Land near the Bara-Issa — Tuaregs — A salt caravan — Stalking
hartebeest — Lake Niangaye — The village of Kanioumé — My
runaway horse — Tracking elephants — Elephants bathing — A
stampede of elephants — A wounded elephant — Cave dwellers —
Sandstorms and rifles.
ON the 21st of March I left Saraféré. I had managed to buy a horse
here, being glad to have my own mount at last. He was a little
animal, a dark bay, about fourteen hands; not exactly the most
suitable beast for the work for which I required him, but horses
were not easy to buy. In any case, the price could not be called
exorbitant. I paid the sum of seventy-five francs, or three pounds,
for him, the saddle and bridle included!
I still had to be content with a native saddle and bridle, for
European horse-gear was not to be had in the Western Soudan. His
previous owner was a native clerk in the Resident’s office, who
informed me that he was selling as he proposed closing his stables!
Fortunately I was a light weight, and as he appeared to be a wiry
little beggar in spite of his somewhat weedy looks, I came to
the conclusion he would be good enough for what was expected of
him. He was, of course, innocent of any knowledge of trotting. His
only two paces were an amble and a walk. He could amble fast or he
could amble slow, but had not much idea of galloping.
The country was very similar to that between Sébi and Saraféré.
In the season of inundations it would not have been practicable
to travel by road, as the existing track would have been several
feet deep in water. The only mode of transport then possible is by
canoe. Rice and millet are the products of this country, the land
near the streams and backwaters of the Bara-Issa being eminently
suited to the cultivation of these cereals. On the banks of these
streams are the villages, but as soon as one strikes into the
interior, away from the water, the country becomes more than ever
desert-like in character, and human habitations are confined to a few
isolated Tuareg encampments. The people in the villages are Fulanis,
as usual possessed of big herds of cattle. The Tuaregs, on the other
hand, owned sheep and goats, which seemed to thrive in a marvellous
manner on the poor provender found in the sandy waste surrounding
them. A coarse-looking grass, or mimosa scrub, formed their fare.
These Tuaregs are hardly the same class of that tribe as are found in
the desert proper on the other side of the Niger. They are nomads,
preferring the isolated life away from villages, it is true,
but at the same time they do not so utterly shun all contact with
mankind as do their brethren of the Sahara. I suppose being nearer
to civilization and luxuries, they have begun to feel the want of
these things, and have to a certain extent degenerated. Anyway, they
would appear to be now less hardy than before. Their dwelling-places
consist either of small tents made of sheepskins, or else of little
huts made of branches of mimosa scrub and palm leaves. Hut is
rather a dignified name to apply to these habitations. They are,
perhaps, a dozen feet square, and so low that a man must always
remain in a crouched position if he tries to stand up inside. It
is strange how they succeed in getting their wives and families
into this tiny space. Certainly their personal belongings are few,
for they are very poor, and their wealth, such as it is, is all in
their flocks of goats or sheep.
One day we met a large salt caravan coming down from Timbuctu, and
_en route_ to a place called Douentza, some days’ march south of
Saraféré. The salt is carried in big rectangular bars, and, in
this case, was laden on donkeys and bullocks. The loads are usually
fastened into a kind of stout rope netting, like a bag. These nets
are then fastened one on each side of the beast of burden, over a
roughly shaped pack-saddle.
[Illustration: WOMEN POUNDING RICE AT TOMBOLA, FRENCH GUINEA
Rice is pounded in a wooden bowl with a heavy wooden club. The women
spend hours daily in preparing the rice thus, chanting the while.]
These traders were all Hausas, travelling with their wives and
children. They cover about fifteen miles a day in this manner,
and are so abstemious in their habits that they generally make a
large profit on their transactions. They drink only water as a rule,
while their diet is of the most frugal kind, helped out with a few
kola nuts, of which they are exceedingly fond. The nut has rather
a bitter taste, but one soon gets accustomed to it. The Hausas can
exist without food for a considerable time, provided they have some
kola nut to chew. There is no doubt that its sustaining properties
are great, while, when water has been scarce, I have found it a
first-rate plan to keep a piece of the fruit in one’s mouth and
close the teeth on it.
