name of which plays a very important part in the nomenclature of
articles of the daily market in all the towns and villages. This was the
magariá (called by the Kanúri “kúsulu”), a middle-sized tree with small
leaves of olive-green colour, and producing a fruit nearly equal in size
to a small cherry, but in other respects more resembling the fruit of
the cornel (_Cornus_), and of light-brown colour. This fruit, when
dried, is pounded and formed into little cakes, which are sold all over
Háusa as “túwo-n-magariá,” and may be safely eaten in small quantities
even by a European, to allay his hunger for a while, till he can obtain
something more substantial; for it certainly is not a very solid food,
and if eaten in great quantities, has a very mawkish taste.
While the cattle and the asses went on already in the dark, the camels
were left out during the night to pick up what food they could; but
early in the morning, when they were to be brought back, a great many of
Ánnur’s camels could not be found. Hereupon the old chief himself set
his people an example; and galloping to the spot where their traces had
been lost, he recovered the camels, which were brought in at an early
hour. Meanwhile, however, being informed how difficult it would be to
obtain water at the well before us, in the scramble of people which was
sure to take place, I arranged with Overweg that while I remained behind
with Mohammed and the things, he should go on in advance with the
Gatróni and Ibrahím to fill the waterskins; and we afterwards had reason
to congratulate ourselves on this arrangement, for the well, though
spacious and built up with wood, contained at the time but a very
moderate supply of muddy water for so large a number of men and beasts.
Its name is Terguláwen.
This locality, desolate and bare in the extreme, is considered most
dangerous, on account of the continual ghazzias of the Awelímmiden and
Kél-gerés, who are sure to surprise and carry off the straggling
travellers who, if they would not perish by thirst, must resort to this
well. Our whole road from our encampment, for more than seven hours and
a half, led over bare, barren sand-hills. The camping-ground was chosen
at no great distance beyond the well, in a shallow valley or depression
ranging east and west, and bordered by sand-hills on its south side,
with a little sprinkling of herbage. The wind, which came down with a
cold blast from N.N.E. was so strong, that we had great difficulty in
pitching the tent.
[Sidenote: December 31st.]
Last day of 1850. A cold day, and a mountainous country. After we had
crossed the sand-hills, there was nothing before us but one flat expanse
of sand, mostly bare, and clothed with trees only in favoured spots. The
most remarkable phenomenon was the appearance of the feathery bristle,
the _Pennisetum distichum_, which on the road to Ágades begins much
further northwards. Indeed, when we encamped, we had some difficulty in
finding a spot free from this nuisance, though of course the strong wind
carried the seeds to a great distance. All our enjoyment of the last
evening of the old year centred in an extra dish of two ostrich-eggs.
[Sidenote: January 1st, 1851.]
This morning the condition in which the people composing the caravan
crawled out of their berths was most miserable and piteous; and moreover
nobody thought of starting early, as several camels had been lost. At
length, when the intense cold began to abate, and when the animals had
been found, everybody endeavoured to free himself and his clothing from
the bristles, which joined each part of his dress to the others like so
many needles; but what one succeeded in getting rid of was immediately
carried by the strong wind to another, so that all were in every respect
peevish when they set out at half-past nine o’clock. Nevertheless the
day was to be a very important one to me, and one on which princely
favour was to be shown to me in a most marked manner.
I have remarked above that on the day I started for Ágades the old chief
made a present of a bullock to the other members of the mission; but in
this present I myself did not participate, and I had not yet received
anything from him. Perhaps he was sensible of this, and wanted to give
me likewise a proof of his royal generosity; but I am afraid he was at
the same time actuated by feelings of a very different nature. He had
several times praised my Turkish jacket, and I had consoled him with a
razor or some other trifle; he had avowedly coveted my warm black
bernús, and had effected, by his frank intimations, nothing more than to
make me draw my warm clothing closer round my body. In order to bear the
fatigue of the journey more easily, he had long ago exchanged the little
narrow kígi or méheri-saddle for the broad pack-saddle, with a load of
salt, as a secure seat.
