characteristic peppery smell, and clumps of hamal, or bitter melon, with
their dried-up fruits; then, a little further on, a few stunted and
scattered talhas, a sort of acacia. At noon I got back at last to the
bivouac where my secretary was waiting for me. For five days, since the
departure for Borkou of Lieut. Fouché’s detachment, he had been left
alone with seven soldiers and seven camel-drivers to guard the supplies
and the reserve camels. And when I asked him whether the Toubous had not
worried him during that spell of isolation, he showed me his zeriba,
well organized for defence, with cartridge-boxes ready opened, and
replied sadly, “No such luck.”
To console him for his long inactivity I put him in charge of a patrol
sent against Youdou, a palm plantation still held by rebels, and of
which the site was not known; but he had not the good fortune of coming
to grips with them, for the alarm was given by their sentries, and they
drew off northwards into a rocky country where we should have had much
difficulty and lost a great deal of time in pursuing them. None the
less, this rush of 80 miles in less than forty hours across the awkward
country of the Tarso Koussi foothills achieved its purpose of forcing
the rebels to withdraw and fixing the site of Youdou with the desired
precision.
_Western Tibesti._—Thus the most important part of my geographical and
military programme in the Tibesti was carried to an end; at no point had
the Toubous offered a serious resistance to our march, in spite of the
magnificent defensive positions their country afforded them. The most
unruly among them had fled away to the north-east, more anxious to get
to a safe distance than to carry out their aggressive schemes against
our convoys of supplies; the rest, beaten off at every encounter, had
let us explore their wild valleys without subjecting us to any
surprises, whether in the shape of ambuscades or of the capture of
camels in grazing-time. Lastly, the general physiognomy of the Tibestian
massif was revealed with sufficient clearness by my various
observations, and its real position determined with all desirable
precision. It only remained, before returning to Borkou, to explore the
valleys of the western slope, and try to form a junction with the camel
corps of Zouar.
I accordingly set out for Tottous, an important water point 70 miles
further west, in the Wadi Domar where it comes out of the last foothills
of the Tibesti. The distance was covered in four days with little
trouble by following the lower valley of the Wad Miski, of which I was
thus enabled to cross in succession all the tributaries on the right
bank, till then unknown. The officer in command of the Zouar camel
corps, having been informed after my visit to Bardai that I was desirous
of seeing him, came to meet me, and we reached Tottous on the same day.
He was accompanied by the chief of the Tomagras, the noblest tribe among
the Têda-tous, the aged Guetty, who had made his submission to the
French authorities a few months earlier. Guetty was a handsome old man
with a white beard and a skin less dark than usual. He was tall and
regular featured, but his keen sly face inspired me with no great
confidence; he was suspected of double-dealing, and of supplying the
rebels with fuller information about our movements than us about theirs.
During two days we had long conversations about the restitution to their
families of the women and children that his fellow-tribesmen had carried
off in 1913 in the course of a razzia on an Arab tribe of Kanem; but the
old rascal either could not or would not fall in with my wishes,
declaring truly or falsely that the luckless captives had been sold as
slaves and sent away for the most part to the Senoussists of Cyrenaica.
_The Return Journey to Borkou._—The exhaustion of my camels had reached
such a point that I had to stay five days in the grazing-grounds of
Tottous. I profited by the delay to explore the course of the Wadi Domar
for about a score of miles in company of the Zouar camel corps, who were
going back to their station. My food supplies, which had not been
renewed for two months, were coming to an end, and I could not further
prolong my excursions in the valleys of Tibesti. Besides, the greater
part of the rebels had concentrated in the region of Abo, at the north-
western end of the massif, twelve whole days’ march away from Tottous.
Starting on November 4 for Faya, by a route hitherto unreconnoitred, we
covered 120 miles of desert in six days before reaching the oasis of
Kirdimi, near Ain Galakka, by the last and utmost effort our camels were
capable of. On November 12 at nightfall I found myself back in my post
of Faya, whose stout clay huts seemed to me for a whole week afterwards,
if not absolutely the last word, at least the last word but one of
comfort and civilization in the heart of the Sahara.
