delélti[148],” which was but poorly supplied, only cucumbers and
molukhia (or _Corchorus olitorius_) being procurable in considerable
plenty. Passing thence to the butchers’ market, we found it very well
supplied, and giving proof that the town was not yet quite deserted,
although some strangers were just gathering for the installation of the
sultan, as well as for the celebration of the great holiday, the ʿAid el
kebír, or Salla-léja. I will only observe that this market (from its
name, “káswa-n-rákoma,” or “yóbu yoëwoëni”) seems evidently to have been
formerly the market, where full-grown camels were sold. We then went to
the third market, called Katánga, where, in a sort of hall supported by
the stems of the dúm-tree, about six or seven women were exhibiting on a
sort of frame a variety of small things, such as beads and necklaces,
sandals, small oblong tin boxes such as the Kél-owí wear for carrying
charms, small leather boxes of the shape here represented, but of all
possible sizes, from the diameter of an inch to as much as six inches.
They are very neatly made in different colours, and are used for
tobacco, perfumes, and other purposes, and are called “botta.” I saw
here also a very nice plate of copper, which I wanted to buy the next
day, but found that it was sold. A donkey-saddle, “ákomar,” and a camel-
saddle or “kíri,” were exposed for sale. The name “Katánga” serves, I
think, to explain the name by which the former (now deserted) capital of
Yóruba is generally known, I mean Katúnga, which name is given to it
only by the Háusa and other neighbouring tribes.
I then went, with Mohammed “the Foolish” and another Kél-owí, to a
shoemaker who lived in the south-western quarter of the town, and I was
greatly surprised to find here Berbers as artisans; for even if the
shoemaker was an Ámghi and not a free Amóshagh (though from his frank
and noble bearing I had reason to suspect the latter), at least he
understood scarcely a word of Háusa, and all the conversation was
carried on in Uraghíye. He and his assistants were busy in making neat
sandals; and a pair of very handsome ones, which indeed could not be
surpassed, either in neatness or in strength, by the best that are made
in Kanó, were just ready, and formed the object of a long and
unsuccessful bargaining. The following day, however, Mohammed succeeded
in obtaining them for a mithkál. My shoes formed a great object of
curiosity for these Emgédesi shoemakers; and they confessed their
inability to produce anything like them.
On returning to our quarters we met several horsemen, with whom I was
obliged to enter into a longer conversation than I liked, in the
streets. I now observed that several of them were armed with the bow and
arrow instead of the spear. Almost all the horses are dressed with the
“karaúrawa” (strings of small bells attached to their heads), which make
a great noise, and sometimes create a belief that a great host is
advancing, when there are only a few of these horsemen. The horses in
general were in indifferent condition, though of tolerable size; of
course they are ill fed in a place where grain is comparatively dear.
The rider places only his great toe in the stirrup, the rest of the foot
remaining outside.
The occurrences of the day were of so varied a nature, opening to me a
glance into an entirely new region of life, that I had ample material
for my evening’s meditation, when I lay stretched out on my mat before
the door of my dark and close room. Nor was my bodily comfort neglected,
the sultan being so kind and attentive as to send me a very palatable
dish of “finkáso,” a sort of thick pancake made of wheat, and well
buttered, which, after the unpalatable food I had had in Tintéllust,
appeared to me the greatest luxury in the world.
[Sidenote: Saturday, October 12th.]
Having thus obtained a glance into the interior of the town, I was
anxious to get a view of the whole of it, and ascending, the following
morning, the terrace of our house, obtained my object entirely, the
whole town being spread out before my eyes, with the exception of the
eastern quarter. The town is built on a level, which is only interrupted
by small hills formed of rubbish heaped up in the midst of it by the
negligence of the people. Excepting these, the line formed by the flat-
terraced houses is interrupted only by the Mesállaje (which formed my
basis for laying down the plan of the town), besides about fifty or
fifty-five dwellings raised to two stories, and by three dúm-trees and
five or six talha-trees. Our house also had been originally provided
with an upper story, or rather with a single garret—for generally the
upper story consists of nothing else; but it had yielded to time, and
only served to furnish amusement to my foolish friend Mohammed, who
never failed, when he found me on the terrace, to endeavour to throw me
down the breach. Our old close-handed friend Ánnur did not seem to care
much for the appearance of his palace in the town, and kept his wife
here on rather short allowance. By and by, as I went every day to enjoy
this panorama, I was able to make a faithful view of the western quarter
of the town as seen from hence, which will give the reader a more exact
idea of the place than any verbal description could do.