He was one of the foremost in his string, while I, mounted upon my Bu-
Séfi (who, since the loss of my méheri, had once more become my
favourite saddle-horse), was riding outside the caravan, separated from
him by several strings of camels. He called me by name; and on my
answering his call, he invited me to come to him: to do this I had to
ride round all the strings. At length I reached him. He began to
complain of the intense cold, from which he was suffering so acutely,
while I seemed to be so comfortable in my warm clothes; then he asked if
the ostrich-eggs of yesterday evening had pleased us, whereupon I told
him that his people had cheered us greatly by contributing, with their
gift, to enable us to celebrate our chief festival. He then put his hand
into his knapsack, and drawing forth a little cheese, and lifting it
high up, so that all his people might see it, he presented the princely
gift to me, with a gracious and condescending air, as a “mágani-n-dári”
(a remedy against the cold), words which I, indeed, was not sure whether
they were not meant ironically, as an intimation that I had withheld
from him the real mágani-n-dári, my black bernús.
We were gladdened when, about noon, the plain became clothed with
brushwood, and, after a while also with bú-rékkeba. Large troops of
ostriches were seen,—once a whole family, the parents, with several
young ones of various ages, all running in single file one after the
other. We encamped at half-past three in the afternoon, on a spot
tolerably free from karéngia, where we observed a great many holes of
the fox, the fének, or ñauñáwa (_Megalotis famelicus_), particularly in
the neighbourhood of ant-hills. There were also the larger holes of the
earth-hog (_Orycteropus Æthiopicus_), an animal which never leaves its
hole in the daytime, and is rarely seen even by the natives. The holes,
which are from fourteen to sixteen inches in diameter, and descend
gradually, are generally made with great accuracy.
The following day, the country during the first part of our march
continued rather bare; but after half-past two in the afternoon it
became richer in trees and bushes, forming the southern zone of this
sandy inland-plateau, which admits of pastoral settlements. The
elevation of this plain or transition-zone seems to be in general about
two thousand feet above the level of the sea. We encamped at length in
the midst of prickly underwood, and had a good deal of trouble before we
could clear a spot for pitching the tent.
[Sidenote: Thursday, January 3rd.]
Soon after setting out on our march, we met a caravan consisting of
twenty oxen laden with corn, and further on passed a herd of cattle
belonging to the Tagáma,—a most cheerful sight to us. We then encamped
before ten o’clock a little beyond a village of the same tribe, which,
from a neighbouring well, bears the name In-asámet. The village
consisted of huts exactly of the kind described by Leo; for they were
built of mats (_stuore_) erected upon stalks (_frasche_), and covered
with hides over a layer of branches, and were very low. Numbers of
children and cattle gave to the encampment a lively aspect. The well is
rather deep, not less than seventeen fathoms.
We had scarcely encamped, when we were visited by the male inhabitants
of the village, mounted upon a small ill-looking breed of horses. They
proved to be somewhat troublesome, instigated as they were by curiosity,
as well as by their begging propensities; but in order to learn as much
as possible, I thought it better to sacrifice the comfort of my tent,
and converse with them. They were generally tall men, and much fairer
than the Kél-owí; but in their customs they showed that they had fallen
off much from ancient usages, through intercourse with strangers. The
women not only made the first advances, but, what is worse, they were
offered even by the men,—their brethren, or husbands. Even those among
the men whose behaviour was least vile and revolting, did not cease
urging us to engage with the women, who failed not to present themselves
soon afterwards. It could scarcely be taken as a joke. Some of the women
were immensely fat, particularly in the hinder regions, for which the
Tawárek have a peculiar and expressive name—tebúllodén. Their features
were very regular and their skin fair. The two most distinguished
amongst them gave me their names as Shabó and Támatu, which latter word,
though signifying “woman” in general, may nevertheless be also used as a
proper name. The wealthier among them were dressed in black túrkedí and
the zénne; the poorer in white cotton. The dress of most of the men was
also white; but the chief peculiarity of the latter was, that several of
them wore their hair hanging down in long tresses. This is a token of
their being Aníslimen or Merábetín (holy men), which character they
assume notwithstanding their dissolute manners. They have no school, but
pride themselves on having a mʿallem appointed at their mesállaje, which
must be miserable enough. Having once allowed the people to come into my
tent, I could not clear it again the whole day. The names of the more
respectable among the men were Kílle, El Khassén, Efárret, Cháy, Ríssa,
Khándel, and Amaghár (properly “the Elder”). All these people, men and
women, brought with them a variety of objects for sale; and I bought
from them some dried meat of the welwaiji (_Antilope leucoryx_), which
proved to be very fine, as good as beef; others, however, asserted that
it was the flesh of the “rákomi-n-dáwa” or giraffe.
