palace on its way to a chapel of a merábet called Sídi Hammáda, in Tára-
bére, outside the town, where, according to an old custom, the prince
was to say his prayers. This is a rule prevailing over the whole of
Mohammedan Africa, and one which I myself witnessed in some of the most
important of its capitals—in Ágades, in Kúkawa, in Más-eña, in Sókoto,
and in Timbúktu; everywhere the principle is the same.
Not deeming it prudent on such an occasion to mix with the people, I
witnessed the whole procession from the terrace of our house, though I
should have liked to have had a nearer view. The procession having taken
its course through the most important quarter of the town, and through
the market-places, turned round from the “káswa-n-delélti” to the oldest
quarter of the town, and then returned westward, till at last it reached
the above-mentioned chapel or tomb of Sídi Hammáda, where there is a
small cemetery. The prayers being finished, the procession returned by
the southern part of the town; and about ten o’clock the different
parties which had composed the _cortége_ separated.
In going as well as in returning, the order of the procession was as
follows. In front of all, accompanied by the musicians, rode the sultan
on a very handsome horse of Tawáti breed[151], wearing, over his fine
Sudán robe of coloured cotton and silk, the blue bernus I had presented
to him, and wearing on his side a handsome cimetar with gold handle.
Next to him rode the two sáraki-n-turáwa,—Bóro, the ex-serki on his
left, and Ashu, who held the office at the time, on his right,—followed
by the “fádawa-n-serki,” after whom came the chiefs of the Itísan and
Kél-gerés, all on horseback, in full dress and armour, with their
swords, daggers, long spears, and immense shields.
Then came the longer train of the Kél-owí, mostly on mehára, or swift
camels, with Sultan Astáfidet at their head; and last of all followed
the people of the town, a few on horseback, but most of them on foot,
and armed with swords and spears, and several with bows and arrows. The
people were all dressed in their greatest finery; and it would have
formed a good subject for an artist. It recalled the martial processions
of the middle ages—the more so as the high caps of the Tawárek[152],
surrounded by a profusion of tassels on every side, together with the
black “tesílgemist” or lithám, which covers the whole face, leaving
nothing but the eyes visible, and the shawls wound over this and round
the cap combine to imitate the shape of the helmet, while the black and
coloured tobes (over which on such occasions the principal people wear a
red bernus thrown across their shoulders) represent very well the
heavier dress of the knights of yore. I will only add, that the fact of
the sultan wearing on so important and solemn an occasion a robe which
had been presented to him by a stranger and a Christian, had a powerful
influence on the tribes collected here, and spread a beneficial report
far westward over the desert.
Shortly after the procession was over, the friendly Haj ʿAbdúwa, who,
after he had parted from us in Eghellál, had attached himself to the
troop of Astáfidet, came to pay me a visit. He was now tolerably free
from fever, but begged for some Epsom salts, besides a little gunpowder.
He informed me that there was much sickness in the town, that from two
to three people died daily, and that even Astáfidet was suffering from
the prevalent disease. This was the smallpox, a very fatal disease in
Central Africa, against which, however, several of the native pagan
tribes secure themselves by inoculation, a precaution from which
Mohammedans are withheld by religious prejudice. I then received a visit
from the sons of Bóro in their official character as “fádawa-n-serki.”
They wished to inform themselves, apparently, with reference to my
adventure the other night, whether the townspeople behaved well towards
me; and I was prudent enough to tell them that I had nothing to complain
of, my alarm having been the consequence of my own imprudence. In fact
the people behaved remarkably well, considering that I was the first
Christian that ever visited the town; and the little explosions of
fanaticism into which the women and children sometimes broke out, when
they saw me on our terrace, rather amused me. During the first days of
my residence in Ágades, they most probably took me for a pagan or a
polytheist, and cried after me the confessional words of Islam, laying
all the stress upon the word Allah, “the One God;” but after a few days,
when they had learnt that I likewise worshipped the Deity, they began to
emphasize the name of their Prophet.
There was held about sunset a grave and well-attended divan of all the
chiefs, to consult with respect to a “yáki” or “égehen,” a ghazzia to be
undertaken against the Mehárebín or freebooters of the Awelímmiden.