=8. Military Operations in 1916-1917.=
This exploration of Tibesti marked the end of the long journeys that had
been indispensable to the acquisition of a general knowledge of the vast
desert regions placed under my authority. The calculation of my numerous
observations, the making of general maps, the setting in order of my
notes of travel, and the writing of reports to be sent to the Government
occupied all my leisure in 1916. There was not much of it, by the way,
for distant effects of the world-war were already beginning to be felt
in Africa. The Grand Senoussi, Ahmed Sherif, was lending a more and more
willing ear to the suggestions of Nouri Bey’s Turco-German mission, and
sending one emissary after another to preach revolt to the different
sultans responsible to the French and British authorities; his
exhortations were particularly well received in Dar Four and in the
south of Wadai, where the English Colonel Kelly and the French Colonel
Hilaire had to do some serious fighting before they could restore order.
In the desert country I had charge of, the unrest had become almost
general among the nomads, and my camel-corp patrols had hard work to
maintain the regularity of our communications: there were rumours of a
great expedition of Germans, Turks, and Senoussists, with cannon,
machine-guns, and five thousand fighting troops, which was said to be
forming at Koufra to cross the Libyan desert and drive the French from
Borkou, Tibesti, and Ennedi. We made superb defensive preparations, but
no expeditionary force from Koufra ever came; what did come to reinforce
the rebels were brigands and highway robbers who made the roads unsafe,
and whom we had to pursue in all directions more or less. Among the most
remarkable of the expeditions of this period two deserve special
mention: they were led by Adjutant Amboroko, an old black non-
commissioned officer whose energy, courage, and high spirit won
universal admiration.
Having received orders to go in pursuit of a strong party of Toubous
commanded by Mohammed Erbeimi, a particularly dangerous leader of
raiders who had just made a successful foray in British territory, he
began by covering 130 miles in three days. Then for four days he
patrolled the neighbourhood of Tekro without being able to find any
trace of his enemy. He learnt, however, that Mohammed Erbeimi was
encamped 130 miles further east, and again covering that distance in
three days, he reached the well of Bini Erdi only to find that the band
had decamped two days earlier, following in the opposite direction a
route nearly parallel to that by which he had come. Allowing his
detachment just time enough to water their camels and fill their skin-
bottles, he set out again at once, following the tracks of the raiders
and forcing the pace! The pursuit, hotter and hotter as the trail of the
rebels grew fresher, lasted fifty-one hours, two of which only were
allowed for rest, and he came into contact with the rebels at dead of
night. Unluckily, the barking of their dogs gave the alarm to the enemy
at the last moment. Our men leapt down from their camels and made a
sharp and sudden attack on the Toubous, who had not time to organize
their defence and fled headlong into the neighbouring rocks, leaving on
the ground four killed, all their camels, and the prisoners they had
taken in Dar Four.
Some time afterwards Mohammed Erbeimi made an attempt to get his
revenge. Reinforced by a contingent of Senoussists from Koufra, he
organized a flying column a hundred rifles strong and flung it by a
rapid march on our lines of communication between Borkou and Wadai,
where our last supplies of the year were on their way. Thanks to the
treachery of a Nakazza chief, he was able at daybreak to surprise one of
our convoys on the march. Though the escort counted only fifteen rifles
under a black sergeant, our black troops offered a bold front; but,
overpowered by numbers and deserted by the camel-drivers, all they could
do was to save their honour and fall in their tracks. That took place
150 miles south of Faya, in the desert of Mortcha. Now, it so happened
that Adjutant Amboroko, with a force of seventy-five rifles, had been
patrolling for two days in that same desert, on the look-out for
Mohammed Erbeimi’s raiding party, my spies having notified me, albeit
rather late, of its appearance on the scene. He was not able to get on
its tracks till sixteen hours after the wiping-out of the convoy escort,
when he set off at once in pursuit. Two hours later he came upon it by
surprise and routed it in a few minutes by a vigorous bayonet-charge;
the enemy, taken completely off his guard, abandoned his booty and a
certain number of dead, and made off hastily eastwards. Amboroko, an old
