arms prepared for the expedition. About sunset the “égehen” left the
town, numbering about four hundred men, partly on camels, partly on
horseback, besides the people on foot. Bóro as well as Áshu accompanied
the sultan, who this time was himself mounted on a camel. They went to
take their encampment near that of Astáfidet, in Tagúrast, ʿAbd el Káder
pitching a tent of grey colour, and in size like that of a Turkish aghá,
in the midst of the Kél-geres, the Kél-ferwán, and the Emgedesíye, while
Astáfidet, who had no tent, was surrounded by the Kél-owí. The sultan
was kind and attentive enough not to forget me even now; and having
heard that I had not yet departed, Hamma not having finished his
business in the town, he sent me some wheat, a large botta with butter
and vegetables (chiefly melons and cucumbers), and the promise of
another sheep.
In the evening the drummer again went his rounds through the town,
proclaiming the strict order of the sultan that everybody should lay in
a large supply of provisions. Although the town in general had become
very silent when deserted by so many people, our house was kept in
constant bustle; and in the course of the night three mehára came from
the camp, with people who could get no supper there and sought it with
us. Bóro sent a messenger to me early the next morning, urgently begging
for a little powder, as the “Mehárebín” of the Imghád had sent off their
camels and other property, and were determined to resist the army of the
sultan. However, I could send him but very little. My amusing friend
Mohammed spent the whole day with us, when he went to join the ghazzia.
I afterwards learnt that he obtained four head of cattle as his share.
There must be considerable herds of cattle in the more favoured valleys
of Asben; for the expedition had nothing else to live upon, as Mohammed
afterwards informed me, and slaughtered an immense quantity of them.
Altogether the expedition was successful; and the Fádëang and many
tribes of the Imghád lost almost all their property. Even the
influential Háj Beshír was punished, on account of his son’s having
taken part in the expedition against us. I received also the
satisfactory information that ʿAbd el Káder had taken nine camels from
the man who retained my méheri; but I gained nothing thereby, neither my
own camel being returned nor another given me in its stead. The case was
the same with all our things; but nevertheless the proceeding had a good
effect, seeing that people were punished expressly for having robbed
Christians, and thus the principle was established that it was not less
illegal to rob Christians than it was to rob Mohammedans, both creeds
being placed, as far as regards the obligations of peace and honesty, on
equally favourable terms.
I spent the whole of Tuesday in my house, principally in taking down
information which I received from the intelligent Ghadámsi merchant
Mohammed, who, having left his native town from fear of the Turks, had
resided six years in Ágades, and was a well-informed man.
[Sidenote: Wednesday, October 23rd.]
My old friend the blacksmith Hámmeda, and the tall Elíyas, went off this
morning with several camels laden with provision, while Hamma still
staid behind to finish the purchases; for on account of the expedition,
and the insecure state of the road to Damerghú, it had been difficult to
procure provisions in sufficient quantity. Our house therefore became
almost as silent and desolate as the rest of the town; but I found a
great advantage in remaining a few days longer, for my chivalrous friend
and protector, who, as long as the sultan and the great men were
present, had been very reserved and cautious, had now no further scruple
about taking me everywhere, and showing me the town “within and
without.”