Hunting, together with cattle-breeding, is the chief occupation of the
Tagáma; and they are expert enough with their little swift horses, to
catch the large antelope as well as the giraffe. Others engage in the
salt-trade, and accompany the Kél-gerés on their way to Bílma, without
however following them to Sókoto, where, for the reason which I shall
presently explain, they are not now allowed to enter; but they bring
their salt to Kanó. In this respect the Tagáma acknowledge also, in a
certain degree, the supremacy of the sultan of Ágades.
Their slaves were busy in collecting and pounding the seeds of the
karéngia, or úzak (_Pennisetum distichum_), which constitutes a great
part of their food. Whatever may be got here is procurable only with
money,—even the water is sold:—the water-skin for a zekka of millet; but
of course grain is here very much cheaper than in Aïr, and even than in
Ágades. Altogether the Tagáma[200] form at present a very small tribe,
able to muster, at the utmost, three hundred spears; but most of them
are mounted on horseback. Formerly, however, they were far more
numerous, till Íbram, the father of the present chief, undertook, with
the assistance of the Kél-gerés, the unfortunate expedition against
Sókoto (then governed by Bello), of which Clapperton has given a
somewhat exaggerated account.[201] The country around is said to be
greatly infested by lions, which often carry off camels.
[Sidenote: Friday, January 4th.]
Our setting out this morning, after the camels were all laden and the
men mounted, was retarded by the arrival of a queen of the desert, a
beauty of the first rank, at least as regarded her dimensions. The lady,
with really handsome features, was mounted upon a white bullock, which
snorted violently under his immense burden. Nevertheless this luxurious
specimen of womankind was sickly, and required the assistance of the
tabíb, or “ne-meglán[202],” a title which Overweg had earned for himself
by his doctoring, though his practice was rather of a remarkable kind;
for he used generally to treat his patients, not according to the
character of their sickness, but according to the days of the week on
which they came. Thus he had one day of calomel, another of Dover’s
powder, one of Epsom salts, one of magnesia, one of tartar emetic: the
two remaining days being devoted to some other medicines; and it of
course sometimes happened that the man who suffered from diarrhœa got
Epsom salts, and he who required opening medicine was blessed with a
dose of Dover’s powder. Of course my friend made numerous exceptions to
this calendary method of treating disease, whenever time and
circumstances allowed him to study more fully the state of a patient.
However, in the hurry in which we just then were, he could scarcely make
out what the imaginary or real infirmity of this lady was; and I cannot
say what she got. She was certainly a woman of great authority, as the
old chief himself was full of kind regards and deference to her. We were
rather astonished that he exchanged here his brown mare for a lean white
horse, the owners of which seemed, with good reason, excessively
delighted with their bargain.