The head of this caravan was a native merchant of some
importance. Early next morning we saw him on the road preparing
to start. He wore flowing white robes, and made a picturesque
figure mounted on his gaily caparisoned steed. I was informed he
was a regular trader by that route, and that he always personally
superintended the assembly of his caravan before the morning
departure. He certainly seemed to have a rather motley collection
of both sexes who were under him in perfect control. At his orders
they sought out, without much delay, their respective beasts from
the grass where they were browsing, and loaded their charges in a
most business-like manner.
This place, called Bouramaka-Yororo, was one of the few spots where
I saw any full snipe. About two miles’ walk from the village there
were some shallow ponds, with marshy banks, which were the homes of
these snipe, besides quantities of the grey teal, which I previously
described. Most of the different kinds of duck, which I had come
across before, were also well represented, but in comparison to the
grey teal their numbers were insignificant. The water was covered
with a grey sheet of these little birds, but they were very wild,
and rose in the air in dense clouds on observing our approach.
The next day we had a long march, through a very sandy region,
to the western extremity of Lake Niangaye. We had now left the
water system of the River Bara-Issa behind us, and the country was
destitute of water until the lake was reached.
I was riding ahead of the carriers with the policeman, as my custom
was, when, as we came round a bend in the track, we espied a big
herd of Senegal haartebeest. The animals had evidently been down
towards the lake, and on perceiving us, galloped off through the
scrub to our right front. There were at least forty in the herd,
and, in the hopes that they had not gone too far for pursuit, I
started off on their tracks. The trail was easy enough to follow,
so, leaving the police orderly with our horses, I went off alone.
The ground sloped gently in front of me, so I cautiously approached
the top, expecting to see the antelope grazing on the far side.
Working with the wind in my face, I wended my way gradually to the
ridge, and, taking cover behind a mimosa tree, I peered warily over
the edge. Sure enough, about eight hundred yards away were the herd,
some grazing, while others had their heads turned in the direction
from which they had come, evidently not forgetful of the alarm our
appearance had caused among them.
I now tried to stalk them by a flank movement, making for a hillock
within two hundred yards of the game. Here I hoped to be able to
select the best head, and should be within fairly good range. My
manœuvring was completely successful until I neared the top of the
hillock, and then, by an incautious movement, I foolishly exposed
myself to view for a fraction of a second. To my disgust I had
been observed, and away scampered the whole herd at a pace which I
knew meant that pursuit was out of the question. I took a couple of
flying shots at the one I had marked down as being the biggest bull,
but they were both clean misses, and I was unable to retrieve the
blunder I had made by exposing myself to view. I only saw one herd
of these haartebeest as big as this one again. I fancy forty animals
in a herd is nothing out of the ordinary, but in the Western Soudan,
from my experience, they are generally in much smaller herds.
After the incident of the haartebeest we continued our march
towards the lake. The carriers had by this time come up with me,
and were eager to get to the water, as the day was hot and they
had nothing to drink by the way. Accordingly we pushed on at a good
pace, until suddenly a silvery gleam came into view on the horizon,
being evidently the first glimpse of Niangaye. As we approached the
water became more visible. Here we were near the western extremity
of the lake, which extended eastward as far as the eye could reach,
while the breadth must have been about three miles. The shores were
sandy, and the banks covered with dried-up grass and small bushes.
Occasionally a canoe could be seen speeding along under sail,
propelled by a stiff breeze from the north-east. The water was a
fine open expanse; there were a few clumps of reeds at times near the
shores, but these were not dense enough to interfere with navigation.
The wind referred to blows almost constantly from the same
quarter. It is strongest from about sunrise till 11 a.m., while
in the evening it dies down altogether as a rule. It thus causes a
regular tide, with a difference between high and low water of about
two feet. As the lake is shallow, the bed shelving very gently,
there is a considerable difference between the width of the sandy
beach available as a road in the morning and afternoon. The quantity
of water in the lake varies greatly with the season of the year;
indeed, at the end of the dry weather, about May, it is possible to
walk across the lake in several places without so much as wetting
the feet.