[Illustration]
We first visited the house of Ídder, a broker, who lived at a short
distance to the south from our house, and had also lodged Háj ʿAbdúwa
during his stay here. It was a large spacious dwelling, well arranged
with a view to comfort and privacy, according to the conceptions and
customs of the inhabitants, while our house (being a mere temporary
residence for Ánnur’s people occasionally visiting the town) was a
dirty, comfortless abode. We entered first a vestibule, about twenty-
five feet long and nine broad, having on each side a separate space
marked off by that low kind of balustrade mentioned in my description of
the sultan’s house. This vestibule or ante-room was followed by a second
room of larger size and irregular arrangement; opposite the entrance it
opened into another apartment which, with two doors, led into a spacious
inner courtyard, which was very irregularly circumscribed by several
rooms projecting into it, while to the left it was occupied by an
enormous bedstead (1). These bedsteads are a most characteristic article
of furniture in all the dwellings of the Sónghay. In Ágades they are
generally very solidly built of thick boards, and furnished with a
strong canopy resting upon four posts, covered with mats on the top and
on three sides, the remaining side being shut in with boards. Such a
canopied bed looks like a little house by itself. On the wall of the
first chamber, which on the right projected into the courtyard, several
lines of large pots had been arranged, one above the other (2), forming
so many warm nests for a number of turtle-doves which were playing all
about the courtyard, while on the left, in the half-decayed walls of two
other rooms (3), about a dozen goats were fastened each to a separate
pole. The background of the courtyard contained several rooms; and in
front of it a large shade (4) had been built of mats, forming a rather
pleasant and cool resting-place. Numbers of children were gambolling
about, and gave to the whole a very cheerful appearance. There is
something very peculiar in these houses, which are constructed evidently
with a view to comfort and quiet enjoyment.
We then went to visit a female friend of Hamma, who lived in the south
quarter of the town, in a house which likewise bespoke much comfort; but
here, on account of the number of inmates, the arrangement was
different, the second vestibule being furnished on each side with a
large bedstead instead of mats, though here also there was in the
courtyard an immense bedstead. The courtyard was comparatively small,
and a long corridor on the left of it led to an inner courtyard or
“tsakangída,” which I was not allowed to see. The mistress of the house
was still a very comely person, although she had borne several children.
She had a fine figure, though rather under the middle size, and a fair
complexion. I may here remark that many of the women of Ágades are not a
shade darker than Arab women in general. She wore a great quantity of
silver ornaments, and was well dressed in a gown of coloured cotton and
silk. Hamma was very intimate with her, and introduced me to her as his
friend and protégé, whom she ought to value as highly as himself. She
was married; but her husband was residing in Kátsena, and she did not
seem to await his return in the Penelopean style. The house had as many
as twenty inmates, there being no less than six children, I think, under
five years of age, and among them a very handsome little girl, the
mother’s favourite; besides, there were six or seven full-grown
slaves.[162] The children were all naked, but wore ornaments of beads
and silver.
After we had taken leave of this Emgedesíye lady, we followed the street
towards the south, where there were some very good houses, although the
quarter in general was in ruins; and here I saw the very best and most
comfortable-looking dwelling in the town. All the pinnacles were
ornamented with ostrich-eggs. One will often find in an eastern town,
after the first impression of its desolate appearance is gone by, many
proofs that the period of its utter prostration is not yet come, but
that even in the midst of the ruins there is still a good deal of ease
and comfort. Among the ruins of the southern quarter are to be seen the
pinnacled walls of a building of immense circumference and considerable
elevation; but unfortunately I could not learn from Hámma for what
purpose it had been used: however, it was certainly a public building,
and probably a large khán rather than the residence of the chief.[163]
With its high, towering walls, it still forms a sort of outwork on the
south side of the town, where in general the wall is entirely destroyed,
and the way is everywhere open. Hámma had a great prejudice against this
desolate quarter. Even the more intelligent Mohammedans are often afraid
to enter former dwelling-places of men, believing them to be haunted by
spirits; but he took me to some inhabited houses, which were all built
on the same principle as that described, but varying greatly in depth,
and in the size of the courtyard; the staircases (abi-n-háwa) leading to
the upper story are in the courtyard, and are rather irregularly built
of stones and clay. In some of them young ostriches were running about.
The inhabitants of all the houses seemed to have the same cheerful
disposition; and I was glad to find scarcely a single instance of
misery. I give here the ground-plan of another house.
[Illustration]
The artisans who work in leather (an occupation left entirely to
females) seem to live in a quarter by themselves, which originally was
quite separated from the rest of the town by a sort of gate; but I did
not make a sufficient survey of this quarter to mark it distinctly in
the ground-plan of the town. We also visited some of the mat-makers.
