left, with a most splendid border of beautiful trees, chiefly of the fig
kind. It was a scenery which reminded me of the Músgu country, with this
exception, that the watercourse was not so broad, and the rich foliage
of the trees was not occasionally broken and diversified by the deléb-
palm. An almost uninterrupted line of hamlets skirted this narrow strip
of verdant fertility, and now and then groups of people were seen
issuing from the thick foliage, while numerous herds of cattle were
spread over the green swampy meadow-lands, some half-immersed in the
water, and nipping off the fresh shoots of the young grass, while others
were roaming about on the dry herbage near the border. Amongst the
cattle, birds of the most beautiful plumage, and of every description
and size, were sporting and playing about: there was the gigantic
pelican dashing down occasionally from some neighbouring tree; the
maraboo (_Ciconia M._), standing like an old man, its head between its
shoulders; the large-sized azure-feathered “dédegamí,” strutting proudly
along after its prey, the plotus, with its long snake-like neck; the
white ibis, eagerly searching for its food, with various species of
ducks (geddégabú, or “dabá”), and numerous other lesser birds in larger
or smaller flights. Now and then a wild hog suddenly started forth from
the covert of the forest, accompanied by a litter of young ones, and
plunged eagerly into the water. There was here a rich and inexhaustible
field for the sportsman; but I could not think of sport, for I was
conscious that something was going on to stop my progress.
Perhaps it would have been more prudent to have gone on without
stopping; but I felt the heat of the sun very much, and, seeing that I
could not traverse the country by force, preferred resting during the
heat of the day under the shade of a fine wide-spreading ngábbore or
ngáto (fig-tree) at the side of a Shúwa village. I here endeavoured in
vain to barter a few things with the inhabitants; but, to my great
astonishment, neither milk nor anything else was to be had, though
cattle were seen grazing in every direction. But the people told me that
the great number of cattle collected together on so narrow a slip of
pasture-ground was the very reason they had so little milk. These Shúwa
people, who belong to the tribe of the Welád ʿAlí, call this shallow
water Msél el Háj ʿAlí, after the name of their principal chief.
I was quietly reclining in the cool shade, although not without some sad
forebodings, when the head man of Mélé, accompanied by seven or eight
armed Shúwa, was seen approaching. They first addressed themselves to my
horseman Gréma, who had made himself comfortable in the shade of another
tree a short distance off. Having finished their business with him, they
came to me, protesting that they could not allow me to continue my
journey, as they were compelled to wait for an order from the capital,
when I did not hesitate to declare on my part that I was willing to wait
any reasonable time, on condition of their assigning me a residence, and
the means of supplying my wants. They expressed their satisfaction at my
compliance, telling me that in case of my refusal they would have sent
all the Shúwa in the neighbourhood to harass me on the road. The head
man of Mélé then promised me that, if I would return to his village, he
would take care that I should be supplied with everything I wanted,
particularly fowls and milk.
I therefore allowed Gréma to proceed alone, in order to take my letters
to the capital, while I slowly retraced my steps. An hour and a half’s
march along a more direct path brought me back to the village where I
had first entered this country.
The position of Mélé is not without interest, situated as it is upon a
steep bank overhanging a large and beautiful navigable river, which here
changes its course from a west-easterly to a south-northerly direction;
and here I might have indulged a few days in contemplating the
interesting scenery, if my future progress had allowed me more
tranquillity. As it was, the six or seven days I passed here were spent
in rather a dull manner; for the inhabitants became very suspicious when
they observed that my favourite place was the shade of a fine tree at
the very brink of the shore, from whence I had a view over the river to
a great extent north and west. Of course there was but little
communication; and very rarely a boat was seen proceeding in either
direction. Now and then the sand-bank became enlivened by a crocodile
coming out of the water to bask in the sun, or by the frolics of the
boys of the village, who occasionally crossed over to look after their
fishing-tackle, or dry their nets. Both fish as well as crocodiles are
extremely plentiful in the river; and the meat of the latter forms a
great delicacy to the natives. But there is also in this river a very
large animal, which, I think, must be identical with the ayú of the
Bénuwé and Niger—the _Manatus Vogelii_.[38]
To the north-east the village was bordered by thick forest, which at a
little distance was traversed by the lower course of the Ambusáda, which
was here extremely rich in verdure, and full of the favourite haunts of
the hog. I here, also, observed a considerable number of monkeys. It was
during my residence in this place, likewise, that I first obtained a
clear knowledge of the nature of the Shárí, and its relation with that
of Logón, the point of junction of the two rivers being a little below
Kúsuri, at a place called Síña Fácha, while I obtained a great deal of
information—certainly not quite clear and distinct—of the towns and
principalities on the upper courses of these rivers. I also learned that
last year the river had overflowed its banks, and entered the very huts
of the natives. Nevertheless, at this spot the banks were at present
more than forty feet high.