Lake Niangaye is one of the largest, if not quite the largest, of
a system of lakes and backwaters of the Niger and its affluents
in the south-west corner of the “Bend” of that river. Lake
Niangaye is the most easterly of this system. The whole of this
large area is known as the “Lake District,” and all round
these waters game of all descriptions abounds. During the season
when water is abundant everywhere the game has no difficulty about
drinking; it is therefore scattered all over this area, and not so
easy to locate. In the dry months, from January to May, however,
the case is very different. Water gets scarcer every month, and the
drinking-places become more and more restricted, so that the game has
to concentrate around the immediate shores of the lakes to get water.
Consequently this is the best time of the year for shooting, although
one disadvantage is that the heat gets very intense, and, under these
conditions, tracking game becomes a very exhausting pastime. The
sandy soil surrounding the lakes for many miles scorches the feet,
while the sun beats mercilessly down upon the sportsman’s head. Of
course, many kinds of animals retire when the sun gets up in the
heavens, about nine o’clock; but this is often the best time to
find such game as Senegal haartebeest and gazelle, which can be
discovered resting from the heat of the day in the shade of a mimosa
tree. These animals are sometimes very shy and unapproachable in
the early morning or evening, and frequently one’s only chance
of a shot at a beast you have been tracking for some time is during
the middle of the day, when he is not so much on the alert.
[Illustration: FULANIS AT BAMBARA-MAAUNDÉE
These people, living, as they do, in the northern portion of the
higher “Bend,” where the Sahara sand has crossed the river
and made a determined invasion on the right bank, have adopted
the Tuareg “litham.” They are skilled horsemen and experienced
cattle-breeders. The national arm is the spear, such as is held by
one of the squatting figures.]
The village we entered near the western end of the lake was called
Kanioumé. I was particularly anxious to stop a few hours here,
in order to interview the chief. He was the most influential man
in this region, all the villages on the southern shore of Niangaye
being subservient to him. This man was a Fulah, and as he had had
constant dealings with the Commissioner of the district, on account
of his influential position in the country, I had been recommended to
make arrangements for local hunters, supplies, and so forth through
him. I had been given the names of the best hunters in the district,
and was told that this chief would be able to furnish me with them.
The chief was most obliging, providing me with everything I required
without delay; but the hunters were not forthcoming. They were, he
said, at Douentza, several days’ march away, and the head-quarters
of the French Resident. Fortunately, I had taken the precaution,
before leaving Saraféré, to write to the Resident of Douentza,
informing him of my intended hunting trip in his country, and at
the same time mentioning that I wished for the services of these
particular hunters. I therefore hoped that they would soon reach
me. This chief informed me, and I subsequently discovered that
his statement was perfectly correct, that there were practically
no native hunters in the region. It appeared that the Fulanis,
who formed almost the entire population of this part of the Lake
District, never themselves hunted, hence the difficulty of securing
a man who knew the haunts of the game in the neighbourhood was
great. It seems strange that these people, living in the midst of
a country inhabited by wild animals, should not care to hunt them,
but so it is. The chief, however, relieved my worst apprehensions
to a certain extent by assuring me that at Bambara-Maaundé there
was one hunter; I therefore bade him send at once to the man to
tell him to be ready to meet me there the next day. At the end of
the palaver I rejoiced the chief’s heart with a present of a head
of tobacco from my now dwindling store of the leaf.
The chief and a cavalcade of his retinue accompanied me as far as
the next village, some six miles further along the lake, where I
was going to spend the night. Having made all arrangements for our
comfort there, he took his departure.
After leaving Kanioumé the lake widens considerably. The opposite
shore cannot be seen until within about three miles of the eastern
extremity. The total length of Niangaye is about thirty-five
miles. Near Bambara-Maaundé the eastern end is divided into
two forks by a high ridge of hills, the width of the neck of
land at the foot of these hills and separating the two forks of
water being about five miles. The southern shore is much more
wooded than the northern shore, but even on the south there are
frequently stretches of sandy country without any vegetation other
than a coarse grass. The northern shore is also covered in many
places with dense reeds, making navigation more difficult. On both
sides of the lake the ground rises rather rapidly, until a plateau,
two to three hundred feet above the level of the water, is reached.
Most of the game is on this plateau on the southern side of Niangaye,
merely coming down daily to drink.
