Bullocks — Pelicans on Lake Niangaye — Stalking ostriches —
Friendly Tuaregs — Lakes and swamps — By canoe to Timbuctu — An
intricate route — Horses of the Sonrhais — Kabara — Timbuctu
— A quaint desert city — A change of route — A steel canoe
— Yakubu — Explorers — Réné Caillé — Barth — Scenes
in Timbuctu — The Sonrhay empire — Mosques — Salt trade —
Saharan sirocco — Desert caravans.
ON the 3rd of April I returned to Bambara-Maaundé on my way north to
Timbuctu. My first plan had been to march due north, but I could get
no guide to show me the way. The Fulanis declared that the route was
impracticable at this time of year, owing to the scarcity of water,
and in any case they had no man to serve as guide who knew the route.
I had grave suspicions of the truth of their statements, but
unfortunately was not in a position to prove they were lying. In
the end I had to go the way they recommended as being the only one
possible at the time of the year. This route entailed a two days’
march, followed by three days by canoe.
Carriers were not to be had as the Fulani is much too proud,
or too lazy, to carry a load. So I had to hire bullocks for my
baggage. Bullocks and camels, when obtainable, do all the transport
in these regions. Bullocks can, at a pinch, march two days without
water, carrying a load of about 150 lbs. They are humped oxen, very
slow and sure in their movements. The driver—there is one to each
animal—sits on the front of the hump, with the loads behind him,
guiding his beast with a kind of rein passing through its nostrils.
At first we passed along the shores of Lake Niangaye, meeting on
the way some camel and bullock caravans coming into the village.
For the place is on the route from the north to Douentza market,
and a fair amount of trade travels this way. A curious feature of
this end of the lake is the number of pelicans seen on the water.
They all congregate on the opposite side to Bambara-Maaundé,
appearing to breed there in some quantities. In the evening the
birds collect together, uttering strange cries, reminding one
rather of the wildfowl on the seashores in the wilder parts of
the British coast. They are uncouth-looking creatures with their
enormous beaks, but seem to thrive wonderfully well on the fish of
the lake. I suppose when the water here dries up they migrate to the
Niger and its tributaries. I shot a few geese at Niangaye, but duck
and teal were very scarce. The surrounding country is well stocked
with sand-grouse and lesser bustard, but other varieties of game
birds are not plentiful. I think I saw only one bushfowl, and the
few guinea-fowl I shot appeared to be very tough. Indeed, I always
noticed that the guinea-fowl shot in sandy districts was tough,
irrespective of the age of the bird. I often wondered if possibly
this was due to the semi-desert diet which they have to live on here.
We had to cross the high ridge of ground which separated the two
easterly forks of the lake previously mentioned, and, when finally
quitting the farthest fork of water, our journey took us through a
patch of desert land. It was in this desert patch that I saw several
ostriches. The huge birds were on the sky-line about half a mile away
when I first noticed them, and, strangely enough, did not appear to
have perceived me; for they moved in quite a leisurely manner out
of sight, instead of striding off as they usually do when alarmed.
I decided to try to stalk them. Provided they did not move too
rapidly the chances seemed to be in my favour, for the slope of
the ground was such that I should be able to advance almost to the
top of the ridge in front of me, unperceived. The wind helped me,
as it was blowing directly in my face, so I was able successfully
to carry out my plan, and, on arriving at the summit of the ridge,
I got a fairly easy shot, lying behind a small hillock, at one of
the birds. The feathers were not in bad condition, and later I found
some of them invaluable for bartering with Arabs. Judging by the
tracks, there appeared to be a number of these birds between the
Niger and Lake Niangaye, although most of the ostrich hunting is
done on the other side of the Niger and some hundred miles lower
down. By questioning my native followers, indeed, I found that
these ostriches do not seem to be hunted at all.
That day we did a long march, as I was anxious to get across the
desert and camp by the water on the far side that night. The water
was a swampy stream, called Tango-Maré, which was one of the
tributaries of the River Bara-Issa. I camped by its shores, where
the sand-flies and mosquitoes were worse than I had experienced
for a very long time. My servant and the police orderly both
got a severe attack of fever in consequence, and I passed a most
uncomfortable night.