hand at desert fighting, thereupon judged it expedient to let the
Toubous get a few miles’ start, and so lead them to think that he held
himself satisfied by the recapture of our supplies of cereals and of our
camels, and was going to take back the camels at once to Faya. He
calculated that as soon as the first spell of panic was over the rebels
would get together to discuss the advisability of a counter-attack. His
forecast turned out correct. Resuming the pursuit under cover of night,
he again came in sight of the raiding-party towards three in the
morning, in regular order once more, and holding a palaver round the
bivouac fires. Closing in to short range he poured in a rapid fire,
immediately followed by a bayonet-charge that laid out a dozen Toubous,
while the rest in utter panic fled at top speed in all directions, some
on foot, others hanging on to the tails of their camels that made off at
full gallop without leaving time for their riders to get astride. The
hunt went on till noon, and supplied us with a few prisoners who gave
the most precise details of the treachery of the Nakazza chief; after
which Amboroko retraced his steps to take in charge the convoy of
supplies and bring it into Faya. But he was of opinion that our brave
soldiers fallen the day before were not sufficiently avenged, and
providing himself with fresh camels he set out at once in pursuit,
seeking all across the desert the tracks of those who had escaped his
two counter-attacks. Going further and further afield, he found himself
finally 300 miles to the eastward among the rocks of Erdi, where the
families of Mohammed Erbeimi’s Toubous were in hiding, and engaged in
two fights with them which cost the rebels some thirty killed; but the
old chief unluckily succeeded once more in bringing his head safely out
of the business.
Early in 1917 the revolt might be considered as crushed. The tribes had
begun to discuss terms of submission, all except Mohammed Erbeimi’s
tribe, the remnant of which had taken refuge in the massif of Ouri 300
miles north-east of Faya, and was not in a condition to do any harm for
a certain time.
=9. Homeward Journey.=
Then I saw my interminable sojourn in the desert brought to an end by
the person of Captain Gauckler, an experienced commander of camel-corps,
who had seen most of his service in the African colonies, and was come
from the French front to replace me in Borkou. Thus my turn on the
Western Front was to come early enough to enable me to share in the
gigantic battle that could be foreseen, from the hour when Russia fell
out of the fight, as imminent and decisive. The French Government having
replied favourably to my request for permission to return to France by
way of Egypt, this return journey would allow me to effect the geodetic
and topographical liaison between Borkou and Dar Four—in other words, to
accomplish the last part of the geographical programme that toward the
end of the last century I had set myself to carry out.
_From Borkou to Wadai._—I left the oasis of Faya on 25 April 1917 in an
east-south-easterly direction, skirting the foot of the western spurs of
the high tablelands of Ennedi. In ten days I reached the post of Fada,
where Captain Châteauvieux presented to me the chiefs Gaëdas and
Mourdias, whom two long years of incessant struggles had constrained to
submit; we discussed and settled in concert the conditions on which the
“aman” should be granted them. After which, turning my back on the
picturesque rocks of Ennedi, I went on my way towards the south-west,
across the desert of Mortcha, to reach the wells of Oum Chalouba. These
wells, situated in the Wadi Hachim, belong to the Nakazzas, one of the
principal Toubou tribes of Borkou, who are masters, under our control,
of the oasis surrounding the post of Fada, but whose submission to our
authority did not prevent them from entertaining with our enemies
relations as cordial as they were clandestine, that gave us endless
trouble. The judgment-seat of the native court over which I presided was
heaped high with complaints and claims for damages against their chiefs,
Allatchi and Djimmi. Their low cunning and double-dealing exasperated
me; but since my return to Europe it has become evident to me that, like
many other reputable persons, they were simply engaged in politics.
[Illustration: The author’s routes between Tibesti and the Nile]
The wells of Oum Chalouba are very important, both because of their
position at the extreme southern limit of the Sahara and because they
never run dry. Accordingly, the caravans that go and come between Wadai
and the Mediterranean by Ounianga and Koufra all pass through this
station, where, it may be added, their sojourn is usually brief owing to
the high price of food.