Our maimólo of the other day, who had discovered that we had slaughtered
our sheep, paid us a visit in the evening, and for a piece of meat
entertained me with a clever performance on his instrument, accompanied
with a song. Hámma spent his evening with our friend the Emgedesíye
lady, and was kind enough to beg me to accompany him. This I declined,
but gave him a small present to take to her.
I had a fair sample of the state of morals in Ágades the following day,
when five or six girls and women came to pay me a visit in our house,
and with much simplicity invited me to make merry with them, there being
now, as they said, no longer reason for reserve, “as the sultan was
gone.” It was indeed rather amusing to see what conclusions they drew
from the motto, “serki yátafi.” Two of them were tolerably pretty and
well-formed, with fine black hair hanging down in plaits or tresses,
lively eyes, and very fair complexion. Their dress was decent, and that
of one of them even elegant, consisting of an under gown reaching from
the neck to the ankles, and an upper one drawn over the head, both of
white colour; but their demeanour was very free, and I too clearly
understood the caution requisite in a European who would pass through
these countries unharmed and respected by the natives, to allow myself
to be tempted by these wantons. It would be better for a traveller in
these regions, both for his own comfort, and for the respect felt for
him by the natives, if he could take his wife with him; for these simple
people do not understand how a man can live without a partner. The
Western Tawárek, who in general are very rigorous in their manners, and
quite unlike the Kél-owí, had nothing to object against me except my
being a bachelor. But as it is difficult to find a female companion for
such journeys, and as by marrying a native he would expose himself to
much trouble and inconvenience on the score of religion, he will do best
to maintain the greatest austerity of manners with regard to the other
sex, though he may thereby expose himself to a good deal of derision
from some of the lighter-hearted natives. The ladies, however, became so
troublesome that I thought it best to remain at home for a few days, and
was thus enabled at the same time to note down the information which I
had been able to pick up. During these occupations I was always greatly
pleased with the companionship of a diminutive species of finches which
frequent all the rooms in Ágades, and, as I may add from later
experience, in Timbúktu also; the male, with its red neck, in particular
looks extremely pretty. The poults were just about to fledge.
[Sidenote: Sunday, October 27th.]
There was one very characteristic building in town, which, though a most
conspicuous object from the terrace of our house, I had never yet
investigated with sufficient accuracy. This was the mesállaje, or high
tower rising over the roof of the mosque. The reason why this building
in particular (the most famous and remarkable one in the town) had been
hitherto observed by me only from a distance, and in passing by, must be
obvious. Difference of religious creed repelled me from it; and so long
as the town was full of strangers, some of them very fanatical, it was
dangerous for me to approach it too closely. I had often inquired
whether it would not be possible to ascend the tower without entering
the mosque; but I had always received for answer, that the entrance was
locked up. As soon, however, as the sultan was gone, and when the town
became rather quiet, I urged Hámma to do his best that I might ascend to
the top of this curious building, which I represented to him as a matter
of the utmost importance to me, since it would enable me not only to
control my route by taking a few angles of the principal elevations
round the valley Aúderas, but also to obtain a distant view over the
country towards the west and south, which it was not my good luck to
visit myself. To-day Hámma promised me that he would try what could be
done.
Having once more visited the lively house of Ídder, we took our way over
the market-places, which were now rather dull. The vultures looked out
with visible greediness and eagerness from the pinnacles of the ruined
walls around for their wonted food—their share of offal during these
days, when so many people were absent, being of course much reduced,
though some of them probably had followed their fellow-citizens on the
expedition. So few people being in the streets, the town had a more
ruined look than ever; and the large heap of rubbish accumulated on the
south side of the butchers’ market seemed to me more disgusting than
before. We kept along the principal street between Dígi and Arrafíya,
passing the deep well Shedwánka on our right, and on the other side a
school, which resounded with the shrill voices of about fifty little
boys repeating with energy and enthusiasm the verses of the Kurán, which
their master had written for them upon their little wooden tablets.