There was an encampment of wandering Tuaregs close by who made
things look brighter by a very acceptable present of camel’s
milk, accompanied by protestations of friendship. This gift and the
message accompanying it seemed so unlike the usual custom of the
Tuaregs, where Europeans were concerned, that I made inquiries on
the subject. It transpired that the last visit they had had from
white men was when the French troops had visited this particular
tribe and punished them severely for some misdeed. They evidently
had a wholesome respect for the European now, or they would hardly
have taken the trouble to offer presents to a single individual!
After leaving the stream where I had spent the night, we emerged on
a country intersected by small lakes, swamps and marshy streams. I
had sent on my baggage and servant early, staying myself behind to
enjoy some duck shooting close to my camp of the previous night.
The guide who was with me professed to know the route our loads had
followed, but I hardly wonder he was at fault on several occasions.
Sometimes this network of waterways became practically one wide sheet
of water, so intimately connected were the swamps and streams. On
arriving at a place of this description, it became a matter of great
difficulty to know where the water was fordable. The only plan was
to try at a likely-looking spot, and go on until the water became
too deep, when a new direction must be struck. It would have been
dangerous to attempt to swim, owing to the thickly packed reeds which
grew in profusion everywhere. Many times, after proceeding about
half-way, and congratulating myself that we had found a passage,
a hole or dense reeds prevented further progress, and we had to beat
a retreat, endeavouring to find another ford. By the time we finally
got to the other side of these huge morasses it was getting late,
but fortunately the track was now dry and fairly well defined, so
we were able to move at a good pace. I fully expected to hear, when
joining the baggage, that half of it had been lost in the water,
so it was cheering to be told that, beyond a little wetting, not
much harm had been done. The guide with the baggage party appeared
to have found a better crossing than we had done.
I had now reached a place from which I could get a navigable way
to Kabara, as the port of Timbuctu is called. The name of this
village was Sariamou, and it was on one of the main tributaries of
the Bara-Issa.
After negotiating with the chief native trader of the place, I
arranged for a canoe, with an awning of palm-thatch, to be ready for
me the following day. I had a crew of five men, so that I should be
able to travel fast. I estimated my distance from Kabara at seventy
miles as the crow flies, so it was probably quite eighty by water, a
distance I could not hope to cover in less than three days. Moreover,
I could not arrange for the canoemen to accompany me more than one
day, so that there were certain to be further vexatious delays in
getting relief crews. In one respect I was lucky, however, that
I should be able to keep the same canoe the whole way; besides,
this canoe was a fairly comfortable one as they went, and should
I have been obliged to change daily, I should have had to put up
with very inferior craft.
[Illustration: TIMBUCTU
The trees are in the cemetery. A monument is put up here to
Lieut. Aube and his party who were killed in a battle with the Tuareg
at this spot in 1894 when trying to penetrate the mysterious city
of Timbuctu.]
I occupied the centre of the canoe, while my servant and baggage
were at one end and the crew at the other. There was just room to
put up a camp table under my awning, where I could read or write,
and at sunset we used to halt at the nearest village, so as to get
a night’s rest ashore.
The route was rather intricate, as the main stream was frequently
blocked by impenetrable “borgou,” necessitating a diversion
through some side creek, and thereby lengthening our journey
considerably. I found out also that very often the natives only knew
the way from one village to the next, so that a guide had to be taken
at almost each village we passed. These villages were inhabited by
the Sonrhais, who were possessors of big herds of cattle similar
to those owned by the Fulanis on the Niger. There was also in each
village a certain proportion of Bosos, who were the fisherfolk of
this country. The swampy banks were the haunts of numerous wart-hog,
and one could often get a shot at these animals from the canoe as
they stopped to watch it in their stupid fashion before scuttling off
into the bush. Kob were also plentiful about these marshy streams,
as were their near relatives, the Bohor reed-buck. For almost every
kind of West African game which frequents marshy tracts this was
a splendid shooting country. The natives themselves hunt little,
so that the game is not so shy and scared as it often is in places
thickly populated with these hunters. The Sonrhais are too much
given up to cattle and horse raising, while the Bosos are quite as
devoted to their fishing, for either tribe to care for hunting game.
