junction of two considerable rivers; the river of Logón, the Lágham, or
Éré towards the west, and the Shárí or Bá towards the east; and it might
be a most happy little kingdom if it were not overwhelmed and oppressed
by its more powerful neighbours, who, as we have just seen, encroach
upon it on all sides. But while the Bórnu people levy a more regular
tribute, the people of Bagírmi seem to treat the poor inhabitants of the
districts nearest their borders with the greatest injustice, subjecting
them, in a very anomalous manner, to all sorts of contributions.
Nevertheless, from the list of the places which I shall subjoin in the
Appendix[33], it will be seen that the country is still tolerably well
inhabited, though certainly it cannot now be said to be in a very
flourishing condition.
As for the food of the natives, fish (“kíyi”) in which the river is
extremely rich, constitutes a great proportion of their live stock; but
cattle (“nthá”) as well as sheep (“wúfu”) seem to be extremely rare, and
it has the appearance as if their neighbours had deprived them entirely
of this article of wealth and comfort. The native Arabs however are
tolerably well supplied with both. Poultry also seems not to be very
numerous; but the hog (“sése”) abounds in immense quantities, and seems
to be often resorted to by the natives as an article of food. Besides
sorghum or, as they call it, “mákalá,” and millet, “víyo” (the “fíyo” of
the Kótokó and Yédiná—rice I did not observe), a great deal of cotton,
“mpátakí,” is grown in the country; and weaving constitutes one of the
principal employments of the people. Indeed their shirts (“labú”) are of
very excellent manufacture; but their indigo (“mógoné”) is not very
good, nor are they expert in dyeing.[34]
In addition to their cotton, which ought to be cultivated to an
unbounded extent in these low and richly irrigated regions, the
beautiful lattice-work of cane before mentioned, the common sort being
called “parpar” or “farfar,” while a better kind is called “móman,”
constitutes one of their most famous manufactures; their wooden bowls
(“dalgwam”) likewise, and the round straw covers (“killé”), are
remarkable; for the bowls are of very good workmanship, much better than
they are seen in Kúkawa, although they do not attain to that excellency
which is observed in the manufactures of Dár Fúr.
Altogether the inhabitants of this country seem to be a clever race, and
are in general handsomer than the Bórnu people, the women in particular.
It is remarkable that they use almost the same sort of tattooing as the
Kanúri, consisting of sundry curved lines along the cheek, generally
six, running from the outer angle of the eye down to the mouth; it is
also curious that they have the same word for it[35] as the Kanúri,
although their languages are so entirely different in other respects.
My stay in the country, of course, was too short to allow me to speak
more decidedly respecting their moral qualities. The currency of pieces
of iron as money, which Denham observed in his time[36], has long been
abolished; and at present the standard money of the place is cotton
strips of from two to three inches in width.
With regard to the language of the people of Logón, Denham has committed
a great mistake in supposing that it was identical with the language of
Bagírmi; for though what he heard was really the language of Bagírmi,
which is spoken to a great extent by the natives, yet their original
language, which is spoken exclusively, among the people themselves, is
quite distinct, being nearly related to that of the people of Músgu.
They call their language kélakú Lógone. As far as I became acquainted
with it, the pronunciation is very difficult, on account of the many
aspirated sounds, especially that of “kh” or “th;” and in this respect
it has some resemblance to the English.
[Footnote 26: Bulletin de la Société de Géogr. de Paris, s. III. vol.
xi. p. 30; vol. xiv. p. 159.]
[Footnote 27: This word is only another form of the name which the
Yédiná give to the boat, viz. “pum.”]
[Footnote 28: It is very remarkable and interesting that the date-palm,
in all these countries as far as Bagírmi, goes by the Háusa name
“debíno,” from which circumstance it is plain that it was first
introduced into that part of Negroland. Even the Fúlbe of Sókoto have no
other name for it, while those of Ádamáwa call it after the tree of the
native date, viz. the addwa or _Balanites Ægyptiaca_. But the Sónghay
and Mába or Wadáy languages have quite independent names for this palm.]
