that source of the Nile which has been sought after at so much
expense of labour, and about which such variety of conjectures hath
been formed without success. This spring, or rather these two springs,
are two holes, each about two feet diameter, a stone’s cast distant
from each other. The one is but about five feet and a half in depth,
at least we could not get our plummet farther, perhaps because it
was stopped by roots, for the whole place is full of trees. Of the
other, which is somewhat less, with a line of ten feet we could
find no bottom, and were assured by the inhabitants that none ever
had been found. It is believed here that these springs are the vent
of a great subterraneous lake; and they have this circumstance to
favour their opinion, that the ground is always moist, and so soft
that the water boils up underfoot as one walks upon it: this is more
visible after rains, for then the ground yields and sinks so much,
that I believe it is chiefly supported by the roots of trees that
are interwoven one with another. Such is the ground round about these
fountains. At a little distance to the south is a village named Guix,
through which the way lies to the top of the mountain, from whence
the traveller discovers a vast extent of land, which appears like a
deep valley, though the mountain rises so imperceptibly that those
who go up or down it are scarce sensible of any declivity.
“On the top of this mountain is a little hill, which the idolatrous
Agaus have in great veneration. Their priest calls them together
at this place once a year; and having sacrificed a cow, throws the
head into one of the springs of the Nile; after which ceremony every
one sacrifices a cow or more according to their different degrees
of wealth or devotion. The bones of these cows have already formed
two mountains of considerable height, which afford a sufficient
proof that these nations have always paid their adorations to this
famous river. They eat these sacrifices with great devotion, as flesh
consecrated to their deity. Then the priest anoints himself with the
grease and tallow of the cows, and sits down on a heap of straw on the
top and in the middle of a pile which is prepared. They set fire to
it, and the whole heap is consumed without any injury to the priest;
who, while the fire continues, harangues the standers by, and confirms
them in their present ignorance and superstition. When the pile is
burnt, and the discourse at an end, every one makes a large present
to the priest, which is the grand design of this religious mockery.
“To return to the course of the Nile. Its waters, after the first
rise, run to the eastward for about a musket-shot; then turning to
the north, continue hidden in the grass and weeds for about a quarter
of a league, and discover themselves for the first time among some
rocks; a sight not to be enjoyed without some pleasure by those
who have read the fabulous accounts of this stream delivered by the
ancients, and the vain conjectures and reasonings which have been
formed upon its original, the nature of its water, its cataracts,
and its inundations, all which we are now entirely acquainted with,
and eye witnesses of.”[89]
The Nile “rolls away from its source with so inconsiderable a
current that it appears unlikely to escape being dried up by the hot
season, but soon receiving an increase from the Gemma, the Kelta,
the Bransu, and other less rivers, it is of such a breadth in the
plain of Boad, which is not above three days’ journey from its
source, that a ball shot from a musket will scarce fly from one bank
to the other. Here it begins to run northward, deflecting, however,
a little towards the east, for the space of nine or ten leagues; and
then enters the so much talked of lake of Dambia” (Tsana), “called
by the natives Barhar Sena, the resemblance of the sea, or Barhar
Dambia, the sea of Dambia. It crosses this lake only at one end, with
so violent a rapidity that the waves of the Nile” (Abai) “may
be distinguished through all the passage, which is six leagues.[90]
Here begins the greatness of the Nile. Fifteen miles farther, in the
land of Alata, it rushes precipitately from the top of a high rock,
and forms one of the most beautiful waterfalls in the world. I passed
under it without being wet, and resting myself there for the sake of
the coolness, was charmed with a thousand delightful rainbows which
the sunbeams painted on the water in all their shining and lively
colours. The fall of this mighty stream, from so great a height,
makes a noise that may be heard to a considerable distance. . . . The
mist that rises from this fall of water may be seen much farther than
the noise can be heard. After this cataract, the Nile again collects
its scattered stream among the rocks which seem to be disjoined in
this place only to afford it a passage. They are so near each other,
that, in my time, a bridge of beams, on which the whole Imperial
army passed, was laid over them. Sultan Segued[91] hath since built
here a bridge of one arch in the same place, for which purpose he
procured masons from India” (_i.e._ the Portuguese Indies).[92]
“This bridge, which is the first the Abyssinians have seen on the
Nile, very much facilitates a communication between the provinces,
and encourages commerce among the inhabitants of his Empire.”
Bruce’s description of the source of the Abai differs somewhat
from that given by Father Lobo. It is brief, and as an exceptional
interest attaches to the spot, it may not be superfluous to quote it.