While we were still in Tintéllust, the rumour had spread of an
expedition undertaken by the latter tribe against Aïr, and the people
were all greatly excited. For the poor Kél-owí, who have degenerated
from their original vigour and warlike spirit by their intermixture with
the black population, and by their peaceable pursuits, are not less
afraid of the Awelímmiden than they are of the Kél-gerés; and old Ánnur
himself used to give me a dreadful description of that tribe, at which I
afterwards often laughed heartily with the very people whom he intended
to depict to me as monsters. By way of consoling us for the losses we
had sustained, and the ill-treatment we had experienced, from the people
of Aïr, he told us that among the Awelímmiden we should have been
exposed to far greater hardships, as they would not have hesitated to
cut the tent over our heads into pieces, in order to make shirts of it.
The old chief’s serious speeches had afterwards the more comical effect
upon me, as the tent alluded to, a common English marquee, mended as it
was with cotton strips of all the various fashions of Negroland,
constantly formed a subject of the most lively scientific dispute among
those barbarians, who, not having seen linen before, were at a loss to
make out of what stuff it was originally made. But, unluckily, I had not
among the Kél-owí such a steadfast protector and mediator and so
sensible a friend as I had when, three years later, I went among the
Awelímmiden, who would certainly have treated me in another way if I had
fallen into their hands unprotected.
The old and lurking hostility amongst the Kél-owí and Kél-gerés, which
was at this very moment threatening an outbreak, had been smoothed down
by the influential and intelligent chief Sídi Ghalli el Háj Ánnur
(properly E’ Núr), one of the first men in Ágades; and those tribes had
sworn to forget their private animosities, in order to defend themselves
against and revenge themselves upon their common enemy the Awelímmiden.
Hámma was very anxious to get from me a good supply of powder for Sídi
Ghalli, who was to be the leader of the expedition; but I had scarcely
any with me.
While I was reclining in the evening rather mournfully upon my mat, not
having been out of the house these last few days, the old friendly
blacksmith came up, and invited me to a promenade; and with the greatest
pleasure I acceded to the proposal. We left the town by the eastern
side, the moon shining brightly, and throwing her magic light over the
ruins of this once-wealthy abode of commerce. Turning then a little
south, we wandered over the pebbly plain till the voices heard from the
encampment of the Kél-geres frightened my companion, and we turned more
northwards to the wells in Amelúli; having rested here awhile, we
returned to our quarters.
[Sidenote: Thursday, October 17th.]
Ánnur karamí, our amiable and indolent attendant, left this place for
Tintéllust with a note which I wrote to my colleagues, informing them of
my safe arrival, my gracious reception, and the general character of the
place. To-day the whole town was in agitation in consequence of one of
those characteristic events which, in a place like Ágades, serve to mark
the different periods of the year; for here a man can do nothing singly,
but all must act together. The salt-caravan of the Itísan and Kél-geres
had collected, mustering, I was told, not less than ten thousand camels,
and had encamped in Mérmeru and Tesak-n-tállem ready to start for the
salt-mines of Bilma, along a road which will be indicated further on.
However exaggerated the number of the camels might be, it was certainly
a very large caravan; and a great many of the inhabitants went out to
settle their little business with the men, and take leave of their
friends. Ghámbelu, the chief of the Itísan, very often himself
accompanies this expedition, in which also many of the Tagáma take a
part.