As for the name of the river, the name which is generally given to it,
viz. Sháry or Shárí, belongs, as I have mentioned on a former occasion,
to the language of the Kótokó. The Bagírmi people call it only Bá,
distinguishing it in the various parts of its course by the names of the
different villages which are situated on its banks, as Bá-Mélé, Bá-Busó,
Bá-Gún, while the Arabs call it at this place Bahr-Mélé, and a little
higher up from the other village, Bahr-Ásu. When the whole river,
therefore, is sometimes called Ásu, the relation is quite the same as
the komádugu Wáúbe being called Yeou or Yó.
But while I was thus able to employ my time not quite unprofitably, my
comforts were not quite so good as I had been led to expect, neither
fowl nor milk being procurable, and the fresh fish of the river, which I
was occasionally able to procure for a handsome present, not agreeing
with the weak state of my stomach; although it was excellent and very
palatable. There is a small market held at a village about five miles
distant, of the name of Édiye, and every Wednesday another market, a
little more important, near a village of the name of Chínge.
My impatience was augmented by the unmistakable signs of the approach of
the rainy season, while the numbers of mosquitoes allowed me but little
rest during the night. The sky was usually overcast, and occasionally
early in the morning the whole country was enveloped in a dense fog.
Though rather cool in the morning, the weather became sultry towards the
middle of the day, and heavy squalls of wind sometimes set in in the
afternoon. I would willingly have shared the company of the sultan in
the expedition, although the news which arrived from the camp was not
altogether of a satisfactory character. The pagan inhabitants of Gógomí,
against whom he was waging war, were reported to have descended from
their mountain strongholds, and to have slain a considerable number of
his people, and amongst them a well-known Arab from Morocco, who
accompanied him on this expedition.
[Sidenote: Thursday, March 25th.]
It was about noon, when to my great delight my trooper Gréma ʿAbdú
returned from his errand. He was accompanied by two attendants of the
Zérma, or rather Kadamánge, the lieutenant-governor whom the sultan had
left during his absence in command of the capital. I was disappointed,
however, in my expectation that I should now be allowed, without further
delay, to reach the capital myself, for the messengers produced a
document provided with a large black seal, to the effect that I was to
await the answer of the sultan in Búgomán, a place higher up the river,
the inhabitants of which, together with those of a neighbouring town,
called Mískin, were to provide me with fresh fish and milk during my
stay there. Although anxious to join the sultan himself, I had nothing
to object to such an arrangement, and was glad to move on, if it were
only a little. Our path on leaving the village kept along the steep
north-easterly bank of the river, which here separates into two
branches, of which the eastern one has more the nature of a creek. The
island thus formed was thickly wooded, and with the exception of a small
hamlet of fishermen, seemed to be left entirely to the possession of
wild animals; for while we clearly distinguished a flock of about a
dozen large antelopes of the species called “mohor,” or “hímraye”
(_Antilope Soemmeringii_), we were not a little surprised at seeing a
string of not less than twenty-two crocodiles all lying quietly on their
backs on the sandy beach, and basking in the sun. None of them, however,
were remarkable for their size, the largest measuring apparently from
twelve to fifteen feet.
Our march was rather short, my companions taking up quarters for us in
the small village called Límshi, situated two miles and a half higher up
the river, or rather creek.
Here there was a tolerable degree of activity, and several boats were
lying near the banks. Having just before observed such numbers of
crocodiles, I was not a little astonished at seeing the women, who were
fetching water, bathing without apprehension in the river. The island
opposite, at this spot also, was densely covered with wood, but a little
higher up there is a village of the name of Ódiyó. Our reception in the
village was very inhospitable, and gave me a bad idea of the authority
of the lieutenant-governor, under whose protection I was travelling.