“Half undressed as I was, by loss of my sash, and throwing my
shoes off” (as he had been directed to do in order to conform to a
superstitious usage of the natives), “I ran down the hill towards
the little island of green sods, which was about two hundred yards
distant; the whole side of the hill was thick grown with flowers,
the large bulbous roots[93] of which appearing above the surface
of the ground, and their skins coming off upon treading upon them,
occasioned me two very severe falls before I reached the brink of
the marsh. I after this came to the altar of green turf, which was in
form of an altar apparently the work of art, and I stood in rapture
over the principal fountain, which rises in the middle of it.”[94]
Bruce talked with “the Shum, the priest of the river, whose title
was Kefla Abai, or ‘Servant of the river.’ He was a man of about
seventy. The honourable charge which he possessed had been in his
family, he conceived, from the beginning of the world; and as he was
the happy father of eighty-four children, it appeared that his race
was likely to flow as long as the Nile itself. He had a long white
beard; round his body was wrapped a skin, which was fastened by a
broad belt. Over this he wore a cloak, the hood of which covered
his head, his legs were bare, but he wore sandals, which he threw
off as soon as he approached the bog from which the Nile” (Abai)
“rises—a mark of respect which Bruce and his attendants were
also required to perform.” The Shum very obligingly presented his
comely and sprightly daughter Irepone, aged sixteen, to the Scottish
traveller as housekeeper.
Bruce says that at this time the people of the place called the
Spirit of the River “The Everlasting God, Light of the World, Eye
of the World, God of Peace, Saviour and Father of the Universe.”
He asked the Shum if he had ever seen the Spirit, and the old man
answered without hesitation, “Yes, very frequently.”[95]
The Abai mentioned above is the main tributary of the Blue Nile,
but a glance at the map will show that Lake Tsana receives many other
rivers, and the surrounding mountains, of course, add the volume of
innumerable torrents and small streams to its waters in the rainy
season. For practical purposes the source of the Blue Nile is the
lake fed by all the affluents which collectively determine the amount
of the discharge into the river.
To return to the camp at Bahardar Georgis. The survey work of
the expedition was now completed, and our subsequent stages were
upon the homeward journey. On February 3 we visited the village
church. I obtained a clear photograph of some of the paintings in
the interior. Unfortunately, as I am no archæologist, I cannot
pretend to say whether the clothing of St. George, either in his
combat or his victorious return, or the conception of the other
figures, gives an indication of the origin of the Abyssinian school
of ecclesiastical art. I hope that some of my readers who are better
informed may be able to throw light upon the subject. It is, perhaps,
of considerable interest for the following reason: If the usages of
the Abyssinian church, which is strictly conservative, represent a
really primitive form of Christianity, they show that the observance
of ritual ceremonies was, in the early days, at least as much a
matter of concern as the condition of the individual conscience. And
the style of the Abyssinian pictures of sacred subjects may help to
determine the date when the accepted liturgy took its present form.
In the afternoon the guns of the party added some venison, poultry,
and game to the larder, and in the evening we were serenaded—against
our will and at our expense. A band of singers and dancers from the
village—both men and women—came into camp. They had no intention
of showing their skill without remuneration, and as it would have
caused ill-will among them and disappointment to our own boys and
escort if we had sent them away, we endured their performance and
paid for it. One of the instruments which they use is a piece of
board, over which strings are stretched, so that it looks like a
rude archaic forerunner of the violin. They twang the strings with
their fingers, but do not “stop” them to obtain different notes
from the same string. Our troupe also played the tomtom and sang in
the high nasal voice which is characteristic of the race. We heard
the last of them, thankfully, at half-past nine.
While we were at Bahardar Georgis, the Waitos near our camp drove a
brisk trade in courbashes.[96] I bought of them some hippo tusks,
which they were glad to sell, as they live in great poverty. If I
had had some more small change (salt) I could have purchased a quite
considerable stock.
[Illustration: INTERIOR OF THE CHURCH AT BAHARDAR GEORGIS.
_See p._ 153.]
Insects are an annoying pest in this part of the lake side. Hosts
of mosquitoes and small beetles of a peculiar species appeared on
the flat ground at sunset, and swarmed throughout the neighbourhood
for an hour afterwards. The beetles settled upon us in throngs, and
crawled into our noses and ears and under our clothes, and we could
not even crush them on account of the unendurable smell which their
bodies then gave forth. When the first hour after sundown is past, the
temperature falls very rapidly, and one sees no more of these insects.