[Illustration: Drawn by J. M. Bernatz, from a Sketch by Dr. Barth.
M. & N. Hanhart, lith. et impt.
ÁGADES.
Octr. 12th. 1850.]
About noon the amanókal sent his musicians to honour me and my
companions with a performance; they were four or five in number, and
were provided with the instruments usual in Sudán, in imitation of the
Arabs. More interesting was the performance of a single “maimólo,” who
visited us after we had honourably rewarded the royal musicians, and
accompanied his play, on a three-stringed “mólo” or guitar, with an
extemporaneous song.
My companions then took me to the house of the kádhi, after having paid
a short visit to the camel-market. The kádhi, or here rather alkáli, who
lives a little south-west from the mosque, in a house entirely detached
on all sides, was sitting with the mufti in the vestibule of his
dwelling, where sentence is pronounced, and after a few compliments,
proceeded to hear the case of my companions, who had a lawsuit against a
native of the town, named Wá-n-seres, and evidently of Berber origin.
Evidence was adduced to the effect that he had sold a she-camel which
had been stolen from the Kél-owí, while he (the defendant) on his part
proved that he had bought it from a man who swore that it was not a
stolen camel. The pleas of both parties having been heard, the judge
decided in favour of Wá-n-seres. The whole transaction was carried on in
Temáshight, or rather in Uraghíye. Then came another party, and, while
their case was being heard, we went out and sat down in front of the
house, under the shade of a sort of verandah consisting of mats
supported by long stakes, after which we took leave of the kádhi, who
did not seem to relish my presence, and afterwards showed no very
friendly feelings towards me.
While my lazy companions wanted to go home, I fortunately persuaded
Mohammed, after much reluctance, to accompany me through the southern
part of the town, where, lonely and deserted as it seemed to be, it was
not prudent for me to go alone, as I might have easily got into some
difficulty. My servant Amánkay was still quite lame with the guineaworm;
and Mohammed the Tunisian shushán had reached such a pitch of insolence
when he saw me alone among a fanatical population, that I had given him
up entirely.
First, leaving the fáda to our right, we went out through the “kófa-n-
Alkáli;” for here the walls, which have been swept away entirely on the
east side of the town, have still preserved some degree of elevation,
though in many places one may easily climb over them. On issuing from
the gate I was struck with the desolate character of the country on this
side of the town, though it was enlivened by women and slaves going to
fetch water from the principal well (which is distant about half a mile
from the gate), all the water inside the town being of bad quality for
drinking. At some distance from the gate were the ruins of an extensive
suburb called Ben Gottára, half covered with sand, and presenting a very
sorry spectacle. It was my design to go round the southern part of the
town; but my companion either was, or pretended to be, too much afraid
of the Kél-geres, whose encampment lay at no great distance from the
walls. So we re-entered it, and followed the northern border of its
deserted southern quarter, where only a few houses are still inhabited.
Here I found three considerable pools of stagnant water, which had
collected in deep hollows from whence, probably, the materials for
building had been taken, though their form was a tolerably-regular oval.
They have each a separate name, the westernmost being called from the
Masráta, who have given their name to the whole western quarter as well
as to a small gate still in existence; the next southwards from the
kófa-n-Alkáli is called (in Emgedesíye) “Masráta-hogú-me,” for the three
languages—the Temáshight or Tarkíye, the Góber or Háusa language, and
the Songhay- or Sonrhay-kini—are very curiously mixed together in the
topography of this town, the natural consequence of the mixture of these
three different national elements. This mixture of languages was well
calculated to make the office of interpreter in this place very
important, and the class of such men a very numerous one.
In the Masráta pool, which is the largest of the three, two horses were
swimming, while women were busy washing clothes. The water has a strong
taste of salt, which is also the case with two of the three wells still
in use within the town. Keeping from the easternmost pool (which is
called, like the whole quarter around, Terjemáne, from the interpreters
whose dwellings were chiefly hereabout) a little more to the south-east,
I was greatly pleased at finding among the ruins in the south-eastern
quarter, between the quarters Akáfan árina and Imurdán, some very well-
built and neatly-polished houses, the walls of which were of so
excellent workmanship, that even after having been deprived of their
roofs, for many years perhaps, they had sustained scarcely any injury.