The horses in this locality were some of the finest I had
seen. These people make rather a speciality, for natives, of
horse-breeding. When the land is inundated and pasturage is rich,
the horses are left for several months at a time in the fallow
ground at the water-side. I noticed large droves of horses as we
passed the banks. There were a large number of mares with foals on
the higher ground, while the stallions were usually nearer the water.
I had despatched my horse by a more circuitous land route, so he
would be several days later than I in arriving at Timbuctu, if,
indeed, he ever arrived. He had been consigned to the care of the
headman of the village, and was to be passed on from one to the
other _en route_. In any case, the little beast had done me good
service, and I had certainly had a good three pounds’ worth of
value from him!
On the 7th of April we entered the Niger, at a point some miles
below the junction of its two branches, Issa-Ber and Bara-Issa. A
short while after stopping for breakfast that morning we passed a
barge, flying the French colours. The occupants were the officer
in charge of the ostrich farm at Niafounké and his wife. They had
been down the river for nearly three hundred miles to decide on a
more suitable site for the farm, and were now on their way back to
Niafounké. The lady was certainly the only European representative
of her sex on that side of Koulikoro, and was regarded with great
astonishment by many of the natives, who naturally had never seen
a white woman before.
Soon after midday we sighted a small building on the river banks,
built at the point where a big backwater of the Niger quits
the main stream. This was Korioumé, and is used as the port of
Timbuctu instead of Kabara during the driest months of the year,
as vessels are then unable to get nearer to Timbuctu, owing to the
lack of water. Kabara lies about five and a half miles further on,
being approached by a canal. This canal is being enlarged to allow
the passage of larger craft than can use it at present.
Kabara consists of a collection of mud huts, forming the dwellings
of the transport officials and the native population. Alongside the
quay lie a variety of river craft, barges, and steel as well as
wooden canoes. It is not an imposing-looking spot, but is important
as the head-quarters of the Navigation Service for the section
Kabara to Ansongo, a distance of nearly four hundred miles.
I landed and presented myself at the Transport Office, where I
was provided with donkeys to carry my kit to Timbuctu, and was
informed that the Commandant had very thoughtfully sent a horse
for me to ride up to the town. All baggage is conveyed by donkeys
to Timbuctu, and there are a number of men in the town who make
their living by letting out donkeys for this purpose. The country
immediately assumes the appearance of a desert on leaving Kabara.
There is a wide track, worn by thousands of animals’ feet,
leading through the soft sand across the five miles which separate
Timbuctu from her port. Beyond a few scattered gum trees, mimosa,
and a little coarse grass, there is nothing but sand on all sides.
A short distance to the right of the road in the desert, and about
half-way to Timbuctu, is a monument erected to Commandant Obb,
the first Frenchman to try to enter Timbuctu. He had only a small
following of twenty, and perished with all his gallant men in the
attempt. The monument is placed at the spot where he fell. The
town was at that time in the hands of the Tuaregs, who swarmed
in hundreds round his small band until they had annihilated it.
Several subsequent attempts were made to capture the town before
they finally succeeded. Curiously enough, the capture of Timbuctu
was eventually made by a mere handful of men under a French naval
lieutenant, and was effected by surprise. Since then, although
it has several times been threatened by raiding bands of Tuaregs,
it has never been out of the possession of the French.
On ascending a slight rise in the road, Timbuctu, the Mysterious
City, suddenly comes into view.
As I saw it the scene spread out before me was a strange one. In a
slight depression was the town itself, a conglomeration of sandy,
brown buildings, with flat roofs, while here and there a minaret
obtruded its pointed head. Most prominent of all were three mosques,
one at the east, another at the centre, and the third at the west
of the town. At the extreme western corner were three solitary palm
trees, behind which the sun was dying, and as its last rays caught
the sombre-hued houses they were lit up and stood out more clearly
from the surrounding desert which they so closely resembled.