In the course of the day I had a rather curious conversation with a man
from Táfidet, the native place of Háj ʿAbdúwa. After exchanging
compliments with me, he asked me, abruptly, whether I always knew where
water was to be found; and when I told him that, though I could not
exactly say in every case at what depth water was to be found, yet that,
from the configuration of the ground, I should be able to tell the spot
where it was most likely to be met with, he asked whether I had seen
rock-inscriptions on the road from Ghát; and I answered him that I had,
and generally near watering-places. He then told me that I was quite
right, but that in Táfidet there were many inscriptions upon the rocks
at a distance from water. I told him that perhaps at an earlier period
water might have been found there, or that the inscriptions might have
been made by shepherds; but this he thought very improbable, and
persisted in his opinion, that these inscriptions indicated ancient
sepulchres, in which, probably, treasures were concealed. I was rather
surprised at the philosophical conclusions at which this barbarian had
arrived, and conjectured, as was really the case, that he had
accompanied Háj ʿAbdúwa on his pilgrimage and on his passage through
Egypt, and had there learned to make some archæological observations. He
affected to believe that I was able to read the inscriptions, and tell
all about the treasures; but I assured him that, while he was partially
right with regard to the inscriptions, he was quite wrong so far as
regarded the treasures, as these rock-inscriptions, so far as I was able
to decipher them, indicated only names. But I was rather sorry that I
did not myself see the inscriptions of which this man spoke, as I had
heard many reports about them, which had excited my curiosity, and I had
even sent the little Fezzáni Fáki Makhlúk expressly to copy them, who,
however, brought me back only an illegible scrawl.
[Sidenote: Friday, October 18th.]
The last day of the Salla-léja was a merry day for the lower class of
the inhabitants, but a serious one for the men of influence and
authority; and many councils were held, one of them in my room. I then
received a visit from a sister’s son of the sultan, whose name was
Alkáli, a tall, gentlemanlike man, who asked me why I did not yet leave
Ágades and return to Tintéllust. It seemed that he suspected me of
waiting till the sultan had made me a present in return for that
received by him; but I told him that, though I wished ʿAbd el Káder to
write me a letter for my sultan, which would guarantee the safety of
some future traveller belonging to our tribe, I had no further business
here, but was only waiting for Hamma, who had not yet finished his
bartering for provisions. He had seen me sketching on the terrace, and
was somewhat inquisitive about what I had been doing there; but I
succeeded in directing his attention to the wonderful powers of the
pencil, with which he became so delighted, that when I gave him one, he
begged another from me, in order that they might suffice for his
lifetime.
Interesting also was the visit of Háj Beshír, the wealthy man of Iferwán
whom I have already mentioned repeatedly, and who is an important
personage in the country of Aïr. Unfortunately, instead of using his
influence to facilitate our entrance into the country, his son had been
among the chief leaders of the expedition against us. Though not young,
he was lively and social, and asked me whether I should not like to
marry some nice Emgedesíye girl. When he was gone, I took a long walk
through the town with Hamma, who was somewhat more communicative to-day
than usual; but his intelligence was not equal to his energy and
personal courage, which had been proved in many a battle. He had been
often wounded; and having in the last skirmish received a deep cut on
his head, he had made an enormous charm, which was generally believed to
guarantee him from any further wound; and in fact, if the charm were to
receive the blow, it would not be altogether useless, for it was a thick
book. But his destiny was written.
There was a rather amusing episode in the incidents of the day. The ex-
sultan Hámed e’ Rufáy, who had left many debts behind him, sent ten
camel-loads of provisions and merchandise to be divided among his
creditors; but a few Tawárek to whom he owed something seized the whole,
so that the other poor people never obtained a farthing. To-day the
great salt-caravan of the Kél-gerés and Itísan really started.
[Sidenote: Saturday, October 19th.]
Hámma and his companions were summoned to a council which was to decide
definitively in what quarter the arm of justice, now raised in wrath,
was to strike the first blow; and it was resolved that the expedition
should first punish the Imghád, the Ikázkezan, and Fádëangh. The officer
who made the proclamation through the town was provided with a very rude
sort of drum, which was, in fact, nothing but an old barrel covered with
a skin.
[Sidenote: Sunday, October 20th.]
The most important event in the course of the day was a visit which I
received from Mohammed Bóro, our travelling companion from Múrzuk, with
his sons. It was the best proof of his noble character, that before we
separated, perhaps never to meet again, he came to speak with me, and to
explain our mutual relations fairly. He certainly could not deny that he
had been extremely angry with us; and I could not condemn him on this
account, for he had been treated ignominiously. While Mr. Gagliuffi told
him that we were persuaded that the whole success of our proceedings lay
in his hands, he had been plainly given to understand that we set very
little value on his services. Besides, he had sustained some heavy
losses on the journey, and by waiting for us had consumed the provisions
which he had got ready for the march.