It is 140 miles from Oum Chalouba to Abéché, the capital of Wadai, in a
general direction from north to south, across a region of great plains
intersected by valleys running from east to west in which a few wooded
galleries bear witness to the annual passage of ephemeral torrents that
come down from the granitic hills and tablelands of Zagawa and Tama. The
summer rains are not sufficient to permit the cultivation of native
cereals, but they produce extensive and abundant pasturage, where
Mahamid tribes graze fine herds of oxen and flocks of sheep and goats.
Two military posts ensure the policing and administration of the
country: Arada, the commissariat centre of a camel-corps section, and
Biltine, where a company of black troops is garrisoned. It is in the
neighbourhood of Biltine that the first villages of the sedentary tribes
are seen, the Mimis, then the Kodois. The millet fields, small at first
and far apart, increase in size and frequency as one gets further south;
but the harvests are still uncertain, for spells of drought are by no
means rare. The year 1913 was especially fatal; the grain dried up on
the stalk, and there was such a shortage when the crops were got in that
a terrible famine spread over the whole country during the first eight
months of 1914. Many inhabitants had to emigrate southwards, and those
who had not foresight enough to flee in time, chiefly old men and
children, died of hunger in the villages they had not been willing to
leave. The number of the inhabitants of Wadai who perished thus is
estimated at more than half, some say even at more than three-quarters.
The population of Wadai, put by Nachtigal at more than two millions in
1872, had fallen to 300,000 when I went that way.
_Abéché._—At sunrise on 31 May 1917 I came in sight of Abéché, the
famous capital of the sultans who had made of Wadai one of the most
powerful Soudanese kingdoms of the nineteenth century. Seen from a
distance, it looks like a little cluster, grey and huddled, of low
houses, overtopped by a few towers with pointed roofs, and had nothing
of the handsome appearance that had impressed Nachtigal nearly fifty
years before. It was now no more than a small town of three or four
thousand people, and more than half ruined. It is true that ruins are
accumulated with extreme rapidity in Central Africa, where the finest
houses are only ill-built huts of clay kneaded and baked in the sun, and
quickly falling into dilapidation every rainy season. The plain
surrounding the town looks no better, being scantily covered with dry
grasses and little green clumps of “m’keit” which our camels browsed on
with lively satisfaction. The shrub-tribe was almost exclusively
represented by little “oshar,” whose puffy-looking fruits enclose a
silky down like “kapok”; as for the mimosa family, so abundant in the
neighbouring bush, it had well-nigh disappeared, as often happens near
the negro habitations through the wasteful use made of it as firewood.
Abéché has retained few traces of its ancient splendour. The former
palace of the sultans, kept till that time as a specimen of the
architecture of Wadai, had just been pulled down by order of the new
governor of the province. Round about it was strewn a mass of _débris_,
on which were slowly rising new buildings of a highly military style.
Only the business quarter of Am Sogou and the market-place had kept a
busy and animated aspect. Men, women, and merry black small-fry bustled
noisily to and fro, inextricably mixed up with asses, camels, dogs, and
horses. Numerous Tripolitan merchants, white-faced, wearing red fezzes
and long flowing embroidered robes, stalked gravely back and forth,
making it evident by their decorous elegance and the satisfaction
visible on their faces that, in spite of the suppression of the slave-
traffic, business remained active and prosperous.
_From Wadai to Dar Four._—I was forced, much against my will, to stay
ten long days at Abéché before continuing my journey. The road usually
followed from Abéché to El Fasher passes through Dar Massalit to
Kebkebia, along the valleys of Wadi Kadja and Wadi Barré; it is about
220 miles long and very easy, except from August to October or November,
when the summer rains fill the rivers and temporary marshes, very
numerous in this region. But since that route had been reconnoitred
formerly by Nachtigal, and very recently by Colonel Hilaire, the idea
had occurred to me of studying a more northerly route unknown throughout
two-thirds of its length, and passing through Dar Tama, Dar Guimer, and
northern Dar Four.