[Footnote 29: I have however to observe that the Kúrí sometimes bring
native corn as far as Búgomán.]
[Footnote 30: I think it has no connection with the river or lágham,
else they could not call it “lághame Lógone.”]
[Footnote 31: The name is not mentioned in the annals of Edrís Alawóma.]
[Footnote 32: I will here give a list of the Ibálaghwáns, as far as they
came to my knowledge. Íba-Gáre, Íba-Kyári, Íba-ʿOthmán, Íba-Káder, Íba-
Abú, Íba-Ádem, Íba-Sʿaíde, Íba-Yáhia, Íba-Herdége.]
[Footnote 33: Appendix III., No. II.]
[Footnote 34: The reader will see that my judgment in this respect is
very different from that which Denham passed on them (_Travels and
Discoveries_, i., p. 237.); but Denham never visited Kanó, and had no
standard for judging what was good and what was not.]
[Footnote 35: The Kanúri call it “béli,” the lógodé Lógone “bél.”]
[Footnote 36: Denham, i. p. 238.]
[Illustration: Drawn by J. M. Bernatz, from a Sketch by Dr. Barth.
M. & N. Hanhart, lith. et impt.
LOGÓN BÍRNI.
August, 17th. 1852.]
CHAP. XLVIII.
THE TWO RIVERS. — ENTRANCE INTO BAGÍRMI.
[Sidenote: March 16th.]
It was ten o’clock in the morning when I left Kárnak Logón in order
to penetrate into unknown regions, never before trodden by European
foot; and a short time afterwards I was sitting in the boat, while
our horses, the camel, and the bullock were partly swimming across
and partly fording the river. The water was in general shallow, though
in the deepest place it measured eight feet and a half. The current was
about three miles an hour. The country at that period had a very
different appearance from what it presented on my return from Bagírmi.
At present all those low grounds, which later in the season are entirely
inundated, had a swampy, cheerless aspect, and I hastened onwards in
order to escape from the unhealthy locality, heated by the rays of the
mid-day sun. Only now and then a small patch of cotton-ground was seen
between the tall jungle. Close to the river there is scarcely a single
tree; but further on, where the country becomes more cultivated,
isolated karáge-trees, together with straggling groups of cottages, were
seen here and there. Not having exposed myself to the mid-day sun during
the last few days, and the heat being very great, I looked for a place
to pass the hottest hours of the day; and to the disappointment of my
companions, who were anxious for a good dinner, I dismounted under the
cool shade of a beautiful wide-spreading fig-tree, “ngábbere,” or
“zérra,” as the people of Logón call it, at some distance from a little
village called Sóso, situated towards the north, while on our right
there was a watercourse winding along through a shallow depression in
the green meadow grounds, without any visible inclination. These shallow
watercourses are, as I have already had occasion to mention on my
journey to Músgu, one of the most characteristic features in this part
of Central Africa, which formerly was thought to be a dry elevated
waste. Naked young lads were splashing and playing about in the water,
together with wild hogs, in the greatest harmony; never in any part of
Negroland have I seen this animal in such numbers as here about the
Shárí. Calves and goats were pasturing in the fields, with wild hogs in
the midst of them.
When we pursued our march at two o’clock in the afternoon, I was greatly
pleased to see numbers of fine horses round the groups of Shúwa villages
which bordered the watercourse; while the whole scenery was enlivened by
the rich foliage of wide-spreading trees. Onions likewise were
cultivated here in considerable quantities. On the right of our path
were very extensive fields, of a peculiar kind of winter-corn, called
“sáffará” by the people of Logón, and “kérirám” by the Kanúri. This
belongs to the ruler of the country; but in general very little grain is
seen in this part of Logón, the inhabitants being afraid of the people
of Bagírmi, who used to gather the harvest of what they themselves have
sown. But small cotton grounds are occasionally observed.
After a march of about nine miles we reached a place called Báta, half
deserted, and surrounded by a clay wall, in a very decayed state.
Nevertheless, the few cottages that remained, simple and unpretending
though they were, testified to some degree of industry and cleanliness.