Although an old man, he was first going with the expedition, after which
he intended accompanying the caravan of the Kél-gerés to Sókoto with his
whole family; for Sókoto is his real home. The salt-caravan and the
company of this man offered a splendid opportunity for reaching that
place in safety and by the most direct road; but our means did not allow
of such a journey, and after all it was better, at least for myself,
that it was not undertaken, since, as matters went, it was reserved for
me, before I traced my steps towards the western regions, to discover
the upper navigable course of the eastern branch of the so-called Niger,
and make sundry other important discoveries. Nevertheless Bóro expressed
his hope of seeing me again in Sókoto; and his wish might easily have
been accomplished. He certainly must have been, when in the vigour of
life, a man—in the full sense of the word, and well deserved the praise
of the Emgedesíye, who have a popular song beginning with the words
“Ágades has no men but Bóro and Dahámmi.” I now also became aware why he
had many enemies in Múrzuk, who unfortunately succeeded in making
Gagliuffi believe that he had no authority whatever in his own country;
for as serki-n-turáwa he had to levy the tax of ten mithkáls on every
camel-load of merchandise, and this he is said to have done with some
degree of severity. After a long conversation on the steps of the
terrace, we parted, the best possible friends.
Not so pleasant to me, though not without interest, was the visit of
another great man—Belróji, the támberi or war-chieftain of the Ighólar
Im-esághlar. He was still in his prime, but my Kél-owí (who were always
wrangling like children) got up a desperate fight with him in my very
room, which was soon filled with clouds of dust; and the young Slimán
entering during the row, and joining in it, it became really frightful.
The Kél-owí were just like children; when they went out they never
failed to put on all their finery, which they threw off as soon as they
came within doors, resuming their old dirty clothes.
It was my custom in the afternoon, when the sun had set behind the
opposite buildings, to walk up and down in front of our house; and while
so doing to-day I had a long conversation with two chiefs of the Itísan
on horseback, who came to see me, and avowed their sincere friendship
and regard. They were fine, tall men, but rather slim, with a noble
expression of countenance, and of light colour. Their dress was simple,
but handsome, and arranged with great care. All the Tawárek, from Ghát
as far as Háusa, and from Alákkos to Timbúktu, are passionately fond of
the tobes and trowsers called “tailelt” (the Guinea-fowl), or “fílfil”
(the pepper), on account of their speckled colour. They are made of silk
and cotton interwoven[153], and look very neat. The lowest part of the
trowsers, which forms a narrow band about two inches broad, closing
rather tightly, is embroidered in different colours. None of the Tawárek
of pure blood would, I think, degrade themselves by wearing on their
head the red cap.
[Sidenote: Monday, October 21st.]
Early in the morning I went with Hamma to take leave of the sultan, who
had been too busy for some days to favour me with an audience; and I
urged my friend to speak of the treaty, though I was myself fully aware
of the great difficulty which so complicated a paper, written in a form
entirely unknown to the natives, and which must naturally be expected to
awaken their suspicion, would create, and of the great improbability of
its being signed while the sultan was pressed with a variety of
business. On the way to the fáda we met Áshu, the present serki-n-
turáwa, a large-sized man, clad in an entirely-white dress, which may
not improbably be a sign of his authority over the white men
(Turáwa[154]). He is said to be a very wealthy man. He replied to my
compliments with much kindness, and entered into conversation with me
about the difference of our country and theirs, and ordered one of his
companions to take me to a small garden which he had planted near his
house in the midst of the town, in order to see what plants we had in
common with them. Of course there was nothing like our plants; and my
cicerone conceived rather a poor idea of our country when he heard that
all the things which they had, we had not—neither senna, nor bamia, nor
indigo, nor cotton, nor Guinea corn, nor, in short, the most beautiful
of all trees of the creation, as he thought—the talha, or _Mimosa
ferruginea_; and he seemed rather incredulous when told that we had much
finer plants than they.