There was something rather fascinating about this quaint desert
city, so solemn and subdued did it appear to be. But on the whole
my feelings were those of disappointment, for I had expected a far
more imposing-looking place. I had pictured to myself a town of fine
Moorish buildings, minaretted palaces, and the bright appearance
of an Oriental city. It had seemed to me that the influence of
the Moorish occupation must be strongly impressed on Timbuctu,
but this is not so to any marked extent. In point of fact, except
for the three mosques, the general appearance of the town was very
much like many others I had seen on my journey through Western
Soudan—anyhow, in the distance. Timbuctu’s chief difference lies
rather in her surroundings than in her individuality. She is alone
in the desert. The desert surrounds her on all sides. The Niger is
no longer a feature of the scenery; all her water is obtained from
wells. As a matter of fact, sometimes, when the floods have been
heavier than usual, a small backwater occasionally runs up from
Kabara to Timbuctu, but this soon disappears as the floods subside,
and to see water above ground is a rare sight.
[Illustration: A SCENE JUST OUTSIDE THE WALLS OF TIMBUCTU
These natives are Sonrhais who have brought milk for sale. Herds
of cows, also sheep and goats, are kept on the banks of the Niger,
five miles from Timbuctu, and it is the custom when they are giving
plenty of milk to bring it daily to Timbuctu for sale.]
Some of the wells are very deep, going down as much as seventy
metres. The water is very good, however, and is seldom filtered.
After presenting myself to the Commandant I was shown to the house
of the military officer administering the district where I was to
stay. My host, Captain Ferrière, was most thoughtful and obliging
during my sojourn at Timbuctu, and I look back with pleasure to
the pleasant days I spent with him.
I was much disappointed to hear that there was no possibility
of being able to cross the Sahara from Timbuctu direct, as I had
arranged. It appeared that, owing to some raiding bands of Southern
Morocco having descended recently through the very country by which
I wanted to pass, the guides were afraid to go that way. In addition
the heat had this year been more severe than usual, and many wells
were dry. At one stage it was necessary to march ten days without
water. This being the case, I had to abandon all idea of starting
the desert journey from Timbuctu, as I had intended, for to cross
the Sahara without a guide is an absolute impossibility.
There was an alternative route open to me, however; this debouched
from Gao, a place 270 miles further down the Niger, and was
considerably to the east of the route I had proposed to take from
Timbuctu. In addition to the annoyance of having to alter my plans,
I was now somewhat what anxious whether I should be able to arrive
in England by the date my leave expired, for my journey would now
be lengthened by some 700 miles altogether. I was further delayed
a few days at Timbuctu before transport could be arranged for me
to go down the river to Gao. I was told that I could have a steel
canoe or a barge, but the former was much faster although not so
comfortable. Before deciding it was suggested that I should take an
experimental trip in the steel canoe, as the motion in these craft is
rather pronounced and has the effect of making some people sea-sick!
On Sunday morning two French officers and I, having arranged a
shooting picnic on the river, embarked on the steel canoe. This
particular canoe was built expressly light to carry mails rapidly
between Kabara and the down-river ports. She was rather narrow in
the beam, and travelled at a great pace when propelled by her six
paddlers. For the first half-hour I did not feel much inconvenience,
but after this the violent rocking motion made me feel very
uncomfortable; besides, owing to the constant shaking, reading or
writing was out of the question. Finally, I must acknowledge that,
on the return journey, I succumbed, and, indeed, so bad was I that
I had a violent attack of fever before I got ashore. On landing, the
transport officer at Kabara very kindly gave me a bed in his house,
with plenty of blankets and quinine, so that by the next day I was
much better. But this experience with the steel canoe decided me
against that particular form of conveyance, and, at the risk of
taking a few days longer on the journey, I gave an unhesitating
vote for the barge!
During my enforced stay at Timbuctu I had ample leisure to explore
the sights of the place. I was introduced to an interesting
Frenchman, who is popularly known to his friends and the natives
as Yakubu. Yakubu had the reputation, which he thoroughly deserved,
of knowing more about Timbuctu than any man. He had previously been
a Roman Catholic Father in the town, but some years ago had given
up mission work for private life. He now taught native children
purely from a love of teaching. Besides his knowledge of Timbuctu,
he had an intimate acquaintance with Bambaras and Sonrhais and their
languages, which he spoke fluently. It was with “Père” Yakubu
that I made my tour of exploration in the city.