[Sidenote: Friday, March 26th.]
Our march for the first mile and a half led through stubble fields,
after which we entered a dense forest filled with numerous creeping
plants, but otherwise of a rather uniform character; awaiting the
reviving power of the rainy season. The shallow watercourse Mbusáda, or
Msél el Háj ʿAlí, was all the time close on our left, till we crossed
it, at a distance of about five miles. We then pursued our march through
cultivated grounds, where, besides millet, a little cotton also was
raised, at other times proceeding through clearer forest, and soon
reached the village Mustafají, which was the native place of the wife of
my escort Gréma ʿAbdú.
Here we were quartered without delay; but the huts were not remarkable
either for their size or architecture, consisting entirely of thatch and
reed, the lower part being only slightly touched with clay, and during
the hot hours of the day the heat of them was really suffocating. The
inhabitants are all Kanúri, who, having emigrated from Bórnu during the
time of the decay of that empire, have settled here as well as in other
parts of Bagírmi, where they have introduced the little civilization
which at present is seen, especially weaving and dyeing, which is here
carried on to a considerable extent. The Shárí or Bá, in a direct line,
is only about seven miles distant towards the west, and the inundation
even approaches the very village by means of the shallow depressions and
watercourses which intersect the country. A great extent of ground was
under cultivation.
The inhabitants of the village behaved very hospitably, and my
horseman’s father-in-law, a very jovial and decent looking man, made me
a present of a fat sheep. The only difficulty was the water, the well,
notwithstanding its depth of fifteen fathoms, containing only a very
small supply. Scarcity of water seems, indeed, to be one of the great
disadvantages of Bagírmi.
We remained here the whole of the forenoon of the following day, and did
not start until half-past two in the afternoon. The country which we
traversed was well inhabited, and a good deal of cotton was to be seen;
and it was here that I first beheld it cultivated in ridges and furrows,
a manner of culture which, I think, is constantly adhered to in America
as well as in India, but in Negroland very rarely; the cotton plants
growing on the ridges, but being at present quite bare of leaves. All
the cotton plantations which I had seen previously in Negroland were
left to themselves, and were rather in a wild state; but here they
seemed to be well kept and taken care of. At a village called Mútkomí my
attention was drawn to the great numbers of asses; here the ground was
full of the holes of the fének or _Megalotis_, called by the native
Shúwa population “bú hassén.”
Further on, a firm and dry clay soil succeeded. Having then passed a
large village of the name of Búgarí, we took up our quarters a little
before sunset in a village called Matuwárí, which belongs to a wealthy
and learned man called Legári Bú-Músa, and were very hospitably
received. These people were also Kanúri, and I was delighted to observe
some signs of industry in the shape of a small dyeing place, which
contained two pits.
[Sidenote: March 28th.]
At an early hour we pursued our march, approaching the town of Búgomán,
where I was to await further orders from the sultan. The country
exhibited signs of considerable cultivation, and numerous farming
hamlets, called “yówëó” by the Bagírmi people, were spread about; at
present, however, they were tenantless, being only inhabited during the
rainy season by the “field hands,” as an American would say.
After a march of about four miles, and having passed a swampy meadow
ground with numerous traces of the rhinoceros, we again stood on the
banks of the great river of Bagírmi, the Shárí or Bá, which here, where
at present it formed a wide flat sandy beach[39], at first sight seemed
very inconsiderable, compared with that noble character which it had
exhibited lower down, so that I almost supposed it to be nothing but a
branch of the principal river, although my people repeatedly assured me
this was not the case; that small branch which higher up, a little above
the town of Míltu, separates from it, passing by Busó and Báchikám, a
few miles to the south of Máseñá, having just rejoined it near the town
of Mískin, of which the taller trees, if not the houses, were visible
from hence. The river here forms a long reach from south to north, but
higher up, beyond Mískin, comes from S.S.E. The bank on this side was
very low, which is the reason that the river during the inundation
spreads over a greater extent of country. The ground shelves very
gradually, and the river seemed shallow at a considerable distance from
the beach, but its depth on the other side may be the more considerable,
the opposite bank on which the town of Búgomán stands being rather
steep.