At length we got off, proceeding towards the land of promise in an
almost direct southerly course. After three miles’ march the thick bush
“dílu” made its appearance in the denser underwood, and the country
became more hilly and full of ant-holes, while in the distance ahead of
us, a little to our left, a low range became visible, stretching east
and west. Suddenly the ground became a rocky flat, and the whole caravan
was thrown into disorder. We did not at first perceive its cause, till
we saw, to our great astonishment, that a steep descent by a regular
terrace was here formed, at least a hundred feet high, which conducted
to a lower level,—the first distinct proof that we had passed the
Hammáda. The vegetation here was different, and a new plant made its
appearance called “ágwau,” a middle-sized bush consisting of a dense
cluster of thick branches of very white wood, at present without leaves,
the young shoots just coming out; melons also were plentiful here, but
they had no taste. The rocky descent only extends to a short distance
towards the west, when it breaks off, while on our left it stretched far
to the south-east. When we had kept along this plain for a little more
than two miles, we passed, a short distance on our right, a large pond
or “tébki” of water, called “Fárak,” spreading out in a hollow. I had
here a long conversation with my frolicsome friend Mohammed Ánnur’s
cousin, who was also going to Sudán; I told him that his uncle seemed to
know his people well, and showed his wisdom in not leaving such a wanton
youngster as himself behind him. He was, as usual, full of good humour,
and informed me that Ánnur’s troop was almost the first, being preceded
only by the caravan of Sálah, the chief of Egéllat. He prided himself
again on his exploits in the late ghazzia, when they had overtaken the
Éfadaye marauders in Tálak and Búgarén. Further on we passed the well
called Fárak, which was now dry, and encamped two miles beyond it in a
district thickly overgrown with karéngias.
[Sidenote: Saturday, January 5th.]
We had scarcely started, when I observed an entirely new species of
plant, which is rather rare in Central Negroland, and which I afterwards
met in considerable quantities along the north shore of the so-called
Niger, between Timbúktu and Tosáye. It is here, in Háusa, called
“kumkúmmia,” a euphorbia growing from one and a half to two feet in
height, and is very poisonous; indeed hereabouts, as in other districts
of Central Africa, it furnishes the chief material with which arrows are
poisoned. The principal vegetation consisted of “árza” (a species of
laurel) and dílu; and further on parasitical plants were seen, but not
in a very vigorous state. Altogether the country announced its fertility
by its appearance; and a little before noon, when low ranges of hills
encompassed the view on both sides, and gave it a more pleasant
character, we passed, close on our left, another pastoral settlement of
half mat and half leather tents[203], enlivened by numerous cattle and
flocks, and leaning against a beautiful cluster of most luxuriant trees.
But more cheerful still was the aspect of a little lake or tank of
considerable extent, and bordered all around with the thickest grove of
luxuriant acacias of the kind called “baggarúwa,” which formed overhead
a dense and most beautiful canopy. This little lake is called “Gúmrek,”
and was full of cattle, which came hither to cool themselves in the
shade during the hot hours of the day. In this pleasant scenery we
marched along, while a good number of horsemen collected around us, and
gave us a little trouble; but I liked them far better, with their rough
and warlike appearance, than their more civilized and degraded brethren
of the day before. At about half-past two we encamped on the border of a
dry watercourse with a white sandy bed, such as we had not seen for a
long time. But here we made the acquaintance of a new plant and a new
nuisance; this is the “aidó,” a grass with a prickly involucrum of black
colour, and of larger size and stronger prickles than the karéngia (or
_Pennisetum distichum_), and more dangerous for naked feet than for the
clothes. A new string of camels joined us here, led on by Mohammed
Ánnur.
[Sidenote: Sunday, January 6th.]
We were greatly surprised at the appearance of the weather this morning;
the sky was covered with thick clouds, and even a light rain fell while
the caravan was loading. We felt some fear on account of the salt; but
the rain soon ceased. In the course of my travels, principally during my
stay in Timbúktu, I had more opportunities of observing these little
incidental rain-falls of the cold season, or “the black nights,” during
January and February; and further on, as occasion offers, I shall state
the result of my observations.