Having reached the open space in front of the mosque (“sárari-n-
mesállaje”), and there being nobody to disturb me, I could view at my
leisure this simple but curious building, which in the subsequent course
of my journey became still more interesting to me, as I saw plainly that
it was built on exactly the same principle as the tower which rises over
the sepulchre of the famed conqueror Háj Mohammed Áskiá (the “Ischia” of
Leo).
The mesállaje starts up from the platform or terrace formed by the roof
of the mosque, which is extremely low, resting apparently, as we shall
see, in its interior, upon four massive pillars. It is square, and
measures at its base about thirty feet, having a small lean-to, on its
east side, on the terrace of the mosque, where most probably there was
formerly the entrance. From this the tower rises (decreasing in width,
and with a sort of swelling or entasis in the middle of its elevation,
something like the beautiful model adopted by nature in the deléb palm,
and imitated by architects in the columns of the Ionic and Corinthian
orders) to a height of from ninety to ninety-five feet. It measures at
its summit not more than about eight feet in width. The interior is
lighted by seven openings on each side. Like most of the houses in
Ágades, it is built entirely of clay; and in order to strengthen a
building so lofty and of so soft a material, its four walls are united
by thirteen layers of boards of the dúm-tree crossing the whole tower in
its entire breadth and width, and coming out on each side from three to
four feet, while at the same time they afford the only means of getting
to the top. Its purpose is to serve as a watch-tower, or at least was so
at a former time, when the town, surrounded by a strong wall and
supplied with water, was well capable of making resistance, if warned in
due time of an approaching danger. But at present it seems rather to be
kept in repair only as a decoration of the town.
[Illustration]
The Mesállaje in its present state was only six years old at the time of
my visit (in 1850), and perhaps was not even quite finished in the
interior, as I was told that the layers of boards were originally
intended to support a staircase of clay. About fifty paces from the
south-western corner of the mosque, the ruins of an older tower are seen
still rising to a considerable height, though leaning much to one side,
more so than the celebrated tower of Pisa, and most probably in a few
years it will give way to an attack of storm and rain. This more ancient
tower seems to have stood quite detached from the mosque.
Having sufficiently surveyed the exterior of the tower, and made a
sketch of it, I accompanied my impatient companion into the interior of
the mosque, into which he felt no scruple in conducting me. The lowness
of the structure had already surprised me from without; but I was still
more astonished when I entered the interior, and saw that it consisted
of low, narrow naves, divided by pillars of immense thickness, the
reason of which it is not possible at present to understand, as they
have nothing to support but a roof of dúm-tree boards, mats, and a layer
of clay; but I think it scarcely doubtful that originally these naves
were but the vaults or cellars of a grander superstructure, designed but
not executed; and this conjecture seems to be confirmed by all that at
present remains of the mosque. The gloomy halls were buried in a
mournful silence, interrupted only by the voice of a solitary man,
seated on a dirty mat at the western wall of the tower, and reading
diligently the torn leaves of a manuscript. Seeing that it was the
kádhi, we went up to him and saluted him most respectfully; but it was
not in the most cheerful and amiable way that he received our
compliments—mine in particular—continuing to read, and scarcely raising
his eyes from the sheets before him.[164] Hámma then asked for
permission to ascend the tower, but received a plain and unmistakeable
refusal, the thing being impossible, there being no entrance to the
tower at present. It was shut up, he said, on account of the Kél-gerés,
who used to ascend the tower in great numbers. Displeased with his
uncourteous behaviour, and seeing that he was determined not to permit
me to climb the tower, were it ever so feasible, we withdrew and called
upon the imám, who lives in a house attached to these vaults, and which
looked a little neater from having been whitewashed; however, he had no
power to aid us in our purpose, but rather confirmed the statement of
the kádhi.