For a few days I made Bambara-Maaundé my head-quarters, leaving
camp early every morning and returning at midday, then going out
again in the afternoon. I found the hunter, who had been ordered
to be ready at the village, awaiting my arrival. So far there was
no news from Douentza of the two hunters I had sent for, so I sent
another urgent runner to the Resident for them. The day after my
arrival I shot a fine Senegal haartebeest, within two hours of camp,
and this was the occasion when I lost my horse temporarily.
I had ridden out with the hunter, as was my custom, when we got on
to the tracks of a fine solitary bull haartebeest. I dismounted to
follow it on foot, leaving the horse with the hunter and my second
rifle-bearer. I soon perceived him about six hundred yards away,
browsing at the top of a little rise. The ground was very open and
sloped up gradually towards him, so I had to be very cautious in
stalking. Fortune favoured me this time, and I was able to get within
comfortable shot, unperceived. The first bullet dropped him, mortally
wounded through the lungs. My hunter came up with the horses. These
he tied up while we were skinning the animal, having secured the
end of my horse’s bridle to the branch of a mimosa tree.
We were busily engaged with our hunting knives when I suddenly
looked up and saw my steed, having slipped his head-collar,
trotting quietly down the hill. He gradually increased his pace to
a gallop before we had time to stop him, until he was lost to view.
I sent the rifle-bearer after in pursuit, thinking he would catch
him grazing quietly at the nearest spot, where he could find
some good grass. To cut a long story short, the native lost the
horse’s tracks on some hard, rocky ground, returning about two
hours later with the news. There was nothing for it but to walk
back to camp and send out parties to search for my mount, if he had
not returned, as I hoped, to the village. He was not at the camp,
whither I returned ignominiously on foot, so I told the chief to
send out search parties.
All available horses were collected to mount the tracking party, and
when the men were assembled they were really rather a picturesque
group. The Fulah on horseback looks quite his best, for these men
have a good seat and are good horsemen, but, like most natives,
they are bad horsemasters. There was a collection of some twenty
men, armed with the national weapon, a spear, looking more as if
they were going out to fight than to look for a lost horse.
It was not till long after nightfall that I heard a great stir
outside, and, by the light of a bright moon, I could perceive mounted
figures rapidly approaching across the plain. On they came at full
gallop, brandishing their spears and uttering wild cries, until they
arrived opposite my camp, when they drew rein so suddenly as to throw
their steeds on to their haunches. By the triumphant cries I guessed
the horse had been found, as, indeed, he had. I think he must have
lost himself, as, when they discovered him, he was lying down, tired
out, and apparently only too glad to be caught and led back to camp.
After a few days’ good sport, but still without news of the
Douentza hunters, I determined to wait no longer, but to start for
the elephant country with my local hunter at once. My so-called
hunter was really not of much use, except as a guide to show me
the road home at the end of the day, for his knowledge of the
whereabouts of game was decidedly limited. He was also hardly an
experienced tracker, but still, in this respect he might have been
worse. In these circumstances I had to go and ascertain the place
where the elephant were now to be found for myself, before I could
decide where to pitch my camp. On one of my shooting trips I had
come across some old spoor, leading down to the lake. I now went
to this place with a view to making it the base of my tracking
operations, intending to work backwards from there, in order to
try to find the feeding-grounds of this herd. All this country
is so thinly populated that for miles there are no habitations,
and therefore I could not expect to get any information from natives.
That day I camped temporarily close to the place where these old
tracks existed, near the brink of Niangaye. It was here that fortune
smiled upon me for a change. That evening, just I was retiring for
the night, I heard a low thundering noise, and noticed the peculiar
strong odour which is found with elephants. I at once came to the
conclusion that they must be coming down to bathe at the lake,
and, moreover, could not be far off. Hastily seizing my rifle and
throwing on some khaki clothes over my light-coloured pyjamas,
I went out of my tent at the same instant that the local hunter
came to tell me the elephant were indeed approaching the lake. It
was a beautiful moonlight night, and the animals sounded so near
that I was afraid they would see the camp and take alarm, so I gave
instructions for everyone to keep perfectly quiet and for the fires
to be put out. It did, indeed, seem a strange thing that they should
almost run into my camp the night I arrived there!