Timbuctu and the exploration of Africa during last century are very
intimately connected. Most of the principal explorers of that time
paid a visit to this historic city. This was perhaps all the more
natural as, at that period, the course of the Niger was a problem
which puzzled everyone, and many of these travellers had in view the
exploration of that river. At Timbuctu are to be seen the houses of
most of these explorers, which have been identified by the French
since their occupation and kept by them in a good state of repair.
Starting with the earliest date comes the house of a
fellow-countryman, Major Laing. This British officer made an
adventurous journey in 1826 from Morocco to Timbuctu, through the
Sahara Desert, and through a land peopled with lawless fanatical
Mohammedans. He accomplished the journey there without mishap, but on
his return by the same route he was waylaid and killed in the desert,
north of Timbuctu. He is said to have been killed by the Kountah
Arabs, who inhabit a portion of the Sahara north of the town; but
it is a point difficult to prove. Some people say that the present
chief of the Kountahs has actually in his possession Laing’s diary
and papers, which were never recovered,[1] but that he is now afraid
of restoring them to the French for fear of punishment. If this is
the case it must have been the present chief’s grandfather who
was responsible for the deed. The next traveller to pass that way
was Réné Caillé, a Frenchman, and, I suppose, the most renowned
French explorer of Africa. He did a wonderful journey in 1828 from
Konakry, in French Guinea, to Morocco. He travelled down the Niger
for many hundred miles on his way to Timbuctu.
After him came the very great African traveller, Barth, whose
house is in better preservation than any other. He was the man
who travelled from Tripoli, through our British protectorate of
Northern Nigeria, to Timbuctu and back, in 1853. Barth spent a
considerable time at Timbuctu, disguised as an Arab trader and
known by the name of Abdul Karim. He had several narrow escapes,
but came successfully out of all his adventures.
The next house to be seen is that of Lenz, an Austrian, who journeyed
from Morocco to Dakar in 1880.
The interior of these houses, as of nearly all the houses in the
town, is of Moorish design. There are generally an inner and an
outer courtyard, on a very small scale. Most of the houses have two
storeys, and all are built of sun-dried bricks, made of the clay
which is found under the sand in the desert. The streets are narrow
and tortuous. They twist and wind in such a curious manner that
a guide is necessary for some time before it is possible to find
one’s own way in the place. At one or two points great clay ovens
are to be seen in the street; these are public property, and here
the local bread is baked. It is a curious sight to watch a crowd of
people round an oven in the daytime, each one putting in his or her
loaf to be baked. This bread is made of a wheat grown at Gundam,
near Timbuctu, and is black. The wheat is, I believe, the same as
is grown in many parts of North Africa, making a very wholesome
and nourishing food, which is the staple diet of the inhabitants.
The history of the mosques brings me to discuss the origin of the
greatness of Timbuctu.
Timbuctu was originally the capital of a great black empire. The
inhabitants were Sonrhais, whose territory extended practically all
over the Middle Niger. The Sonrhay kings were men of great influence,
and the town was the centre of a large trade. For many years Moors
from the north and the black races from the south, east, and west
used to bring their wares to its markets. The Sonrhay Empire was
far the most powerful in Western Africa, continuing to be so till
the Moorish invasion in 1482. The Moors defeated the Sonrhais,
driving them to take refuge on the other bank of the Niger, in
the “Bend.” They were in turn driven out of the town by the
Tuaregs about the seventeenth century, and the Tuaregs remained in
possession until the French finally captured the town at the end
of last century.
Timbuctu was the centre of the traffic in slaves in this part
of Africa, and there is no doubt that at that time it was a
far larger place than it now is. The remains of old houses are
frequently discovered under the sand at some distance from the
existing boundaries of the city, while it seems very probable that
the Niger once flowed past its walls.