One of them was furnished with ornamented niches, and by the remains of
pipes, and the whole arrangement, bore evident traces of warm baths.
Music and song diverted us in the evening, while we rested on our mats
in the different corners of our courtyard.
[Sidenote: Sunday, October 13th.]
My Kél-owí companions regaled me with a string of dates from Fáshi, the
westernmost oasis of the Tébu or, as the Tawárek call them, Berauni. But
instead of indulging myself in this luxury, I laid it carefully aside as
a treat for my visitors, to whom I had (so small were my means at
present) neither coffee nor sugar to offer. I then accompanied my
friends once more to the Alkáli; but the litigation which was going on
being tedious, I left them, and returned quite alone through the town,
sitting down a moment with the Tawatíye, who generally met at the house
of the Emgédesi Ídder, a sort of Tawáti agent, and an intelligent man.
When I returned to our house I found there a very interesting young man
of the tribe of the Íghdalén, with a round face, very regular and
agreeable features, fine lively black eyes, and an olive complexion only
a few shades darker than that of an Italian peasant. His hair was black,
and about four inches long, standing upright, but cut away all round the
ears, which gave it a still more bristling appearance. I hoped to see
him again, but lost sight of him entirely. The Arabs call these people
Arab-Tawárek, indicating that they are a mixed race between the Arab and
Berber nation, and their complexion agrees well with this designation;
but it is remarkable that they speak a Sónghay dialect. They possess
scarcely anything except camels, and are regarded as a kind of
Merábetín.
I afterwards went to call upon our old friend Ánnur Karamí from Aghwau,
who had come to Ágades a day or two before us, and had accompanied me
also on my visit to the sultan. He lived, together with my amiable young
friend the Tinýlkum Slimán, in the upper story, or soro, of a house,
and, when I called, was very busy selling fine Egyptian sheep-leather
called kurna (which is in great request here, particularly that of a
green colour) to a number of lively females, who are the chief artisans
in leatherwork. Some of them were of tolerably good appearance, with
light complexion and regular Arab features. When the women were gone,
Ánnur treated me with fura or ghussub-water; and young Slimán, who felt
some little remorse for not having been able to withstand the charms of
the Emgédesíye coquettes, told me that he was about to marry a Ma-
Ásbenchi[149] girl, and that the wedding would be celebrated in a few
days.
As to the fura, people who eat or rather drink it, together, squat down
round the bowl, where a large spoon, the “lúdde,” sometimes very neatly
worked, goes round, everybody taking a spoonful and passing the spoon to
his neighbour. Subjoined is a drawing of this drinking-spoon as well as
of the common spoon, both of ordinary workmanship.
[Illustration]
The houses in Ágades do not possess all the convenience which one would
expect to find in houses in the North of Europe; but here, as in many
Italian towns, the principle of the “da per tutto,” which astonished
Göthe so much at Rivoli on the Lago di Garda, is in full force, being
greatly assisted by the many ruined houses which are to be found in
every quarter of the town. But the free nomadic inhabitant of the
wilderness does not like this custom, and rather chooses to retreat into
the open spots outside the town. The insecurity of the country and the
feuds generally raging oblige them still to congregate, even on such
occasions. When they reach some conspicuous tree, the spears are all
stuck into the ground, and the party separates behind the bushes; after
which they again meet together under the tree, and return in solemn
procession into the town.
By making such little excursions, I became acquainted with the shallow
depressions which surround Ágades and which are not without importance
for the general relations of the town, while they afford fodder for any
caravan visiting the market, and also supply the inhabitants with very
good water. The name of the depression to the N. is Tagúrast; that to
the S.W., Mérmeru; towards the S.E., Amelúli, with a few kitchen-
gardens; and another a little further on, S.S.E., Tésak-n-tálle, while
at a greater distance, to the W. is Tára-bére[150] (meaning “the wide
area” or plain, “babá-n-sárari”). Unfortunately, the dread my companions
had of the Kél-gerés did not allow me to visit the valleys at a greater
distance, the principal of which is that called el Hakhsás, inhabited by
Imghád, and famous for its vegetable productions, with which the whole
town is supplied.