On February 4 we started to complete the circuit of the lake and reach
Delgi by way of the Zegi peninsula. Our road lay across flat land,
bordered by marshes and full of swamps and quagmires. Sometimes the
marshes stretch a long way into the land, and long detours had to be
made to avoid them. I saw yams for the first time in Abyssinia growing
just above the swampy tracts in this region. We had to cross three
rivers with rocky beds, which were made rougher and more slippery
by loose stones. To add to our difficulties, our guide twice led
us out of the right path, and once to a ford which was impassable
for the donkeys. In this way we lost nearly three hours. At lunch
time we sent the baggage-train on ahead of us. The latter part of
the journey was over a beaten track, and gave us no trouble. We
overtook the baggage animals and their escort just as they entered
the undulating ground which forms the approach to the peninsula of
Zegi. We pitched our camp near the shore of a little bay of which
this promontory was the further boundary.
While we were on the road I received a scribbled note from Crawley,
who told me that one of his soldiers was ill, had lain down and
refused to move. I rode back at his request, and found the invalid
under a tree. He said, “Leave me alone. I want to die.” It was
evident at a glance that he was suffering from ague. The only remedy
which we had at hand was chartreuse. I gave him a big “nip” of
the cordial, and it had an excellent effect upon him. He was able
to ride to the end of the journey, and was none the worse for the
effort. I venture to commend this incident to the consideration of
strict teetotalers.
The village near which we were encamped is that which is marked as
Furje on Stecker’s map. The district affords a curious example
of feudal tenure in Abyssinia. We had quitted Tecla Haimanot’s
dominions, and the land on which our camp stood was under the
control of a certain chief called Fituari[97] Ali, a feudatory
of Ras Mangousha. He dwelt close to the town of Zegi, but had no
jurisdiction within its boundary, though his lordship was valid in
a region extending beyond the town to the Abai.
The chieftain had gone to attend the marriage of Ras Mangousha’s
daughter, and had left his son in authority. So we sent a messenger
with an escort to carry the news of our arrival to this young Habash
with due formality. He brought back an uncivil reply to the effect
that the Fituari’s son was absent, and if we wanted anything we
had better go and find him. This was sent by his majordomo. While we
were waiting for tea to be served, Johannes reported that the young
Habash was approaching, and we saw him at a little distance attended
by a band of followers, some of whom carried guns. Our interpreter
asked what he should say to this truculent young man, and we bade
him explain that we only asked leave to pass through the land, and
should require nothing unless it were to purchase a little grain
for our animals. We always sought to avoid trouble with the natives,
and therefore impressed upon Johannes that he should show we wished
to be friendly, and say we hoped the Fituari’s son would come and
have a drink with us.
Johannes departed with his message, and presently we heard
a great hubbub—many Habashes talking at once at the top of
their high-pitched voices. We wondered what gave rise to so much
excitement. Presently Johannes emerged from the crowd and approached
us slowly. The young man’s answer was that he would speak with us
when he had seen the King’s letter. Now, this permit and all our
credentials had been dispatched on February 1 from Bahardar Georgis
to Ras Mangousha that we might obtain his leave to travel through
his territories beyond the Abai, and we did not expect our messenger
to return until late on the following day.
It was an uncomfortable situation. The Ras’s reply might be
unfavourable. In that case we should be confronted by the necessity
of retracing our steps over the whole of the toilsome journey by
the lake side. We all longed to kick the tiresome coxcomb who was
in our way, and went to dinner in a glum mood.
We were obliged to spend the following day (Feb. 5) in inaction
awaiting the return of our messenger with Ras Mangousha’s answer. I
busied myself with the camera, having every reason to believe that
no photographs of this tract of country had ever been taken.
During the morning we received a visit from the head man of Zegi. We
thought it a favourable sign that he gave us a very pleasant and
courteous welcome. This young man, Hyli by name, was about nineteen
years of age. I learned afterwards that he was studying the ancient
Geez language under the tuition of the priests of Zegi, and presume
that he intended to “go into the Church.” These candidates for
orders are not permitted to smoke or drink strong liquor while they
are _in statu pupillari_. A similar restriction would scarcely be
popular in our own ancient universities.