Of hospitality, however, we received no proof; and the authority of the
Míyará Ýsuf seemed to be nought indeed, these poor people affirming,
with some show of reason, that as the ruler did not protect them against
the unjust exactions of their neighbours, they need not respect his
commands. There was, therefore, little necessity for the servant of the
sultan accompanying me any further, for if they did not respect his
orders here, they would certainly not do so further on.
[Sidenote: Wednesday, March 17th.]
We continued our march alone. On the east side of the town a little
cultivation was to be seen, the country here being very swampy, and
inundated during the rainy season. It is covered with a dense jungle;
and wild beasts are in great numbers. Water is close under the surface
of the ground, and the well that we passed near a Shúwa village was only
three fathoms deep. Near the village of Atmarchári, which we left on our
right, there were traces of cultivation, trees being cut down and the
ground cleared to make room for corn-fields; the village is inhabited by
Kanúri people. Soon after, the forest became denser than before,
climbing plants running up the trees, and hanging down in festoons from
the branches. Here it was that I first saw the footprints of the
rhinoceros, an animal which is unheard of in all the western parts of
Negroland. The people of this part of Logón call the animal “bírní,” the
name usual in Bagírmi, while the real name in the language of the
country is “ngirmé.” The Kanúri call it “kárgadán,” or “bárkaján”—the
very name mentioned already by El Edrísi.[37] It is greatly feared by
the inhabitants, who sometimes encounter these ferocious animals on the
narrow footpaths which wind through the thick forests of their country.
I had gone on a little in advance, when suddenly I beheld, through the
branches of the trees, the splendid sheet of a large river, far larger
than that of Logón. All was silence! and the pellucid surface of the
water undisturbed by the slightest breeze; no vestiges of human or
animal life were to be seen, with the exception of two riverhorses
(called “niyé” by the people of Logón), which, having been basking in
the sun on the shore, plunged into the water at our approach. This,
then, was the real Shárí, that is to say the great river of the Kótokó
(for Shárí, as I have said before, means nothing else but river), which,
augmented by the smaller but very considerable river of Logón, forms
that large basin which gives to this part of Negroland its
characteristic feature. The river at this spot runs from S. 30° W. to N.
30° E., but its general course is rather winding, coming further upwards
from the south, and beyond forming a reach from E. 38° N.
The shore, where I stood enjoying the tranquil but beautiful scenery, is
closely approached by the forest, and has an elevation of about fifteen
feet. No human habitation was to be seen, with the exception of a small
village on the other side. The surface of the water was undisturbed,
except now and then by a fish leaping up; no waterfowl enlivened the
banks; not a single boat was to be seen, till at length we observed the
ferrymen on the opposite shore, where it formed a flat and sandy beach,
making us a sign that we were to proceed a little higher up the river,
in order not to miss the landing-place when carried down by the current.
We therefore went about 800 yards further up; and I made myself
comfortable under the shade of a tree, awaiting the boat, and indulging
in the thought that I was soon to enter a new country, never before
trodden by European foot.
At length the boat came; but the ferrymen, as soon as they saw who we
were, behaved in a strange and mysterious manner, and told us that they
could not take us across the river before they had informed their
master. However uncommon such a precaution seemed to be, I had as yet no
idea of the real state of affairs. We therefore sat down patiently to
await the answer, which we thought a mere matter of form. The atmosphere
was very sultry, and the sky overcast; clouds were hanging over the
river, as forerunners of the rainy season. In order to keep off the
deadly stings of the blood-flies from our horses, we made a large fire.
The sting of this fly is almost as fatal as that of the “tsetse” in the
southern parts of this continent; and many travellers lose all their
horses on the shore of this river.
I was suddenly aroused from my tranquil repose by the arrival of a
numerous troop of pilgrims on their way to Mekka; all of them belonged
to the tribe of the Fúlbe or Felláta, mostly from the western parts of
Negroland, and some from Góttokó, the little-known country between
Bámbara and Kong. Amongst them were also the people who had accompanied
me on my journey to Ádamáwa, and whom I had again met a second time near
the town of Logón. I made them a present of needles, in order to assist
them in their praiseworthy undertaking. While we were chatting together,
the boatmen returned, bringing with them the astounding answer that the
chief of the village, Ásu, would not allow me to cross the river.