Mohammed the Foolish succeeded in the evening in getting me into some
trouble, which gave him great delight; for seeing that I took more than
common interest in a national dance accompanied with a song, which was
going on at some distance E.N.E. from our house, he assured me that
Hamma was there, and had told him that I might go and join in their
amusement. Unfortunately, I was too easily induced; and hanging only a
cutlass over my shoulder, I went thither unaccompanied, sure of finding
my protector in the merry crowd. It was about ten o’clock at night, the
moon shining very brightly on the scene. Having first viewed it from
some distance, I approached very near, in order to observe the motions
of the dancers. Four young men, placed opposite to each other in pairs,
were dancing with warlike motions, and, stamping the ground violently
with the left foot, turned round in a circle, the motions being
accompanied by the energetic clapping of hands of a numerous ring of
spectators. It was a very interesting sight, and I should have liked to
stay longer; but finding that Hamma was not present, and that all the
people were young, and many of them buzawe, I followed the advice of
ʿAbdu, one of Ánnur’s slaves, who was among the crowd, to withdraw as
soon as possible. I had, however, retraced my steps but a short way,
when, with the warcry of Islam, and drawing their swords, all the young
men rushed after me. Being, however, a short distance in advance, and
fortunately not meeting with any one in the narrow street, I reached our
house without being obliged to make use of my weapon; but my friends the
Kél-owí seeing me in trouble, had thrown the chain over the door of our
house, and, with a malicious laugh, left me outside with my pursuers, so
that I was obliged to draw my cutlass in order to keep them at bay,
though, if they had made a serious attack, I should have fared ill
enough with my short blunt European weapon against their long sharp
swords.
I was rather angry with my barbarous companions, particularly with
Mohammed; and when after a little delay they opened the door, I loaded
my pistols and threatened to shoot the first man that troubled me.
However, I soon felt convinced that the chief fault was my own; and in
order to obliterate the bad impression which this little adventure was
likely to make in the town, particularly as the great Mohammedan feast
was at hand, which of course could not but strengthen greatly the
prejudice against a Christian, I resolved to stay at home the next few
days. This I could do the more easily, as the terrace of our house
allowed me to observe all that was going on in the place.
I therefore applied myself entirely for a few days to the study of the
several routes which, with the assistance of ʿAbdalla, I had been able
to collect from different people, and which will be given in the
Appendix, and to the language of Ágades. For though I had left all my
books behind at Tintéllust, except that volume of “Prichard’s
Researches” which treats of Africa, I had convinced myself, from the
specimens which he gives of the language of Timbúktu, that the statement
of my friends from Tawát with regard to the identity of the languages of
the two places was quite correct,—only with this qualification, that
here this language had been greatly influenced by intercourse with the
Berbers, from whom sundry words were borrowed, while the Arabic seemed
to have had little influence beyond supplanting the numerals from four
upwards. I was also most agreeably surprised and gratified to find this
identity confirmed by the fact that the people of Ágades give the
Tawárek in general the name under which that tribe of them which lives
near Timbúktu and along the Niger had become known to Mungo Park in
those quarters where the language of Timbúktu is spoken. This was indeed
very satisfactory, as the native name of that powerful tribe is entirely
different; for the Surka, as they are called by Mungo Park, are the same
as the Awelímmiden, of whom I had already heard so much in Asben (the
inhabitants of which country seemed to regard them with much dread), and
with whom I was afterwards to enter into the most intimate relations.
While residing in Ágades, I was not yet aware of all the points of
information which I have been able to collect in the course of my
travels; and I was at a loss to account for the identity of language in
places so widely separated from each other by immense tracts of desert,
and by countries which seemed to have been occupied by different races.
But while endeavouring, in the further course of my journey, to discover
as far as possible the history of the nations with whom I had to deal, I
found the clue for explaining this apparently-marvellous phenomenon, and
shall lay it before my readers in the following chapter.