The Sonrhais certainly extended in olden times from Djenné, in the
south, to Es-Souk, in the north. The latter place is now right in
the Sahara, about the 21st parallel north latitude. But now this
once powerful race has greatly degenerated. Since their conquest
by the Moors, and then by the Tuaregs, they have been in perpetual
slavery; thus their spirit appears to have become quite crushed,
and the race has been split up into little groups. We have met them
in fractions all over the “Bend” of the Niger, and they are
again to be found in small parties lower down that river. They have
intermarried a good deal with their last conquerors, the Tuaregs,
whom they frequently resemble in features. The negroid type of the
pure Sonrhay has in many cases almost disappeared, while they have
become paler in complexion, although they are still much blacker
than the Tuaregs.
The mosques date from the eleventh century, and have curious
pyramidical minarets. During the sixteenth century they had arches
of Moorish design added to them by the Moorish chief Mali, who
then occupied the town. Here the remarkable influence of the desert
sand is noticeable, for, to get to the arches which are inside the
mosques, a descent of three or four feet from the level of the street
outside has to be made. This shows that sand to the thickness of
several feet has gradually become heaped on to the ground outside,
thereby heightening the level of the surface.
The chief trade of the city is salt. This is brought by large
caravans periodically from the desert mines of Taudény, 300
miles north of the place. The salt is cut in rectangular bars, or
flat slabs, weighing each about sixty pounds. When the caravans
arrive, from November till March, the price of salt is down to
five francs a bar, but it rises rapidly as the hot weather goes
on, so that by the month of August a bar of salt will often cost
twenty-five francs. These salt caravans are frequently attacked by
desert highwaymen. Desert bands have been known to travel immense
distances in order to attack one of them. Frequently they make
a descent from South-west Morocco, over 800 miles of the Sahara,
with the object of looting the camels of the “Azalai,” as the
big caravan of November is called.
At Timbuctu one experiences the true Saharan sirocco, a violent wind
blowing from the north-east. This wind is said to originate in the
sand-hills, called the “Great Erg,” south-west of Tunisia. It
blows straight across the desert for over 1800 miles, driving clouds
of sand in front of it. There is nothing to obstruct its progress,
for no mountains of any consequence lie across its path. Hence this
wind appears to be gradually pushing the Sahara further south in the
vicinity of Timbuctu. It has probably been the means of isolating
the town from the Niger, for it has caused the desert to encroach
on the left bank of the river converting the land here into a sandy
waste. The sand I had experienced hitherto was nothing compared to
the sand at Timbuctu. The streets are several inches deep in soft
sand, it is nearly always blowing gales of sand; and as a result
of all this every corner of a house and all one’s possessions
are invaded by sand. But on account of this dry atmosphere Timbuctu
is a very healthy place; sickness of any sort is uncommon, and the
natives are said to be remarkable for their longevity.
The only domestic animals seen in the town are camels, horses,
and donkeys. There are no cows, sheep, or even goats, for the
simple reason that there is nothing for these animals to eat.
Camels never stay long at Timbuctu, but are sent out to pasturage
some distance away, where there is more desert vegetation. Donkeys
seem to live on what they can pick up at Kabara, where they go most
days to carry loads. Horses are fed on imported forage.
Camels, of course, come in hundreds to Timbuctu, as they form the
bulk of the animal transport for desert caravans. It is a strange
sight to watch these hardy desert people, trudging in with their
camels from the vast unknown waste, their faces half hidden in cloths
to keep out the ever-blowing sand, looking weary and worn after
the hardships they have had to endure on the way. Lack of water and
want of food, besides the anxieties of keeping the right direction,
tell on these men, imprinting on their faces a stern, careworn
look. The camels are generally the property of Arabs, either the
Kountah tribe, who are the nearest to Timbuctu, or the Berabeesh, who
wander farther to the north in the desert. The best animals belong to
the latter tribe, possibly because they are farther from the river,
and the Niger water does not agree with these animals. Moreover,
camels which live near the river naturally get into the habit of
drinking more frequently than otherwise, thus losing to a large
extent their powers of existing many days without water.