The town, seen from this distance, seemed to be rather in a state of
decay,—at least as regarded the wall; but it was pleasantly adorned with
a variety of trees, among which deléb- and dúm-palms were the most
conspicuous. It was market-day, and in the cool of the morning numbers
of people were collected on the south-eastern beach, where we had
arrived, awaiting the return of the ferry-boats: so that altogether it
exhibited quite an interesting scene. But gradually the bustle subsided,
and the heat of the sun on the sandy beach became almost insupportable;
for, notwithstanding my warning, we had left the green border of trees
and herbage far behind us, and had advanced along the broad sandy beach,
which at present was dry, to the very edge of the water. My escort,
together with the two servants of Zérma, had gone into the town to
announce my arrival, and to inform the head man of the order of the
lieutenant-governor, that I was to await here the commands of the
sultan: but no answer came. In vain did I endeavour to protect myself
from the burning rays of the sun by forming a temporary shelter of my
carpet; for the sun in these climes is never more severe than just
before the setting-in of the rainy season, and we had generally at two
o’clock between 106° and 110°. As noon passed by, I grew impatient,
especially as I had nothing to eat, there being no firewood, even for
cooking a very simple dinner.
At length, a little before three o’clock, my messengers returned, and
their countenances indicated that they were not the bearers of
satisfactory news. The governor of Búgomán refused obedience to the
direct order of his lord the sultan of Bagírmi, and declined receiving
me into the town. Nothing was left but to retrace our steps to the
village Matuwárí, where we had been so hospitably entertained. Dragging
therefore behind us the sheep which we had not yet been able to
slaughter, we returned by the same road we had come.
Here we remained the following morning, and I had sufficient time to
reflect on my condition in this country. There could not be the least
doubt that the greater part of the inhabitants were unfavourably
inclined towards the stranger; and I was persuaded that the best course
for me to pursue would be to return to Logón, and there quietly await
the answer of the sultan; but my companions were not of my opinion, and
assured me I was not at liberty to leave the country after I had once
entered it. It was therefore decided that we should proceed in the
direction of the capital, and make our further proceedings dependent
upon circumstances. The reason we did not start at once was because my
companions wanted to pass the extensive forest which lay before us in
the night-time, as there was no water for a whole day’s march, and our
people were unprovided with water-skins.
In order to employ my leisure time, I took a walk to Búgarí, the village
above mentioned, it being market-day; and I was glad, considering the
little civilization which is to be met with in these regions, to find a
good deal of traffic going on in the market. There were about twenty
head of cattle, between sixty and eighty sheep, and about a dozen asses
to be sold; there were, moreover, a good assortment of black and white
tobes, a tolerable supply of butter and honey, besides millet, beans,
and ground-nuts; the latter, especially, were very plentiful, and bore
ample testimony to the fact, that in these regions, also, this valuable
article of commerce grows in great quantities, and forms a considerable
portion of the diet of the natives; but as for cotton, the supply was
rather limited.
The staple commodity of the market were tobes, half-tobes, and single
strips of cotton, or fárda, about three inches wide, and from three to
four drʿa in length. Unfortunately, I was destitute of this kind of
money, the people rejecting with contempt those miserable little shirts,
or dóra, which I had brought with me from Bórnu; so that,
notwithstanding the good supply of the market, I might have remained
unprovided. I however succeeded in buying a few fárda for some needles,
paying four needles for each fárda. I bought also a little butter for
some beads.
The whole of this district is very scantily supplied with water; and the
well in Matuwárí, which is only two fathoms and a half deep, contained
very little. The wells in Búgarí were three fathoms deep, but were no
better supplied. Of course, by digging to a greater depth, and
constructing the wells in a proper way, the people might secure a
sufficient supply; but they prefer walking every day to a far distant
village for a little water rather than employ a few weeks industriously
in making a durable well.