To the Tawáti ʿAbd-alla I was indebted for information on a variety of
interesting matters, which I found afterwards confirmed in every
respect. In a few points his statements were subject to correction, and
still more to improvement; but in no single case did I find that he had
deviated from the truth. I state this deliberately, in order to show
that care must be taken to distinguish between information collected
systematically by a native enjoying the entire confidence of his
informant, and who, from his knowledge of the language and the subject
about which he inquires, is able to control his informant’s statements,
and that which is picked up incidentally by one who scarcely knows what
he asks.
But to return to my diary, the visits paid me by the other people of
Tawát became less frequent, as I had no coffee to treat them with; but I
was rather glad of this circumstance, as my time was too short for
labouring in that wide field of new information which opened before me,
and it was necessary to confine myself at present to narrower limits. In
this respect I was extremely fortunate in having obeyed my impulse to
visit this place, which, however desolate it may appear to the traveller
who first enters it, is still the centre of a large circle of commercial
intercourse, while Tintéllust is nothing but a small village, important
merely from the character of the chief who resides in it, and where even
those people who know a little about the country are afraid to
communicate that very little. I would advise any traveller, who should
hereafter visit this country, to make a long stay in this place, if he
can manage to do so in comfort; for I am sure that there still remains
to be collected in Ágades a store of the most valuable and interesting
information.
In the afternoon of the 15th of October (the eve of the great holiday),
ten chiefs of the Kél-gerés, on horseback, entered the town; and towards
evening news was brought that Astáfidet, the chief of the Kél-owí
residing in Ásodi, was not far off, and would make his solemn entry
early in the morning. My companions therefore were extremely busy in
getting ready and cleaning their holiday dress, or “yadó;” and Hamma
could not procure tassels enough to adorn his high red cap, in order to
give to his short figure a little more height. Poor fellow! he was
really a good man, and one of the best of the Kél-owí; and the news of
his being killed, in the sanguinary battle which was fought between his
tribe and the Kél-geres in 1854, grieved me not a little. In the evening
there was singing and dancing (“wargi” and “wása”) all over the town,
and all the people were merry except the followers of Mákita or Ímkiten,
“the Pretender;” and the sultan ʿAbd el Káder was obliged to imprison
three chiefs of the Itísan, who had come to urge Mákita’s claims.
It was on this occasion that I learnt that the mighty king of Ágades had
not only a common prison, “gida-n-damré,” wherein he might confine the
most haughty chiefs, but that he even exercised over them the power of
life and death, and that he dispensed the favours of a terrible dungeon
bristling with swords and spears standing upright, upon which he was
authorized to throw any distinguished malefactor. This latter statement,
of the truth of which I had some doubt, was afterwards confirmed to me
by the old chief Ánnur. In any case, however, such a cruel punishment
cannot but be extremely rare.
[Sidenote: Wednesday, October 16th.]
The 10th of Dhú el kadhi, 1266, was the first day of the great festival
ʿAid el kebír, or Salla-léja (the feast of the sacrifice of the sheep),
which in these regions is the greatest holiday of the Mohammedans, and
was in this instance to have a peculiar importance and solemnity for
Ágades, as the installation of ʿAbd el Káder, who had not yet publicly
assumed the government, was to take place the same day. Early in the
morning, before daylight, Hámma and his companions left the house and
mounted their camels, in order to pay their compliments to Astáfidet,
and join him in his procession; and about sunrise the young chief
entered and went directly to the “fáda,” at the head of from two hundred
to three hundred Mehára, having left the greater number of his troop,
which was said to amount to about two thousand men, outside the town.
Then, without much ceremony or delay, the installation or “sarauta” of
the new sultan took place. The ceremonial was gone through inside the
fáda; but this was the procedure. First of all, ʿAbd el Káder was
conducted from his private apartments to the public hall. Then the
chiefs of the Itísan and Kél-geres, who went in front, begged him to sit
down upon the “gadó,” a sort of couch or divan made of the leaves of the
palm-tree, or of the branches of other trees, similar to the angaríb
used in Egypt and the lands of the Upper Nile, and covered with mats and
a carpet. Upon this the new sultan sat down, resting his feet on the
ground, not being allowed to put them upon the gadó, and recline in the
Oriental style, until the Kél-owí desired him to do so. Such is the
ceremony, symbolical of the combined participation of these different
tribes in the investiture of their sultan.