As I cautiously crept through the light bush, making a wide circuit
to avoid giving them my wind, I shall never forget the splendid
sight that broke on my view. In front of me was a herd of some
forty elephants, drinking and bathing in the water of the lake. A
bright moon shed her rays on the scene, making the water sparkle in
a silvery sheen, while thousands of stars twinkled in the deep blue
sky overhead. These splendid creatures appeared to be thoroughly
enjoying themselves, and I waited under cover to feast my eyes
on the sight for a few seconds. I could see them revelling in the
luxury of their bath, douching themselves with water taken up in
their trunks, splashing and disporting themselves in high frolic.
At this moment how I longed to be able to take a photograph of this
remarkable scene, of which, though it is so vividly pictured on my
memory, I have no other record!
I carefully singled out the best tuskers and waited my opportunity
for a shot. To advance any further would have been fatal, for I
was now on the edge of the scrub, and between me and the elephant
was a narrow strip of open sandy beach, while they were some thirty
yards further in the water, possibly altogether eighty yards from me.
Having drunk their fill, the great beasts proceeded to retreat
leisurely homewards. Now would be my opportunity for a shot.
Manœuvring to keep the best tuskers in view, I had no difficulty in
shooting down one as he stopped, within twenty yards of me, while
he reached at a branch with his great trunk. I hit him through the
ear in the brain, and he fell on the spot. At the same instant
I saw the other tusker close at hand, and gave him two bullets
in rapid succession. He was hard hit, but did not fall. The whole
occurrence had not taken more than a few seconds, but before I had
time to reload the noise was deafening.
The huge herd, evidently more frightened than enraged, except perhaps
for the wounded elephant, by the report of my rifle and the fall
of their comrade, stampeded. They charged violently forward in
all directions, trampling under foot all that came in their way,
screaming and trumpeting as they went.
Some half-dozen came careering towards me; there was neither time
nor space to evade them, and I must own my life seemed not worth
a minute’s purchase just then. I thought I must inevitably be
crushed to atoms under their massive feet; there seemed no chance of
escape. In the hope of making myself as inconspicuous as possible,
I flung myself flat on the ground, knowing all the time that though
they might not notice me in their impetuous flight, those gigantic
forms could hardly avoid running over my prostrate body.
By great good fortune something, I cannot for the life of me think
what it was, made them swerve aside, passing within a few inches of
me where I lay. I can hardly describe what a tiny, impotent creature
one feels at such a moment. How powerless was I against one of these
animals, should he by chance brush against me! I suppose that is
about the narrowest escape I ever had, and an experience I am not
anxious to repeat.
In an incredibly short space of time the whole herd had disappeared,
the only sign of their recent visit being the clouds of dust,
the trampled soil, and the dead elephant.
While this scene had been going on the hunter, my servant, and my
following had bolted in all directions, alarmed, I suppose, lest the
elephants should rush through the camp. When quiet had been restored
the natives began to return. The excitement had been rather trying,
and there was nothing further to be done that night. I gave orders
for an early start in the morning in pursuit of the wounded elephant,
while the men left in camp were to cut up the dead animal.
Accompanied by the hunter I started before daylight, following
the tracks which were fairly visible. The wounded animal had kept
company with the rest of the herd, for, within a mile or two of
camp, all the separated tracks of the scattered elephants reunited.
As the day dawned it became clear from the blood that he had been
severely wounded. I thought that the first shot had hit him in
the head, and the second a little below the heart as he turned
broadside to me, but of this I could not be sure. We were able to
follow the tracks at a gentle amble, so distinct were they. After
proceeding thus for about seven miles, we arrived at the top of
the rising ground and on to the plateau, which I have previously
mentioned. The scrub now got thicker, but there was no difficulty in
riding anywhere. Proceeding another five miles or so, we suddenly
came across the wounded elephant standing under a small tree,
sheltering from the sun, for it was getting hot and was now nine
o’clock. There had been nothing to indicate that his footsteps
were lagging. However, he must have got tired and been unable to
keep up with the rest of the herd any longer.