We could at first scarcely imagine what was the reason of this
unforeseen obstacle, when the boatmen informed us that Háj Áhmed, the
head man of those Bagírmi people whom I have mentioned as returning from
Kúkawa to their native country, had assured them that I was a most
dangerous person, and that the vizier of Bórnu himself had told them
there was great danger that, if I should enter the country of Bagírmi in
the absence of the sultan, I might upset his throne, and ruin his
kingdom. As there were some of the chief men of the village in the boat,
we used every means to convince them of the absurdity of such calumnies;
but all was in vain, and it became evident that we should certainly not
be allowed to cross the river at this spot.
For a moment I hesitated whether I should retrace my steps to Logón
bírni, there to await the return of a messenger whom I might send to the
sultan of Bagírmi, or whether I should try my fortune at some other
point of the river. I could not well perceive from whence the obstacle
proceeded; whether it was really the vizier of Bórnu who was the cause
of these intrigues, as he knew that it was my earnest desire, if
possible, to penetrate into Wádáy; or whether it was the Sultan of
Logón, who, by compelling me in this way to retrace my steps, might
think to persuade me to stay longer in his company. The Bagírmi man, I
had, as far as I knew, never offended in my life—on the contrary, in the
town of Logón I had treated his whole troop, and given besides some
small presents to himself; but he might have been jealous of me, seeing
that the sultan of Logón honoured me in so remarkable a manner. He had
been to Kúkawa, in order to purchase there some articles of manufacture
which were not to be had in Bagírmi, and which he hoped to sell to
advantage to the sultan of his country. Perhaps he thought that I was
also a merchant, and might spoil his market. Considering therefore all
these points, I at length decided upon trying to cross the river at
another place.
Having in consequence retraced our steps a little more than two miles,
along the path we had come, in order to make the people believe that we
were returning to Logón, we turned off from our track to the northward,
and winding along in a north-easterly direction, at times through a
dense forest, at others, passing small villages or hamlets, where
scarcely any corn was cultivated, though cotton was grown to some
extent, and evidently employed the activity of the inhabitants in
weaving and dyeing, we reached the larger village Búgarí. Here the
inhabitants, who, like those of most of the villages hereabouts, belong
to the Kanúri race, received us with great kindness and hospitality, and
without delay assigned us quarters in a large courtyard. My companions
told the people that we had missed the direct road to Mélé, and tried
even to pass me off as a “sheríf;” but unfortunately there was a person
who had seen me at the ferry of Ásu, so that the hope of crossing the
river at some other place without further obstacle was not very great.
Nevertheless, I was resolved to try every means in my power in order not
to miss the opportunity of exploring a new country; and for a dóra, or
small shirt, I was promised by the “bíllama” of the village a guide, who
early the next morning should conduct me to the ferry of Mélé.
[Sidenote: Thursday, March 18th.]
Before daybreak we began our stealthy enterprise, and entered the woods,
led on by a tall, well-made, muscular, and half-naked lad, well armed
with bow and battle-axe. Passing through a district where, besides
cotton, a great deal of native corn was cultivated, all belonging to the
inhabitants of the village where we had passed the night, and following
our narrow unbeaten footpath, we at length emerged upon the direct well-
trodden track which leads straight from Logón to Mélé, although it is
very winding. At first underwood was greatly intermixed with dúm-bush or
ngílle; but after a while the aspect of the country suddenly changed,
the lower ground on our left expanding in fine meadow lands interspersed
with pools of stagnant water, the deposit of the last year’s inundation,
while on our right we had the site of a former town, called Yesínekí,
densely overgrown with forest.