Hyli, we found, had a large consignment of coffee to send to the
market at Gallabat. It is his business to collect the dues payable
on this produce before it leaves the village, and the revenue so
obtained is handed to Ras Mangousha. Hyli had now come to request
that his caravan might join ours during the journey through the
“rain-country”—that borderland between Abyssinia and the Soudan,
which, as I have said, is infested by bandits. We had every reason to
win friends where we could, and every wish to please the young Habash,
so we consented willingly. He told us that the coffee was already at
Delgi, and that he had been informed of the date of our arrival at
that village, at Korata and at Woreb, and had been looking forward
to our coming for a month past. In the evening he sent us a present
of flour and fowls.
After this visit, I walked to the township of Zegi. It is surrounded
by a thick hedge of incense-bush, and this forms the boundary
between the Fituari’s jurisdiction and Hyli’s. Zegi very closely
resembles Korata. It consists of groups of tokhuls scattered among
small, square enclosures where the coffee bushes grow apparently
untended. These plantations, with the cottages and churches among
them, cover the whole promontory. I should estimate the population,
when I saw the place, at about three thousand souls.
Dr. Stecker’s account of his visit to the town is brief and
interesting, and I quote it. I saw nothing of the stone dwellings
which he describes, and think they must have been replaced by straw
tokhuls since 1881. He wrote:—
“On June 7 I made a _tankoa_-journey to the peninsula of Zegi,
and climbed to the highest peak, Tekla Haimanot (2074 metres above
sea-level, according to barometrical measurement), which afforded
extremely important survey-bearings.” The traveller then mentions
his visit to Livlivo, Adina, and the island of Dek, and adds, “The
Zegi peninsula is especially famed for its coffee plantations. Some
coffee-trees are as much as a metre in girth. The coffee is mostly
exported to Metemmeh” (Gallabat), “less goes to Massowah, but
it is not considered so good as that of Korata. Besides coffee the
_Ensete_ banana flourishes here conspicuously, and also the edible
species (_Musa Ensete edulis_); but, unfortunately, in recent years
these charming plantations have been almost entirely destroyed by a
species of pig called _Assama_ (_potamochoerus penicillatus_),[98]
which is found here in hundreds. This remarkable animal feeds
almost entirely on the roots of these fine bananas. What struck
me here particularly was the neatness of the tokhuls, which are
chiefly of stone, and in general all villages on Lake Tsana have a
much cleanlier and more pleasant appearance than those inland. There
is no lack of clergy on the Zegi Peninsula: there are here no fewer
than seven churches with twelve hundred priests and defterers.”[99]
I am bound to say that I saw no indication during my brief stay that
the population was deplorably priest-ridden!
I was returning to camp about four o’clock in the afternoon,
and was still at some distance from it when I met a Habash, who
made me understand by signs that our messenger had brought the
Ras’s letter, and as I hastened on I noticed that the news was
already public property. Upon reaching camp I saw our man, grimy
and travel-stained. He and a companion, with one mule to ride, had
covered about a hundred and thirty miles in four days over very rough
country, and they had waited while the Ras attended to our business;
so they had not let the grass grow under their feet. I felt sorry
for the mule. Walda Mariam had had charge of this business. We had
given him one day’s rest at Bahardar Georgis after his return with
Tecla Haimanot’s message, and then dispatched him on this second
journey. It is expected of these runners, when they are in charge of
a missive from the Negus or a great chief, that they shall not sleep
till they have delivered it. The man bowed low, and handed the Ras’s
letters to me in a manner which showed that he now made me responsible
for their custody. I then learned, by the aid of an Arab interpreter,
that the chief’s reply was of the most favourable kind, and that he
had sent mandates to all concerned to give us every furtherance on
our way round the lake. He also inquired very courteously about our
health and our progress, and had sent a soldier from his own guard as
a special escort for the party. The Ras, moreover, had even furnished
us with letters to chiefs through whose lands we should not pass on
the road to Delgi, to be used in case we wished to turn aside from
the way and visit the _hinterland_ of the lake district. And, best
of all, there was a communication addressed to Fituari Ali’s son,
enjoining upon him that he should show us every civility. Johannes,
who had been absent from camp when the messenger arrived, had returned
by the time my companions came back from an excursion. The despatches
were then interpreted to them in French, and we enjoyed the prospect
of our enemy’s discomfiture. It was resolved that the mandate to
him should be delivered on the following morning. I noticed that
the Habashes did not appear to make common cause with Ali’s son,
but seemed pleased at our success. Among the Ras’s letters was one
to Hyli, which we sent to him immediately, though it was scarcely
required in his case. Zody was the bearer of it.