The hunter was carrying my big rifle at this time, while I had
the ·303 slung at my saddle. Seizing the ·450 from him I rapidly
dismounted, while all this time the elephant appeared not to have
noticed us, having its back turned in our direction. I skirted
through the bush in order to get a shot at its brain, the animal
being, I suppose, not more than thirty yards away. As I faced it
it suddenly perceived me and lifted up its trunk as if to charge;
I was then not twenty yards off. I fired under its uplifted trunk,
when it swerved aside, the blood streaming from its mouth. A second
shot penetrated its brain, and it fell to the ground quite dead.
The tusks of this elephant weighed fifty-two pounds each, while
the other had ivory weighing just over forty-five pounds on either
side. The ivory was not big, but I was given to understand that,
for that country, the tusks were very fair, and that it was rare
to get tusks weighing even sixty pounds; so under the circumstances
I was fortunate.
It is a curious fact that the elephant of this region do not carry
big ivory, although possibly the explanation is a simple one.
There are no big trees in the country, which is an extraordinarily
open one for elephant, consisting of sandy soil, light scrub and, in
places, mimosa or other trees never more than thirty or forty feet
high. Such is the district in which these animals are here found;
besides, water is scarce. Away from the lake there is no water of
any description for nearly forty miles.
Having found the line of retreat of the elephant, and knowing
that it lay through a waterless tract of country, I decided to
provision myself with water next day and attempt to come up with
the herd again. Accordingly, the following morning very early,
equipped with three days’ water supply, I set out in pursuit
of the herd. It seemed evident that they must have a permanent
feeding-ground, which could supply them with better provender than
was obtainable in the country I had seen, and the chances were
that if I could discover this feeding-ground I should also find the
elephant. The tracks were plainly discernible nearly the whole way;
only once did we lose them for a short time on some stony ground.
Proceeding for about six miles beyond the place where I had found
the wounded elephant, I noticed the country becoming much more
wooded. We were now about eighteen miles from Lake Niangaye. Here
the tracks of the elephant branched off in various directions,
and it was without doubt their feeding-ground.
Picking up the biggest tracks we could see, we followed these for
some distance through this wooded region. The ground here was quite
rocky in many places, the sandy soil having disappeared. I had
noticed that the ivory of my tusks was chipped, and it seemed that
this must be the solution. Probably these elephant broke their
tusks on the hard, rocky surface of their feeding-place. This
wooded country appeared to extend for a considerable distance in
a southerly direction.
Still following the tracks of this animal, which led to a place
where he had evidently slept the previous night, we suddenly crossed
some perfectly fresh tracks of another elephant. It was some hours
later, when following this elephant, which I had wounded, that
I came across a strange tribe of people who dwell in caves. The
elephant’s tracks had led me to the foot of the Hombori Mountains,
and it is here that these people live. They wear practically no
clothing, and are very timid. Probably they had hardly seen a white
man in those parts before. They are called the Habbés. They live
chiefly by hunting round the shores of a lake called Kurorua, lying
at the foot of the hills. I could not understand their language,
and being short of provisions I had to curtail my stay in their
country. This place is about forty miles from Lake Niangaye, and
it seemed that the elephant used to drink at one or other of these
lakes, according to circumstances, their feeding-ground being nearly
half-way between the two.
The Habbés use bows and arrows, but also have old-fashioned guns,
for which they manufacture their own powder out of saltpetre,
found locally. Their bullets are more often made of small, sharp
stones than of lead, but any rough missile will serve them.
Between the feeding-ground, which I discovered was called Tinsida,
and Lake Kurorua, the country again becomes sandy and sparsely
covered with vegetation. In all this sandy country the violent
wind from the north-east, which I had experienced at Niangaye,
blows. This wind raises sandstorms, which are not only most
disagreeable, but are also very bad for the mechanism of a rifle
should it be at all complicated. However careful one may be it
is exceedingly difficult to avoid getting sand into the breech,
with the result that a jam may occur. This actually happened to me
at a very awkward moment, when hunting elephant. I had to abandon
my ·450 and fire with my ·303. Fortunately for me the animal did
not charge home, or I should probably have had some difficulty in
stopping him with the light bullet of the small rifle. This was not
the only occasion when I had a bad jam on account of the sand, and,
later on, when crossing the Sahara, I found matters still worse,
as the sandstorms were more frequent and more violent.