We then went to the fáda. The sultan seemed quite ready for starting. He
was sitting in the courtyard of his palace, surrounded by a multitude of
people and camels, while the loud murmuring noise of a number of
schoolboys who were learning the Kurán proceeded from the opposite
corner, and prevented my hearing the conversation of the people. The
crowd and the open locality were, of course, not very favourable to my
last audience; and it was necessarily a cold one. Supported by Hamma, I
informed the sultan that I expected still to receive a letter from him
to the government under whose auspices I was travelling, expressive of
the pleasure and satisfaction he had felt in being honoured with a visit
from one of the mission, and that he would gladly grant protection to
any future traveller who should happen to visit his country. The sultan
promised that such a letter should be written; however, the result
proved that either he had not quite understood what I meant, or, what is
more probable, that in his precarious situation he felt himself not
justified in writing to a Christian government, especially as he had
received no letter from it.
When I had returned to my quarters, Hamma brought me three letters, in
which ʿAbd el Káder recommended my person and my luggage to the care of
the governors of Kanó, Kátsena, and Dáura, and which were written in
rather incorrect Arabic, and in nearly the same terms. They were as
follows:—
“In the name of God, &c.
“From the Emír of Ahír[155], ʿAbd el Káder, son of the Sultan Mohammed
el Bákeri, to the Emír of Dáura, son of the late Emír of Dáura, Is-hhák.
The mercy of God upon the eldest companions of the Prophet, and his
blessing upon the Khalífa; ‘Amín.’ The most lasting blessing and the
highest well-being to you without end. I send this message to you with
regard to a stranger, my guest, of the name of ʿAbd el Kerím[156], who
came to me, and is going to the Emír el Mumenín [the Sultan of Sókoto],
in order that, when he proceeds to you, you may protect him and treat
him well, so that none of the freebooters and evildoers[157] may hurt
him or his property, but that he may reach the Emír el Mumenín. Indeed
we wrote this on account of the freebooters, in order that you may
protect him against them in the most efficacious manner. Farewell.”
These letters were all sealed with the seal of the sultan.
Hamma showed me also another letter which he had received from the
sultan, and which I think interesting enough to be here inserted, as it
is a faithful image of the turbulent state of the country at that time,
and as it contains the simple expression of the sincere and just
proceedings of the new sultan. Its purport was as follows, though the
language in which it is written is so incorrect that several passages
admit of different interpretations.[158]
“In the name of God, &c.
“From the Commander, the faithful Minister of Justice[159], the Sultan
ʿAbd el Káder, son of the Sultan Mohammed el Bákeri, to the chiefs of
all the tribe of E’ Núr, and Hámed, and Sëis, and all those among you
who have large possessions, perfect peace to you.
“Your eloquence, compliments, and information are deserving of praise.
We have seen the auxiliaries sent to us by your tribe; and we have taken
energetic measures with them against the marauders, who obstruct the way
of the caravans of devout people[160], and the intercourse of those who
travel as well as those who remain at home. On this account we desire to
receive aid from you against their incursions. The people of the Kél-
fadaye, they are the marauders. We should not have prohibited their
chiefs to exercise rule over them, except for three things:—first,
because I am afraid they will betake themselves from the Aníkel [the
community of the people of Aïr] to the Awelímmiden; secondly in order
that they may not make an alliance with them against us, for they are
all marauders; and thirdly, in order that you may approve of their
paying us the tribute. Come, then, to us quickly. You know that what the
hand holds it holds only with the aid of the fingers; for without the
fingers the hand can seize nothing.
“We therefore will expect your determination, that is to say your
coming, after the departure of the salt-caravan of the Itísan, fixed
among you for the fifteenth of the month. God! God is merciful and
answereth prayer! Come therefore to us; and we will tuck up our
sleeves[161], and drive away the marauders, and fight valiantly against
them as God (be He glorified!) hath commanded.
“Lo, corruption hath multiplied on the face of the earth. May the Lord
not question us on account of the poor and needy, orphans and widows,
according to His word:—‘You are all herdsmen, and ye shall all be
questioned respecting your herds, whether ye have indeed taken good care
of them or dried them up.’
“Delay not, therefore, but hasten to our residence where we are all
assembled; for ‘zeal in the cause of religion is the duty of all;’ or
send thy messenger to us quickly with a positive answer; send thy
messenger as soon as possible. Farewell!”