_Dar Tama._—This project having obtained the approbation of the
Government, I was able to leave Abéché on June 9, and plunged into a
very broken granitic region, where the rise and fall was inconsiderable,
but which was intersected by numerous wooded valleys where marching was
no very easy matter, especially at night. But I had the advantage of
passing through an inhabited tract where water was frequently to be
found, a consideration of importance for the feeding of a little group
of Zagawa women and children whom I was taking back to Dar Four after a
long and eventful sojourn in the wilderness. Captured the year before by
the same Toubou raiders whom we had to go in pursuit of, they had been
delivered by our camel-corps, and were going back to their families
under the protection of my escort. We went from village to village,
forced to change guides at every halt, and to stay long enough to listen
to the compliments with which the notabilities bade us welcome. In
addition to the compliments, they brought us water, millet, eggs, a
little milk, and sometimes a sheep or a goat. Around the villages there
were many fields of millet and sorgho, and it was not unusual to meet
with gardens, in which cotton, tobacco, and spices were the most
frequent products.
In this way we reached the plateaux of Dar Tama, averaging from 2500 to
3000 feet in altitude, where on the gently undulating surface the going
was pleasanter than on the rough slopes of the foothills leading up to
the tableland. A few lonely eminences rose here and there, the loftiest
of which, the peak of Niéré, visible for 30 miles around, reaches a
height of 4500 feet. For the first time in more than four years I saw
once again the thick-leaved tamarind trees, whose beautiful green is a
rest to the eyes, and in whose shade the traveller is glad to halt
during the hottest hours.
On June 13, after a long stage during which our successive guides had
led us in needless zigzags, we arrived at the foot of Mount Niéré, where
there is a village called Nannaoua. Here we camped in the deep shade of
two or three white acacias, less than 500 yards from the spot where in
1909 one of the brilliant contemporary explorers of Central Africa, the
regretted English Lieutenant Boyd Alexander, was assassinated. My tent
had hardly been pitched an hour when a messenger came to announce the
visit of the Sultan of Tama, who desired to present his compliments and
bid me welcome. This mark of courteous deference was all the pleasanter
from the fact that on leaving Abéché I had been put on my guard against
a possible want of cordiality during my passage through Tama. I
immediately had a mat of palm-fibre, in default of carpets, laid down at
the entrance to my tent, and advanced to meet the sultan, a handsome,
white-bearded old man with a black skin and kindly intelligent eyes; he
was dressed in the flowing robe in use throughout Central Africa, but
made of fine linen richly embroidered. He wore brown boots made in
Europe, and his careful attention to his personal appearance went the
length of socks. On his head was a red fez, round which ran a narrow
twist of white muslin, and he walked with slow and stately steps, his
left hand resting on the shoulder of one of his servants.
Our interview lasted upwards of half an hour, and was extremely cordial;
the sultan urged me to break up my camp the same afternoon in order to
go and sleep in his capital of Niéré, where he had had huts made ready
for us; but in reply I alleged the exhaustion of our camels, which were
in urgent need of grazing till evening. Besides, I had to make a stellar
observation at that particular spot in order to calculate exactly the
position and altitude of the mountain of Niéré, the most remarkable
point, geographically speaking, of the whole region. Soon afterwards I
saw the sultan was waiting for me to rise and take leave; I helped him
up and accompanied him a few steps from my tent. His servants and
dependents were waiting outside for him in the ritual attitude of the
courtiers of the ancient sultans of Central Africa, that is to say,
prostrated to the ground, their knees and elbows resting on the earth,
and their hind-quarters level with their head.
He called the chief of the village of Nannaoua to give him instructions
with a view to our comfort. The latter got up and came to listen to his
suzerain’s commands, kneeling before him with clasped hands, downcast
eyes, and devoutly attentive face. When the sultan ceased speaking, the
village chief clapped his hands several times and got up to go at once
and transmit to his subjects the orders he had just received.
Early next morning I reached the camp that had been prepared for me in
the shade of some “kournas” near the well, but the huts were so low
roofed and uncomfortable that I preferred to pitch my tent, severely
damaged as it was by four years’ wear and tear. I had to stay two days
at Niéré to wait for the arrival of four camels intended to replace the
pack-carrying oxen I had to send back to Abéché.