This is the principal mosque of the town, and seems to have always been
so, although there are said to have been formerly as many as seventy
mosques, of which ten are still in use. They deserve no mention,
however, with the exception of three, the Msíd Míli[165], Msíd Éheni,
and Msíd el Mékki. I will only add here that the Emgedesíye, so far as
their very slender stock of theological learning and doctrine entitles
them to rank with any sect, are Malekíye, as well as the Kél-owí.
Resigning myself to the disappointment of not being able to ascend the
tower, I persuaded my friend to take a longer walk with me round the
northern quarter of the town. But I forgot to mention that besides Hámma
I had another companion of a very different character. This was
Zúmmuzuk, a reprobate of the worst description, and whose features bore
distinct impress of the vile and brutal passions which actuated him; yet
being a clever fellow, and (as the illegitimate son, or “dan néma,” of
an Emgédesi woman) fully master of the peculiar idiom of Ágades, he was
tolerated not only by the old chief Ánnur, who employed him as
interpreter, but even by me. How insolent the knave could be, I shall
soon have occasion to mention.
With this fellow, therefore, and with Hámma, I continued my walk,
passing the kófa-n-alkáli, and then, from the ruins of the quarter Ben-
Gottára, turning to the north. Here the wall of the town is in a
tolerable state of preservation, but very weak and insufficient, though
it is kept in repair, even to the pinnacles, on account of its
surrounding the palace of the sultan. Not far from this is an open space
called Azarmádarangh, “the place of execution,” where occasionally the
head of a rebellious chieftain or a murderer is cut off by the “dóka;”
but as far as I could learn, such things happen very seldom. Even on the
north side, two gates are in a tolerable state of preservation.
Having entered the town from this side, we went to visit the quarter of
the leather-workers, which, as I stated before, seems to have formed
originally a regular ward; all this handicraft, with the exception of
saddlework, is carried on by women, who work with great neatness. Very
beautiful provision-bags are made here, although those which I brought
back from Timbúktu are much handsomer. We saw also some fine specimens
of mats, woven of a very soft kind of grass, and dyed of various
colours. Unfortunately, I had but little with me wherewith to buy; and
even if I had been able to make purchases, the destination of our
journey being so distant, there was not much hope of carrying the things
safe to Europe. The blacksmiths’ work of Ágades is also interesting,
although showy and barbarous, and not unlike the work with which the
Spaniards used to adorn their long daggers.
[Sidenote: Monday, October 28th.]
During all this time I prosecuted inquiries with regard to several
subjects connected with the geography and ethnography of this quarter of
the world. I received several visits from Emgédesi tradesmen, many of
whom are established in the northern provinces of Háusa, chiefly in
Kátsena and Tasáwa, where living is infinitely cheaper than in Ágades.
All these I found to be intelligent men, having been brought up in the
centre of intercourse between a variety of tribes and nations of the
most different organization, and, through the web of routes which join
here, receiving information of distant regions. Several of them had even
made the Pilgrimage, and thus come in contact with the relatively high
state of civilization in Egypt and near the coast; and I shall not
easily forget the enlightened view which the mʿallem Háj Mohammed ʿOmár,
who visited me several times, took of Islámism and Christianity. The
last day of my stay in Ágades, he reverted to the subject of religion,
and asked me, in a manner fully expressive of his astonishment, how it
came to pass that the Christians and Moslemín were so fiercely opposed
to one another, although their creeds, in essential principles,
approximated so closely. To this I replied by saying that I thought the
reason was that the great majority both of Christians and Moslemín paid
less regard to the dogmas of their creeds than to external matters,
which have very little or no reference to religion itself. I also tried
to explain to him, that in the time of Mohammed Christianity had
entirely lost that purity which was its original character, and that it
had been mixed up with many idolatrous elements, from which it was not
entirely disengaged till a few centuries ago, while the Mohammedans had
scarcely any acquaintance with Christians except those of the old sects
of the Jacobites and Nestorians. Mutually pleased with our conversation,
we parted from each other with regret.