Here we came again in sight of that fine river which forms the western
boundary of the kingdom of Bagírmi, and which intriguing men wished to
prevent me from crossing. The slope of the bank is here broken, forming
a small terrace before it descends to the edge of the water, the upper
slope being at present covered with a green turf, while the lower one,
which rose fifteen feet above the surface of the river, consists of
loose sand. Here again we disturbed some crocodiles which had been
quietly basking in the sun, and lost no time in making signs to the
ferrymen opposite, that we wished to cross, while I hastened to the rear
of the rushes growing on the shore to make a slight sketch of the
interesting scenery of the river, with the village on the other side. We
were delighted when, after a short delay, we saw a boat leaving the
village, going round the sandbank which stretched out in the middle of
the river, and coming towards us. All our success now depended on a few
minutes; and as soon as the ferrymen touched the shore we satisfied
their claims, and entered the boat, which was large and commodious.
[Illustration: Drawn by J. M. Bernatz, from a Sketch by Dr. Barth.
M. & N. Hanhart, lith. et impt.
THE SHÁRY AT MÉLÉ.
March 18th 1852.]
It was with very satisfactory feelings, although mingled with some
degree of uneasiness, that I found myself floating on this noble river,
which was here certainly not less than 600 yards across. The sandbank is
a little nearer to the eastern shore, and the whole current (“ngáda” in
Kanúri, “ámma-wá” in Lógone) keeps along that side, while on the western
shore the river sweeps slowly along, and in general appears not to be
very deep. In the channel, the poles of the ferrymen indicated a depth
of fifteen feet. Our camel, horses, and bullock had to cross the river
by swimming alongside the boat, till we reached the northern end of the
sandbank, when they walked along the sandy beach; the sandbank being at
present about 250 yards in length. The current between the sandbank and
the eastern shore was very strong, and the water deep, though
fortunately the distance was only about 200 yards.
Having crossed this imposing stream, we entered the small harbour of
Mélé, and as soon as we reached the shore were saluted by a “chiróma,”
or squirrel, which, running about freely, and wagging its tail, seemed
to offer a good omen for a happy arrival in this country. The
inhabitants also, who were employed in various ways at a small wharf
used for building the common craft of the river, received us in a
friendly way, more especially as I made a small present to a sort of
official personage who has the title of “Kashélla,” and added a few
needles in addition to the fare paid to the boatmen. I was agreeably
struck by the fine figures of the females, their comely appearance and
very becoming head-dress distinguishing them most advantageously, not
only from the Kanúri, but even from the people of Logón.
Having here spent a few minutes re-loading our camel and exchanging
compliments, we hastened on, ascending the higher bank, which here rises
to about twenty-five feet, and leaving the village to the left, close to
the steep slope overhanging the river. But we had only proceeded about a
mile, delighted at the idea that, notwithstanding the obstacles thrown
in our way, we had succeeded in entering this country, when we saw a
person advancing towards us, whom my horseman recognized as a servant of
the chief of Ásu. This incident could not but fail to lessen our hopes
of success considerably. Had the chief of Ásu been more careful in
discharging his duty, and sent a messenger the evening before, or early
the same morning, I should never have entered Bagírmi.
As it was, having allowed the man to proceed on his mischievous errand,
we consulted together a moment, and thought it best to leave the path,
and strike across into the stubble-fields; for there is much cultivated
ground belonging to Mélé, which, although lying close to the river, is
more of a farming than a fishing village. New ground was being cleared.
Trees were being cut down, nothing but the trunks being left, in order
to protect the dresses of the labourers from the ants. The whole country
was well cultivated, and, being shaded by numerous trees, presented a
very interesting appearance. After about half an hour’s march across the
stubble-fields, without any direct track, we reached a well-trodden path
coming from Klésem, a considerable village lying lower down the river,
and still belonging to Kótokó, with a peculiar idiom of its own.
Following then this track, we reached a shallow watercourse of the same
nature as those mentioned on former occasions. The Bagírmi people call
them “kámané” or “gúgulí.” It was enlivened by a settlement of Shúwa
cattle-breeders of the tribe of the ʿAgaífe, and stretched out in great
length from S.S.W. to N.N.E., forming a very peculiar feature in this
part of the country; it is called “Ambusáda” or Mbusáda. Where we
crossed it the water was only a foot deep, the whole of the bottom of
the shallow bed being covered with the richest verdure.