After a cordial parting from the male and female inhabitants of the
village, we started about three o’clock in the afternoon; and with the
exception of a short halt, about sunset, in a small hamlet called “Búru-
nyígo,” or “hyænas’ den,” we continued our march without interruption
till past eleven o’clock at night. The village just mentioned lies at
the border of the wilderness; and here we had not only to water our
horses and to lay in a supply of water for ourselves, but I had also to
give medicine to some people who had followed me all the way from
Búgarí.
Having rested for a little more than five hours in the midst of a
forest, without being molested by man or beast, we continued our march
through the dense jungle full of trees and thick underwood, while larger
trees became more and more scanty. Gradually the forest became clearer,
and flocks of turtle-doves seemed to indicate that there was water in
the neighbourhood, although such a conclusion drawn from the presence of
this bird is sometimes liable to error.
After the rainy season the character presented by this forest must be
very different, and a little further on, evident signs of former
cultivation began to be visible, even of sesamum (“márrashi,” as the
Kanúri, “kárru,” as the Bagírmi people call it), as was evident from the
deep furrows which intersected the ground. The inhabitants of two or
three small hamlets dragged on a miserable existence even during the
drought which at present prevailed; and we met a large body of women and
children, who preferred fetching every night and morning their supply of
this most essential element from a distance of several miles rather than
desert their native village.
Having passed another hamlet, likewise destitute of water, and left
several villages at a greater distance surrounded by a tract of
cultivated ground, we at length reached the longed-for El Dorado where
water was to be found; and, as may be presumed, there was a great bustle
round the well, which had to supply the whole thirsty neighbourhood.
Numbers of people, camels, and asses were thronging around, longing for
the moment when they might come in for their share; and as the well was
ten fathoms deep, a considerable time would necessarily elapse before
they were all supplied. Being saluted in a friendly way by the people, I
pitched my tent in the shade of a large chédia or caoutchouc-tree,
which, however, was very scanty, as the young leaves had not come out,
and afforded very little relief from the heat of the sun.
Here it was for the first time that I tasted a dish of sesamum, which
was prepared in the same manner as millet, in the form of a large hasty
pudding, but, being insufficiently seasoned by the common African sauce
of the leaves of the kúka or monkey-bread tree, did not appear to me to
be a very dainty dish. The village, the name of which is Mókorí, had a
comfortable appearance; and the pounding of indigo in the dyeing-pits
went on without interruption, even during the heat of the day. Some
Fúlbe or Felláta shepherds live in the neighbourhood; and I was
fortunate enough to barter a little butter for glass beads, as well as a
small supply of rice—that is to say, wild rice, for rice is not
cultivated here, but only gathered in the jungles from what the elephant
and rhinoceros have left. Altogether I might have been very comfortable,
if my uncertain situation in the country had not caused me some anxiety.
When we pursued our march in the afternoon, our road lay through a
fertile country, where the cultivation was divided between millet and
sesamum, till we reached the first group of the village of Bákadá, which
consists of four distinct hamlets. Here my companions wanted to procure
quarters for me; but fortunately the head man of the village refused
them admittance, so that they were obliged to seek for hospitality in
another hamlet, and it was my good luck to obtain quarters in the house
of a man who forms one of the most pleasing recollections of my journey.
This was Háj Bú-Bakr Sadík, a spare old man, of very amiable
temperament, to whom I became indebted for a great deal of kindness and
valuable information.
While I pitched my tent in his small courtyard, he was sitting close by,
and was informing me in very good Arabic, that he had thrice made the
pilgrimage to Mekka, and seen the great ships of the Christians on the
Sea of Jedda. He remembered minutely all the different localities which
he had visited in the course of his long wanderings.
Delighted that by chance I had fallen in with such a man, I sent away
the next morning my horseman Gréma ʿAbdú, and the two messengers, to the
capital, in order to inform the lieutenant-governor that the chief of
Búgomán had refused obedience to his direct order and denied me
admittance into the town, and to ask him what was to become of me now.
Sending him at the same time a present, I begged him urgently to allow
me either to enter the capital or to retrace my steps to Bórnu. Gréma
promised me that he would return the next morning with a decisive
answer. However, he did not keep his promise, but remained absent full
seven days, although the distance from the capital was only about ten
miles. It was therefore very fortunate that I had the company of Bú-Bakr
Sadík, for no other person would have been able to give me such an
insight into the character and the history of these regions as this man.