At a little more than a mile from our camping-ground, the aspect of the
country became greatly changed, and we ascended a hilly country of a
very remarkable character, the tops of the hills looking bare, and
partly of a deep, partly of a greyish black, like so many mounds of
volcanic _débris_, while the openings or hollows were clothed with
underwood. Here our companions began already to collect wood as a
provision for the woodless corn-fields of Damerghú; but we were as yet
some distance off. Ascending gradually, we reached the highest point at
nine o’clock, while close on our right we had a hill rising to greater
elevation; and here we obtained an interesting view—just as the sun
burst through the clouds—over the hilly country before us, through which
a bushy depression ran in a very winding course. Along this tortuous
thread of underwood lay our path. As we were proceeding, Ibrahím, our
Furáwi freeman, who was a very good marksman for a black, brought down a
large lizard (Draconina) “demmó,” or, as the Arabs call it, “wárel,”
which was sunning itself on a tree; it is regarded by the people as a
great delicacy. A little before noon the country seemed to become more
open, but only to be covered with rank reeds ten feet high—quite a new
sight for us, and a great inconvenience to the camels, which stumbled
along over the little hillocks from which the bunches of reeds shot
forth. Further on, the ground (being evidently very marshy during the
rainy season) was so greatly torn and rent by deep fissures, that the
caravan was obliged to separate into two distinct parties. The very
pleasant and truly park-like hilly country continued nearly unchanged
till one o’clock in the afternoon, when, at a considerable distance on
our left, we got sight of the first corn-fields of Damerghú, belonging
to the villages of Kulakérki and Banuwélki.
This was certainly an important stage in our journey. For although we
had before seen a few small patches of garden-fields, where corn was
produced (as in Selúfiet, Áuderas, and other favoured places), yet they
were on so small a scale as to be incapable of sustaining even a small
fraction of the population; but here we had at length reached those
fertile regions of Central Africa, which are not only able to sustain
their own population, but even to export to foreign countries. My heart
gladdened at this sight, and I felt thankful to Providence that our
endeavours had been so far crowned with success; for here a more
promising field for our labours was opened, which might become of the
utmost importance in the future history of mankind.
We soon after saw another village, which several of our companions named
Olalówa, and which may indeed be so called, although I thought at the
time they applied to it the name of the more famous place further on,
with which they were acquainted; and I afterwards convinced myself that
such was really the case. The country became open and level, the whole
ground being split and rent by fissures. While I was indulging in
pleasing reveries of new discoveries and successful return, I was
suddenly startled by three horsemen riding up to me and saluting me with
a “Lá ílah ilá Allah.” It was Dan Íbra (or Íbram, the “son of Ibrahím”),
the famous and dreaded chief of the Tamizgída[204], whom the ruler of
Tintéllust himself in former times had not been able to subdue, but had
been obliged to pay him a sort of small tribute or transit-money, in
order to secure the unmolested passage of his caravans on their way to
Sudán. The warlike chief had put on all his finery, wearing a handsome
blue bernús, with gold embroidery, over a rich Sudán tobe, and was
tolerably well mounted. I answered his salute, swearing by Allah that I
knew Allah better than he himself, when he became more friendly, and
exchanged with me a few phrases, asking me what we wanted to see in this
country. He then went to take his turn with Mr. Richardson. I plainly
saw that if we had not been accompanied by Ánnur himself, and almost all
our luggage sent on in advance, we should have had here much more
serious colloquies.
After having ascended a little from the lower ground, where evidently,
during the rains, a large sheet of water collects, and having left on
our right a little village surrounded by stubble-fields, we passed along
the western foot of the gently-sloping ground on whose summit lies the
village (“úngwa”) Sámmit. It was past four o’clock in the afternoon when
we encamped upon an open stubble-field, and we were greatly cheered at
observing here the first specimen of industry in a good sense,—for of
industry in a bad sense the Tagáma had already given us some proof. As
soon as we were dismounted, two muscular blacks, girded with leather
aprons round their loins, came bounding forward, and in an instant
cleared the whole open space around us, while in a few minutes several
people, male and female, followed, offering a variety of things for
sale, such as millet, beans (of two sorts), and those cakes called
dodówa, which were duly appreciated by the late Captain Clapperton for
the excellent soup made of them. Of their preparation I shall speak when
we meet the first tree of that species, the dorówa—the name of the cake
and that of the tree being distinguished by the change of a consonant.
The cakes obtained here, however, as I afterwards learned, were of a
most inferior and spurious character—of that kind called “dodówa-n-
bósso” in Háusa, and in some districts “yákwa.” We felt here the benefit
of civilization in a most palpable way, by getting most excellent
chicken-broth for our supper. Our servants, indeed, were cooking the
whole night.
[Sidenote: Monday, January 7th.]